Here is an odd little Elizabeth Taylor mixed media piece left over from an Etsy page that no longer exists. I suppose that poems will be wanted now that she has died. Maybe a 140-character Twitter poem by a big poetry star will be the appropriate pop cultural memorial. I like the witty 53 characters she said once in response to what should be written on her gravestone: "Here lies Elizabeth. She hated being called Liz. But she lived." Elizabeth had a personally difficult life as backdrop to her professionally fortunate, glamorous life. I am surprised that she broke her back at least five times, and not surprised that she died exactly 53 years after her true love, Michael Todd, was killed in a plane crash. Both seem like the symbolism that writes its code in the tissues and bones of our bodies, and tries to influence our thinking to play along in our demise. She was not influenced much, for a long time.
At the risk of seeming flaky, let me tell you that the metaphysical source to body pain and injuries details symbolic meanings that we can learn to avoid. If Elizabeth broke her upper back it meant that she felt unloved and unsupported emotionally, (eight marriages) or that she was holding back love (eight marriages). If she broke her middle back, it was because she had guilt and was stuck in all the stuff back there in the past (eight marriages). With an estate worth 600 million, it is unlikely she broke her lower back with a fear of money and lack of financial support. I would not get hung up on toe stubbing and the sniffles, but I know that when I have felt silenced, creatively, or otherwise, I have gotten sore throats. The inability to speak up for oneself was not a problem for Elizabeth Taylor, highest paid actress the year I was born.
I think like a poet, speak in metaphors and similes, stop people when they say what sounds like a line of poetry--"write that down"--and it's a problem as much as a joy. When a praying mantis came in the window and sat on my desk, I looked him up in the languages. The Africans consider it a visitation from God, but the French believe the Praying Mantis arrives to help the lost find their way. That's one of the themes of my novel. The mantis was on my desk! Alas, while the characters may be ready to find their way home, I have not yet liberated them with the final chapters. I'm too busy looking for new metaphors and more secret codes than to actually apply them.
Rest in Peace, Elizabeth Taylor.
