The text is a work of narrative nonfiction journey merging memoir with myth and criticism — with the intent of capturing the quantum moment in which past, present & future merge.
“The form doesn’t matter.” How many times was I told the narrative would find its own form! I had a difficult time trusting this process. It makes sense today when we have so many digital options for storytelling, but at the time of its initiation Critical Trilogy was a source of great perplexity.
How do we relate a narrative of a contemporary myth that is rooted in the past, yet must contain the immediacy of the present in which a mythology of the future is foretold? I abandoned 20 years of writing autobiographical fiction in order to resolve this creative problem. The result was the publication of the first volume of this idiosyncratic memoir: “Kundalini’s Daughter.”
The blog was initiated in September 2009 with the publication of the first volume in the trilogy.
- THE ARTIST AS OUROBOROSTHE ARTIST AS OUROBOROS
- THE EVE OF FREEDOM: SOPHIA, INANNA & “A CURIOUS NIGHT FOR A DOUBLE ECLIPSE”The Narcissus I planted on December 13 started blooming on the New Sun. The one in the chalice from The Alchemy of Love, I named Inanna withContinue reading “THE EVE OF FREEDOM: SOPHIA, INANNA & “A CURIOUS NIGHT FOR A DOUBLE ECLIPSE””
- CAPRICORN SOLAR ECLIPSEI tried to stay up for the Solar Eclipse, but drifted in and out of sleep. Incredibly powerful as it took place on the New SunContinue reading “CAPRICORN SOLAR ECLIPSE”
- WINTER SOLSTICE 2010: IF YOU DIDN’T DIG…The Winter Solstice chart is, in fact, about digging, digging and digging… …digging into the personal subconscious, transforming anger into healing energy and arising from theContinue reading “WINTER SOLSTICE 2010: IF YOU DIDN’T DIG…”
The Kundalini Experience
The struggle to sum up a 30-year kundalini awakening experience in an hour podcast.
“Lisa Streitfeld’s account of her own ever-evolving consciousness is not for the faint – or, for that matter, the hard – of heart. Streitfeld merges lived experience with apparently dreamed speculation to propose that we return to the spirit of the goddess – and, in true feminist fashion, makes the proposal by living it, by putting it inthe first person singular and allowing it to radiate out to the third person plural. Streitfeld’s “official” role as an art critic in and around New York proves less strait jacket than springboard to her embrace of a visionary, even hallucinatory, melding of minds and symbols: she is as able to find portent and vital metaphor in her relationships with artists and art-world types as she is in her interactions with hippies, shamans, itinerants, and the indigenous people she encounters in her journeys. Daughter of a New Age seer, Streitfeld does not take her mission, much less her Weltanschauung, lightly; but she does take it exuberantly, and is not afraid to crash to the ground with as much energy as she launches herself into the heavens. Magic realism meets urban mysticism in Streitfeld’s recounting. Her fever is infectious.” — Peter Frank