#tlilli

[snailstrailz]

Tabaluga: The girl who fell off the world

Chapter 1, the girl who fell off the world

Pairings: Arktos/Bianca (oc)

Rating: T, teen and up audiences

Tags: my own interpretation of Tabaluga, it's a combination of the movie, book, and show.

Content warnings: none (in this chapter)

Wordcount: 2,123

Summary: A mountain climber called Bianca is lost in a storm and finds herself in Ice land. She receives the help of a friendly, mysterious young girl called Lilli. She meets Arktos, who seems eager to get her to stay in Ice land.

Note: this took a while to make, more to come soon! For now I'm going to let myself finally rest

The missing person’s case of Bianca Caulfeild is still at large. The mountain climber is yet to show after an unexpected turn of the weather yesterday separated her from her group. Search efforts still continue with little to go on. The only thing search and rescue have come across is her hat, theorized to have been blown off by the wind while she was lost in the storm.

“The dogs keep losing the trail, we couldn't find anything when we dug up the snow, we looked in all the spots where she might have taken shelter, still nothing.” a search and rescue officer says, “it’s like she just… fell off the world.”

That’s what the news had to say about Bianca, that officer was more right than he thought.

When Bianca woke up, huddled under an embankment, she was at first glad to be still alive. Soon, though, confusion set in. She was surrounded by foothills, a white forest in the distance, and a crooked tree was on the hill above her that she didn't remember being there. She definitely would have remembered it too, looking like a Christmas decoration with long icicles hanging down from its branches. She pulled herself to her feet, examining her surroundings more. Had she somehow gotten turned around and gone down the mountain? But how could have she gotten so far so quickly? And more importantly, where was the mountain? She turned herself around, bewildered and starting to panic. She couldn't see her own hand in front of her face back in that storm, she had to be missing something, she was just confused, she just needed to wait until she was found. Her head was racing, interrupted only by the voice of a young girl.

“Who are you?”

Bianca whipped around, met with an even stranger sight. A girl, no older that fifteen with snow-white hair and ghostly pale skin. She was wearing an unseasonably thin blue dress and most curious of her features, she had joints, like a doll. Bianca questioned if she was actually still alive, this girl definitely wasn’t a human, though she was a good replica of one. The girl furrowed her brow, no doubt curious. She stepped forward toward Bianca, who stepped back. Nonetheless, the mysterious girl approached, reaching out her white hand towards Bianca.

“You… look like me…” she said, about to touch Bianca’s cheek when she was scooped up in the arms of a polar bear, who was standing on two legs and wearing a scarf that was as bright red as his nose. “Don’t touch that, Lilli!” he yelped, “you have no idea where it’s been!” The bear looked at Bianca with scrutiny. “I don’t even know what that is…”

“She looks like me, Limbo!” the girl, Lilli said again.

“Huh, She does.” Limbo said, putting the girl down and giving Bianca a stiff prod with his claw. “You both only have fur on the tops of your head!” Limbo tilted his head, “I’ve never seen you, where did you come from?”

“I’m lost. I was hoping you might be able to tell me where I am, actually.” Bianca finally spoke, nervously looking Limbo in the eye.

“Ice Land!” Lilli piped up.

“Iceland?” Bianca scoffed, “I was in the french alps! How could I have crossed the sea?”

“French… Alps?”Lilli asked, head tilted “what’s that?”

Bianca’s face fell. Now she really had no idea what was going on now. Lilli seemed to be pondering something and glanced at Limbo

“...you don't think..” he said softly.

“Arktos said it could happen.” tLilli replied. She then turned to Bianca again. “I don’t think you’re from this world…”

“Oh, interesting.” Bianca said, she definitely wasn’t in Kansas anymore, talking polar bears and all. “How do I get back.” Bianca said flatly.

The girl and bear exchanged an uncomfortable glance. Bianca felt her stomach drop.

“You don’t know, do you?” Bianca sighed.

“No, I’m sorry…” Lilli paused, her face lighting up again, “I bet Arktos will know what to do!” Lilli snatched Bianca’s hand and began pulling her down a path that wove through the hills, “come on, Polaris isn’t far!”

Before Bianca could question what Polaris was the three of them were well on their way. Along their journey, they came upon the mouth of a crevasse between the two halves of a great ice sheet that was split in half. Lilli eagerly strode forward, but Bianca’s heels were stiff in the snow. Lilli turned back to face her.

“Come on!” Lilli pushed, tugging Bianca’s arm.

“Are you sure?” Bianca asked, “isn't there another way around?”

“If you want to walk for two days, yes.” Limbo said.

Bianca gulped and indulged Lilli’s concerned expression, continuing forward through the split in the ice. The walls of the crevasse were decorated with intricate carvings, carvings of dragons. They stood tall, wings spread, and flames flying forth from their mouths in some of the etchings. Bianca marveled at them, catching Lilli’s attention.

“Dragons.” she said.

“Dragons?” Bianca parroted.

“yes, dragons! Arktos said they used to be all around. They used to protect the land with their fire. But they all disappeared.” Lilli informed.

“Just like that?”

“Well, he did say it wasn't all at once. They all vanished one by one.”

Bianca made a noise of acknowledgement. She wondered where they could have gone. She remembers that her friends probably were thinking the same thing. She must have been quiet for a while because Lilli stopped and looked at her. Her blue eyes looked up into Bianca’s brown ones questioningly.

“I’m ok.” Bianca said quietly. As Lill started walking again they exited the tunnel.

“We’re almost there!” Lilli said, pointing forward to a sparkling city in the near distance.

Buildings with domed roofs piled up toward the center, where a grand palace proudly stood. The city reminded Bianca of a glacier, with it’s upward momentum and towers jutting out in a regular pattern among the buildings, leaving a trail to the spires connected to the ice palace, wich itself had three small towers on the outside and a large one in the center. All buildings were circular, like igloos, which they probably were, given that ice seemed to be the primary material in Ice Land. surrounding the entire city was an imposing wall, the only entrance of which was an even more imposing gate.

Bianca didn't get much time to take Polaris in from a distance as Lilli continued to lead her forward hand in hand. Reaching the gate, the group was stopped by three polar bear guards. “Who’s this?” the biggest one asked, question directed at Limbo.

“Rex! This is Bianca. Shes a… I don’t know what she is, exactly.” Limbo stumbled, “Lilli found her and-”

“I don't care.” Rex growled, flashing his sharp teeth. Bianca gulped at the sight of Rex, much larger than the already hefty Limbo, and much more muscular too. He was wearing a black turtleneck and a patch over his left eye to match. “What is your business?” Rex re adjusted his speech to Bianca.

“Lilli wanted to bring me here, sir.” Bianca paused, but Lilli squeezed her hand reassuringly. “... to see Arktos, sir. She believes he knows a way to send me hom-”

“Is this true, Lilli?” Rex interrupted.

“Yes, sir.” Lilli replied.

“Right, then.” Rex said, pinning his large arms behind his back. “Limbo, search the visitor’s bag.” he stared at Limbo intensely with that one eye and Limbo gave a nervous nod. Bianca pulled off her backpack, which she had forgotten she had on at all until it had been pointed out. Limbo unzipped it and began to rummage through it, occasionally pulling something out, deeming it fine, and putting it back in. until he happened across something that made him pause. He pulled a small, red box free, examining it. He read the label aloud: “fire starting kit.”

Rex narrowed his eye at Bianca, but Limbo quickly butted in. “I’m confiscating this!” he declared. Though, he realized he had nowhere to stow the box, so he instead opted to throw it several yards away, where it made an unceremonious ‘flump’ when it hit the snow. Limbo shoved Bianca’s pack back into her hands and with a grunt, Rex buzzed the trio in.

The doors opened at a glacial pace, the rumble from them scraping the ground shaking sheets of snow from the top of the wall, Limbo and Lilli stepping through when the door was open wide enough, Bianca in tow.

The city of Polaris was grander on the inside. The exterior of buildings had spectacular arches and intricate snowflake details on doorways and windows. The roads were thoroughly shoveled, bear cubs and penguin chicks having snowball fights used the piled snow as shelter from their friend’s onslaught. Meanwhile the adults went about their business, working and running errands. However, as Bianca was noticed, the hustle and bustle stopped. Penguins stared and whispered behind their flippers, mother bears pulled their curious cubs close. They continued forward nonetheless, following the straight main path up the steps of the glittering ice palace.

The path was quite steep, Bianca thought, imagining that the locals were probably used to it. Lilli and Limbo definitely seemed unbothered by how upward the citadel was.

In front of the palace, the path opened up to a plaza, where the citizens would gather when the occupant of the grandiose structure addressed them. They walked up the steps, past more imposing polar bear guards, scaled another set of stairs, and passed another great set of doors before they entered the throne room of this palace.

Alone, atop the seat with a snowflake-shaped back sat a snowman. Bianca was a little taken aback, but at this point she didn't know what she was expecting. He shifted in his seat, a glint in his yellow eyes when he laid them on Bianca. He pulled himself forward and got off his throne.

“Father!” Lilli shouted, running up to the Arktos and hugging his round body.

He gave an ‘oof’ when she hit him, and he gave his daughter a pat on the head. “Watch the buttons, dear.” he chided softly and turned his attention to Bianca. He approached, shuffling along as he lacked legs.

“Who might you be?” he said, standing in front of Bianca, towering over her.

“I’m Bianca.” she replied, voice wavering in his presence. Arktos tipped his hat, which his eyes were evidently attached to and he took her hand in his own, gloved one.

“What brings you here? You certainly seem lost.” Arktos observed.

“Long story short, I was teleported to Ice Land by a blizzard.”

Arktos shook his head, “I figured this would happen eventually.” he lamented, “no worry, though, Bianca.” he followed through on taking her hand, pulling it to his face and pressing his icy cold lips to the back of her palm. Bianca knew it was a formality, but her cheeks flushed pink anyway, making Arktos flash a smirk. “I can send you home. In time.”

“In time?” Bianca said, dread in her voice.

“Yes, sadly.” Arktos replied, “the conditions aren't right.” he gave a shrug. “However, I will outstretch my hospitality until then, miss. I’ll let you stay right here in my palace” Arktos folded his hands, smiling as warmly as a snowman could.

“Oh, well, Thank you…” Bianca sputtered, still flustered.

“You get to stay!” Lilli cheered, smiling from ear to ear.

“Why don't you show her the guest room, Lilli?” Arktos said, giving his daughter a pat on the back. She obliged, taking Bianca’s hand again and leading her out of the throne room toward the halls. She could have sworn she heard Arktos say “she’ll be perfect.” as she left the room, but brushed it off as Lilli eagerly led her. Upstairs. She picked a door, leading Bianca inside. There was a blue bed, a blue carpet and a blue… everything, safe for the sunset outside the triad of arched windows that took up one of the walls, everything in that room was some form of blue.

“Your room!” Lilli exclaimed,

“Thank you, Lilli.” Bianca bent over slightly to meet Lilli’s gaze, “you really saved me, there.”

Lilli smiled widely and threw her arms around Bianca, hugging her for a while. “I’ll go now.” Lilli said, pulling away, “you’re probably tired.” with that, she left the room, shutting the door behind her.

Lilli was right. Bianca was exhausted. She threw off her pack, ran her fingers through her brown hair in the mirror, and flopped down on the bed. The feeling of the kiss Arktos left on her hand lingered with a tingling sensation, probably because his lips were so cold. Bianca concluded.

[leanstooneside]

Being greedy

1. book is that it

2. name is from chebel

3. mythology Freya is the rainbow

4. Reed who is journeying.[1

5. it is he

6. raingods is an idea

7. The surname is from tlilli

8. Huemac is king

9. direction is this function

10. It is a part

11. It is to my

12. The name is from tlilli

13. wine so is the soil

14. name is from tlalli

15. aquileña. It is from yaque

16. word is from quaitl

17. he is our

18. form is canil

19. Reed and is the name

20. rainbow is chel

21. drama is left uncertain.[2

22. Quetzalcoatl who is the author

23. Truly this is the Quetzalcoatl

24. Yacatecutli is from tecutli

25. heaven's hill; There

26. there is no r

[nahua-tlahtolli]

Para referirse al color, los nahuas utilizaban la palabra tlapalli, sin embargo, el mismo término, dependiendo del contexto, indica que algo es rojo. Esto muestra la importancia que éste tenía pues hay que recordar que a fin de cuentas es el color del fluido vital, la sangre.

En combinación con otros colores el rojo podía adquirir significados específicos, por ejemplo, con amarillo simbolizaba al dios del fuego. Otros casos son los difrasismos nahuas como in tlilli in tlapalli, “la tinta negra-la tinta roja” –es decir, la escritura–, y Tlillan Tlapallan, “la región negra y roja”, lugar de la sabiduría situado al oriente, donde fue a morir Quetzalcóatl.

El término en náhuatl para referirse al rojo era tlatlauhqui. Era un vocablo relacionado con el calor y el fuego, y por lo tanto con la cocción y la luz.

📸Brasero. Cultura zapoteca. San José el Mogote, Oaxaca. Museo de sitio. Texto: Enrique Vela. Foto: Gerardo González Rul / Raíces. Arqueología Mexicana, edición especial, núm. 80, p. 20.

El rojo

https://arqueologiamexicana.mx/mexico-antiguo/el-rojo?fbclid=IwAR1fubjZfzYA81ABbad5lJFeSP2VsSPb1lUPHAzhEXL77mwClNYhoWUcmxo

[monochrome-dust]

@tajimun ❣2 from Tlilli to Erri. (More of like a mask press but yes)

“Thank you, dear--”

[4laraza]

WRITING AS A SACRED OFFERING

6. Tlilli, Tlapalli. The Path of the Red and Black Ink.

In this chapter, Dr. Gloria Anzaldúa discusses her understanding of writing as sacred art, how this perspective impacts her work, and what her writing practices and rituals look like. She centers and honors her indigenous roots by committing herself to their principles and practices about 

        creativity and functionality

       the sacred and secular

       and art from everyday realities

She rightfully honors and celebrates herself and her contributions by acknowledging her work as healing medicine. Dr. Anzaldúa describes her writing as “alive, infused with spirit” and (re)connects her art to indigenous healing practices by discussing her shamanic ability to transform herself (as the writer), the reader and reality. Invoking and drawing inspiration from all her senses, Dr. Anzaldúa enters trances and faces Coatlicue States, or writing blocks, head on so that her writing is an offering to the divine and to the world.

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Poster of quote by Gloria Anzaldúa created by Grace Rosario Perkins

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“my people, the Indians, did not split the artistic from functionality, the sacred from the secular, art from everyday life.” (88)

“To write, to be a writer, I have to trust and believe in myself as a speaker, as a voice for the images. I have to believe that I can communicate with images and words, and that I can do it well.” (95)

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This chapter is powerful in that Gloria embraces and declares herself as a healer and her writing as medicine for her people and offerings to the divine. Every line of every page of this book has been so sacred, that I feel like I enter trances by reading and connecting with Gloria and her words. Reading her book is like looking into a mirror for me. She has provided so much space for individual and collective healing. 

I am so grateful for Gloria and her writing. I will practice this gratitude by honoring myself as whole, sharing her writing (medicine) with others, and embodying the mestiza identity and consciousness. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gloria Anzaldúa by Angela Yarber

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Why I write - Karina Nuyorican

A poet explores why she writes and the power of writing.

Healing - Aniya Smith

A spoken word poem that discusses the healing power of writing poetry. 

Con amor, 

Beatriz Esparza

[someones-reading-list]

Spring 2019: Composition and Reading in World Literature

Lisa Moore - University of Texas at Austin

Goal: examine the role of literature as what philosopher Kenneth Burke calls ‘equipment for living’.

Reading list (adults):

Toni Morrison: The Bluest Eye

Louise Erdrich: The Round House

Sandra Cisneros: Woman Hollering Creek

Arundhati Roy: The God of Small Things

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie: Half of a Yellow Sun

Alison Bechdel: Fun Home

Reading list (children):

Faith Ringgold: Tar Beach

Cynthia Leitch Smith: Jingle Dancer

Leslea Newman: Heather Has Two Mommies

Sandra Cisneros: Family Pictures/Cuadros de la Familia

Sandhya Rao: My Mother’s Sari

Mehrdokht Okorafor: Chicken in the Kitchen

Ancillary materials:

Sousanis: “Frames of Thought”

Palmer: A Hidden Wholeness

Brandt: “Remembering Writing, Remembering Reading”

Gloria Anzaldua: “Tlilli, Tlapalli”

James Baldwin: “A Talk to Teachers”

Audre Lorde: “Poetry is Not a Lauxury”

Leslie Marmon Silko: “Language and Literature from a Pueblo Indian Perspective”

Dorothy Allison: “This is Our World”

Alexander Chee: “First Fiction”

[leftpress]

Mexico: Down with the Internal Security Law: In Permanent Struggle Against the State and its Control

Anonymous Contributor | It's Going Down | July 5th 2018

The post Mexico: Down with the Internal Security Law: In Permanent Struggle Against the State and its Control appeared first on It's Going Down.

The following is a piece by Chaya Tlilli and translated by E. Rose. Despite much condemnation and protest, earlier this year the Mexican government passed a new Internal Security Law. The law gives the Mexican military increased domestic surveillance and policing powers, including legitimizing “the use of force” to “control, repel or neutralize acts of […]

→ READ MORE ←

Get your Latest News From The Leftist Front on LeftPress.News → Support Us On Patreon! ←

[ramatcsu]

6 Tlilli, Tlapalli / The Path of the Red and Black Ink

“It has become a conquered thing, a dead ‘thing’ separated from nature and, therefore, its power” (90).

Contradictory with preservation

Show piece

Lost its meaning and purpose

Cultural appropriation

Beading

energy

[bandakajuwes]

“El trabajo en el camino iniciático”

Según Quetzalcoatl, el fin de la vida es rebasar los límites de la realización individual para participar en la transfiguración de la naturaleza en su totalidad. Dicha transformación se realiza por medio de la acción (a la Era de Quetzalcoatl se le llama “movimiento” [ollin]). El trabajo interno para lograr dicho estado era laborioso y a menudo complicado, como si de trabajar una piedra bruta en una piedra cúbica perfecta se tratase. Quizá por esta razón es que los dicipulos de Quetzalcoatl se llamarían “grandes artesanos” (toltecas).

Teotihuacan fue sin duda una memorable ciudad en la que el culto a Quetzalcoatl vivió uno de sus máximos esplendores. La gracia de este lugar nos revela una serie de palacios, murales, artefactos y esculturas que nos narran las más profundas significaciones de las enseñanzas toltecas. Teotihuacan significa literalmente Ciudad de los Dioses y designa al lugar donde el hombre se convierte en dios, donde la serpiente-la materia- adquiere las alas que le permiten alcanzar las regiones superiores.

A menudo nos topamos con muy variadas representaciones de Quetzalcoatl, de entre las cuales destaca la personificación del “hombre-tigre-pajaro-serpiente”. Parecerá una parábola algo fantasiosa y carente de sentido, sin embargo la simbólica nahuatl tiene que decirnos mucho al respecto.   El hombre en sí representa al hombre solar, con los conceptos presentes de fuego,  luz, industrictibilidad (inmortalidad a través de la transformación o el movimiento). El Tigre representa la “etapa subterránea” del sol (del iniciado) y los instintos primitivos e irracionales. El Pajaro representa la “etapa celeste” (la elevación del espíritu), mientras que la Serpiente simboliza la “etapa terrestre” del iniciado, estado capaz de unir dichas etabas anteriores en la personificación de serpiente emplumada (de un ser terrestre iluminado por la consciencia divina).

El alma es simbolizada con una flor. El guerrero jaguar, en su guerra florida, tiene la misión de conquistar aquella parte de su ser ( su alma). Está en búsqueda de un estado perdido, consiente de querer pertenecer a una realidad superior. En su camino hacia el perfeccionamiento interior el guerrero/el iniciado atravesaba por una experiencia conocida como “In Tlilli in Tlapalli”, que significa “El color negro y rojo” (el saber). La yuxtaposición de esos colores simbolizan a la luz y a la oscuridad, sobrepasando la comprensión ordinaria de una dualidad. El iniciado se da cuenta de que sólo en medio se encuentra la condición honorable (solo en medio de lo “oscuro” y lo “luminoso”).

La luz que encarna el penitente en la parábola del sol, o de Venus,  no es más que una imagen poética para significar la trascendencia y la victoria sobre las tinieblas.

En cuanto al rostro y el corazón (Frase: “In ixtli, In Yollotl”). Yollotl,  corazón,  puede ser derivado de ollin (movimiento). Y-ollotl, que significa “su movilidad, o la razón de su movimiento”, nos da a entender que en la concepción cósmica nahua el corazón tenía un aspecto dinámico dentro del ser humano. Mientras que el rostro no es más que una “mascara” (hay que recordar la cantidad de alusiones con máscaras teotihuacanas con las que contamos). El rostro vendría siendo una manifestación de la personalidad adquirida tras la vivencia humana. El ideal educativo nahuatl era la formación de “rostros sabios, y corazones firmes como la piedra”.

Realizado por Tezcatl S. Créditos a autores de las imágenes.

[kiaraborderlandsylafronteria]

Tlilli, Tlapilli: The Path of the Red and Black Ink

In chapter 6, you give great credit to stories you told your sister on your writing ability and why you started writing, which is very inspiring and sentimental. Cuentos is a major part of your life because you grew up with your grandmother and father always telling you cuentos is interesting because like you said in the chapter many Mexicans grew up being told similar stories. I like that you make your writing art and take a lot of consideration and thought when creating stories, almost like an artist creating a physical sculpture. In most cultures, sharing stories of past events and even things like “urban legends” are very common and lead to a lot of intergenerational traditions and values. I understand the point you make when you say a story has a life of its own instead of just being two dimensional. Whenever a story is told the listener is strategically putting pieces together in order to create a bigger picture and put themselves in the position of the story.

[bmwalter-blog]

Chapter 6: “Tlilli, Tlapalli” and Creating Under the Covers

           Anzaldúa said that in her childhood, she could often be found hiding under the blankets at night reading and her sister threatened to tell their mother unless Anzaldúa told her stories. I could relate to this chapter on a personal level. When I was young, I would also read under the covers many hours past my bedtime. My sister and I shared a bed for many years until we each got our own bed but we still shared a room. My sister, like Anzaldúa’s, would complain that my light was much too bright and threaten me by telling my mom that I was still awake. I ended up turning out my flashlight, but I went to the other source of light in the room- the nightlight. I crept out of bed so as not to wake my sister and read by the nightlight long into the night. I too preferred imagination over the “death of sleep,” (p. 87).

           Anzaldúa describes that storytelling became something so special and sacred to her that her art was a living thing rather than an object. I felt that way about my stories as I began to create them. As long as I could talk, I told stories. As long as I could write, I wrote my stories down. I have a reputation in my family for telling stories or recounting dreams that last at least an hour long. My family has come to plug their ears or audibly groan when they hear me say, “I have a dream I want to tell you about.” Although this is playful and teasing, this mirrors the perspective Anzaldúa says westerners have about art- that it is an object. My family would passively and politely listen to my stories until it became inconvenient enough that it had to be cut short for another time. The joke was on my family, my stories were never-ending and when we came back to them later on as promised, I soaked up another hour of their time.

Eventually, my mom would tell me to write them all down and she would read them when she had time. From that point on, writing became a very important part of my life like it did for Anzaldúa. My stories were and are a direct window into my soul and I take it seriously and playfully at the same time.

[monochrome-dust]

@tajitangu: #also tlilli is like 7'1" lol

Tall.....

[d--aurora-blog]

Tlilli, Tlapalli/ The Path of Red and Black Ink

chapter six 

Within chapter six Anzaldúa explain how her art and writing, is not a dormant object, but rather a living thing. The art conceived and seen by her people is a living thing. Unlike in western culture we see it as something dead and never to have been alive at any point in the process. Anzaldúa states that art should be a product of, and a window into, someone's soul. The art gains power from the way it is utilized and the way its power is applied. She also explains how writing at some point was a connection between humans and gods. Black and red colors used in codices were signs of writing and wisdom; metaphor and symbols, truth and poetry could be used as a tool to achieve communication with the gods. Myself being an artist I can connect with how my art is an extension of my soul, who I am as a person, and that it is apart of me. Art and writing are so powerful because they hold so many raw emotions. They are the feelings of the author, of the artist. Like Anzaldúa said they are windows into someone's soul. The energy put into them shows just that. However, depending on the art or writing I wouldn’t exactly say it’s alive. That’s just my opinion though, it can be alive metaphorically an extension of the life that made it, but I don’t quite see it as having the same life as a person does. 

[michaelahcoleman-blog]

Chapter 6: Tlilli, Tlapalli

Chapter 6: Tlilli, Tlapalli

Writing has become a way Chicana activists releases themselves from the pressures of being an activist. The borderlands create and unease between cultures and ideas, and this uneasiness and unbalance creates a need to write. the duality of it is just like how the writing process is a process of both sickness and health, both a willingness to write and an anxiety to write. there comes a dual feelings of ideas as they begin to relate to eachother. Writing also creates a bridge between what we consider the past and what we consider the present. Writing and Language and expressing oneself has much to do with the acts of witnessing. One does not have to have institutionalized experiences in order to hear; but there must be a sense of awareness. awareness of who one is, and the place one holds in society. there must also be an awareness of history, and how it overlaps with the present. Writing is an art that obtains a certain type of power from the way it is used to the way it can passed down. 

[blogmorganh-blog]

Borderlands Blog

Ch. #6 Tlilli Tlapalli, The Path of the Red and Black Ink

This chapter to me spoke a lot about how creating a story can have many different methods and ways of putting together thoughts or ideas. My most favorite quote from this whole book is in this chapter, when Anzaldua says, “My ‘stories’ are acts encapsulated in time, ‘enacted’ every time they are spoken aloud or read silently” (89). I love this quote so much because I think it embodies the fact that there is not one moment in time where a piece of writing is more or less important, because a lot of stories are relevant to people’s different lives and struggles that they face. I chose to use an Aztec-designed Mosaic clock for the art for this post because Anzaldua also mentions how her stories, and how this book, are fitting together with one another in metaphorical and literal pieces and how each piece ties together. I chose the clock image because I believe that as the hands of the clock move over and over this clock face until the end of time there is a repeating of a cycle of stories and the metaphors Anzaldua uses in this book come full circle and connect over and over again in different ways. In every position of the clock, the hands go over and under each other at different angles, and I think that embodies how different parts of this book and its stories interconnect and weave together each time I read a different part of this book. 

[gloriaanzalduaborderlands]

Part 1: CH 6: Tlilli, Tlapalli

The countless cuentos of mi Abuelita, she played basketball, she made dolls out of sticks, she left her three daughters to cross the border with a stranger while she crossed waters, she took me to Wendys after swim practice. Don’t even get me started on my Abuelito, “ Nudge a Mexican and they will break out with a story.” I have come to enjoy this trait. As a writer, it creates an endless supply of writing material. But, it isn’t as easy as picking a story and writing about it. To create invoked art is a painful process. Gloria describes invoked art as the flesh; a live being that needs to be fed, showered, and dressed. Because it is cared for, when others view it, it creates a sense of acceptance. When you accept the truth, you can be happy. In order to get to this end goal, Gloria faces a state of psychic unrest producing anxiety. She must write about her experiences, allowing the psyche to be unleashed. Anxiety is always present; when she does not write it is like a cactus needle pushing deeper into the skin and when she does write, the cactus needle is painfully removed. I choose a GIF of hands turning into cacti to represent the metaphor of the cactus needles in the fingertips where the thoughts become words on paper.

When I began to write about my experiences while applying to college, I struggled to follow the format, “First this happened, which lead to this, and I overcame it like this..” One day, after a frustrating session of trying to write, something clicked. The cactus needle hit a blood vessel and the words flowed. It was painful to see it on paper but also powerful, “... ‘What happened Yuli? Why don’t you speak Spanish anymore?’. My butchered Spanish words told me, No es Mexicana and that's why you're a disappointment.” I am learning to believe otherwise. I am learning to find my truth.