self-discovery, Stories..., Visions

The Embrace…

I am walking down a forest path, at peace, contemplating all that has been happening near me.  Something moves in front of me, though what it is at first eludes me.  Gradually my eyes focus enough to “discover” a being hiding in the gloom behind a tree…

I stop walking, not wanting to intrude on or frighten this stranger before me…

“It’s ok,” I softly say.  “I’m not here to harm you or disturb you in any way.  I’m just passing through…  Would you mind if I passed by, or would you prefer me to turn around and leave?  After all, you were here first, weren’t you?”  I smile to reinforce my words…

The being leans forward a bit, looking up and down the path.  I see now its humanoid form.  I notice also its wariness, its vigilence.  I sense no fear coming from the being, just profound awareness, and caution…  And strength, unlike anything I have encountered before!  This being is in its element, and knows it; if anyone should be afraid, it should be me…

But I am not afraid…

I wait, patiently, wondering if (and how) this being may communicate with me.  After several minutes, the sense of threat, of possible dire consequence, begins to fade.  The being checks the path once more, before stepping out to face me…

At first I am bewildered by what I see, questioning if it’s a trick of light, or some sort of mirrored shield being held up in front of me; for standing on the path ahead is a younger, darker version of me.  She is cloaked and hooded in forest greens, well camouflaged in this environment.  Her posture is alert, but relaxed, raw power emanating from every pore of her being.  She simply looks at me, expectantly, waiting for my reaction…

It is then I realize it is my Shadow facing me, the one who’s call has been leading me for days.  And slowly, the odd dynamics of our current status begin revealing themselves to me…

For clearly, she has the power for now; her strength, purpose, presence are palpable.  But I am in control; my consciousness must decide what happens next…  I stand there, rooted like the trees surrounding me, held in this timeless moment by the sense of import, the sheer significance of this encounter!  Finally, I take a small, almost involuntary, stumbling step forward.  She stands straighter, somehow creating a less threatening posture in spite of growing taller…

“May I approach?,” I think to ask, falling back on familiar civilities, while seeking to convey respect.

She nods, but says nothing…

I approach slowly, soaking up every detail, mesmerized by all I see…  “You are truly magnificent!,” I breathe aloud as I get close enough to truly see her.  And she is!  All the things that I am not – confident, secure, balanced – and so, so, so much more; I have difficulty grasping that she is me, given how different we appear.

“I have been looking for you,” I explain to her.  “Everywhere.  In the forests mostly, but also in the lakes and oceans, in the sunlight that warms my skin, and the moonlight that guides my dreams.  I have searched for you in my sanctuary spaces, and travelled to the crossroads hoping to encounter you.  I have even dipped into the river of time seeking just a moment with you…”

“I have been waiting for you,” she finally speaks.  “And now you have come…”

I chuckle nervously, unsure about what to do next, so I ask…  “Now what?  We have met.  What happens next?”

“That’s up to you,” she softly answers.  I am captivated by her calm, her lack of urgency, anxiety, or need…  “What do you want?,” she whispers…

Echoes of that question reverberate in my mind, remembering other places, other times this question was asked of me.  But this time, I know immediately what I want!

“I want to embrace you, to hug you, to hold you close to me,” I answer, before shyness can prevent the words from escaping…

She smiles fully, holding open her arms wide, offering herself in perfect trust.  I step forward eagerly, carefully placing my left arm above her shoulder, and my right arm beneath hers.  Leaning slightly right, I hug her tightly, heart to heart, and let myself go completely in this moment…

I become aware of our heartbeats, separate, but the same.  I feel them merging into one resounding, rhythmic, beat.  I sense the boundary between us dissolving, with neither absorbing the other, but each becoming One…  Each cell that defines us, each strand of energy, every memory, experience, hope, doubt and triumph merges smoothly, leaving us distinctly present while still being Whole…

I (we) breathe deeply, the scents of the forest accompanied now with a deeper understanding, identifying “what’s” and “who’s” in a way I could not do just moments before.  As my mind automatically begins to process the significance of each scent identified, I feel my own (other’s) surprise at how efficiently it does so.

There is bliss in this experience of union, and excitement of what we can learn, do and create together!  I (we) are complete, and the whole Universe is our home…  And playground…

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Conversations, Reflections, Stories..., Visions

“A Lesson on the Evolution of Rocks… and things.”

The Teacher led us to a rocky ledge, basking in the early morning sun, and bade us sit and make ourselves comfortable.  “Steady your breathing and claim your space,” she instructed us.

After some time had passed, she sighed deeply, and began to speak…

This stone I’m sitting upon is warming beneath me…,” she said.  “It’s almost as if it’s absorbing my own heat energy and reflecting it back to me.  Why do you suppose that is?”

No one responded…

Hmm…,” she mused aloud.  “Rocks evolve in a crucible of heat and pressure.  When the proper levels of each are achieved, they transform themselves into entirely different form.  Same matter, maybe (?), but a totally different expression of it, with different qualities, different strengths, different weaknesses…  The same, but different…”

She paused a moment, seemingly lost in thought.  Silence reigned upon the rocky knoll…

So the question then becomes, for me anyway… [a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth] … are the rocks then feeding me (by warming me), or are they feeding off me (by draining off my heat energy in the first place)?  Is the growing heat beneath me reflective of my healing or my weakening?”

Silence held the listeners’ tongues…  Laughing, she turned to look at each of us in turn…

Did you all follow me up here to listen to me talk to myself?”

One seeker spoke up, hesitating and awkward…  “I feel only good coming from the rock I’m with.  The experience is pleasant, comforting, blissful…  I feel more grounded, more centered, more… whole somehow…  I think the rock is helping, rather than hurting me,” he concluded quietly.

Ok, then,” the Teacher responded.  “From your perspective the rock is serving you…  Beautiful!  Wonderful!  How empowering and validating it must be to be loved in this manner!…”  She turned and looked sharply at the speaker.  “But why do you suppose the rock should choose to serve you this way?  Does it gain nothing from its interaction with you?”

Another seeker spoke up…  “Perhaps the good feelings are merely a side effect of the draining of energy…?  Some predators drug their victims so they don’t realize they’re in danger until they are too weak to respond,” she suggested.

Ahhh…,” responded the Teacher.  “In which case, the very rocks upon this Earth may be our enemies, draining us, enslaving us to fuel their evolution…?”

The student did not respond…

Seems curious to me,” mused the Teacher, “that we have so many ‘stone masters’ in our collective human history, if we are indeed their slaves.  Perhaps that is part of the shared delusion the stones create to bend us to their will…?”

Silence settled once more upon the small group.  The sun warmed as it rose higher in the morning sky.  The humans warmed,  absorbing its heat and light.  The rocks warmed, creating a haven of peace and serenity, soothing city souls…

“It seems to me,” a third seeker began, “that everything in the Universe, in Nature, revolves around the principle of exchange…  From the grossest planetary matter, to the tiniest sub-atomic particles, all forms freely exchange energy.  Each expression of matter may use that energy differently, but we are all using the same energy…  Why, then, would this be any different?  Why cast it as an either/or question?”

He looked directly at the Teacher…  And continued.

“Can we not suppose, perhaps, that the exchange of heat energy between us and the rocks is of mutual benefit somehow?”

Interesting question,” the Teacher responded.  “Perhaps we could explore that a bit…?”

When no objections were voiced, she began to speculate aloud…

So, the rock absorbs my heat energy to use for some internal process, and then returns that heat energy to me, making me feel good…?”

No one in the small gathering responded…

But is there then a purpose to this exchange, beyond the mere cycling, or recycling, of energy…?”  Chuckling softly, she continued, mostly to herself.  “Talk about the proverbial waste of time…”

“Unless…,” the third seeker began.  “Unless the rocks transform my heat energy in some manner before returning it to me…?  In which case, it’s not precisely the same energy…?”

Smiling broadly, the Teacher looked directly at the third seeker…  “From which we might conclude that we also transform such energy before passing it back to the stones…?  Or other beings we might encounter along our way?”

“Like bees!,” another seeker exclaimed.  “We, as humans, have mobility that the stones do not innately possess.  I mean, they move, of course, but not nearly as easily as we do.  Perhaps our mutual exchange allows us to carry the stone-transformed energy elsewhere, while leaving some residue of our travels behind!  Such an exchange would benefit both parties, empowering, informing, even directing the evolution of all matter…”

Another seeker jumped in, excitedly… “Gently pushing us all in the same general direction…”

And yet another seeker found her voice…  “Both pushing us forward while reigning us in, so no one form alters too dramatically in a single step!”

All eyes focused on the Teacher…

She sighed deeply, drawing in the early summer morning, then lay back upon her warmed rock.  The seekers waited, expectantly, though none could voice their need.

The same… but different,” she murmured softly.

Soon the Teacher’s gentle snoring became part of the ambient summer soundscape…

 

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Reflections, Stories...

Drowning…

“Fire looked at Water blankly, completely unprepared to answer. Laughing merrily at his sudden discomposure, Water reached out to embrace Fire. But Fire jumped back quickly, avoiding the contact.

“Are you nuts, Water?! What are you trying to do, kill me?” Responding to Water’s deep and disheartened confusion, Fire added more gently. “Water puts out fire, remember?”

Nodding sadly, Water concurred. “And fire destroys water… I remember.” “

(An excerpt from a short story entitled “Fire and Water: The Search for Life” I wrote many years ago…)

***

Relevant now, again, because I feel as if I am drowning…

Lately I seem to be inundated with water issues, from flooding to our most recent household disaster where the aforementioned flooding took out the hot water heater’s pilot, and we cannot get it lit again.  There are other minor issues, too, of course, like leaky sinks, and shower hoses suddenly spurting where they’re not supposed to, all of which lead my friends to believe that we are being overcome by emotions.  At least symbolically…

But I am more intrigued with the water’s effect on fire in our home, and my inability to keep the home fires burning.  Literally!  There was the power outage that left us without heat for five days during a wicked cold snap.  And even though we have a woodburning stove, I could not keep the fire going for any length of time because the wood was wet, and so reluctant to burn.  For 5 days I lived here, with internal household temps never getting above 40 degrees.  And then I finally got dry wood!  And the power came back on…

That was followed by a record breaking snowfall (within hours, no less) made so much more difficult to handle by rising temps throughout.  The snow was incredibly heavy and wet, with the sun shining brilliantly after the storm, making the shovelling out process a 3 day nightmare for the physically challenged, like myself…

All that snow melted quickly in the spring-like weather that followed, bringing on the first floods…  And so April arrived with steady, constant rain for days, until the whole world seemed to be drowning in it.  Everything was under water…  Until finally, this past weekend brought a taste of early summer, and we could finally assess the damage all that water caused.  And it was then we lost the hot water heater…

So… clearly my fire is being overwhelmed by my water!  My passion, creativity, motivation, even action, snuffed out, made impotent and ineffectual by the flood of emotions drowning me…

Just last night I came home late after spending some valuable time with a respected friend.  She left me with much to think about; intrigued, and moving in new directions at last.  I spent time alone after coming home basking in the light of a full moon shining from a nearly cloudless sky.  The cool rays of moonlight contrasted sharply with the unusually warm temperature, and it was a balm to my restless and disheartened spirit.  I let down my guard, as I usually do, and opened myself to the healing that only time alone at night can bring.  And so the feelings came…

Heart-wrenching, gut-twisting, rage-inducing pain from so very many sources, I could not begin to identify them all.  So much suffering happening in the world…  The tears came unbidden, as they do every night recently; impotent and pointless, but flowing nonetheless.  And this time I found I couldn’t actually breathe anymore, as the flood assaulted me.  I was, metaphorically and literally, drowning in sorrow!  The weight on my chest was so heavy, I seriously wondered if I was having genuine medical issues.  But no, not really, at least not the “fixable” kind…

And then it began to rain, softly at first, before becoming a deluge.  Lightning flashed and thunder rolled; an unexpected storm drenching me.  I just stood there on the deck, my tears still falling, and looked up at the brightness of the moon.  And there she sat in all her glory… in a completely cloudless sky.

A full blown thunderstorm raging from a cloudless sky?!

And my first and only thought was to question, “did I do that?”

The storm ended as quickly as it began, before I could pull myself together enough to seek shelter in the house.  But my soaked clothes and skin were proof enough for me to accept the storm was not my imagination…

And when I woke this morning with that same weight upon my chest, I recognized it clearly for what it was – anxiety.  Not fear.  Anxiety…

The world I live in makes no sense to me today.  I cannot understand what is happening anymore.  At all!  Rationality has left the building, and everything around me is in complete chaos.  And I do not know how to maneuver effectively through it.  Hence my anxiety.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not so naive as to believe that life should be fair; I know better, based upon only my own experience.  And I cannot deny that there are good people out there doing great things, even if it’s not reported with the same enthusiasm as all the bad.  I see good moments in every day… But there is no balance occurring, no matter how much I widen my view or broaden my perspective.  There is no way to justify, explain, or empathize with the purely destructive acts occurring all around me!  I am beyond bewildered…

These few people, bringing so much suffering down upon the rest, for their own tiny glorification are determined to destroy everything, including that which would serve their own interests!  I literally cannot comprehend the motives of such self-destructiveness; it goes so far beyond the limits of my vision and experience!  Even in the darkest moments of my life, in the very depths of my insanity (the antithesis of rationality), I retained a remote and distant sense of balance.  But there is none of that in evidence today.  Hatred rules, and people rush headlong into battle with no other goal than to destroy as much as possible before impaling themselves upon their own weapons!

And I am driven back, into my own past, looking for something… anything!… that will restore a sense of balance…  A life preserver of some sort to save me from drowning…

***

Warily, Water faced him. “But nothing can come of my love for you, Fire. You know that; you pointed it out.”

Thoughtfully, Fire responded. “Yet the Creator spoke to us of Love. We were left here together to find Life… Maybe if we joined forces?” Hopefully Fire looked to Water.

“But we would destroy each other,” Water reminded him, confused.

“I know,” Fire agreed. Then smiling at Water, he added. “But at least we wouldn’t be alone anymore in a vast, lifeless universe… And we would be together. Is that so bad a destiny?” Lowering his voice, he spoke once more. “I love you, too, Water. I know that now.”

Unable to contain her joy, Water rushed to Fire and embraced him, all thoughts of consequences lost in her love for him… The Creator of All-That-Is smiled at long last, marking this moment in a timeless eternity, and a miracle occurred. For out of the union of Fire and Water arose Life, not death; in the wake of that union, there were four in the universe, rather than two…

Where Water embraced Fire, Fire cooled, leaving in his place a solid element – Earth; so daughter was borne of the father’s essence. Where Fire warmed Water, steam arose, creating yet another element – Air; and son was borne of the mother’s flesh. From the love of Fire and Water came the twin elements Earth and Air. And a family existed where only emptiness had been…”

(The entire story can be found at the following links…  maybe… if you’re interested:

Part 1: https://theotherhoodofone.wordpress.com/2016/01/24/fire-and-water-the-search-for-life/

Part 2: https://theotherhoodofone.wordpress.com/2016/01/24/fire-and-water-part-2/ )

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Stories...

“Ascension…”

The following is a parable I wrote to memorialize a dear friend who passed this week.  She was an avid supporter of my writing, encouraging me to embrace my voice anew last year when I started this blog.  She was also one of my most persistent “encouragers” to finish the story “Nemesis,” messaging me every once in a while to remind me how eagerly she waited for its resumption.  I regret that I did not complete it before she died, though I suspect she will be reading it over my shoulder as I write it, should I ever pick it up again…

I was asked by her daughter to speak at her service tomorrow, and I struggled with what memories most needed to be shared.  It was then that I decided to write this story.  I could not imagine a more fitting way to honor our friendship and what she meant to me, than to write her her own story.  

Perhaps I will read this tomorrow at her funeral.  Any thoughts or comments?

***     ***     ***

“Ascension…”

Once upon a time…  A girl child was born.  She was birthed into a world devoid of color and light, and her heart grew heavy because of it.  A dense fog enveloped her village at all times, stealing all the colors away, leaving only shades of grey to consider.

Disappointed with this world she knew, she turned to the villagers and asked: “where are all the colors in this world?  They must be around somewhere…”

“No, child,” she was told.  “There are no colors here.  Best accept it like we have.”

“But…  What about beyond our village?,” she persisted.  “Are there colors out there?”

“No, child,” the villagers responded.  “Everything beyond our village is the same.  Best settle down and accept your place among us…”

But the little girl was not satisfied with that response.  She wanted more.  She wanted light, and color, and fun!  “One day,” she promised herself, “I will leave this place.  And when I do, I will search the whole world until I find the colors I imagine!”

So it was that when she came of age, the young woman left the place of her birth and set out to explore the world.  Armed with nothing but stubbornness and a conviction built on dreams, she stepped outside her village for the first time…

Initially, she was disappointed to discover that the villagers were right; everything outside her home was cast by the fog into the same drab shades of grey.  But unable to accept she might be wrong, she pushed onward, still convinced there must be something more enjoyable to see, somewhere…

She had many adventures as she wandered the world beyond, but none led her where she wanted to be.  Finally, exhausted and disheartened, she sat down upon the cold, damp earth and cried.  She cried until there were no tears left within her.  She cried until there were no ambitions left within her.  And when all was silent and empty within, she surrendered completely, accepting her failure…

But in that very moment, a miracle occurred, when a single shaft of sunlight broke through the perpetual fog, and lit the area around her.  She might have missed it in her grief had there not been a tiny pebble beside her that caught the sun’s light and reflected it in a spectrum of color.  So startled was she by that flash of light and color, that she hardly noticed the warmth flooding her heart, filling the emptiness within.  But that warmth was enough to get her on her feet again, and moving forward, armed this time with a tiny pebble she would name Faith…

And so her journey continued, day after day, step after step…

Until one day she noticed, by the tiredness in her limbs and the shortness of her breath, that the ground had begun to rise.  Eagerly now, she moved on, certain at least of the direction she must travel – up…

She clambered and climbed.  Some days were easier than others.  Some were nearly impossible to bear.  The slope shifted between gentle and steady, to steep and impassible.  But she faced every obstacle.  She continued to grow.  And when she lost her footing and slid back down the slope a ways, she would rest, take out her pebble Faith, and renew her commitment to this journey…

Until one day she became aware that the fog was less dense here, and the light somewhat brighter.  She rushed on, convinced that something remarkable lie just ahead!  And so it did…

For without warning, or prelude, or commentary at all, the woman broke through the last wisps of fog, to find herself standing near the apex of a mountain.  And here the sun was shining brightly!  She turned around to see where she had come from, and realized she had been born in a deep valley, steeped in clouds, and hidden from the world above.

But here on the mountain top the trees and grass were green…  So many shades of green, she could not begin to name them all, though she certainly tried, laughing all the while.  The rocks were shades of brown and grey, but there was not a dull or drab one to be found, as they all sparkled in the sun.  The sky was a blue so vivid that it simply took her breath away….

Mesmerized by the color and light surrounding her, the woman sighed deeply, releasing all of the doubt, frustration and disappointments her life had been riddled with.  And by doing so, her heart became light at last, light enough that she drifted up off the mountain, spreading newfound wings to catch the gentle breeze.  And allowing the Joy to carry her away, she set off to explore what lay beyond this hidden valley…

And as she drifted off, a small pebble fell down upon the earth, to settle neatly beside so many other sparkling rocks; a testimonial for all who followed, marking this moment, this life, this beautiful soul…

Rest in peace, Marsha…

 

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“Rainbow Child…”

This short story was inspired by a post by Eddie Two Hawks today…

eddietwohawks.wordpress.com

Once upon a time a girl-child was born.  She was what is commonly referred to as a mixed-race child, being born to parents of different skin tones.  Not that she noticed, of course, because her parents loved her, cared for her, nurtured her, and that was what she noticed most.

Her parents, both of whom were also mixed race, didn’t seem to notice, either.  For their parents had had different skin tones.  And they had loved them, cared for them, and nurtured them as well.

Eventually the child was old enough to go to school, and it was there that she first became aware that there was something different about her…

She approached the white children on the bus to school, but she was rebuffed.  They told her,”you can’t sit with us, because you’re not white like us.”

The child was confused.  “But I am white like you,” she assured them, “because I have white in me.”

But the white children were not convinced, so they turned their backs on her, and continued to talk among themselves.  And the girl went and sat alone…

At first recess, the girl-child approached the black children, asking if she could play with them.  But they shook their heads, saying, “you can’t play with us, because you’re not black like us.”

“But I am black,” the girl insisted, “because I have black in me.”

The children were not convinced, so they turned their backs on her, and continued to play amongst themselves.  And the child left to go play by herself…

At lunchtime, the girl approached the brown children, who were sitting together, and asked if she could join them.  But she was denied.  They told her, “you can’t sit with us because you’re not brown like us.”

“But I am brown like you,” she responded, “because I have many shades of brown in me.”

But the children were not convinced, so they turned their backs on her, and continued eating lunch.  The girl walked slowly away to eat her lunch alone…

At afternoon recess, the girl approached the yellow children, to see if she could play with them.  But they told her no.  “You can’t play with us, because you’re not yellow like us.”

“But I am yellow,” the child argued, “because I have yellow in me!”

But the children were not convinced, so they turned their backs on her, and continued playing their games.  The child dragged her feet as she shuffled away to play by herself again…

On the way home, the girl asked to sit with the one red child, sitting alone on the bus.  But that child didn’t understand.  “Why would you want to sit with me?  You’re not red like me.”

“But I am red,” the girl-child insisted, “because I have red in me.”

But the red child just shrugged and turned away, unconvinced, to stare out the window.  And the girl felt tears rise within her as she sat alone again…

When she got home, her parents noticed immediately how distressed she was, and asked her about her day.  The child cried as she revealed her experiences, while her parents held her close…

“I don’t understand!,” she told them.  “I have all the colors of the rainbow within me, but none of them can recognize me!  What’s wrong with me?”

“Aww, child,” her mother soothed.  “There is nothing wrong with you!  You are beautiful, and kind, and full of love and life!”

“But they won’t sit with me, or play with me, or talk to me, or listen to me…,” the child lamented.

Her father stepped in, holding her close.  “It’s not your fault, Gaia,” he reassured her.  “They’ve simply forgotten where they came from.  Perhaps in time they will remember, and they will welcome you among them once again.”

“And until they do?,” Gaia asked her parents.

“You love them anyway, dear rainbow child,” her mother softly said, “you care for them and nurture them.  Because that is what we do…”

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Poetry, Reflections, Stories...

“Thirsty…”

My mouth is filled with cotton…

My tongue is swollen…

My skin is dry and scaly…

“Water… please,” I hear myself beg

in a breathy croak.

Laughter answers, at my expense,

“There is no water for you today…

Only blood.”

A glass is placed before me on the table,

crystal clear and clean.

Slowly filling with viscous red

thick and clinging…

I cringe away, dry eyes closing against the sight.

“Not of your liking?,” the Voice mocks.

Shaking my head, vehemently,

I can only whisper in response…

“Who…?  Whose…?”

but I cannot finish the thought.

“Does it matter to whom it once belonged?,”

the Voice questions me.

“The blood of innocents…

“The blood of criminals…

“All are equally damned…

And their blood is on your hands!”

“NO!,” I cry, “that isn’t true!…

“I have no say over what they do!

“I am an observer here, nothing more or less…

“My role is only to witness, but not to intervene!”

“Have it your way then, and die of thirst!

“It matters not to me…

“Just don’t come back here whining of your loss or grief

when all have ceased to be!”

Silence settles in the darkened room…

feelings churn within…

the Weaver works her loom.

And every breath I take

is another moment lost

to Choice and Fate…

“I’m thirsty…” I mouth the words,

throat too dry to speak.

Trembling from the fears and tears

my eyes are too dry to cry…

Gentler now, the Voice envelops me…

“Water will not quench your thirst this time…

“The Fire burns within.

“You can only choose to live or die

“now that the transformation has begun.”

“Choose your allies, choose your friends,

“choose which side to represent…

“But understand that Others

“will choose as they see fit!”

Nodding my understanding, I wrestle with my choice.

Letting go…?

Or hanging on…?

To see where this might lead.

And finally…

Finally…

The suffering I feel…

within, and all around me

becomes too real to resist…

Reaching for that glass

a choice is made..

***

My arm is covered in scales now, both gold and green…

My fingers become talons, sharp and eager to rend…

Wide wings unfurl upon my back…

While the flesh of my enemies calls out to me.

Lifting my heavy head,

now resting upon a sinuous neck…

I own my Truth…

I claim my place…

Of all the monsters I have ever faced

the greatest one is Me!

 

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Reflections, Stories...

“Crossroads: Continuity…”

I turn my back upon the choices that lie before me, and face the voice approaching…  Dark hair, deep green eyes, a familiar stranger stands there, smiling.

“May I join you?,” he asks politely.

“Most certainly!,” I respond, automatically.  “After all, that’s why you’ve come, isn’t it?”

A simple lift on one side of a sensitive, sincere set of lips expands his smile just a bit as he sits down across from me…

“Is that why I’m here?,” he asks, pointedly.

“Why don’t you tell me?,” I suggest.  “Perhaps, for once, you could make this easy…?”

He laughs.  It is genuine humor I sense rather than mockery.  “But what would be the fun in that?”  Tilting his head slightly, he adds, “I suspect you’d be disappointed if there was nothing here to ‘figure out.’  You would miss that rush you get with every epiphany.”

“True ’nuff,” I concur honestly.  “But seriously, why have you come?”

“You tell me,” he suggests, sincerely.  “After all, you both created and called for me…  How can I help you today?”

Lying back upon my bed of green, I stare up at the bluest sky that I have ever seen.  I hear soft rustling as he moves over to lie beside me.  Silence settles comfortably between and around us, as the clear blue skies envelop us…

“I do not wish to keep recycling on this path of Life and Death,” I begin, somewhat hesitantly.  “And yet, here I am, by my own choice, sitting at the Crossroads again…  I felt more comfortable this time in the Heart of All-That-Is…”

A soft chuckle interrupts me, but I cannot tell if it came from him or me…

“Well, at least I was not terrified this time,” I correct myself, somewhat petulantly…

“I was not bored, nor did I feel lonely; both significant improvements over my last experience there…  But still, I felt something, briefly.”

“Care to name it?,” he asks.  “You work well with words, always, however limited they are.”

Turning my head quickly, I catch but a passing glimpse of something sparkling in his gaze, before the mask of sincerity settles over him once more.

Thinking, I sort through many possibilities, rejecting each as not quite capturing the essence of what I felt…  Finally, I shrug, feeling the warm earth beneath my shoulders.  “Restless might describe it best, but that doesn’t really define anything, does it?”

He says nothing, simply listening, since listening has always been what he does best…

“It’s not like I wanted to change anything, because everything is what it is, and it IS…  And I didn’t have any desire to change me, because I genuinely like who I am, both large and small selves both…”

I smile at that thought expressed, and sense him smiling next to me…

“There was nothing I wanted or needed, even to learn, as Everything and Nothing co-exist, and all ‘I’ am seemed irrelevant…”

Silence settles once more over the Crossroads, and the two of us lying there…

“But…?,” he prompts gently.

Sitting up suddenly, I look around, seeking something specific.

“Where are the birds,” I ask concerned, as the Silence tilts toward eerie.  “And the insects?,” I continue.  “Where is the Sound that should surround us in this quiet, peaceful place?”  Anxiety has somewhat sharpened my tone.

“Are you asking me or telling me?,” he thinks to question, knowing even better than I sometimes how my mind works…

“It just seems odd,” I reply uncertainly, shifting once more to lie down upon that soft bed of green…

And far from where we lie the chatter starts, a single chirp swelling and expanding to fill this quiet place with a cacophony of caws and tweets and buzz and drone, with songs of sweetness intertwined…

“Ok, enough!,” I cry out, irritated, for now I cannot think beyond the rhythm and rant of birds and insects.  Laughing aloud, he reaches for my hand, and silence settles once more over this gentle land…

Tears slip down my cheeks as I feel the warmth of his hand slowly filling me.  No words are necessary, or even possible, as this moment settles in…

“Why is it we can only meet like this?,” I ask eventually.  “Why can we not experience such intimacy in the worlds of flesh beyond?”

“Now that is a question worth contemplating,” he quietly responds.

After a moment, or more perhaps, he thinks to add, “who says we can’t?…  exactly.”

I open my mouth to answer him, only to discover that no such answer exists within me…

“Um…  I don’t actually know…?,” I finally manage.  “It just seems to be the way it is, and always has been so…”

“But why?”  Simple and direct has always been his style.

“I guess I’ve always been taught that you are a distraction for me,” I start to explain.  “That were we to incarnate together, I would be so obsessed by you that I would be unable to accomplish any other task…”

“Ok, fair enough,” he responds, always balanced but adaptable.  “So what is it you have yet to accomplish out there?”

I cannot help but laugh aloud as his gentle words enlighten me… “Fair point,” I concede, “as we were just discussing.”

Rolling over to face him, I seek out his eyes of green…

“Could it be so simple?,” I whisper, almost afraid to let my hope rise, or my feelings shine.

Facing me, he places a hand upon my shoulder, the warmth of his gaze driving the chill from my bones…

“Why not?,” he asks.  “If All-That-Is exists, as we both know it does, then somewhere, some time, such a reality already is.  Why are we here, if there is where we want to be?”

He waits a moment, allowing this possibility to shine as opportunity, slowly settling into the truth that it already is…

“There are many variations of the term ‘Love,’ as you well know, having explored so very many of them,” he continues purposefully.  “Yet you have always managed to avoid me and the version known as ‘intimacy.’  Is there a reason for such reluctance, or is it simply fear?  And if afraid, please tell me just what that fear entails…?”

Moments pass as I consider his questions.  He waits, ever patient with the thinking side of me…

“I have no answers for you,” I tell him honestly.  “Perhaps we should find out…?”

And squeezing his hand, I extricate myself from his loose embrace, and stand.  I turn once more to face the Crossroads, focused on my goal.  Taking a deep breath and lifting my chin, I feel strength flooding into me.  Light-hearted and hopeful, I reach for him…

“I’m ready!,” I state, as certainty settles upon me.  Turning slightly to face him with a wink and a smile…  “Any chance you’d care to join me this time?”

Smiling, he rises, stepping forward to join me.  Taking my hand in his, he speaks:  “Here’s to Continuity…”

And stepping forward, hand-in-hand, we cross the threshold together…

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Reflections, Stories...

“Crossroads… (Take 2)”

This morning I am driven by a dream and a vision, both about a crossroads of three.  And discussing it with my roommate reminded me that I had once written something about that, not so long ago.  It occurred to me I should look it up, as perhaps it is relevant to me today.  (I often write the map before I arrive in a territory, then forget where I put it, so I’m left to stumble on blindly with only a vague recollection of what I’m trying to accomplish.  Lol!)

In this case, I’m glad I tracked it down.  Thank you WordPress for keeping my writings available and somewhat organized!  I want to share that story again, as today it means so much more to me…

Crossroads3

Enchanted Forest 2015 Photo by Lisa Palmer

Standing at a crossroads, and what do I see?  Three paths that I could take today, if I choose to take any.  Three…  I’ve been here before, at this particular crossroads, many times, I know…

The left path I know very well indeed.  It is rugged and twisted and difficult at times. Marked by high adventure and extreme emotions: love, pride, excitement, anger, sorrow  and grief.  It is the place I feel most at home, leading past a lake, and a swamp, and a forest of mystery.  I never know for sure what story will find me there, but I will feel every moment of it in exquisite detail.  Of that I am sure.  As sure as I am that it will bring me back here, eventually.  For that path is a circle, however deformed;  no matter which twists and turns, and side roads I may take, here is where I always return…

And after travelling that path for a day, or a decade, I am always relieved to get back to this place, standing calm and free before the crossroads of three…

And needing a little less excitement for a while, I have chosen the middle path before, as well.  That path runs straight and unbroken to forever, and beyond.  Rarely deviating for more than a step or two, I can count on that path to always run true.  It is the path of mundane existence, of everyday life; predictable, even boring, but relatively safe and unmoving.  There are no pitfalls, or loose stones, or narrow places where I might lose my way; I travel it when the low road has taken its toll, and my spirit needs rest and healing before continuing.

But there comes a point when predictability becomes stifling to all things creative, and my soul yearns for something more than an eternity of safe, easy travel.  I look forward, down that endless road ahead, and realize I cannot breathe; I am drowning in sunlight and crave a cool dark place.  If I am lucky (and I have been so far), I will find a small opening off to my left.  And when desperation drives me to seek that place, I wind up wandering once more down the low road of shade…

And, eventually, inevitably, it will lead me back here, to this magical crossroads where I choose who to be…

But I have never once taken the right path before, and I cannot help but wonder why?  I have looked down it, of course, out of pure curiosity, but never have I found the courage to actually commit to that walk.  Is it false humility that holds me back, or self-sabotage,  or perhaps simple fear?  The unknown can  be intimidating at the crossroads of three.  For anything can happen here, magickal or mundane, and my thoughts must be reined in and directed, lest they loose chaos upon me…

So what is it about the high road that frightens me so?  For surely I’m due for an adventure by now; and what would be more adventurous than an unknown road?  If the low road is my emotional journey through life (my empathy, struggle, passion, and creativity), and the middle road is my stability, then surely the high road offers something else of my self; something I desperately need to be complete!

I look to my right and realize that the path there is steep; too steep, perhaps, to tackle today.  I’m tired.  So tired…  So weary, indeed, that all I want to do is lay down to sleep.  The green grass I stand on is soft and inviting, and I cannot resist the urge to sit for a moment.  No need to rush while I stand at the crossroads, for time has no meaning here.  So I lower myself slowly to the soft earth, and sitting, I contemplate all that might be before me.  And gradually…  Inevitably…  I start to doze…

When I wake (?) I feel refreshed, and ready to go, and I know there is only one path to take.  The high road is calling me strongly and definitely.  And I have stalled here quite long enough…

So I pick myself up and head to the right, to see where the road not taken might lead…

The first steps are easy, surprisingly so, given how steep it appeared from below.  But it takes little effort to climb that first hill, and I’m feeling strong and more sure of my choice with each step.  About a dozen paces in, the path veers sharply left, out of sight of all I have ever known.  I walk confidently forward, unafraid…  In fact with each step taken, I feel less and less.

“Interesting…,”  I muse aloud.  Then I laugh at myself, because truthfully it isn’t really, anymore.  The higher I climb, the clearer my mind, so that soon I am not thinking much of anything at all…

Eventually I reach a plateau, so I stop for a moment, taking the time to explore my surroundings.  It is then that I notice the others around me, all seemingly intent on their own personal journeys.  A dozen or more all standing around, waiting (?), and not one of them even acknowledging the others…  A soft breeze blows through us, all standing there, and it vaguely occurs to me that it actually blows through us.  And with that light breath, all breathing ceases, and suddenly I am lighter than air.

I sense myself rising gently, like a balloon casually released, softly bobbing and drifting on currents of warmth.  All around me the others are rising as well, each showing vague signs of emotion after all. I see delight, and hope, and wonder, and awe; I see doubt, and suspicion, and trepidation as well.  As I climb higher I drift into a much darker place; alone now surrounded by stars and empty space…

Here is the beginning, and the end as well, the vastness of Everything amid the background of Nothing.  Here is the All infinitely expressed, composed of particles infinitesimally small.  And I am alone, surveying creation.  When I hear a thought, mine but not me…

“Everything, all of it, is yours right now; tell me what you want, and it shall be so…”

What I want?  What I want?  Anything at all?…  Eagerly I look to my heart, seeking its greatest desire.  But there is nothing there at all…

Confused, I try to reason it out; after all, there must be something I want…

Fame, fortune, or luxury?  Surely those must appeal to me!

But no, not really, not now anyway…   Why would I care if others know who I am, since who I was no longer exists?  And what would I do with money out here?  Turns out it is integrally tied to society; without anyone to trade with, it means nothing at all.  And luxury is something a body requires; if I don’t have one, what use would it be?

OK, then, how about love, passion, comfort and creativity; surely one of those must appeal to me…?

But no, not really, not now anyway…  I am Love, so I need none to fulfill me.  And passion and comfort are nothing more than feelings; I left those below when I started to climb.  As for creativity, that is mine by right and reality; what I lack right now is an idea of what needs creating!

All right then, perhaps I should seek insight and understanding, enlightenment and wisdom?

Laughing, I realize even that hope is futile, for here in the heart of creation, they mean little at all.  The only piece of the puzzle I haven’t placed yet is this one I’m learning right now.  And that lesson tells me the truth of it is, I lack nothing, so I want absolutely nothing at all!

Then how about for others; can I not want for them? Maybe a little peace on that distant planet, and a strong dose of brotherhood?  That seems a worthy goal, at last, something to wish for, after all…

But here in the ethers, I seek naught, for I am already found.  And so far away from my earthly existence I feel nothing really; detached, I feel no desire to intervene at all.  Let each who exist be who they are, deciding their own fate, choosing their paths…

“So be it!,” says the voice that is mine but not me.  “And so it is done…”

Empty now, I drift through space, observing but not interacting with fate.  I am free, untethered from the chains I once wore, leaving me infinity to fully explore.  Eons might pass while I faithfully witness, or maybe no time at all has gone by.  And free I may be, but move I need not, in order to see what all can be seen.

And then…

In some time…

In some space…

It occurs to me…

A little companionship might be nice…

“So be it!,” says the voice that is mine but not me.  “And so it is done…”

And stretching, I wake on a bed of soft green, sitting up to contemplate the choices before me.  For I rest at a crossroads, and what do I see, but three paths laid out before me.  Three…

Then a voice approaches from somewhere behind me…

“Any chance you’d like some company?”

 

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Flashback..., Stories...

“The Princess and Her Prison…”

I have often joked about having no romance left in my soul.  That is not entirely true.  The truth is that I placed that softer side of me, that one who believed in intimacy, in some distant and secure place, far away from my reality…

“Why?,” you might ask.  Hmm…  The answer, I guess, is that she was too much of a distraction, and her naivety and gullibility made her a hindrance to all I was trying to accomplish for my self…  Driven by an obsessive compulsion to find that specific “one,” that mythical being whose soul was promised to me, led me down many dark and twisted paths, into narrow alleys without escape, across dangerous minefields promising maiming consequences for any wrong steps, and up to countless dead-end walls blocking my access to that imaginary “promised land.”

Turns out, I have been much happier without her around, so I do not regret my decision to bench her at all…  But times change, and so have I, and for some, as yet, unexplained reason, I find that lately she has been clamoring for a way out.  I don’t know why, and I don’t really care; I know it is not about someone new coming in to my life, for her restlessness is not directed.  Rather, I suspect, it has to do with Wholeness, and the fact that my soul is missing some vital piece by keeping her locked away.  And so today I choose to release her…

Am I afraid?  Yeah, a little bit, I guess, as we did not part on the best of terms, she and I.  But I believe the time has come for me to integrate all my “bits” into a cohesive whole, so I will take this step regardless.  Vulnerability is not a bad thing in and of itself, and I trust myself today to handle the consequences of such a decision…

So… With all this in mind, I offer you the following story in its entirety.  That makes it a very long read.  Please do not feel obligated to slog through this madness simply because you follow this blog; my offering is mostly symbolic, and I would probably be relieved if you didn’t see this side of me. (Lol!)  This story was completed in December 1997, and would become the last actual writing of significance I would do for almost two decades, until just before I started this blog last year.

Please accept it as my gift and my confession;  I am not always as rational or grounded as I try to sound…  🙂

 

Photo of me, circa 1983, when I still believed in romantic love.

Photo taken by an ex, Jeff Schramm

 

The Princess and Her Prison”

Once upon a time there lived a princess… At least everyone assumed she was a princess because she lived in a huge castle high upon a hill. But there was something different about this princess. For example, this princess lived alone in her castle, and always had. No one knew how she came to be there, or even who she was. Since she had always been alone there, she had no name. This wasn’t really a problem, since she had no one there to call her, but she wondered sometimes what she might have been called if there had been others there. And she couldn’t help but wonder why she was alone.

The castle she lived in was made of steel and more closely resembled a fortress than a castle. The walls were high and smooth, with no obvious crevices in the dull sheen one could see. They curved around to create a great circle with only four doors and one window to disturb its perfect form. The doors were evenly spaced, one each facing East, South, West and North, with no visible means for opening them. In fact, the doors were so perfectly fitted into the walls that the only indication of their presence was a tiny keyhole cut into the steel at each of the four cardinal points. (Of course, none of this really mattered since the doors were locked and the princess had never seen a key.) The only window looked south across a large meadow and an ancient forest, but the steel bars that covered it marred the tranquil beauty of the scene. And so the princess’ castle was also her prison.

The princess grew up there in that steel fortress. She often wandered through the labyrinth of dark corridors within wondering why she was imprisoned. But there was little of value within the castle walls to answer the questions that plagued her. So she would often turn to the window and look longingly outside her prison for answers she could never reach. And that was how she came to know that others lived beyond the walls, as bands of merry travelers passed by her forest home. She would watch them from a distance, and wish that she could join them  But she could not leave the prison in which she had been born.

That’s not to say she didn’t try. She spent many years, and many tears exploring the dark inner sanctum of her home. And she had examined every inch of the outer walls of steel. She had crawled upon her hands and knees in search of loose stones upon the castle floor that might yield to her probing fingers. She swallowed her terror and crawled into the tiny nooks and crannies where even light would not willingly go. She threw herself against the doors to see if they would budge. She pushed and pulled upon the window bars until her hands were bloody and raw. But in all the days and ways of searching, the princess never found a single weakness in the structure of her home, and all the wishing she had done fell worthless on the cold stone floor. Even her prayers seemed trapped within, as though some magic force prevented their escape, as surely as the walls of steel kept light and warmth without.

When all her efforts failed, the princess looked to others. She stood proud and tall behind the bars of her window and called out to those who passed. And when they came to stand below her, the princess would tell them her sad plight, and ask them for their help. Many stopped to hear her tale and add their efforts to the cause, but none succeeded because the outer walls were as impenetrable as what she’d found within. And when all ideas had been exhausted upon the walls of steel, the travelers would offer sad good-byes and empty words of hope as they moved on.

But there were those who would not quit when they promised her release. So taken by the young girl’s beauty, so moved by her unfettered spirit, they each longed to be the one who set her free. And long after wiser souls had given up, they would continue to beat their hearts against the walls, leaving blood and sweat and tears to mark their paths. Until the princess begged them to leave her be and save themselves. Yet even then some would not listen, and the princess could only stand helplessly by while they battered their souls to death. For never was there flesh that could force its way through steel.

When the sound of their assault died down, the princess would look out between the bars of her window to see the bruised and broken bodies lying prone, like weathered stones upon the ground. Their still and lifeless forms strewn haphazardly about her walls would make her shudder with regret. And while the tears she cried could obliterate the sight, they could never wash away her guilt and shame. Grief and sorrow weighed heavily upon her soul, and with listless steps she would retreat to the dark inner sanctum of her home. As the years passed, and the pattern repeated itself again and again, the princess began to understand that no matter how perfectly her flesh was imprisoned, it would never approach the isolation of her soul. And she grew grateful that Fate had decreed her unworthy of life among the people outside, and had locked her up inside.

In time, the princess abandoned the fruitless hope of youth, and settled in to live her term without conviction or reprieve. When the loneliness drove her to her window seat, she was careful to stay out of sight. When curious travelers called out to her, and the urge to respond overcame her, she chose to speak in cryptic code that none would understand. And when the need to affirm her existence drove her to expose her self, she used the magic of mirror and smoke to cast shadows upon the walls. In this way she showed herself, that others might know she was there and she was real, without ever endangering them. So skillful did she become with her tricks and illusions that the princess no longer recognized her own reflection in the dull shine of steel, or understood the messages she cast beyond the walls.

But there were times, in the twilight hours of dawn and dusk, that the princess would catch a glimpse of something shiny in the distance. And it would stir long forgotten memories she couldn’t understand. In the still silence between day and night, the young princess would awaken with but one thought: “Four doors, four keys, and not one of them within. Could it be that somewhere, out there, is a key that can set me free?” But when the sun moved on into its rightful place, and the distant gleam faded, so, too did the remote hope within. And acceptance of her destiny became the cloak that comforted her through lonely days and nights.

***** ***** *****

One day while the princess sat beside her window with nothing but the scene to fill her mind, a knight encased in shiny garb advanced toward her castle on the hill. He rode proud and tall upon a midnight steed, with royal robes and ribbons fluttering in a gentle breeze. So lost was she within herself, she hardly noticed his approach. Until at last, with regal stature, he stood before the door.

And finally the sight impressed itself upon her feeble senses, and gradually she became aware that something here was different. Without a word, the knight below approached the southern door. As she watched he reached beneath his breastplate to remove a silken cord. On that cord, a single key, he slipped into the lock. And silently the door slid open as the princess sat and watched.

In an instant the princess realized that she was free at last. And in a sudden panic, she ran deep into her fortress. As she raced through twisting corridors, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the steel, and she was stunned to note how much she’d changed during her imprisonment here. For the beauty of her youth had fled with the slow passage of time, and left in its wake a dim reminder of all that she once was. The thought of being seen like this by any human being was more unthinkable than any thought should be. And she realized, in a flash of insight, that she’d always been alone, and had never had to face a man with eyes level to her own.

As these thoughts raced through her mind, the panic grew within, until she knew that she would never have the courage to even look at him. So she ran ahead into the deepest places of her home, and found a place to hide where he would never go. And there she fell upon her knees and prayed that he would leave.

But the silent knight was not afraid, and he had come here on a quest. He would not leave this steel fortress without the lonely princess. So he searched for days within the walls, leaving nothing there to chance, until at last, the final room lay just within his grasp. The door gave way with little effort, and slowly he advanced, into the very center of the prison Fate had Fortune cast. The room was small and dark, cluttered with mementos of a long-forgotten past. And there amidst the litter the princess kneeled, and sobbed into her hands.

Go away,” she shouted at the knight in a voice husky and low. “You don’t belong here! This is my prison. This is my home. I cannot go!”

Of course you can,” the knight responded his tone gentle and warm. “Why else would I be here, if not to set you free?”

But you don’t understand,” the princess promptly countered. “This prison is the only home that I have ever known. Outside its walls I would be lost, I wouldn’t have a clue. And I’m too old for fairy tales, I know they can’t come true… So go away while you still can, and leave me to my fate. No other soul has walked these halls or looked upon my face.”

But I have traveled far to be with you,” the knight insisted. “I have to say I am surprised to find you so resistant. Still, you needn’t be afraid of what lies beyond these walls, for I will walk along with you; you’ll never be alone. Outside this place the sun is shining and everything is bright. I’ve but a single purpose here – to lead you to the light.”

And if I refuse,” the lady asked, “will you force me to go with you?”

Why would you refuse me, when all I offer you is refuge?”

My mind’s made up; I will not go, no matter what you say. I cannot face the world beyond, where the sun brings forth each day. This is my home, where shadows play, and it is always night. Know this, brave knight, I will not leave my home without a fight!”

Exasperated, the knight stepped forth to bring her out by force. But the princess kept her word and struggled; ‘til objects flew with curses and the scene became a battle. As they rolled among the broken pieces of the past, the lady caught a fatal wound from a broken shard of glass. As the last strength of her will subsided in a gushing flow of blood, the princess felt herself aloft, and whisking down the corridor. She closed her eyes and drifted off to somewhere safe and warm, where armor clanged like silver bells, and the scent of Life was strong.

When she awoke, she found herself laid out on grass so soft and green, and gentle hands caressed her brow like the fragrant summer breeze. She smiled at the radiant sun, so warm upon her face, and reached out for the stranger who had brought her to this place. “Before I die I’d like to see the face of him who set me free. Remove your mask before I go, and let me gaze upon your soul.”

Without a word the knight complied, removing his shiny headpiece. And as he turned to face her, she saw tears slide down his cheeks. The reflection that she saw in them revealed the true beauty that she was, as eyes the color of emeralds gazed down at her with love.

Who are you?” she whispered, “Why have you come? Do you know me? Or why I was imprisoned?”

Sadly the knight began to nod, but his voice was slow to follow. “You are the one I’m promised to, for many years I’ve searched. But everywhere I went I found no one who knew of you. Long ago, before this life, we swore that we would meet, and I have spent what time I’ve had trying to fulfill that destiny… We knew we might forget these words by the time we came of age, so we took our case before the Fates to ask them for a way. After much debate we won the chance to prove our love to them, and if we were successful, we’d never have to be apart again.

We’d argued that our love was true, that we’d pass any test. So to prove our point we’d have to love, even if one did forget. So they placed you here, within these walls, and gave me the only key. You agreed to wait for me, and they took your memory.

Four times I’ve tried to get to you, and all four times I’ve failed. By the time I found your prison here, you’d already lost your faith. Every time it ends the same, and I am left alone. This was our last chance at this, and soon you will be gone.” And as these final words slipped out, the knight began to cry. The princess held him close to her, and sadly closed her eyes.

As she lay there upon the grass, she thought her heart would burst. To have him here, so near, and yet so far… And lost memories returned to her. Slowly they came back – such love, such trust, such hope, and she knew that she had always known that someday he would come. She remembered dreams, and distant gleams so bright against the dusk; a dark-haired knight who filled her sleep with promises of love.

Eagerly she pushed him free, searched out his eyes of green, looking for the proof of what her inner eye had seen. But when her hands were clear of him, she found his warmth remained, which drew her eyes away from him, to see the stains his blood had made, while she had held him near. “I couldn’t face this end again,” the handsome knight revealed. “This time we’ll go together to meet eternity.”

When the shock had passed, she realized that he would soon die, too. And she laughed at him, the irony, of what she understood. “Too late, I think, to stop our fate, but not too late for us. Alone I’ve been, without you here, but in spite of that I loved. It’s love that trapped me here, I know, because it was so true. No other love could set me free, while I belonged to you… I love you now, and always will, and it’s clear that you love me. And now we live, though soon we won’t, and as the Fates decreed…”

She held her breath and waited, her heart pounding in her ears, and wondered if he’d get her point while they were both still here. As she watched, his eyes lit up, and joy replaced his misery. “We’ve passed the test,” he shouted out, “and now we’ll both be free!”

***** ***** *****

The two lovers embraced, rejoicing in their triumph, and the princess gazed back at the prison that had held her fast through all the lonely years. Only now there was no sorrow or emptiness within. As her mind traveled back along the corridors of her home, she saw promise in the empty rooms of what would come to be, and there was love in every corner of her darkest memories. Gratefully, she recognized how the walls had protected her and kept her true to course, even when she could not understand her fate. She wondered at her lack of faith, her fear, her ignorance; she marveled at the perfect way it all worked out. She realized her only prison had existed in her mind, so limited by what she saw, so terrorized by time. The greatest gift was always there with her, carried in her heart, and all her greatest efforts had gone toward finding a way out. Had she escaped her prison, she would have lost her way, and she’d have never known the one she loved with all her soul!

When the sun slipped over the western horizon, the lovers followed suit. A fog rose up from the valley floor to shroud the castle hill and obscure its walls of steel. Legends were born to tell the tale of the Princess and her Prison, and there are those who still believe she lives upon that hill. They claim the fog arose to protect the naïve travelers who would waste their lives pursuing the long-imprisoned princess. They believe the walls that held her tight were created by some evil, who lies in wait for others who are pure of heart and spirit.

But there are those much wiser still who know the truth. They smile when they hear those tales, and keep their secret close. They know the only evil is created in men’s minds, when the prison of illusion distracts them from their lives. There is a plan much greater than the human mind can grasp; it leads us on our journeys whether we’re aware or not. For things are never quite as dark as they may at first appear, and nothing is impossible so long as Love is there…

— C. 1997, Lisa R, Palmer

 

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Poetry, Reflections, Stories...

“I Want…”

I want…

something

as yet undefined.

I sense a void

an aching need

a vacant space within my soul.

Desire…

A restless fire

that burns away the apathy

replacing it with… what?

Thought…?

A breeze to fan the flames

an endless circling

tornadoes in my brain.

Hunger…

The body craves

life-sustaining energy

and pleasurable extremes.

Pain…

A feeling or a fact?

Illusion of the Heart

that makes me want…

Some-thing.

© Lisa R. Palmer, 2016

A true story, an anecdote, of something that happened at work not so long ago. I work retail, and while I do not usually interact with the customers, I do, from time to time, get a chance to work the floor. It was one such day, and I was covering breaks…

A woman wanders into our “craft room” where I was stationed, looking completely lost, so I asked her if I could help? She nodded, looking relieved and said, “Yes, I want [such and such].”

Being unfamiliar with the name, I asked her if it was a brand name, to which she replied, “I don’t know, but I need it to complete my project.” So I asked her to explain her project and what the product was supposed to do. Luckily I understood instantly what she was trying to accomplish, and so I responded happily…

“Yes, I know what you’re talking about,” I assured her. “We don’t carry the particular brand you asked for, but we have a similar product that will do what you need. Would you like me to show you that?”

She nodded somewhat hesitantly, then followed me to where we had the product on display. After looking it over, she glanced up at me like I was daft, saying, “But I want [such and such]…”

“I’m sorry,” I explained again, “but we don’t carry that brand. This product does the same thing, though, if you want to try it.”

“But I want [such and such],” she replied, adamantly, looking me straight in the eye, as if she could change my answer with sheer force of will.

“I understand,” I reassured her, ”but we don’t carry that brand.”

“But I need it to finish my project,” she insisted.

I waited a full second or two before responding, unsure at this point if she was being serious, or deadpan sarcastic… “Yes, I know,” I finally answered, “but we don’t have it. If you need that particular brand, perhaps you can find it at another [big box] store.”

“I went there,” she said, speaking slower now, as if trying to explain to a particularly difficult child, “but they didn’t have it. That’s why I came here.”

“I’m sorry,” I replied, managing to keep the laughter from my voice somehow, “but we don’t have it, either. Perhaps you need to go online to find it; I hear you can find most anything online these days.”

“But I don’t want to go online to get it,” she replied, clearly getting annoyed with me. “My friend shops here all the time, and she told me if anyone has it, your store would!”

“Well… I’m glad your friend thought of us, and I’m truly sorry we don’t have what you’re looking for,” I told her, sincerely. “However, if you’d like to try this [other brand], I’m sure that it would work for you.”

“But it’s not what I want!,” she insisted. “I want [such and such]!”

This time I waited several seconds before responding, while she glared at me, willing me to magically produce her chosen product. Finally, I sighed, looking desperately for a way to extricate myself from this customer…

“I’m truly sorry,” I began, “but I don’t know what else to suggest to you. We do not carry the brand you want, and I don’t know where else to send you where they might have it… Is there anything else I can help you with while you’re here?”

She looked at me long and hard, and said, “Yes! You can get me what I want! It’s what I came for, after all!”

Shrugging my shoulders, and shaking my head, I could only repeat, “I’m sorry, but that is one thing I cannot do.”

And then my supervisor appeared to relieve me (thank goodness!), and before I could stop her, she enacted a ritual perfected by more than 11 years working together…

“Hi!,” she said to my customer, paving the way for my escape. “Are you finding what you need?”

“No!,” she responded adamantly, eager to find someone less stubborn than myself. “I want [such and such]!”

My boss looked at me, confused, noting the jar the woman still held in her hand. “I’m sure Lisa told you, but we don’t carry that brand. However, the product you’re holding is similar…”

“But it’s not what I want!,” the customer insisted…

I shrugged my apologies to my supervisor, excused myself by assuring the customer that she was in good hands with my boss, and left to take my own break. And for some reason, I had a Rolling Stones song stuck in my head for the rest of the day…

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