Moonshine, After three or was it four of these I thought I was skiing across that lake
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Excuse Me While I Kiss the Sky title page
ink with digital text by Amy Brereton
“Excuse Me While I Kiss The Sky” is a surrealist, first person black and white comic depicting the voyage of a moon goddess from a place of isolation and sadness, a bleak forest, to a place where she belongs, a glittering sky full of stars. The plot and imagery within the story are metaphors relating to what it is like to live with depression, as well as experiences of recovery including getting healthy through the use of antidepressants. The purpose of this comic is to destigmatize conversation on mental health and medication, for mental health is just as important as physical health, but this fact is often neglected in main stream society.
Aditi (अदिति “she who has no limits”), also known as Lajja Gauri, the uttānapad “she who crouches with legs spread”.
In the first age of the gods, existence was born from non-existence.
The quarters of the sky were born from Her who crouched with legs spread.
The earth was born from Her who crouched with legs spread,
And from the earth the quarters of the sky were born.
Rig Veda, 10.72.3-4
“Aditi is heaven Aditi is the mid-world
Aditi is the mother earth; Aditi is the father and son.
She is (collectively) all the Gods; She is 5 peoples;
Aditi is all that is born and yet to be born.”
Rig Veda 1.89.10
“The Poet is a kinsman in the clouds Who scoffs at archers, loved a stormy day; But on the ground, among the hooting crowds, He cannot walk, his wings are in the way.”
—
“Le Poëte est semblable au prince des nuées
Qui hante la tempête et se rit de l'archer;
Exilé sur le sol au milieu des huées,
Ses ailes de géant l'empêchent de marcher.”
Charles Baudelaire, from “L'Albatros (The Albatross)” in Les Fleurs du Mal, translated by James McGowan
(via existential-celestial)
e.e. cummings
Here is the deepest secret nobody knows.
Here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
And the sky of the sky of a tree called life;
Which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide.
And this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart.
I carry your heart.
I carry it in my heart
(via the-silent-troubadour)
The winter field is not
the field of summer lost in snow: it is
another thing, a different thing.
Ellen Bryant Voigt, from “Winter Field,” Messenger: New and Selected Poems 1976-2006 (W. W. Norton & Co., 2007)
“How I used to love the dark, sad evenings of late autumn and winter, how eagerly I imbided their moods of loneliness and melancholy when wrapped in my cloak I strode for half the night through rain and storm, through the leafless winter landscape, lonely enough then too, but full of deep joy, and full of poetry.”
— Hermann Hesse, Steppenwolf