Deluge

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Calypso is raised by her uncle who oversees a monastery of men.  Disgused by all femininity Calypso is dressed like the others with her breasts bound to blend in, although she is still kept in relative isolation.  No longer able to bear this distancing she steals away to a secluded room in the monastery to which she has never been before.  She is determined to use a knife and to cut off her breasts.  And there on the wall a colossal tapestry comes to light by her candle.  Naked nymphs are at play; undressed humans in various poses hold one another in admiring gazes.  Through their eyes she sees the lie with which she has lived.  She walks out of the castle, freed.

I read The Deluge At Norderney time and again when I first came across it…interestingly while first reading Donald Winnicott’s work on Object Relations psychology.

Today I was cutting hay when two wisps of virga appeared on the horizon to the west.  Round after round they came closer and intensified.  And finally they spanned the near-sky and I thought I had better pack up my sickle mower for the day.  So I grabbed The Paradise Of The Holy Fathers and headed out to the bunkhouse porch to enjoy the storm front.

And I was centred once again.

Read Deluge by Karen Blixen.

Then go sit in a downpour.