Fearsome Help from Baba
Reading Heather's latest post and Lois' comments reminded me of something I had forgotten, I've been so busy, and got the urge to post it here. It made me think of a black doll of mine, tiny and made of rubber, with a dress and shoes and socks on. She is small enough to hold, unseen, in the palm of my hand, and hides permanently in the pocket of my raincoat. I also had another black doll my father brought home from a business trip to New Guinea, and I happened to call her "Mary" when I was about nine, I think. She had full tribal dress on and was adorned with beads and shells. In "The Maiden King" Marion Woodman writes with Robert Bly copiously on the Baba. She's the one who gives that piece of uncompromising advice you wish someone would say, but no-one has the endless bottomed well of wisdom that she has. What looks tame and wonderful to the outside world is distasteful to her. What looks tame and wonderful often to society is the death for soul. She is protective, but fierce, and her laws must be obeyed. Hers is an uncommon wisdom, not reachable by children - it's too complex. Her eye sees deeper fathoms in the darkness than any other. I have no idea why my father chose that gift for me, but I am glad he did. I had other teddies and dolls, conventional toys. Must have been the reason for my little black doll I keep in adulthood. These things had been forgotten by me, in the hustle and bustle of daily life in the modern world, but the hem of the ancient is never far away, it seems. Thanks for letting me remember the connection with these dolls and their importance in the craziness of the modern world.