After two weeks of practically killing myself to get things under control, I was surprised to find myself with several smooth hours to sit and write on the City. My crazy writer’s group meets next Saturday and I am do to submit a section. I have piles of little scattered notes that I am trying to pull together to get ready.
All my reading about duality and change and the self has paid off.
I am at the point where, after Okeanu the Lord of the Ocean has seen Sadima and fallen in love at first sight, his sister, Laineta (the waves) decides to help him find a way to be able to talk to Sadima (cuz like dude, he’s made of water, flirting is hard). So she is on her way to see Issand, the creator of the human race and earth to see if he will make a man for Okeanu to speak through.
So I am writing the section where she is walking up the back of a rising wave to reach the Heavens and as she is walking, she is in monologue with her self. In the monologue there is all the duality of love, she both wants to give her brother the gift of being able to communicate with Sadima and hopes that Issand turns down her request because she fears losing her brother to love. She feels a deep shame in recognizing this in herself, and part of her motivation, of being willing to travel out of her way and take the risk of rejection by Issand is the sense that in doing so she will “make-up” for these feelings that she has neither spoken or acted on, but felt.
Issand is shaping up to be quite interesting. Here is the creator of the world who is perceived by all the other Gods to be an abject failure because he lost control of his creation. Yet he is proud of what he has done because he knows that the Gods “fault me that life once given/tends to lead to the surprise of living” but Mans willfulness, to him, is a success, the creation that lives beyond and outside of his creator. But, there is also the issue that he has taken a vow to never create life again (which the Gods see as proof that he knows he is a failure) but for him is more complex.
It felt good to sit and write. To shape. To worry the words.
It just all felt good.
c.2011 Cassandra Tribe. All Rights Reserved.