time travel and the slothwoman

morgan moonlady mama
musky you musky –
let me cuddle up with your
mysterious feathers,
let me cry at your
furry breast.

morgan moonlady mama
musky you musky –
big mama you,
bigger than life,
bigger and softer and
warmer than life,
let me drink of your
thick milk.

morgan moonlady mama
musky you musky –
your brown hairy hands
cup me, hold me
like a little plum,
your heartbeat drum
lulls me to sleep.

musky you morgan mama,
moonlady you,
my morgan mama.

this is a poem i wrote last year. it somehow feels a propos right now, on these gray, rainy mornings, when we can feel the faint ancestral stir of needing to stay just a little longer in the back of the cave. slothwoman was introduced to me by z budapest in the holy book of women’s mysteries. she immediately spoke to me, this shaggy, stocky, muscular prehistoric mamma with a never-ending supply of milk and dreams. she smells of musky smoke from the fire she tends in the cave and her skin is rough.

one of the themes that fascinated us for quite a while at the fireside chats that i used to hold at sacred space was time travel. my view is that whether “actual” time travel – shamanistic, yogic, technological or otherwise – indeed occurs for some people is maybe not that important.

because we time travel all the time anyway.

when we dream of the future, we time travel. when i invite slothwoman into my life, i time travel.

the reader has the choice now to roll her eyes and be irritated at the letdown: first the exciting idea of time travel, and then nothing but run-of-the-mill imagination? maybe a little creative visualization, and that’s it?

the other choice would be to go with it. okay, we use what’s called “imagination” to time travel. what does that mean? and just how ordinary do we want our imagination to be?

this celebration of the ordinary, of lifting everyday events out of the humdrum of boring repetition into what’s special and amazing every time is something that attracts me in some spiritual traditions. some christian mystics do it, buddhists do it, practitioners of magick do it. and practitioners of magick do it with intention, with will.

intention and will imply choice. i have the choice to see my experiences with slothwoman as just another disney movie in my mind, or i can, with intention and will, declare that my visits with slothwoman are examples of time travel. if i make it so, i can go deeper, investigate more what it means for me to time travel, and experience extending myself more and more into the vast expanse of what we call past and future.

after all, i hold, with many philosophers today, that time is not a static thing. it’s a relationship. “before” and “after” are not actual things, only words for relationships to what we experience as “now”. time is plastic, malleable.

if i believe that, i might as well walk my talk. i might as well take my visits with slothwoman seriously, let her hold me in her big hand, let her lull me to sleep in her cave, the better to dream through these cold, rainy days.

isabella mori
counselling in vancouver

Leave a comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *