Eve dream. Chapter two. Halved – part three

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Picture by Beth Hokhmah, found here

Eve dream first episode (Lilith part one)

Previous episode (Halved part two)

 

2 Halved – part three

Eve was naked.
Eve found herself naked and fragile.
Weak.
Eve blushed with shame, also for this.
Eva blushed, ashamed of herself, prey to an immense remorse.

It was thus. So, the Woman felt her need to somehow shelter from her malice, or at least to distract herself from it; she therefore gathered flexible sedge leaves around her, intertwined them in a sort of loose and bottomless basket and with it she encircled her pelvis and what she herself had profaned first.
She tied the interweaved sedges around her waist, above her hips, to cover her nakedness: as a matter of fact, if she looked at her groin, she felt stir into her intimate the excitement and lust of the Serpent and of her own obscene, unspeakable parody: Lilith.
As she was prey to an almost unbearable melancholy, she resumed wandering around the garden. She knew the abundance of her tears.

The cursed voice, however, did not abandon her and gave her no respite. At this point, almost hissing, she insisted on putting forward her thesis: “Now you are finally free. Now you know. Now you have seen and heard and experienced an ecstasy that you never even imagined existed. Now you know yourself and you know you are enough for yourself. You know you can be enough for yourself. The deception of the Creator has been exposed. Now you are finally one, black and white together. Light and Shadow. Eve and Lilith. Now you are whole. Now you know that I am your true creator. Now you will adore me”.
Whole…
Whole!
How unbearably false all this was!
Despite the insinuating and insistent hisses of the Snake, the Woman clearly perceived the exact opposite. The sensation of having been drastically reduced, diminished, halved was so acute that it made her pant, till it painted her chest.
She had gained nothing, but on top of that she had lost a lot. First of all, she had forever ruined and abandoned the purity of the gaze, the peace of her heart, the crystalline clarity of the perception of oneself, of the Mankind, of the whole Universe.
Moreover, now it would have been much more difficult to identify the direction of Time and the Meaning of things.
Each path, each way would have cost pain and error.
She had generated the fatigue of existing.
Her solidity faded.
By doubling and acquiescing to the worst of herself to exist without any control, not being able and unwilling in any case to become her own evil and destructive Shadow, she had in fact halved.
We could already see in it the tangible, sad and terrible possibility of taking advantage of Man and others who would come to seek one’s own satisfaction. To plunder nature for one’s own benefit. To feel hatred and resentment whenever others opposed their own lives and needs to the total self-fulfillment and satisfaction.

Eve therefore knew the most terrible aspect of freedom: the rejection of the Good. The rejection of the Beauty. She had rejected the truth of herself, the truth of the whole world.

She had rejected the Truth.
Innocence was lost.
Eve had confused Love with the instinct of the flesh.
She had disrupted her own being, exchanging the total gift of herself with the demand of satisfaction.
Sin had imbued humanity.
Sin had imbued humanity to its deepest roots.
Everything was about to change.
Everything had changed, perhaps forever.

No, not forever. Only for a long time, for millennia, until Mary, the New Woman, appeared.
The real woman.
The Immaculate Conception.
The one who would collaborate in the salvation of the Seconds.
She who would have had countless titles, countless attributes.

No, not forever. Just for a long time, for millennia, until the New Woman would appear. The real Woman. Mary.
She, the Immaculate Conception.
The one who would help to save the Seconds.
She who would have countless titles, countless attributes.
Because, there! The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son.
לָכֵן יִתֵּן אֲדֹנָי הוּא לָכֶם אוֹת הִנֵּה הָעַלְמָה הָרָה וְיֹלֶדֶת בֵּן וְקָרָאת שְׁמוֹ עִמָּנוּאֵל

The little girl, a little girl.
A poor ignorant young woman.
The wisest of all humanity and not only so: the Queen of Angels.
Sedes sapiéntiae, Regína angelórum.
The little girl who would be the Refuge of Sinners.
Refugium peccatórum.
The source and seat of wisdom.
Sedes sapiéntiae.
The Mirror of His holiness.
Speculum iustitiae.
The Cause of our joy.
Cáusa nóstrae laetítiae.
The Gate of Heaven.
Iánua cáeli
The Morning Star.
Stella matutina.
The Queen of Angels!
Regina angelórum.

She, who would have made redemption possible, even generating the Son of Him.

The Son, who would descend among men, into the world.
The Son, who would once again show Love, Good, Beauty.
The One who would restore the path to salvation.
Thus, in the fullness of time, the True Woman would suffer her unspeakable pain close to her Son, the Son of Man, the Son of God.

She would have seen the Son, her son, to be erected upright like a criminal, like an outcast, but she would have understood that in such abjection the poor bones of Adam would once again have been elevated toward the sky. The earth, putrid by sin, the earth that smelled of death and shame would be lifted once again and definitively even beyond Eden, towards Heaven.

Because, there! An incurable enmity arises between the Woman and the Serpent, between the progeny of the Woman and the progeny of the Serpent.
And the Serpent will attack the heels of the Woman’s lineage.
And the seed of Men will bruise the head of the Serpent.

All the Seconds would have a new chance, yet Eve didn’t know that this would happen.

Thus, the Woman fell to her knees on the peaty ground and, quite unusual, she injured herself by hitting a hard, sharp stone. Drops of red blood dyed the grass in Eden for the first time. Evil generated pain. She collapsed, trembling with shame, remorse and fear, hiding her face in her hands, wincing in violent and inconsolable sobs.

 

(to be continued)

Partial Italian version here

 

Eve dream. Chapter two. Halved – part two

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Picture by Beth Hokhmah, found here

Before to continue, I absolutely need to thank again my friend Shyla; when I asked her to critically read and review my translation into English of this “Eve dream”, I did not expect the enthusiasm, passion and precision that my poor words are benefiting from her work. Thank you Shyla!

Eve dream first episode (Lilith part one)

Previous episode (Halved part one)

 

2 Halved – part two

The Woman did not yet know the inebriation given by the fermented juices of the grapevine, however we can say that she felt something similar to the ailment that so often follows with such inebriation. As each moment passed away, in addition to the recovery of awareness, a strange malaise increased: a malaise due to the perception that something wrong, definitely wrong had happened: an abomination arose.

She had not yet given her body to the Man. She either did not know the existence of such a possibility, even not knowing that such a possibility was a source of joy.  She, placed in front of herself and only herself, doubled as she was in front of a mirror, she had freed her Shadow, a dark and evil being who populated his unconscious; she had begotten or, rather, freed, Lilith. She had become Lilith herself and therefore she had enjoyed herself in solitude, she had generated and loved her own dark and perverse side and she was delighted in it, in an unhealthy solipsistic idyll that cried out against Heaven: “I am enough!“.

This had happened almost unconsciously or, better, without her being fully aware of it, cheated by the Enemy, by the Ancient Serpent which at this point she identified and recognized with absolute certainty. However, his own weakness and the absence of full awareness, took very little away from the crime committed, which remained so and – now she knew it – would remain for a long time, would remain forever, would have gone through all the passing of time and would have reached the end of time itself, until the end of the time given to her and to all her offspring. Until the last twilight of Men and Women. She had damned not only herself, but her entire lineage, upsetting it irremediably. She had started an almost infinite chain of crimes, of oppressions, of pretensions, of presumptions, up to the most horrendous wars. All this, in fact, presupposed the reference to a supposed absolute freedom that identified the other not in the beloved, but in the adversary.

 

She had succumbed to a bestial impulse, to an instinctive one, to an unreasonable one, which had degraded love to simple pleasure. Moreover, there was something even worse and perhaps more serious: this drive had involved only herself, in an impetus of onanism, in a fit of selfish hedonism, to a further betrayal of love which is always the absolute opposite: relationship with diversity, relationship with other by herself. Gift of herself to others. Gift of herself to Other.

 

Albeit on a smaller scale and in detail, the malign essence of the rising of the Shadow traced what had already happened with Lucifer in the implementation of his rebellion. The fall of Lucifer, which had already corrupted multitudes of angels, now also dragged the mankind away from the Creator, away from the Reason of everything. Away from God.

 

The alternative plan continued, following the desire to kill Love.

To deny the Reality.

To convince himself and convince others that it was possible to do better: here is the temptation.

Once again, He had allowed it, because He respected free will to the highest degree.

Because He loved Men, just as he loved the Firsts, the Angels, among which Lucifer himself had been a part.

Because He is immensity of Love.

Because He is first of all Love.

Eve was satisfied with an empty pleasure, a senseless and meaningless pleasure, and she perceived that, doing so, the malice had inevitably and irrevocably settled deeply into herself.

.

 

(to be continued)

 

Black milk

Elizabeth Fraser; pic from here

Some days ago, I was chatting with my friends River and Eucie about that poem by Patrizia Cavalli posted on Nemesys’ blog. It is interesting to note, in our chatting, the connection between Patrizia Cavalli poetry and my previous post theme.

Judy: This morning in a blog I read a poem by Patrizia Cavalli

Eucie: Oh?

Judy: She talks about her feeling to be alone, yet not free… alone. That poem ends so:

“This is what the body is for:
you touch me or you don’t touch me,
you hug me or walk away.
The rest is for the insane.”

Eucie: Yes

River: A truth.

Judy: I commented it in that blog (sorry: it’s in Italian language), saying I know it is true and I know that situation so much.

River: I always find such clarity and solidarity. When I read the words of another in poetry or prose and I relate I feel validated and not alone in my struggle and that is substantial.

Judy: That’s why we read

River: Yes.

Eucie: It is!

Judy: Well… to read is similar to make love; it is as to touch another skin, another soul. That’s what I need: to see another one to be myself

Eucie: You know you are not alone or crazy

Judy: Yes. And I in that way know I am my need. To be human is to be needy and that’s much more evident for a woman.

Then, River shared that song by Massive Attack, Black milk. I did not know it and, to be honest, I do not like its music, but the lyric is beautiful and moving in its paradox (nevertheless, the title itself of the song is clearly a paradox):

You’re not my eater
(…) Eat me
(…) Love you for God

As to say: do not bother me, do not get me only because we are together. Do it because there’s Another, because there’s a sense out from us in doing it.

Black Milk
Liz Fraser

You’re not my eater
I’m not your food
Love you for God
Love you for the Mother

Eat me
In the space
Within my heart
Love you for God
Love you for the Mother

Mother fountain
Or live or not at all

The most level
Sunken chapel
Love you for God
Love you for the Mother

All’s there to love
Only love

Today we fight

 

Aragorn

 

(…) my brothers, I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me.

A day may come when the courage of men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship, but it is not this day.

An hour of wolves and shattered shields, when the age of men comes crashing down, but it is not this day!

This day we fight!
By all that you hold dear on this good Earth (…)

Aragorn’s speech at the Black Gate,
from the movie “The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King

 

Well: last evening I watched again this beautiful movie.

I’m sorry: I must say that these words are not by J.R.R.Tolkien and we cannot find them into his book, but we can read in them some interesting expressions: brother, friend, fellowship, dear, good. And fight, of course.

Anyway these words describe our actual situation.
Each day we must fight against any evil power: first of all against our evil attitude. By all that we hold dear on this good Earth.

For our Love and for each we love.

And Aragorn uses “we”, not only “I”. We, brothers. We, friends. Our fellowship. Because “I” is simply nothing. Because “I” is without love.

In the same movie, in a similar situation, before a hopeless battle, King Theoden says:

(…) Ride now, ride now, ride! Ride for ruin and the world’s ending!
Death! Death! Death!

It’s really desperate and, in my opinion, without any sense. I cannot fight for death and ruin. I can and I must fight for Love and Good and Beauty. But not “I”: “we”. Toghether.

OK, I must admit it: I’m thinking of the Church.

 

Osmanthus

 

osmanto (2)-min

That one. JB.

 

I enjoy
both the lake and the scent that osmanthus
spreads around in the old garden’s evening
I enjoy gentle reds near the sunset
or when sky burns entirely in autumn

I enjoy
you at night, lying awake
when I feel lips and hands and your hair
touching me, shivering me, when I long
for you satisfy that love I feel

I enjoy.
There is beauty and good too in this world
that hides them between ugliness, profit
freezing them with so cold egotism

May Your lordship, my God, wake up us

 

October, 6th 2022

 

Italian version

 

A fresh wind

 

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A Wind-Beaten Tree, by Vincent van Gogh (pic found here)

 

 

A fresh wind now arises from there,
far from me, far from my usual home
It tells me about days fully blue
far from these suffocating warm times

A cold breeze drags the leaves on those trees
reaching me on my tired sad face
while I seat on my stony terrace
watching at long gone days of young girls

A sweet breeze sweeps my mind and my soul
overcoming my thin older skin:
a pale box I fill with evil, sins.
They make me defile our plain love

A fresh wind comes from your other world
it says about our love, about God
I can see both us there, both us pure
I can see both us new, happy and free

 

September, 1st 2022

 

Dulcissime

Sylvia Greenberg – ‘In Trutina’ and ‘Dulcissime’ from Orff’s ‘Carmina Burana’. Israel Philarmonic Orchestra, Tel Aviv, 1994, Dir. Zubin Metha.

Last days are very weird ones for me; maybe it’s so cause I’m writing a weird short novel about first time Eve made love. The stuff I post here is something embarassing for me, but I wrote it in English, a language I do not understand very well.

;P

Oh! I’m back!

Thanks to my so cute friend River Moonstone for some of these words.

Thanks to my Love to bear me.

Dulcissime Totam tibi subdo me

(Sweetest Love, I submit all myself to you)

Hidden under my black secret hair
there’s a Pink Calla Lily:
it’s my flower for you, it’s my gift,
charming flower that no else can see

Sweetest Love, I submit all me to you

Be slow, gentle. Be slow, foremost
take your time to explore.
take your time…
poke around, fumble me everywhere

For a while, my breath shall be the only
sound and movement: that’s all
and you, Love, you shall be
just my breath, in my breath

Sweetest Love, I give my all to you

Touch each inch of my skin.
I’ll get crazy, I’ll be as a great spasm
all my body will be as a cry
Tingling and shivering

We will merge our souls as well as
our fleshes together, to one
and to universe too: to each thing.
Put your lips everywhere on my skin

Sweetest Love, I am slave of your wish

So I’ll be my own skin
soft and warm: you can gently
bite me where you want: even there
while my mind starts to spin

Thus, my room will explode and in it
you and me, body and soul
and souls through our skin.
See the night changing into sunlight

Sweetest Love, own me now

Hidden under my black secret hair
there’s a Pink Calla Lily:
get it now as my gift
free me into wild cry

SL, Elven Forest, August, 27th 2022

Perhaps

 

angelo

Pic by Dony Mugnai, found here

 

When you say “perhaps” you
talk about something vague
that might be or might not
something maybe you’d like
it to be. It’s a hope, maybe vain

“Perhaps” sounds as a breath
come from nowhere, as breeze,
fresh air moved by my mind,
breath from odd thoughts, from hide
spots of brains, hearths, of urges
born as mere odds, as chance

So “perhaps” refers to
dreams, not aware tools, acts;
something that could be true
yet now it is not so

My “perhaps” is like hope
about love, about life.
I would “perhaps” could be
I wish me can be true
I would like see my wings
to spread out of my shell
to make fly this my wreck

 

SL, Rainbow Rhapsody, July, 23rd 2022

 

Swifts

 

DSCN0260-min

Pic by me, that place, that day

 

A short holiday makes little lighter
all the cares that give me many troubles
This old town gives itself to us and
owns us like it did when we got married

Crazy game all swifts play fast and freely
while I watch them black under the sky
                                                            over Siena.
As it’s usual I envy them when
my eyes and mind scroll across deep blue

Please, don’t let our memory wane
and our passion turn to old regret:
It’s my love odd and needs skin and flesh,
to be concrete and not abstract trend

 

Siena, July, 1st 2022

 

 

Italian version

 

My crow cries

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Pic found here

My crow cries like did Poe one once shouting
nevermore
even if everything always happens:
life and death, love and pain, hate and joy
run together

A gull flies printing its shadow fast
on this Earth where we stand up like dreaming
while I confuse to do, to be, sleeping,
to find shivers of love on my skin

Save me, oh!
Free me now, again, free me now Lord
watch at my ill poor weak troubled mind
see the flesh You gave me as weird gift…
Please consider how much I’m poor thing

Give me each thing I need, that is love,
that is knowledge to be safe, that’s peace

Castiglioncello, July, 6th 2022