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January 7, 2020

Frida and Love: What Frida Has For Your Heart.

Long ago on a distant afternoon in a cold office I was called for an interview for a journalism post. It was surprising to the interviewer that I had almost no friends on Facebook, there was nothing I shared, nothing I liked or admired; no one claimed my company. I wasn’t hurt or offended; it was a much preferred hermitage.

And then he asked “Why are you not interested in anyone’s life?”

I had no answers then. I was quite comfortable without an additional connection, without the pretentious clickable attention of human beings. I never even read autobiographies or biographies, which is an act of distant connection when compared to the proximity of online spaces. I never watched documentaries on lives of renowned men and women; I never even felt a need to seek connections… until 2016- when eye contacts turned into words and friendships were made, and the enormity of human contact was made evident. A latent part of me awakened and prospered with intimacies unfathomable-which I then, revelled into, suffered through and craved for, perched on time’s wings; regressing into a solitude not preferred, but unwarranted.

So, when I dreamt of her that mystical night of December 2019, I saw her as art: the head and torso sculpted in a miniature form lying on a dirty, mucky street at night. A gouty female seller in her fifties with a bandana on her head- full of zest and authority limped to her calf-length wooden table littered with her scant collection of mini statues under the yellow lamp light. Another woman, much younger, in an attire of a loose white top tucked in her flowing skirt, was scrounging sculptures for herself and the seller was helping her select some. 

I paved my way between the two, because I was looking for a statuette myself, not knowing which one; so the seller suggested that I purchase a certain one, wearing a green dress; it did not call to me, as my inner wise curandera, my soul searched another…which I then spotted- hers on the table- that floral head of a queen in a wild berry dress and I picked it up and told her, that this was the one…

And who did I dream of that cool winter night, and who wanted me to know more of her, to love more like her: the patron saint Frida. She attained sainthood the day women accepted and claimed her as their own- embracing her back as she embraced them cooling their singed hearts with her shades of expression and a life of strength and beauty.

She called to me and I heeded it. Hers is the first biography I flow through like a river to the ocean; hers is a life to be unveiled by me -for myself and by you, for yourself. Let her essence speak: there’s a chaos in acceptance and letting go and both must be done. Know the difference of what and when.

She wanted me to connect and know love, heartbreak and resilience. Is it then a surprise to you when I call her a saint?

Frida- which translated from Old Norse means “beautiful, beloved” and “peace”, if read in its Germanic root. She gifted me her biography on the 6th of this month, the date she resonates with, because in one of these months- she chose the same 6th as her birth date.

Is she not Sarah-la-Kali? Is she not Mary Magdalene? Is she not Freya- the Nordic Goddess of love? Is she not of lovers and of love exuding that abundant emotion herself? I can say for myself, that only a being of compassion can deck herself for love, with love and share that with everyone in times to come-unfaded, unfazed, unriddled. Let her greet you in her own way, in your way; listen, because her story might be the one you need right now- to live and share.

Flood your anahata and inundate yourself in Frida-Kali, Frida-Magdalene, Frida-Freya, Frida-Me, Frida-You. She will be your Isis: awakening the high priestess in you; she will be yourself: awakening the magic in you.

Just do this: relish and assert yourself in this new decade of feminist/feminine re-awakening and love yourself and all in an all encompassing way, be kind to yourself first and then you will be able to give and receive, as Frida did and taught; and maybe, you’ll dream of her, or glimpse her, or receive her love in the many ways love presents itself.

And when you choose yourself- you’ll see her, you’ll see yourself, you’ll see love. You’ll be love.

 

 

By Ishika Tiwari, you can reach me on Instagram @psychedelicstargazer

 

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