Bloody Passion

Bloody Martian Full Moon,
how my body aligns with you this day.
I am not who I was
as I bleedeth away.

Been experiencing creative compulsion lately. Must be the energy of Mars in Gemini (action in words, assertive communication, active formulation etc). Been experiencing philosophy as the art of expression.

Interesting that after ovulating around the New Moon this cycle, my intensive bleeding coincides with the Full Moon (today), which like Mars also is in Gemini. Which means that the Sun is in Sagittarius, the sign said to favour philosophy per se. I'm very much in tune again with the fact that philosophy is my passion.

It is clear to me now, that the philosophical path of passion was inevitably going to lead to the serious study of yoga. Out of ancient India has sprung the highest* "thinking" (for, in Yoga and Vipassana "doing" is key), as well as the most intricate, straight-forward and profound no-bullshit philosophy impacting the entire world. One embedded in the very body that serves as the vessel for existential experiencing. *(high/haute (French) = challenging = requiring great effort consistently and singular focus, complete absorption, samadhi)

My philosophical passion, amongst other things (such as artistic expression and joie de move**), seems to also have inevitably led to the study of haute dance, i.e. ballet, as well as martial arts, i.e. kung fu. Of course, these disciplines all have ancient wisdom embedded in their continuous movement practices carrying on for centuries and millennia to this very day. I'll get into that on another occasion. **(joy of moving; joie de vivre = joy of living)

For the very body is scripture and its language is movement. In playing movement archaeology, I’ve stumbled upon the body’s ability to reveal ancient wisdom, of human and even sub-cellular living dating back eons. Wisdom ropedancing on timeless, immeasurable existential spirals.

Jump at your leisure onto the carrousels and roller coasters that have no beginning and no end! Welcome to the Nexistential Carnival!

While playing movement archaeology, I’ve thought about ancient Greece and ancient Egypt. I think about classical "Western" philosophy and wonder how it may have been experienced on a daily basis. Were there schools with baths and gyms for physical philosophy practice, not merely mental activity, study, dialogue and debate?

I've felt-thought*** about classical sculptures, Hellenistic art, for example. And not only those, but sculptures throughout the centuries. They can reveal so much about the practical philosophers and existential artists of those days. Profound ordinary individuals unnamed with an extraordinary devotion to training, to exploring the very tangible physical and mental creative extents of the human form, and the countless possibilities for existing as the complex convolution of tentacles that is the human gown. Always extending and contracting, reaching, searching, tracking. ***(feel-think = a sensation beyond the fleeting notion of a mere thought, but a more organic all-encompassing sensation felt also in the flesh, organs and bones etc)

Yes, ordinary people exercising practical philosophy and spiritual devotion to the physical, to the art of perception, to conscious co-creation and artistic expression. Ordinary people dedicated to philosophically refining the physical and redefining what it means to exist in human terms. I think for example of

Those with the athletic prowess
to pose
for hours,
days, weeks, months
for a sculptor
to carve
human prose.

And the first philosopher was who? The one lonely micro-organic creature to reach for something beyond its cave of individual existence towards an unknown knowing of another. And in merging together two create the light of exploration into the creative complexities of countless possibilities and multiple realities of what we've come to identify as "life". For there is only life in co-existing, inter-being, isn't there? Individuality, singularity and isolation are playful fallacies.

Years ago, while living in Switzerland, I had reached a level in my training that made me feel empowered on my bloodiest day. I was moving through an intense Tae Bo class, bleeding through the tampon and filling up every corner of the thick pad. I could smell blood mixed with the sweat dripping from my pores and soaking up my clothes. I didn't feel embarrassed nor ashamed. Perhaps a little self-conscious about the people closest to me and the trainer walking by, wondering whether they, too, might sense the iron scent of fresh, raw blood. Mostly though, I felt empowered, alive, fierce and unstoppable.

I haven't reached that point in my training yet. Will I ever again? I wonder. Maybe when I've packed some serious muscle mass and regained full strength particularly in my mid-section. Which took a brutal beating birthing baby number three and her larger-than-life pregnancy. It's been just over six years since this inevitably traumatic experience with lasting repercussions. Sophia weighed 4.5 kg, was unable to turn her head, and came out face down, like a turtle, with her shoulders and body ripping through the birth canal and bumping into all that surrounds it. I quit working out due to injury and other life-changing circumstances. Focused mainly on motherhood. Reclaiming my body has been slow – Sophia breast-fed for 3 years. But over time, I believe I can regain full force. And better than ever before because I've never trained like this (consciously, curiously, ancestrally). Body-mind work has acquired an entirely new dimension since I seriously began studying yoga almost two years ago. It's reverberated into the way I learn ballet. And the martial arts component has opened another intense door of human experiencing and body-mind analysis. It's a hell of climb to be sure. Interrupted by the duties of motherhood, the responsibilities of being a member of society and the limitations of an aging body.

But hey, Sisyphus (Greek mythology) never gave up either now did he? And he managed to cheat death. Actually though, that was the reason he was condemned to push a boulder up a hill for all eternity – in hell, nonetheless. Just as Sisyphus would reach the top, the boulder would roll back down, and he would have to start all over again. He was punished with a perpetual grind. I’ve experienced training in this Sisyphean way. Train and gain. Don't train, lose. Perhaps over time with patience and persistence strengthening habits can be formed and a longevity of effort achieved.

What do I have to lose anyway? Walking on the road of being human is to die a little every day. I certainly die once every cycle when the blood flows freely from my mortal body.