Writers and Cobras

©2012 Danise Codekas

Surely all art is the result of one's having been in danger, of having gone through an experience all the way to the end, to where no one can go any further. (Rainer Maria Rilke)

When I was looking for inspiration today I came across a book by Elizabeth George, Write Away. Elizabeth has won all types of writing awards from France, Germany and the US. I remember one statement she made which goes something like, ideas are alive if you are awake to them.

With all the input we receive daily from people and experiences in our lives, Internet info, Twitter and Facebook communications, sometimes it is difficult to follow a random thought, a good idea, with all the overload we accumulate.

Daily I write 1500 words. Twitter or Facebook does not count.  Sometimes the ideas are not coherent, sexy or a fount of knowledge. I do not edit or feel guilty when I am done, and should, at life's end, someone come across the millions of words scribbled, over my lifetime, I ask they burn them, if they read any of them at all.

As I meet new people, I wonder sometimes if they are the type of person who would enjoy reading any of my dribbles. There are some people, I have encountered, who I would prefer they not read anything I wrote.

There are very many people who have become friends across the Internet, with me. People I would enjoy spending time with, over a meal, or even travel with for a while.

-Letters to a Young Poet
May you gain more and more confidence in what is difficult and in your solitude among other people. (Rainer Maria Rilke)

 

Writers are solitary personas, for parts of their lives. Closing a door, sitting down and writing in silence, for hours, can be wearing on another person, who lives with you.

On the other hand, relationships survive, because one of the partners is an artist. I have never lived with a man, in an intimate relationship, who I could write around. Writing Time was something that was interruptible;  my request that one had to wait, until I was done, with the next sentence or page, met with resistance.

I didn’t know myself, well enough then, as an artist. I also did not realize how deeply an artist feels passion and drive, when they are creating. I do now and could live with another artist, or visionary or creator, since I understand the need to close the door, and travel to a far off location alone, in the mind or physically. I am not afraid to close a door, nor for someone to walk out a door to pursue the Muse.

What we call fate does not come into us from the outside, but emerges from us. (Rainer Maria Rilke)

However, the patience to endure interruptions was a lesson I needed to learn. Life happens and interruptions bring me to amazing adventures, more and more. I do understand the need for attention. We all want attention, sometimes.

I am also a photographer and think nothing of stopping the car, or changing a flight because there is something drawing me to that location, that vista, that opportunity to meet a mystic, healer or a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Rushing around a country, trying to see every museum or natural wonder is not comfortable for me. Can I do it? Yes, and I have within groups, or with one other person.

Trained as a communications sociologist, an urban anthropologist, demand I sit in a cafe, on a public square and watch or begin conversations with the person at the next table. How else do you gain a perspective, of where you are at, if you do not engage in conversations with strangers?

“When you look at some faces, you can see the turbulence of the infinite beginning to gather to the surface. This moment can open in a gaze from a stranger, or in a conversation with someone you know well. Suddenly, without their intending it or being conscious of it, their gaze lasts for only a second. In that slightest interim, something more than the person looks out.” –John O’Donohue, Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom.

I once was on a trip to Southern India, with 15 people. One of them was a nurse, who had never been to India. During the flight and overnights in Thailand and Calcutta, she told people that cobras could crawl up pipes into toilets.

Part of the travel adventure for me is observing what other people, around me do, when confronted with unexpected events on the road. The loss of a passport, the cancellation of a flight, injuries requiring medical assistance, and, being stopped by military troops and questioned.

Watching her preconceived ideas take root in some of the group members' minds, was disconcerting, as she was injecting fear without cause and dimming the fun for a few. As karmic payback goes, I was able to witness her reaction, when a village boy, with a large woven basket, removed the top and held it up to her, as she sat in a human-pulled rickshaw. She would not walk, in the village streets, because of the possible diseases from refuse.

Her fear of snakes was realized when an entrancing, black cobra, raised its body above the basket lip, and hissed in her face. Screaming, at the boy, and the man pulling her rickshaw, she escaped  from black cobra and smiling village boy.

I stood their mesmerized, looking at the Cobra. A group of village men gathered round the boy and me, quickly.  He dumped black Cobra, in the dirt, before me.Cobra began hissing, which sounded like a low growl of a dog, and I stopped breathing.

I was a captive, in ancient Phoenician, Celtic, Egyptian and Hindu myths, as the Cobra’s black scales glistened in the sunlight, staring at me, possessing me, and probably part of my soul, too. Incredible moments. I saw its soul, too. Yes, that serpent had a soul and it is expressed in its eyes. Like all creatures, yes?

It began undulating to the hand movements, of one of the men.  I was awestruck as it expanded its neck, wider and wider. It coiled and danced up to my knee height,  and then it stopped and we stared at one another, neither of us moved.

The little boy touched my arm, as he bent down and gathered this sentient being, of ancient history. Boy asked, "you are not afraid? You like?" All I could do was nod my head and smile back.

Consciousness returned slowly. The village men spoke, then began laughing, about "the other American lady" who ran away.

Still in a bit of a trance, I asked why were they laughing.  Seems, the Cobra had its poison sacs removed/milked when it was young. It became the village's good luck charm, the embodiment of King Cobra. It could bite, but its venom, which is enough to kill 20 humans, or one elephant, was not present. It was the village pet.

This is in the end the only kind of courage that is required of us: the courage to face the strangest, most unusual, most inexplicable experiences that can meet us. (Rainer Maria Rilke)

Hindus in India celebrate Nagpanchami, on July 30th.Snake God, fascinated me and I find myself, wishing to go to the Ajanta Caves, which are a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Snake God is represented throughout the caves. Bruno Poppe has taken incredible pictures of the Ajanta caves. This link directs you to his gallery, at the UNESCO site: http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/242/gallery/

Later, that afternoon, while enjoying siesta time, with 3 German travelers, on my hotel balcony, the hotel manager and his wife joined us.

I retold my morning adventure story, and the Indian couple began laughing, when they heard about the nurse's belief that cobras would crawl up sewer lines, into toilets. Screens are installed in the water pipes. Cobras do swim, however, they cannot live in water. They like trees, branches and grass. They are the only reptile that builds nests.

Yet, that night, upon awakening, I did crawl to the end of my bed and jump across the floor, to the bathroom, with trepidation.King Cobras' power and powerful eyes, shall remain in my memory, forever. Yes, there was a bit of love shared with the Cobra. He was magnificent and a tribute to the power that creates life.

“The heart is the inner face of your life. The human journey strives to make this inner face beautiful. It is here that love gathers within you. Love is absolutely vital for a human life. For love alone can awaken what is divine within you. In love, you grow and come home to your self. When you learn to love and let yourself be loved, you come home to the hearth of your own spirit. You are warm and sheltered.” –John O’Donohue, Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom.