Today, freshly returned from a cardio stress test, I fell into a fried-egg sandwich for a break-fast lunch, tempting the fates and sating a long neglected appetite (It's been at least a year between fried-egg sandwiches).
Eggs are moving again here at home.
Next, I popped into Facebook and found that my friend Deborah, a movement teacher who "lives, breathes, eats, and travels to work in the area of somatic education", had posted a most interesting reference book: the wonderfully illustrated Anatomy of the Human Body.
Figure 3.
The Human Ovum
| Henry Gray (1825–1861). Anatomy of the Human Body. 1918. |
My first, random click into the illustrations showed me nothing other than the egg again, the human ovum above. There I am, that's me (or you!) swimming in albumen inside the original little house. Ha! A perfectly rendered, instructively simple lesson for we Home As Egg metaphorists.
I've got to love This Egg. It's a symbol of containment with a promise. Its re-appearance provides another sampling of Jungian Synchronicities. Time to reassess my current metaphoric Eggdom. Time to re-evaluate everything.
I've got to love This Egg. It's a symbol of containment with a promise. Its re-appearance provides another sampling of Jungian Synchronicities. Time to reassess my current metaphoric Eggdom. Time to re-evaluate everything.
~ ~ ~
2 comments:
I love you ovum,
Iss so post-modum,
Iss got da white and got da yaller too,
Iss got da christian and it got da jew!
Iss got the sputum,
And the Bermudum,
Iss got the honky-tonky shots
An' the Montezuma trots!
You are your own mature ovum.
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