These are screenshots taken from a film of a ritual, performed with the recent full moon - the 'flower moon' in Scorpio (9th May 2020).
I am attuning to the moon especially - and my menstrual blood - as ritual allies and forces. Along with earth, river, root, tree, flower, plant, seed, rock, Bird(song), drum, ancestral connection, prayer - and my body - my psyche - recognising the community/ environment of 'others' in which I perform, the 'entanglement' of bodies and beings.
I showed these photos at a recent crit - I will write a few notes here.
The beauty / and the monstrous (perverse). The primal. Feminine. Not yet understood, a becoming of sorts, a paying of attention especially to those that fall into blind spots, or dark corners of the unconscious. That which is denied. To some degree the potency of woman's mensturation has been denied by this culture. It is something to hide, to be discreet about, ashamed about even.
'Painfullness of becoming' - the 'woundedness' that allows open communication and not knowing and yet finding out together. Cleansing of trauma. Ancestral, personal, cultural.
The role of medicine woman / priestess / shaman (witch?)
The utter impermanence of life, of phenomena - over 6 months worth of blood, poured over my body - and the river took it in an instance. Gone. No holding on, impossible to hold on/ fix/ take back/ claim.
The 'ornate' (ritual objects/ vessels) or the 'ordinary' - where is it that I stand. What frame of reference? I don't want to deny the domestic (hence the jam jars, that stored the blood in my freezer - hinting at the space in which I bleed every month - at home)
Do I pour blood over me in other locations, in my kitchen? in the shower? in bed?!
The mess. Nature is a mess.
The potency (recognised in indigenous cultures) and the everyday-ness.
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