CoCo’s grandmother, Suzanne Nicole Chez, was very talented but not in a generally accepted way … a misunderstood artist whose talents were never realized when she needed nurturing support. Suzanne Nicole’s parents were of questionable backgrounds and underground activities like plaque in the veins beneath the surface of Mother Earth. (Later, the target of Plato’s enemies for revenge. Remind me – another story)
Suzanne Nicole became the keeper of her three brothers and two sisters; a lifelong legacy of shame enshrouded them. Their community knew more about them than they themselves. The local psychic, Visage saw their auras as sepia photographs except Suzanne. Her colors eeked through the murk every eleventh of the month and every eleventh day. Whispers and pointing at then innocent children bred self doubt, shame and neurotic tendencies to measure up. Her siblings later became truly bad because they grew into what was expected of them; like a puppy who grows to fill the size of his feet or a kitten into the size of his ears. Holes created after birth – hard to fill, born into a deficit – harder still. Like sedimentary rock, their hurts layered and hardened. What could not be faced was blamed and projected to the next generation until a legacy of dysfunction was encoded.
There were only two days a week Susanne Nicole did not have the responsibility of her siblings and those were the days, dressed as a boy, she took her art supplies to the docks to illustrate the lives of free males with power and vessels large with adventure and the smell of the sea. After several months, a ship’s captain and his investors saw her illustrations of the ships, docks, workers and wildlife. The most flattering depiction of himself appealed the vanity of the captain. He was the mitigating factor of the hire. At such a young age, Suzanne was learning about the currency of power, energy, vanity and the ego. At eleven she escaped. When asked of family, the denial of all she had known, including her own identity was rewritten. They hired who they thought was him to document their next voyage to the French Polynesian island of Tahiti. Known now as Zanne, was free to move about the ship to document all aspects of the journey. The way men spoke of women, wagered on silly things just to win a bet was baffling to her but would lifelong lessons to store into her DNA to aid the futures she would one day inhabit. This art, this talent was a vessel exactly like the ship they trusted with their lives. As long as Zanne was aloof, a mystery and was not too engaging, all was fine. But the desire to connect did bring contempt when a few of the crew discovered her true gender. She barely escaped without harm. Luckily, it was the end of their journey and the land of Tahiti was in sight. Just as the stories had said, the Tahitians were a very hospitable group. As the ship neared the shore, a fleet of canoes filled with beautiful Tahitian sirens met the crew. The islanders invited them to come ashore and become intimately acquainted with the blessing of their chief. It was the eleventh of the month, her perpetual lucky number and Zanne escaped unnoticed until the pink clouds disappeared. Did the captain and crew miss their illustrations or did she leave them on the ship? Did they search for her as rumors spread of new blood on the island?
She was found and befriended by natives about two miles from the landing, a family of free divers in constant search of pearls. She learned their techniques of hyperventilating and singing before descending to depths of 130 feet or more. A lesson she would carry with her forever – it’s not what you’re after, it is the intention, the how and the energy you focus that creates an unbreakable beam for ling range dreams and visions. The blue waters calmed her; the wisdom of patience of pearls fed her. She documented the beauty around her of people and nature. She was totally accepted and accepted their ways.
Her new family knew she was very different from them especially because she had no tattoos. That was about to change to brand her into their village and protect her. It must have been a message fro the sea for it was instant trust and clarity that she would fit in with them and they would protect her the way salt gets into your skin and the indelible inks of the tattoos penetrate more than the surface layer. Their bond was layered of deep blue trust. Although thought to be more important for men to have tattoos than women, Zanne still looked boyish at this age and for her protection, the arduous process of branding her arms and legs began in the Tahitian tradition. Oily fruit on skewers was burned and when sooty, was diluted with water. This mixture, warm and pungent, was forced into her layers by a mallet made of bone and tortoiseshell combs with sharp teeth affixed. The pain mixed with the sea air on her skin, the love and concern of her new tribe, and the smells of the fruit taught her the concentration she would soon need as she learned their ways of focus while diving for pearls.
When eleven magical years had past, a change came quickly in the form of a visiting Frenchman named Pierne Naynay. His novelty and attention was welcomed at first. She conceived their child on a warm afternoon after diving for pearls, her last time before he took her away. Suzanne Nicole was pushed into his world with no regard for her happiness; he really believed what he wanted would certainly be her desire also. Enmeshment began. The tattoos were hers; indelible, inserted like beliefs under her skin and like the talents of her art. No one can take that away unless they break your spirit. Pierne took her back to France, confiscated her drawings (The Lost Art of Susanne Nicole Chez surfaces later) and tried to erase the beauty she knew of Tahiti. He was not mean or cruel but wanted her as a possession. The only way Suzanne Nicole could live in France in this new life was to die to who was. She loved Coquette but now felt the same pulling away of her essence previously experienced when she took care of her siblings. Her freedom she lived in Tahiti was gone. Just as Polynesia means many islands, Suzanne Nicole experienced polyamnesia – many thoughts forgotten.
Coquette Rene entered the world with the thoughts of her mother – pain, beauty, fear and the rhythm for the sea she used in pearl diving techniques – singing, hyperventilating and setting intentions of what you wish to find. She was diving for the treasure of her new charge and pulling her into the light of day as a precious pearl. Sometimes a soul hesitates….
Suzanne Nicole hoped that “Newness will be Goodness”. Her child Coquette was infused with the love of the sea, the wisdom of pearls and the power of intentional thoughts.
Coquette Rene Naynay was born in France, a natural chef and fashion plate imbued with extraordinary knowledge of nature’s gifts of wisdom and healing. Coquette’s father, Pierne was too busy to spend time with her but if he did, it was special. This set her up to crave the attention of male energy like a carrot – bigger than she, in sight but ahead of her, always unreachable with promises made and promises broken. The generational feeling of void, the aching holism deepens more beneath the strata of the soul. The decay of the fabric of self continues through another generation like a magnet, it is attracted.
The family legacy of filling holes with everything but the truth and reality continued and was so passed to Coquette; these feelings seeped into the child even before she was born. The tabula rasa , supposedly the mind at birth, was not blank. Suzanne Nicole loved her child but could not give attention for she did not know how or how important. A competition ensued for attention that lasted a lifetime. It wasn’t okay to ask for needs to be met so if they could not read each other’s minds, they manipulated their way, building resentment and misunderstanding. Promises made and promises broken from generations ago into now from Father to her mother and trickled down to Coquette. It racked her heart when love, truth and honesty were available but not used. She felt the void, the hole, the absence growing largere and looked again, like the ones before her, for a way to fill it An optimist’s hopes dashed too many times creates a groove – a pathway that no matter the beginnings finds its way to the lowest point…. the feng shui of emotions, the way the wind blows around and water naturally trickles down. Her childhood was difficult because of her mother’s critical nature and unhappiness although not directed at Coquette, hit and hurt nonetheless. Coquette tried men and wine, whining and complaining, food and drugs, drug-kicking and screaming into all kinds of therapies. She had lost al trust especially in those she thought loved her. Trust to her stood for “”Treasures Rely Upon Self Truths” and when Trust turned to Rust, she lost her treasure and herself… until Plato opened her to goodness.
Plato Techtonikos, a mover and shaker, a geologist, astronomer and philosopher extraordinaire well versed in the spiritual and scientific nature of man and the physical realm. He compared qualities and issues with characteristics of the earth he studied. He married the lithospheric beauty, Coquette, so emotionally damaged she behaved as a rigid shell of a person. She had the strength but brittle behavior of a fractured ego as an earthquake. Plato, likened to the hot athenoshere, found the weak place in Coquette and made her rise as a hotspot like the Galapagos Islands. Who better than a geologist to unearth the buried emotions of Coquette’s past? We sometimes remember best what we learned first. Plato’s study of geology helped him understand the fragile nature of Coquette. The ability to move through emotions like moving sedimentary rock appealed to Plato.
Everything buried will rise, if not by excavation or explosion, then by flood – saturation and overflow. Coquette always looked for what she did not have – stability – a place of stillness and certainty that would not move but even the plated of the Earth move constantly beneath us at the same rate as our fingernails grow.
Plato and Coquette traveled and explored the beauty of the Earth, the stars and beneath the sea. She became famous for her textile designs and colors taken from these environments. Her favorites were the fish and how their colors would change in different lights and angles. Her furniture designs were mirrors of the shapes and textures of the creatures she encountered. Her lung capacity and efficiency of air amazed all who dived with her. She possessed the wisdom of pearl divers – a lineage of free divers who respected the sea and the discipline necessary to survive in another world.
So Plato loved rocks and Coquette loved pearls, wisdom of the sea – patience in what is thought unimportant – the small things that become beautiful through faith and patience; layers of beautiful, rich luminescence – opposite of layers of buried feelings.
The size or measure of an earthquake depends on the size of the fault that breaks.
- Tektite – glassy body of meteorite origin
- Tetra – fractured rock
- Magma – liquid rock
- In a trice – instant. Moment
- Trenchant – keen, sharp, perceptive, effective
- Transonic journey – moving at 741 mph – the speed of sound in air
- Torpid – sluggish
- Tittle – small piece
- Empyrean – highest heaven or heavenly sphere
- Tenebrous – shut off from the light- gloomy
- Emote – CoCoEmoto
- Turbid – clouded or discolored by sediment – a turbid stream of emotions
- After all, even “Believe” contains a “lie”
- Sympathetic transference, vapored in particle beams, materialized, transported.
Did I do something today to achieve my purpose in this world? Did I extend myself beyond my immediate circle of responsibility?