Imaginal Journal
Imagination is Medicine
Spirit of the Beehive
El espiritu de la colmena, a Spanish film from 1973.
This is actually the film I watched on my first movie date with my husband. He chose the film because it was Spanish and I was living in Madrid at the time and thought I would enjoy it. The first time I watched it, it was so subtle and dense that it took a while for it to settle in my consciousness. Over time, it’s magic and spell over me has grown profoundly.
I am captivated by Ana’s innocence, curiosity and embrace of the monster (Frankenstein) which is so poignant and a stunningly accurate portrayal of childhood perception. I find her older sister Isabel’s behavior, slightly more tuned into the knowledge of the adult world, so interesting as she takes on a role of mischief, wickedness and manipulation. And there this interesting dynamic with the parents, in which you see the weight of the world on their shoulders. They seem so wrapped up in their minds even though they deeply care about their children.
Something about it reminds me of my childhood summers in Mexico. I can remember my Papa keeping bees. I remember the smell of wood and the beeswax, in my Papa’s workshop and what its like to feel like a child so small and curious, believing everyone else has it worked out except you.
Bright Star / An Education
Here I muse over two period dramas that struck me on the pains of young adult love and growth ❤️
This Jane Campion film, Bright Star, is so beautiful. I admired Franny's character for her conviction and the ways in which Keats makes her a believer in the beauty of love. My favorite scene is when Franny collects dozens of butterflies and lets them loose in her room because Keats writes in a letter how he wishes they lived but three blissful days together, free as butterflies, than a lifetime of painful separation. I remember reading Keats in high school and feeling that his sensitivity resonated so deeply with me. It was so satisfying to see this portrayal of him, to understand his muse and the poetic context for inspiration, despite or perhaps because of the tragedy and illness that shadowed his short life.
Oh how I envied the costume design on this film, An Education. I adored the 1960's chic wardrobe. Jenny's character is bridging to the adult world by dating an older guy, as the boys her age start to pale in comparison. Shifting from the banal family/school paradigm to coming alive to a world of with color, the schoolgirl idealization inevitably is a fantasy.
My favorite scene was when her father opens up to her regarding his own shortcomings and the pressure he had been placing on her because of his own fears to be in the world. A charming coming-of-age story.
Answer From Within
“One of the lies would make it out that nothing Ever presents itself before us twice. Where would we be at last if that were so? Our very life depends on everything’s Recurring till we answer from within”
Becoming a Chair
When this film, Tokyo! by French director Michel Gondry first premiered locally, I was having a hard day at my former job and to add to the challenge, I got into an argument with my spouse. I decided to go this film on my own as a bold act to seek inspiration. as I had long regarded films by this director such as Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. I was deeply moved by the main character's search for her own worth, as the film took a strange turn into the surreal and absurd. She became a chair. I thought to myself well, at least to become a chair is to have a noble and useful function. I started walking towards the exit of the theater feeling therapized in a good way when I bumped into a man walking in. It was the director himself to my surprise. I had no idea there was a special Q &A at the end, so I promptly returned to my seat to take in more insight on this strange plight of transformation. To this day, I still feel the metaphor rings true and love how the magical realism genere can jolt us into deeper truths.
Unconcious
Sigmund Freud pioneered several theories on psyche, some of which remain prominent in our collective understanding of the unconscious, especially on sexuality, dreams, and ego functions. One of my favorite films that pokes fun at the Pandora’s box that he incited is “Unconscious.” Set in Victorian era Spain, a love triangle ensues between his devotees, swept up in the drama of his creative, brilliant, and audacious concepts, which expresses the spirit of the times.
When I visited Freud’s London home and spent time in his famous study, I was struck by the palpable energy of Freud’s connection to our deeper ancient wisdom. With archeological relics, volumes of books, and curated objects abound, the mythopoetic cocoon that this man had created, seeped him in some undeniable truths about the underpinnings of psychological phenomenon.
Although many of his notions are thought to be forced or out-dated in our modern understanding, Freud’s theory of Thanatos, the death instinct, and Eros, the life instinct, remains a compelling consideration for me. How do we make sense of this primary destructive urge towards ourselves and others? And on the other hand, towards survival and creation?
To that end, the circular paradox of creation and destruction as a reality of natural and universal law persists within our own psychic realities. While we may have paradoxical instinctive drives, at times hidden from our awareness, the effects on a macro and micro level are evident, yet we resist this reality of life by expecting perfection or all light. I end up thinking of Freud as wise critic/sociologist/anthropologist with something valuable to express the paralleling features of the mind and the nature of mankind.
I recall Allen Koehn, a beloved professor, who would provoke us into deepening with this consideration: “What is the opposite of life?”
Intuitively we answered death. He smiled and said, “Birth is the opposite of death. There is no opposite to life."
To the Valley of my Ancestry
To sunny mornings and fresh air; watching Papa, the relentless cowboy, tend to the land and animals; to heading to the mercado with Mama, the persistent caretaker, before the vendors close for siesta, so she can make a feast for the hungry lunch crowd of family visitors; to going to the corner store for sodapop and bread rolls; to watching the clouds suddenly roll in for a thunderstorm afternoon and leave makeshift rivers on paved roads without drainage; to hikes along dirt paths, careful to not stumble over a red ant hill; to playing cards with the older generation; to drinking hot chocolate, homemade from the cacao, just the way abuelita would make it; to paying patronage to the village saints and their miracles; to giving homage in the unkempt cemeteries to those who've passed on; to the vast black and starry night sky; to having memories of my childhood flood my mind; and to checking the sheets for scorpions before going to bed-- in the valley of my ancestry.