Transcript
[00:00:00.00] Hi, there!
Welcome! Welcome to the audio version of “between starshine and clay.” The title of this newsletter pays honor to the inimitable Lucille Clifton, who reminds me that the best is yet to come.
[00:00:19.54] This audio is only being published on the “between starshine and clay” feed on Substack, so if you’re hearing this, it means you have subscribed to receive the newsletter or shown an interest in my creative practice - thank you for your support.
[00:00:35.38] So why audio, Jasmyne? Well, if you know anything about me, you know I love “woo.” I love the esoteric, the weird, the hippie dippy - give me all of that. Run it; I want it. Thank you. This newsletter began as an intimate look at my self-directed astrology education, and while that focus has since evolved, the “woo” is very much still there. Recording is an experiment with using my Human Design strategy in a way that challenges me to become comfortable using my voice to inform others. Candidly, it is also helping me with my perfectionism because this is probably recording attempt number ten. So let’s see how this goes, shall we?
[00: 01:24.96] This week I’m offering a recitation of the newsletter that I shared on May 15, 2024 whose invocation was “The Litany Against Fear” from Dune. The primal, ancient fear that Herbert described in the text and that Rebecca Ferguson evoked so well as Lady Jessica in the film inspired me to write last week’s newsletter about my own recent experiences with fear. It reads:
“I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.”
[00:02:21.50] Continuing with the text of the newsletter itself:
“I’m sitting in a hot bath on a Monday morning, overcome with awe and gratitude. I recently left my job of six-and-a-half years, and I have the good fortune of three months of time to rest. Deep, necessary rest that I have cried and begged and tried to strong-arm the universe into sending my way. This brief bout of “funemployment” comes as a welcome relief from four years of intermittent (excuse me) physical, mental, and psychic illness.
[00:03:05.62] I do not know the details about what’s next. Trust me. I have applied for many jobs and gotten to the final round on multiple occasions. None of them panned out, so I am terrified that I will ruin my tiny family’s finances in a city that is rife with homelessness and poverty. I. am. terrified. that I will ruin my tiny family’s finances in a city that is rife with homelessness and poverty. Walking away is the most terrifying but most necessary decision that I have ever made. My need for room to breathe, to grieve, to cry, to sit in the sun and merely exist overtook my fear of destitution and failure.
[00:03:56.13] When people ask what’s next for me, I am honest about not being totally certain. In this period of time, I’m planning to complete first drafts of the comprehensive exams that will determine whether I will advance to doctoral coursework in the fall. That’s a response most people can wrap their brains around, even if it’s only partially true.
When I chose to go back to school, I trusted that something more than tens of thousands of dollars worth of student debt would come of it. I was already spending hours of my free time studying astrology and tarot, so it made sense to invest extra resources into the traditions and symbols underlying those practices. The debt I was anticipating is there for sure, alongside tens of thousands of dollars that my beloved and I have paid out of pocket, but so is a clearer sense of the beauty and magic in the world. I went back to school seeking enchantment and the will to live after an unsettling bout of depression. If I was going to suffer, I at least wanted a say in what that suffering looked like, so I enrolled in graduate studies that require us to read up to 1,000 pages per class, attend in person classes three days a month for up to eight hours a day, and write three, 8-12 page papers every quarter minimum – though usually there are additional presentations, reflection posts, or lit reviews due, too. Suffer indeed. Suffer, suffer indeed…
[00:05:31.25] Both the choice to enter grad school and to leave my job were leaps of faith; I do not know what will come of them. I’m learning to follow flashes of insight and moments of synchronicity to order my steps, which tends to work in my favor much better than trying to control outcomes. I’m also working on a creative offer that will invite others into my interests in myth, speculative fiction, and social justice. With every encounter, myth and speculative fiction remind me that we can have a different world if we want it. In the depths of my despair, I heard myself saying over and over again, “We don’t have to live like this,” so I decided to let that neurotic fixation blossom into a “positive obsession” - a mantra and a research question. I intend to launch the creative offer within the next year, so I welcome this respite to write, create, be, and figure out the details.”
[00:05:31.25] That concludes the short essay that I wrote. In case you were unaware, the phrase “positive obsession” is the title of an autobiographical essay that Octavia Butler published in 1996 about her ascension as the godmother of speculative fiction. Thank you, Octavia, for digging a fount of wisdom and creative motivation that I have returned to innumerable times over the years. Thank you, Frank Herbert and Denis Villneuve for the creative inspiration for this recitation.
And thank you, listener, for letting me bend your ear. Please like, share, and comment on this post if you found it interesting or insightful. I’m hoping to reach 100 subscribers by my birthday on Juneteenth. Y’all already know my birthday is Juneteenth, and your endorsement goes a long way toward reaching that goal.
[00:07:46.24] If you have spare funds to support the public study and research practice of a Black, feminist scholar and cultural mythologist, please consider signing up for a paid subscription to “between starshine and clay” at only $8 a month. Funds from paid subscriptions support me to create a virtual immersion in myth, culture, and speculative fiction where participants will awaken their creative visions of liberation. As a token of my appreciation, all paid subscribers get a behind-the-scenes look at building the platform.
Thank you for being here today. I look forward to being back in your inbox soon.
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