Sunday morning watching TV at breakfast. Football news is on with the sound off, a footballer is having a paddy on the grass, I’m waiting for to weather even though I can see it through the window, now – a fat woman with impressive hips, I saw one yesterday in town whose hips were amazing. Seems to be a big down on fat. I make a sudden resolution – no more news! There it’s done.
Here are two views on FAT which differ from TV news where opinions are bundled and dished up, ‘fat accumplee’. One view of ABUNDANCE encapsulated in an iron age statue could be a woman today, seen clothed, walking around, shopping, chatting, taking care of children, sculpting, painting, writing playing the cello, singing . . .
The Venus of Willendorf is a 4.25-inch (10.8 cm) high statuette of a fertile, female figure, estimated variously between 28,000 and 20,000 BC, or 30,00 – 27,000 BC. It is carved from oolitic limestone, and was covered with red ochre when found in Lower Austria, 1908.
Another view of such MAGNIFICENCE is created in a fairy story, (keeper of the soul).
The Butterfly Woman
La Mariposa is old, very, very old. one of her shoulders is bare she is wrapped in cloth of red and black. Her body is heavy and she has tiny feet. She is the butterfly woman arrived to strengthen the weak. she is that which most of us think of as not strong; age, the butterfly, the feminine.
Butterfly woman’s hair reaches to the ground, thick and stone grey. Her hips are two baskets and the fleshy top of her buttocks is wide enough to ride two children. She dances and waves a fan of feathers, spreading the earth with the pollinating spirit of the butterfly.
Her shell bracelets rattle like snake, the bells on her garters tinkle like rain. In one breast is the thunderworld, the underworld in the other. her back is the curve of planet earth the back of her neck carries the sunrise and the sunset. Her belly holds all the babies that will ever be born.
Butterfly woman cross-fertilises, the soul with dreams, the mundane world, she takes a little here, puts a little there. She transforms. A little is enough.
‘Women Who Run with the Wolves’; Clarissa Pinkola Estes; (Rider Books)
‘There is no ‘supposed to be’ in bodies. Does it have happiness, joy, can it move in its own way? Dance, step, wiggle?’