Inspired by the painting of Peter Birkhauser, Ive posted as my photo. I identify with that bear for all manner of reasons. For college tonight we have been asked to write our own myth (very Jungian). This is mine also. Thank you Peter Birkhauser for your help in finding this. Bear at the Tree of Lights When the Soul began to write his life examiners at the womb door asked: “Does this one want to come out?” The father left to think this over. The mother was left to pethadine. The baby came out forceps first. Some say heroes are born to difficulty. This one found his birth was not a rehearsal for his quest. All he saw and heard and felt were waltzes, global whining, ghetto blasts that took away his own voices. He changed from baby to good boy to poet, always a goldfish jumping from a glass bowl to die stifled on the skirting board. But outside an apple tree grew whose roots held light that sneaked in through windows and door cracks. Now the fish started to grow. Soon it was too big for prowling cats of mother and father complexes. He broke the bowl, found it could breathe in air, and walk around. He stepped outside to see the tree. He pushed his hand through the ground felt roots that pulsed with light, and as he tasted the fruit he saw a fence, that blocked the next garden, but knew that he would get round it. There on the other side another tree grew. Its root lights rose through the ground into blossoms that lit up. He looked at his body again. Now it had brown fur and paws. He lifted his head and roared. He knew this bear could eat from light trees While ahead of him lay a city with new challenges. Graham Mummery
Posted on: Tue, 09 Sep 2014 11:34:35 +0000
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