Letter from Rachel Pollack (Photo: Camelia Elias)
Letter from Rachel Pollack (Photo: Camelia Elias)

When the Goddess comes to visit she comes in the shape of a magical writer. She writes on embossed stationary and golden cards. There are dunes and holes in the paper, and you swear that you can smell something resembling sand by the beach in a far away Northern country.

The Goddess uses three different inks: Purple, green, and blue. She introduces her allies to you: ‘Usually Queen Elephant does not consort with King Frog in the same letter, but they both wanted to meet you.’

Letter from Rachel Pollack (Photo: Camelia Elias)
Letter from Rachel Pollack (Photo: Camelia Elias)

She tells stories of other magicians, and insists on the theatricality of the Real. The real is not just a ballet coming out of Bruce Lee’s belly. She extends Rabbinic thought with cautionary tales of Lilith as a street worker, back doors and naughty men giving their semen to Goddesses more powerful than them. The Shekkinah shouts and moans: ‘Fuck you, God’, and Promethea yells: ‘I am the holy Splendor of the imagination. I cannot be destroyed.’

Letter from Rachel Pollack (Photo: Camelia Elias)
Letter from Rachel Pollack (Photo: Camelia Elias)

When the Goddess comes to visit, thundering up and down the page, splashing and slashing words, I can almost hear her asking with her owl’s gaze: ‘How is your writing today? How is your plot? Is your character strong enough? What’s up with your empathy? Are you making bold statements? Are you taking others on a brave ride of cooling down passion in the cold sea? You can’t write if you can’t think. But what you think must be the stuff of thresholds. Cold thinking is condensed thinking. Do you feel that pressure? Is your dive deep enough? If you can still breathe, you failed. Not even the fish feel sorry for you. A good thing King Frog insisted on making your acquaintance. Frogs have sensitive skins. They are masters at knowing the other.’

Letter from Rachel Pollack (Photo: Camelia Elias)
Letter from Rachel Pollack (Photo: Camelia Elias)

When the Goddess comes to visit as a magical writer she makes you swear that you will respond in kind. You decide to use black ink, to stuff Lilith’s mouth with, so she can give and receive the forbidden fruit, the elixir of saying yes and no, all at the same time, perplexing everyone. Only the thunder will know what it means.


Thank you, Rachel Pollack, for your genius and gift of friendship. The Child Eater looks awesome too. Looking forward to diving.


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  1. Rachel says:

    Reblogged this on Shining Tribe and commented:
    As some of you know, I collect and write with fountain pens. I also occasionally send letters to people,in which I try to have some interesting paper or card for the first page. When I sent a copy of my book, The Child Eater (http://www.amazon.com/Child-Eater-Rachel-Pollack/dp/1623654602/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1441211922&sr=1-1&keywords=the+child+eater) to Camelia Elias I decided to go all out, calling it A Letter In Four Pictures. Here is her delightful response.

    1. Camelia Elias says:

      I really enjoyed doing this, Rachel. Your letter brought back memories of myself fiddlign with my fountain pens. I still cherish the one my mother gave me on my first day in school, a Chinese pen with a gold tip, Rainbow 202. It still writes divinely. Your letter brought back all the ink I’ve spilled on paper, the liveliness of indigo, the color fitted for a goddess.

  2. Rose M says:

    The somatic experience of writing a letter with pen and paper informs the sensual-literary body with an intelligence that is much needed in this ‘culture of remove.’ Thanks for sharing this with us.

    1. Camelia Elias says:

      Yes, we need to be reminded of how ink can flow through a fountain pen. I still use the one my mother gave me the first day I started school. That’s exactly 40 years ago. Whenever I use it, there’s a certain beauty that emerges, connected to the small of the ink and the shape of my letter. I’m always grateful to all who send me to the drawer where I keep my writing treasure.

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