Sharing with you all a tiny poem I wrote for my Herbal Class:
V – Healing Paper
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Author Archives: perlib22
V – (Dandelions and V’s)
Harvesting Taraxacum Offcinalis:
Oh how the vibrant Yellow of the wide open dandelions rejuvenate my spirit. Their headlong medicine turns me onto a new page of thought, a thought of flowing, that special scent that only comes with the placement of the sun directly overhead, puffy freshly hung clouds floating in the distance. I got a moment to go out in my new yard and pluck their gracious heads from their sturdy stems today. I then sat in the sun, taking the time to remove the sepals and place the petals in a jar like so: 
I covered these sweeties with olive oil and hope to make some lovely salves in the summer time-this oil I find particularly magical and would love to gift it in the late summer!
I highly suggest trying Dandelion Fritters or any other combination of putting this lovely plant into your own body, your own vessel. It is rich with minerals and is fabulous to tone and cleanse the system during this spring time! Enjoy and have fun.
V, forming the opening with Pottery.
Today during my time with the wheel I choose to work with the letter V. Here is a riff I wrote as I said V over and over again.
: The sun. The Sole of the Uterus, a holding and releasing to something sensual.
Upward. Holding hands to the sun – light. a light letter with an intrusion of space. The tangle and untangling of growth, hanging on your tongue. The horns of a bull. An entrance, to what?
A bird, the wings in shape of taking flight. Sound, a humming of the chest. Opening of the mouth. An Exhalation. VIBRATION.
so then…..I made a vase. I got to spend time with this piece, it allowed me to work patiently with it for over an hour. Pulling, pressing, being gentle and patient, being open to its inevitable collapse, yet this never came, which was nice. I now have a a vase that expressed an outward feeling, an opening that begins wide and falls into a smaller center, reminding me of the yoni, the womb, the sound of a v that leads into a word, that letter that seems to weave the word and vibrate through the whole.
I intend to look into the history of V now that I have let my mind freely play with it. Allowing my artistic mind and scientific mind to play off one another i will shift from doing research then throwing, to throwing and then doing research. I believe this will give me a taste of how i artistically tap into the pottery and the language of our associations with letters.
V – Poetry, Plants and Letters
Dear Ocean,
As a child, you tested my will to breathe
dominoing your rippled bodies over my child eyes
The humans said they rescued me, yet I always knew it was you
who gave me a chance – a chance to trust.
Looking out at the ever-sweet dense fog –
my fingers numb
I recount the lessons
learned
I am lulled by a freshening of your breath, of my breath
in relation.
Amoungst the winds of the west
lie the rippled waves of my home tide
your’e bundled matter of molecules radiate comfort
miles and miles
stretched through time and space
A vantage point:
The old worn wood caressed into shape by your force
waves
whittled down to smooth bones of stillness
beneath me.
Then today:
Your forested ocean filled with ancestors
awaken my ming to the scattered time pieces…
pieces of
pieces of mountains,
washed up
Foraging my neurons like
shapes of
pebbles…
stones…
rocks…
to be picked up and pondered upon,
twistedthroughtrustingfingertips.
Day:
Taraxacum aristum (ii) (Photo credit: Nuytsia@Tas)Today we played with dandelions in class, what a rich medicine! it certainly has so much to offer! Try eating them , making elixirs, infusing oil and making into wine!
They can be harvested from spring to fall, such a giving plant with such elegance, sometimes it appears that they lay clusters of dining tables, enjoying the feast of life in your yard, what welcoming and comfortable medicine.
I really enjoyed tending to the harvesting of Dandelions, washing them and picking them apart was a task that got me feeling such spring euphoria, while munching on the sweet little surprise blossoms at the bottom of the leaves, yummy
Evening:
This evening I got on the pottery wheel, I wanted to focus on Centering
I really enjoyed the quote from M.C. Richards inCentering on page 36 that finishes in talking about the space between two things, the interaction and reflection of the relationship between two by saying:
“It is a marriage of forces.”
When i approached the wheel I had in mind this quote and asked myself,
how can I recognize and work with this other force (the clay), how can we create a safe and harmonious relationship? I decided to approach it with some confidence but also with the care of how I would treat a delicate friend, gently.
I had in mind the letter A
a letter in which when the greek language started writing, the letter A was not a sound per say but a moment for a breath. What a beautiful thing that a letter represented breath. This idea of A’s being breaths directed to me thinking about spherical vessels, ones filled with breath and curve. This is what I attempted. The inhalation, the tension in the chest so beautiful.
V – poetry (Libraries of the Intuitive)
I stitch. I stitch Howe’s breath. So much
So much
The ghosting echoes ride the intersecting cells of my skin
Sewn sentences tickle tasteful images
of pages
full of already chewed knowledge
The melody of coherence rises and crosses the letters as they fall into unition
The letters – Holy words
Holding eachother up
creating
A texture of renewed senses
sentences
Divining lines
Crossing T’s
Moving wings
Woven
Moving words.
V – Week 3 Log
Week 3 Log of Hours/Work
April 15th – 5 hours
I worked on my ILC, fresh back from the Hoh rainforest with lots of inspiration in my pocket!
I also read Centering by M.C. Richards on this day.
April 16th – 7 hours
In class, 9:30 to 12, Back for meeting at 3:30-5
I also sat on the ceramics wheel and worked with the letter A, i then wrote about this experience and tied it to Centering. (see Poetry, Plants and Letters post)
April 17th – 6 hours
I took the morning to read from Centering and wrote about what i read. I then went to the Evergreen Ceramics studio and worked on a few pieces and got introduced to the studio! I then went and saw Girl Rising! a traveling film that played at school, about the importance of girls being educated and the difference it can make for communities. I was deeply inspired by the young Poet from Peru.
April 18th – 5 hours
In class workshopping with Sam Cook and Michael Lee, so amazing!
Plant Profile, Dandelion! (Wood and Ink) also see post about Dandelions.
April 19th – 5 Hours
Herbal Apprenticeship, talking about Alder (Alnus rubra and our ideas on healing)
Total this week: 28 hours
V is for Vessel
During this Spring the student will immerse herself in the metaphor of the sacred vessel. Through interactions with texts such as The Alphabet Versus the Goddess by Leonard Shlain, Women Who Run With the Wolves by Clarissa Pinkola Estes and Centering by M.C. Richards, the student will respond to these texts via words, images, pottery and poetry, expanding on forms of communication. Where does the sacred feminine meet this earth, and in what sorts of vessels is this conceived, what sort of matter? How can we communicate a deeper connection to the inner feminine by using creative forms of expression? How has the use of language moved us away from a deeper connection to our inner feminine and to our embodied selves? Through learning the skill of throwing pottery the student will use this creative form as a way to connect to her own vessel, her body and womb. She will document this unfolding in a variety of ways, expanding her skills and knowledge in herbalism, poetry, ceramics, drawing, printing, and dancing. The student will also participate in a 4 credit Herbal class, which will allow her to practice using the language and also the medicine and folklore that plants have had to offer throughout time. The goal of this contract, besides gaining skills to use in future endeavors, is to seek an answer to how we interact with vessels and to expand a deeper knowing of the importance and significance of vessels. How can language relate these embodied experiences and concepts, and how can they not? The student is particularly interested in the boundaries of language. In other words; where does the vessel of language start to overflow? And what vessels of expression will catch the overflow?
ABCs and 123s – weekly log and field notes
[catlist tags=v-logs date=yes excerpt=yes excerpt_size=30]
Poetry
[catlist tags=v-poetry excerpt=yes excerpt_size=30]
Bachelardian Reverie
[catlist tags=v-bachelard date=yes excerpt=yes excerpt_size=30]
Term Paper Abstract
Read full Spring term paper here
Finl Presentation Poem
Universes
my mind is not unlike the galaxy.
deep and dark, mysterious. thoughts floating around for eons, like lost astroids, then
the ah-ha! moments hit like a meteor hitting the earth – suddenly, a flash of light,
with expansion of wonderment,
with exploration of unknown creativity,
forever leaving an indent in my being, in my earth.
I repeated it aloud over and over again in the warm bath water
Yoni, yOni, yoNi, yonI….
each time required a new expansion of breath.
Outward.
creativity, meeting the slowly wafting waves, originated by My lungs.
Pondering apon the meaning of Yoni,
“An Entrance to the Universe”
Pondering upon the universes my feminine body encounters:
A Universe of Exploration
the creative touch brings breaths, brings moans, brings warm wet places to the surface of our union, from the depths of my internal universe. then,
the granted entry into my universe, my yoni. private, unique, my pear, picked to perfection, to consume, to renew, to build, to drip the juice of life. this is one entrance to the universe, my universe.
and when this universe is entered, my yoni likes to speak, to be loud, to laugh, to moan, to scream, to expand and expel the tension that grew and grew all fucking day.
hello,
creative exploration.
A Universe of Expansion
your growth, nourishment, brings expansion of my belly. into a globular, hanging universe made just for you. tripping over my breath to keep up with you, staying focused, feeding you, feeding me. then,
descending. waves of intensity wash me to shore, swallow me and lay me back down on the sand again, repeat. repeat. repeat. trying to replenish my lungs enough to keep up with your
grand ascending. this is one entrance to the universe, our universe.
and when this universe is entered, my yoni likes to be heard, to listen, to teach, to moan, to cry, to contract and to expel the tension that grew and grew all fucking 41 weeks.
hello, creative expansion.
Breathing, breathing, inward, outward.
my body is a portal, a sacred portal of universes rich with coming and going.
mysterious and deep,
my yoni is like the galaxy,
ripe with the unknown,
with wonder.
Y – Winter Term Paper
y – poem (tangy eye)
“Goethe breathes with all his lungs as the earth breathes with all its atmosphere. The man who reaches the glory of breathing, breathes cosmically.”
Strength.
I was there, when you closed out the world
each intention, each breath, focused towards her descending
your eyes
were shut
but your heart was,
for the first time,
expanding
expanding, expending, extending
the tools provided within,
to show obsolute to that which is thought without.
It is true about breathing, breathing brings glory and holds us up to a new world
i was there when the breath brought her body a new kind of color, a new kind of red.
Like peeling the blood orange
at first only that which is foreseen is revealed,
a deep cosmic red.
yet each bite,
each unique peeling come undone exposes a new ray of tangy buds breathing upon my tongue.
Your breath peeled away in layers,
showing skin to the air which gave relief to the pain of your bones.
The breath you first presented us with, all stopped our breaths.
Your unique tone, your unique movement, all from a simple breath in,
a new tang on our tongues.
This world is not unlike the one when I began,
only difference is
I breathe with the collective knowing, and each breath extends the known to the next.
like oranges,
like blood,
like breath,
we are all the same
with a different tang
running through our veins
all held in the glory of our breath.
y – poetry observed
In this simple porcelain womb, I can truly be embodied
Releasing my belly
Relinquishing my breath
Retaliating my soul
Remembering my spirit.
Layers relax, skin opening
days shrugging off
shoulders a little lower
breath moving, no longer held so tightly
sinking out of lungs
surrendering them to the rest of humanity.
Here
it is dark,
the sun does not allow you to move more quickly
lost
in a timeless room.
held in this warm liquid
(I’m reminded)
watching the flickering shadows
hearing the tiny bubbles popping.
Thats
when she comes forth to speak,
and i’m ready to
Listen!
all covered in rehydrated rose petals
-the tips of red cedar fronds,
frolicking on my sacred lawn.