Smoke

There is always something on the baking tray which burns and fills the room with smoke!!! Then you cannot see properly!!! Then the fat from the frying pan leaps out and bites you multiple times on the forearm!!!

I was looking on the Wolf at the Door website. It reminded me that I used to write a lot more than I do at the moment. Every morning I sat at an old wooden desk in Abbey House and wrote from my beautiful fountain pen. Ananda was talking of the importance of narrative, in seeing how we all have a narrative on our experience. I have a story. Hillman talks of how we can see our story from many different stylistic points of view. For example our life can be a comedy or a tragedy or a surrealist nightmare. The real creative skill is to be able to morph between these different styles, to loosen up our tenacious grasp on one single mono narrative. I wonder of the souls deeper movements are the slow transformation of our story, who we are, where we are going, what we are capable of. I believe we are capable of so much more, but that the perpetuation of our story inhibits us. For me it is a queeeezy feeling in my guts that make me feel like I will fall over if I aim too high. But really mind is insubstantial and workable and (if you believe it) infinite. The ability to peel away the old story to let the new freedom in is hard won. I might float off the face of the planet if I were to follow my wildest dreams! But I would be liking that too, it is preferable to leadening myself down with a vast list of 'out of bound' possibilities. It is touching the Earth of what we really are, which is Kingly.