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The child’s excitement was growing more each hour.  The anticipation growing so that he could barely keep still.  The circus was coming to town and he at last was old enough to go into town on his own and see it in all its magnificence!  “You’re gonna wear a hole in my carpet if you don’t sit down” says his mother.  “I can’t wait!” he said excitedly.  His deep green eyes shown with a light of energy “When is Dad gettin’ home?” he asked.  “Soon” said his mother not looking up from her darning.  “He said he will be here in plenty of time”. The boy turned to once more look out at nothingness beyond the window pane.  His thoughts went back to previous visits to town with his parents.  The side glances from the townsfolk, the whispers.  His family didn’t have much to do with the town people and they pretty much left his family alone as well. The door opened and the boy flung himself from the window at his father.  “Dad!” he cried.  His father laughed as he caught the boy in mid-air.  “Nice greeting”, he said as he sat his son down.  “Now what did I do to deserve such?”.  The boy laughed.  “You know”, he said,  “You said I can walk to the circus in town on my own”.  His parents looked at each other.  “Son”, said his father.  “Things in town are not so calm”, he began.  “Are you going back on your word?” he asked, tears beginning to well in his eyes.  His father sighed.  “I just don’t want you to be hurt”, he said.  “I’ll be fine”, the boy said.  “I will take Boz with me.” At his name the huge black dog lifted his head and thumped his tail where he laid by the fire.  His dad shook his head and smiled.  Then he reached into his pocket and pulled some money out.  “I don’t supposed this is what you’ve been waitin’ on?” he asked.  The boy grinned and took the money from his father.  “Thanks Dad”, he said.  He turned and kissed his mother good by.  As he looked into her eyes filled with doubt and worry, he told her,”I will be fine Ma”.  The he turned and whistled for the dog.  “C’mon Boz,let’s go see the circus”.  With that he and the dog left, closing the door softly behind them.  His parents stood and watched him leave.  “He will be fine”, said the man placing an arm around his wife’s shoulders.  “We’ve taught him well, and he knows how to protect himself”.  “I know”, she said.  “I just worry”.  With that they turned and busied themselves with the preparations of dinner and talk of the day’s affairs.

The boy and his dog began the walk into town.  The sun was just going down behind the hills, casting its last embers across the wheat fields.  The boy took in a deep breath.  “Smell that earth Boz?” he asked.  “That is home.  As long as we can feel, touch and smell the earth, we are home”, he said.  Soon the boy begins to come to evidence of urban environment.  More houses clustered together.  people walking, some riding in wagons as they too, went into town to see the show.  The boy was careful to stay to the side of the road so as not to impede others and draw attention to himself.  But a tall, gangly kid with parents who lived on the fringe of civilization with a huge black dog is a little hard to miss.  “Hey Boy!”, a voice called.  He looked around.  In the wagon was an older woman with a girl about his age.  “Want a ride the rest of the way into town?” she asked.  The boy was a little startled.  Nobody talked to his family…EVER, and they sure didn’t offer to do anything nice for them.  They were all afraid of them since that night long ago.  “I ain’t a gonna sit here and wait all night boy” said the woman.  “Do you wish the ride or not?”. The boy nodded and began to climb onto the wagon.  He stopped.  “What about Boz?” he asked.  “He kin rid in the back”, she said.  “Thank you ma’am”, said the boy.  So he and the dog settled themselves into the wagon.  “The name is Wyrna”, said the woman.  “That there is Emmie”, she said as she nodded to the girl.  “I’m Chance”, said the boy.  “I know who ya are”, said the woman.  “I’ve known your parents since they were little.  Damn shame all these fine uppity people look down their nose publicly then hit your ma’s back door when they’re in trouble”.  “It weren’t her fault she could not save the child.  They came too late for help”.  The boy looked dumbfounded.  ..stunned into silence that someone outside of the family would even bring up the old history.  “Keepin’ things inside ain’t good boy”, said the woman.  “It’s time that people admit the truth and move on and stop trying to punish those who had no fault”.  It was with relief that the wagon came into town.  The woman parked it out in an open space so her mule could graze and would be easily accessible.  “This here will be where it will sit,” Wyrna told Chance. “If something happens, hightail it back here and git under the tarp”.  “Otherwise, we will leave as soon as the show is over.  I’ll give you ten minutes to come on or we move without you, y’hear?” “Yes’m”, said Chance.  He and Boz walked away towards the tent, and moved to the cages of the animals as they peered back at him.  Soon it was time for the show to begin and Chance found a seat on the end of the bleachers inside the tent with Boz sitting at his feet.  The ringmaster comes to the center of the ring.  “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, BOYS AND GIRLS. WELCOME TO THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH.  TONIGHT YOU WILL BE AMAZED BY FEATS OF MAGIC,DEATH DEFYING TRAPEZE ACTS, AND A SPECIAL APPEARANCE BY THE WITCH AND HER FLYING MONKEYS”.  At that last statement, a murmur went through the crowd and even Chance gave a small shiver.  “Do ya think its real”, asked a voice behind him.  Chance turned and there was the girl from the wagon.  “I don’t know. …won”t til I see the monkeys”. said Chance.  “My Ma says yorn is a witch”, said the girl.  A flash of anger crossed his face, but Chance said nothing.  “We don’t mind”, said Emmie.  “We believe she is a good woman”.  Chance nodded and turned his attention back to the ring where there was a horse act going on.  He paid no attention to it though as his mind flashed back six years previous on the night  when the back door of his parents home crashed open and a frantic couple came in holding a little girl.  “Help her please”, cried the woman as she held onto her child’s hand.  “Lie her down on the table”, said his mother.  “Chance set the kettle aboilin’ and bring me cloth and my bag of herbs” she said.  He hurried off to do his mother’s bidding and he could hear part of the conversation as he did as he was asked.  “Why did you not bring her when she first got sick”, asked his mother.  “I could not”, said the woman.  “I would not allow it” said the man.  “And yet you are here now”.  His mother shook his head at the ignorance of pride.  Chance brought the things his mother had asked for, placing them at the end of the table.  “I need more light” she said.  So he and his father gathered lanterns and placed them around, filling the room with a brightness that almost hurt the eyes.  The little girl was pale.  so pale, her skin was almost translucent.  “I am not sure if I can help” said his mother sadly.  “She has been sick a long while and the disease has ravaged her body”.  But still his mother began her workings, with the lighting of incense and herbs, making a poultice to apply to the tiny body that laid on the table.  For hours, she worked until she had no more energy left.  She slumped in a chair and spoke quietly.  “I have done all I kin”.  “It is all in the hands of the maker”.  The little girl opened her eyes and took a shallow breath then closed her eyes…she had moved on.  “NO!”, cried her mother.  “You did this!” said the father.  “You would not heal her!” Chance’s mother raised her tear stained face.  “I did all I could.  You would not allow my help when she first became ill.   “.  Chance’s father stood and went to open the door.  “I think it best you leave”, he said”you will have preparations to make, and my wife is tired”.  The parents gathered up their child and mourning her they left.  Soon after that it was talks in the town, whispers of how the witch would not heal the child of the mayor, had let her die.  Nothing was said of the pride that kept them from calling for a healer.  So Chance and his family were essentially ostracized and given wide berth when they came into town.  On the surface, people avoided them, but still there some who came to the back entrance to find some help from his mother.  “Look”, said Emmie.  Chance blinked.  He had sat through the whole show without even seeing an act until now.  Into the ring came a figure, dressed all in black, face as green as an apple from his grandfather’s tree, and on her head sat a pointed hat.  But what fascinated everyone was the figure on her shoulder.  It was a little monkey, dressed all in green, but as he moved there was an appendage on his shoulder.  A wing.  Chance could hardly believe his eyes, nor it seemed could the crowd as a collective murmur went through the crowd.  “I am Elphalba”, said the witch.  “This is my pet Wilbur”.  We will put on a show demonstrating the aerial dynamics of flight for mammals”.  At this the witch cackled.  “Go my pretty”, she said and extended her arm.  The monkey took off flying around the tent, swooping and picking hats from one, dropping it on another, taking a cotton candy, tossing it up and smacking with satisfaction as the spun sugar hit his tongue.  The murmuring of the crowd continued to grow.  Chance grinned.  “I think we might oughta start heading for the wagon”, said Emmie.  “This might not end well”.  “I think you’re right” said Chance.   The two kids began to go toward the exit as the monkey continued flying around the tent and picking at people as the witch chanted in the middle, her voice rising as the monkey flew faster.  They reached the wagon at the same time as Wyrna who was relieved to see them.  “Git in”, she said.  “This may get outta control”.  They began to move back toward the outskirts of town as the two kids looked back.  It seemed as if the tent glowed, and grew tighter then out of the blue, a loud BOOM and all was quiet.  The three were silent as they made their way out of town.  “What just happened?” asked chance.  “Wal son, said Wyrna as she bit off a chew of tobacco.  “I think some of those folks are going to be thinking again about how there are some who are healers and some who cause more problems than one can handle”.  she cackled then spit.  “Tell your Ma she can expect some folks tonight”.  All too soon they were at his house and chance and Boz climbed down.  “Thank you for the ride Miz Wyrna”, said Chance.  “More’n welcome” she said.  “Take care now, and we’ll be seeing you round”.  He waved as they moved away and he went inside where his parents waited.  Chance began to explain all that had happened and how he had gotten a ride there and back, and how there might be people coming.  His dad smiled.  “I don’t know what we were worried for.  You seem to have handled yourself well”.  His mother in the mean time after hearing the story of the strange witch, began to gather her herbs, candles and put the kettle on for boiling water.  They did not have long to wait.  A knock at the back door was almost immediate.  A familiar face stood there and this time he held his wife.  “I know I cannot expect you to help me”, he began.  “But please”.  “Bring her in here” Chance’s mother said.  She led the way to a small bedroom off the kitchen.  “Chance, gather the light please”, she said.  She then set to work, and finally she turned and told the man.  “I have done all I can.  we wait”.  Soon others came to the door.  Most only needing something for pain.  Some needing a bone set or a cut stitched.  The man sat alone with his wife in the small room, but he could hear all that was said and done.  Soon the sun began to rise, and Chance’s dad came through the kitchen . Chance had fallen asleep on his arms as he had helped his mother all night.  His father shook his shoulder. “I am going to feed the animals, but if there is need, come find me” he said.  Chance nodded and went to put on the kettle for tea so that his mother would be able to continue her work for he knew she would not leave the woman until whatever was going to happen did so.  The woman opened her eyes and looked at where her husband sat slumped in his chair sleeping softly.  “Wha happened”, she began.  He jerked awake and held her hand.  “You were injured when the tent fell”, he said.  “I brought you for help”.  He looked at Chance’s mother and said “I am sorry for what happened between us.  I know that it was my fault that you could not heal our child.  I am grateful that you did not hold that against us”.  She nodded and told him that his wife would be able to go home later in the day.  She moved out into the kitchen giving them some privacy and saw that chance had made tea and toast for her.  She smiled.  “I am a little saddened.  Not because you did this, but because it appears the events of the previous night has shown me that you, my son have grown.”.  “No longer a child”.  The praise from his mother brought tears to his eyes and he quickly hugged her close.  “I am always your child, and I am proud to be the son of the town witch”.  Together they turned and watched the sun come up over the horizon, each lost in their own thoughts. “I wonder where that circus was going next”, said Chance.  “To another town to smack others, I expect” laughed his mother.  Chance laughed.  Life was a lot like that circus he thought.  Just when you think things are as they seem, you get slapped into reality.

I know things have been off kilter as of late with the circus that is my life, the betrayal by kindred and with the recent loss of a dear friend, but had no idea how off they were until I fell asleep.  I had an early night even though I didn’t have anywhere to be until later the next day, but I was so tired and whipped by the week that sleep seemed a better idea than a drink and social media. No sooner than my head hitting the pillow did I seem to fall out..deep, dreamless sleep…for the moment.
I got the feeling of being stared at, so I opened my eyes and could see the red glow of eyes from the outer edges of the web.  I grinned.   Brin and I walked to the edge of that protection and saw the large wolf  standing there, its eyes glowing red.  He snarled as I approached.  I laughed.  I am not afraid of you, nor the master you serve.  What’s done has been done and your coming here will not change things.  Go back and give him this message:

Vous récolterez ce que vous avez semé, il ne vous apportera pas le repos, mais vous avez fait ce que tu veux et fait de votre mieux. Nous en avons fini, plus rien.

The wolf stared for a second, then left walking slowly as if he did not relish giving the message but would do so as commanded.  Brin and I continued our walk of the perimeter, checking webs and speaking softly about various things.  I then went to lie back down to see if I could go back to sleep.

I find myself sitting.  I look around and see a gray mist, the sky seemingly filled with the color of smoke that I see in various places.  And ravens. Too many to count if I had the inclination to do so.  They were talking amongst themselves trying to figure out why I, an interloper was in a world that I know well.  Not personally, but through a friend.  I have never been here, never had the desire to do so because I’ve always found another way to purge.  “Jebus”, I think to myself.  “What in the hell have I done now”? I can feel the fear rising, filling my belly with trepidation, and filling me as it rises to my throat, almost paralyzing me into statuesque state.  I stand, and realize that I carry a package with me.  It is part of myself I instinctively know, and is bloodied.  I walk about 9 steps and there she is.  The protector of this land.  One that I only know from what has been told to me and others, and yet I feel I know her pretty well.  She stands in front of me, her glossy black feathers have the softest sheen and it makes me want to stroke them to see if they are indeed really that soft.  “Get a grip Shae”, I tell myself.   “My apologies for the intrusion.  I seem to be off as of late and I should not have come without welcome or invitation”, I tell her.  She peers at me closely.  “What makes you think you were not invited? You are here, no harm has befallen you”. She turns to walk away and I can hear inside my head the “yet”.  I shake my head.  “This way”, she says over her shoulder walking away. I follow her and she points to a small pyre of bones.  “This is yours”.  I walk to where the bones have been gathered, and see that they have been woven in an intricate way, as if someone did this for me, expecting me to come.  I look at her and she points to what I carry.  “For that which burdens and holds you down, your friend left this for you. ” I nod and place the package down on the pyre, feeling instantly a sense of loss within me.  So I stand and look  thinking about what to do next, when she says “start the fire ,girl”. Umm..yeah, start the fire.  Now how do I do this?  Ok…let’s see. I stand facing the fire, thinking of all that the package holds.  I reach out my hands and at first, just a single spark appears from my fingertips, but as I continue to think on things, and look at destroying all that misery, the fire glows as a blue flame and comes from my hands to light the pyre into a huge bonfire. It licks the blood from my hands, pulling the last remnants from me.  I want to pull it back since its a weight that has been carried for some time, but I know that to truly find center again, I have to let it go.   So I sit on a nearby rock and watch it burn, the flames devouring each and every morsel of pain, degradation, and misery that was carried.  As I sit, Raven Woman comes up behind me.  “Why did you not use your friends name?  You could have done so as you entered, could have done so to light the fire”. I speak without turning around.  “It has never been my way to use others for my benefit.  If by some chance I was not allowed here, I would have accepted what happened by way of punishment.  And to rid myself completely of what I brought, I had to light the fire alone.” She nodded.  “There are many who would not do so.  They would have used her name for their gain.  You are welcome here should you have need”. “Good by Swamp witch”.  She then walked away. I smiled to myself.  I gained some measure of respect from her for not being like so many.  I continued to watch the fire burn out then I stood and walked away, past all the ravens who spoke as I walked past, this time with understanding.  And so it was that I found myself once more in my bed.  “Damn”, I thought to myself, I am going to have to speak with my friend about this. ” So I make a few notes so that I will not forget(as if could).  I fluff my pillow and resettle myself and fall asleep yet again.

But I am not to stay there.  this time I find myself outside huge ornate gates.  Black wrought iron, surrounding a cemetery.  I smile because this place I know well, having seen and visited it since childhood.  The gates swing open as if in welcome, and as I enter, my hand goes into my pocket seeking.  Yeah ,there they are.  Nine silver coins.  “Je vous remercie de m’avoir permis de Papa entrée”, I say as I toss them before me.  I enter the cemetery and breathe in the peace.  “Your Gran taught you well”.  I hear a voice behind me say.  I smile and turn to see a familiar figure.  “She would not be pleased if I did not remember my manners”, I tell him.  “I will leave you to your walk “, he says.  I nod then turn to find a familiar path.  As I walk, I feel the eyes of others upon me, but they do not bother me.  I have felt more at home in cemeteries than among the living most of the time.  I continue on until I come to a small waterfall located in the back.  Its small stream tumbles over the rocks filling the stillness with its music.  It is here that I often come to just sit and let the peace wash over me.  I have no idea how long I sat, or what the thoughts that came and went were like.  It’s not necessary because the peace that replaces them is more than welcomed at this point.  Soon, too soon, I walk myself back to the entrance, using another path instead of the one I entered in on.  One must always complete the circle my Gran used to tell me.  As I prepare to leave, he once more approaches.  “Always good to see you cher”, he says.  “Merci, Papa”.  I tell him.  “Adieu”.  “Come back when you will, cher”, he says..”next time we will speak more”.  Once more I travel home to my bed.  “Jebus”, I think…I really need to stop with the travel.  This time when I settled down, I fell asleep.  Once more at peace, dreamless and awoke refreshed this morning, with the need to write it all down so that I may go back and reflect later.

tempête parfaite

Some would probably scoff at me today.  But I care less.  Today I lost my little gift Zoe as she tried to bring life into the world.  She was the sweetest thing, only 6 years old.She had the most sweetest temperament and loved me with everything she had within her.  the feeling was mutual.  She was the one I could talk to when everyone else was busy.  When Robert was sick, she was the one who waited patiently at home for me and cuddled close as I cried out my frustrations.    I received her from my sister as a birthday gift  the same year as Braelyn was born and the two became fast friends.  She learned to crawl and walk by following Zoe.  It was amusing to watch them both play, both holding a special place in my hearty.  She taught me a lot did my friend.  That love was supposed to be unconditional and family was most important rather than what others thought.  She loved me no matter how imperfect I am .

So tonight I bid farewell to my little friend.  May her passing be peaceful wherever she may be going.  I will miss her little face and those cuddles.  Je t’aime Zoe.   Je vous souhaite la paix

CRACK!!!!! The glass just seemed to appear in my hand and I threw it with as much force as I had within me.  “Feel better”? a voice behind me asked.  “No.  I fucking well don’t”.  I said. A chuckle mingled with the smell of cigar.  “Then may I suggest you avail yourself of all of these until you do feel better”, was the reply.  I turned and looked and behind me was the tallest mound of glasses I had ever seen.  O looked at him and shook my head.  “Think I need all that”? I asked.  He laughed in return and answered,”Cher I’m not sure its enough yet.  But go ahead and see if it will do”.  With a sweep of his hand, he gestured to the mountain of glass.  I turned and picked up a glass and began throwing, finding glass in my hand as soon as I threw one…Faster and faster it seemed as if there was a wind of glass blowing across the sand.  Finally when I was spent, I sat on the ground, legs crossed, hands on my chin, staring out at all the broken carnage.  “What does this do for you?”, he asked quietly.  “It releases all that chaos energy that is simmering just beneath the seams that if was not able to be used effectively with a working could harm those who could not stand or those that are innocent “.  I said softly.  “I used to do this all the time, even as a child..throw something to break the energy flow then clean it up so that I could restore center”.  “I don’t have the opportunity to do this much anymore.  Maybe that is my problem..no release”.  “Cher, your problem is that you keep it all inside.  When you are angry and working, whew! But when you are in pain, that is where you have your ‘come apart’ as you say”.  You hold it in to keep others from seeing what you perceive to be weakness, yet that reflection in the mirror tells you that there is no truth in that statement”.  He sighed…”O am looking at all the broken glassware, Cher.  Whatever shall we drink from?”, he asked in an amused voice.  I sat up straighter and surveyed the pile in front of us.  It’s broken shards catching reflection of sun here and there shining its prismatic rainbow over our heads.  I laughed.  “Well mon, you the one with the answers”, I jokingly replied.  He laughed.  “You have all the answers, Cher.  I just provide you a means to manifest them at times”.  “The glass was a nice touch”, I replied.  “Indeed.Might have to take that up myself”, he said with a chuckle.  I laughed as well because honestly I cannot see him throwing glass just to hear it break.  Besides, as he said..whatever shall we drink in?  As if I manifested it, another glass appeared in my hands.  Only this time, it was full of fragrant, spicy rum.  I breathed a calm sign and sipped , feeling the heat course down my throat to every fibre of my being.  As we sat in silence looking at the glass and drinking the rum the peace began as a rhythm spilling over us.  “Thank you”, I say quietly.  “De rien”, he said.  “So how do I go about cleaning THIS up”? I wondered.  He cocked his head and looked at me with a smile playing about his lips.  Oh.  right.  I sit my glass down and stand facing the tower of shards.  I stretch my right hand out, and with a small movement, the glass begins to sort itself, moving as in single file into a tight spiral that begins to compact tighter and tighter until it is into minuscule particles until it disappears. I smile in appreciation.  “Nice job, cher”, he says.  I nod then return to my previous seat to finish my drink.   “I will leave you in solitude.  Stay as long as you like” and with that he was gone, leaving the smell of his cigar wafting around my shoulders and a full bottle of rum beside me.  I grin at his generosity.  Yeah, it’s been a hella week, but I am still relatively in one piece and find some center coming back to me.  I pour another round and sit back and watch the sunset with the first twinkling of stars making their debut.  This was a most needed respite.  Bring on the weekend!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There’s been a little discussion of late as to what makes one southern.  I know, we’ve been down this road before, but some people don’t seem to grasp that concept.  Here is my opinion and those passed down to me by those who would know.  It’s all about your roots. Now as a military brat being born on an Army base in Oklahoma, a sister in California and my brother being the only one actually born in the south(Tennessee), one might say that I myself am not southern.  BUT, both my parents are born and raised in the south with all its values, history and familial roots, and they in turn passed that on to us.  Also whenever my dad was gone for extended periods of times, like to Korea, Viet Nam, Germany, my mother moved us back to Mississippi to live near her parents, and the rest of our extended family consisting of many aunts, uncles, and cousins. Here we rode bikes on dirt roads, played war in the red clay gullies, tossing dirt clods as grenades, swung on the front porch swing sipping ice cold tea or lemonade, tending the garden and savoring that homemade bounty of hard work.  I remember lying under my Gran’s old willow tree in the front yard with my cousin and comparing our lives.  His with friends he had known since grade school, and mine of living all over the world, each wishing we could have a taste of the other’s world if but for a time.  We sat on the back of my pa-pa’s flatbed Studebaker truck and ate watermelon we had helped gather from the truck patch(for ya’ll city folk, that is a huge field full of crops mostly for sale with some left over for the family), talking about going to “First Monday” for the sale and hopefully catch up on family gossip.  We often looked forward to that as we got to see family that we normally wasn’t in our immediate circle and explore the other vendors wares.  This time seemed idyllic for me, as it taught me connection of family, history and the roots that have carried me throughout my  life no matter where I have roamed.  These are the people who helped shape me  and give me insight as to who I am and would become.  I don’t think one can gain that anywhere else.  Being southern is more than just being born in the south.  One has to embrace and be immersed in the culture and history.  The war between the states is still a touchy subject for many(just FYI…it was really about economics..slaves just happened to be ONE of the commodities)…States above the Mason Dixon are often spoken about with a “bless their hearts”, and those such as Maryland and Virginia although under the line are referred to as “yankees” because they fought against “us”.   Texas considers itself southern and some did fight with rebels, but it was too far west to be really considered, and Florida wasn’t even in the picture so we dismiss it as well.   There have been dark moments for the south , but I believe we’ve learned and are learning from them and are working to become better people.   Manners are important down this way.  We’re not big on braggarts, even if they believe in what they know.  Why show someone else up?  It’s just unseemly.  One does NOT have to know something about EVERYTHING.  And truthfully, we kind of look at you a little hard when you post/speak on everyfuckingthing.  It’s considered polite in most circles to introduce yourself to someone before jumping right in their face.  I have control issues, so to me this is extremely rude..can also be hazardous to your health as well.  Yeah, these southern days of hot humid days, sweltering nights, remind me of simpler times, and they bring back good memories.  some that make me shake my head, others make me smile, but they have taught me well of who I am and what I will not accept in my world.   It’s all in the roots.

It’s been long week…and it seems to have merged with this one like one long continuous mess of  chaos and bullshit.  So I go where I always turn when I’m over the stress limit.  
 I move to the porch of the cabin and inhale the air around me.  There is a peace that already seeps into my being.  Sanctuary. I enter and as I do, the massive dog lifts his head and gives a soft woof in greeting before laying his head down.  I swear dog you seem to always be in that same spot I laughingly tell him.  “It is his resting place when not hunting”, Maman tells me with a smile on her face.  The smell of herbs swirl around me filling my nose with their aromatic perfume.  I inhale deeply.  “It’s been too long Cher,”Maman tells me.  I agree and sit down in the rocker that is my accustomed seat when I am here.  She moves to place the kettle on the fire, and adds more herbs to the cauldron there.  “I love being here, and miss it when I’m gone”, I tell her.  she smiles and tells me that I need to come more often.  She then looks me over carefully.  “You are too pale and way too much stress level.  Not enough grounding and too much worry”, she tells me.  “laziness on my part about the grounding”, I tell her, and “I can’t always help the worrying”.  “What does it change?”, she asks.  Nothing I admit.  “So, tell me, what worries you and dont leave anything out”.  So I begin at the beginning with the move, manic man’s back and forth of confusion and anger…job stresses, life in general.  “You’ve left something out”, she tells me.  I look up confused for a moment then see the look in her eye.  I sigh heavily and lean my head back in the chair closing my eyes.  She hands me a cup of coffee, and I take a sip biding my time..stalling…it fills my mouth with the wonder of chicory, chocolate and rum. “Maman”, I begin.  “What I do is not easy, and sometimes I just want to chuck it into the swamp somewhere and pretend it never existed”.  “But you don’t”, she says.  “Non”, I reply quietly.   “Why is that?” she asks although I know she knows the answer.  “It feels like it would deny who I am and what exists, has always existed in me”, I tell her.  She nods.  “So tell me about this week”, she shifts gears.  I blink and think…this week has just started but it feels like a melding of last which was a bitch.  I smile .  “well”, I begin, “I’ve been followed to hell by ravens, cavorting over the carrion of road kill , watching me as I travel from start to finish”. “A red tailed hawk soars each morning in front of my car as if to lead the way”.  “I  sewed my finger..blood sacrifice of sorts ” I chuckle, “and now Im here”.  She laughs.  “Cher, your details are a little shaky, but  it’s sans importance”.  “So why the ravens”, she asks slyly.  I roll my eyes.  “I know why the ravens as do you, and I know why the hawk that flies in front of me as if he guides my steps”.  I smile.  “Old woman, you are wicked”, I tell her with a laugh.  Maman cackles.  “You are too serious sometimes ,Cher.  I wanted you to smile”.  I smile and shake my head and realize that my cup is empty.  I hold it out for a refill, and Maman obliges.   I sit and sip the coffee and she pulls her special oil out and moves behind me to massage my temple.  “Take your times with things as they unfold, cher.  You don’t have to know the answers all at once nor act on them”.  I sigh deeply and allow Maman work out the kinks that have knotted my mind and spirit.  Dreams that have bothered me because they dont seem to fit, mundane life…they all seem to slide away with her capable hands.  I close my eyes and feel myself drifting into sleep.  Maman removes the cup from my hands and as I slide deeper, I hear the song that has always filled my soul.  Brin sings to me and this time its done in words that I know, not the dragon speak that teases my memory, but french , which amuses me.  She doesnt usually do this, but this time its as if I am to remember the words, to keep them within my heart to pull out when I am stressed by what the mundane hits me with.  Odd that its often this plane that usually causes me more issues..the spiritual, not so much.  I smile and the words comfort me as no others could.  I will remember them, but for now, I will sleep…deeply and soundly to restore my spirit.  Sanctuary…the perfect place to restore what is often jarred and shaken loose.  

tempête parfaite

Triggers.  We all have them, and damn if they don’t rear their ugly little heads in the most inopportune time.  Sometimes they show up due to conversations, something someone says in passing or even in situations that are similar to a past one.  We all have our own baggage.

So how do we know how to deal with the triggers that sometimes trip us up? Some people pretend they don’t exist..tend to bury them and their heads in the sand so to speak, it can cause issues both in the present as well as in the future.   Others act out as if it gives them an excuse to behave like an asshat. Some, like myself, tend to remove themselves from the situation, the conversation and go have my come apart privately.  It’s a form of protection because I refuse to discuss it(usually) to acknowledge that its still a painful scar that hasn’t totally healed.  It can be maddening to my friends who may feel as if they contributed, but in truth..this is all me.

My apologies to those who celebrate, enjoy and appreciate the women in their lives.  I just can’t get behind it. I still have some work to do on letting go of abusive issues from the past, so find myself  being a little more snarky than usual in all the sweetness of the day.  Past issues hold me, I’m currently still in an unsettled frame of mind, so the trigger had easy access.  I said something that others looked a little askance at me, wondered why I didnt just walk off…Truthfully, if it hadnt been personal trigger, I might have said the same to others.   So I chose to take that advice.  I’ll be fine tomorrow.  I place limits on myself…I refuse to allow myself to wallow..that pisses me off more than anything.  Today I will open the wound, allow the putrid decay that lies under the scab to ooze and remove it with a lot of tears, pain and finally allow it begin to heal yet once more.  It gets a little better each time…but its still not a fun or pretty process.  And that’s why I do it alone.  I’ve considered therapy , but with these control issues, I have a problem allowing others to know those private demons.  It’s a work in progress, so bear with me today.  It’s time I isolate myself to start that healing process over again.  Maybe I won’t have to do this too many more times.

WHAT!?!?!?!?! I yelled out at the nothingness I found myself in. I could see stars, smell ocean salt, feel the sand beneath me, but as far as seeing anything tangible other than vague shapes..nothing. “The word should be where”, said a familiar voice. “I could give fuck all about where in the hell this is”, I retorted. I heard a chuckle, then as a match was struck, the scent of sulfur and cigar filled my nose. “You amuse me, cher, you really do”, he said. “You have no idea where you are exactly, but you use your indignation and sarcastic wit as weapons”. “Yeah well, they came with this model”, I shrugged. “And besides, I am getting more than a little pissed at manipulations of some with myself and others.”. “We are not fucking marionettes that you can pull the strings”. “I pull no strings, cher”, he said. “I offer choices and people make their own decisions as do you”. “I find it more than a little ironic that you choose to offer them when people are at a low point or seeking “, I told him. “So you feel I may have ulterior motives”, he asked…”amusing”. “I’m, pleased at being able to offer you entertainment tonight..and to answer your other query, fuck yeah! You and every other always has something up your sleeve and require payment of some sort.”He sighed. “I am wounded my petit. I thought we had passed this point in our relationship”. “I am a little out of sorts at the moment”, I tell him. “Things are unsettled, with no contact with others, no access to things that keep me balanced, and here you are waltzing in offering to remove things and people from my life without even giving a heads up to me or others. Just what kind of relationship is that anyway? Not one of respect I would imagine”. I was beyond caring what he thought, or the fact that I could be smacked at any time. Maybe I would become a witch on a milk carton coming up as missing or something. I was tired of shit, and it was time for some damn answers, no matter how I had to get them. I sat looking at him and he sat quietly pulling on his cigar, the silence lengthening between us. Finally he smiled and spoke. “You have always had fire, even when you came before me as a child. The mundane, you were meek and mild and yet when it came to matters of the spirit, you had fire. I’ve always admired that. You show no fear even when those who have more experience bow and scrape as lap dogs in the hope that I will provide some sort of service to them. “ He paused. “You have no ideas of all the keys you possess that others would do just about anything for, and yet, you use them as you will without even thinking about them”. “Who does that”?” he asked. I shrugged. “I do as I’ve always done”, I said. “things that Maman has shown me, things that I seem to know without knowing why that is, and other things I’ve learned. But we know all this. What I want to know is the why. Why dammit!?! Why do I do the things you ask without question,. Why do I still reach out when I know that sometimes it will not be welcomed, but is still necessary?” “You cannot heal the whole world, cher, “he said. “But you do help provide the balance for those who walk on a plane that is different than yours. You are one of those fortunate enough to cross at will, to do what needs to be done on either side. It’s why there are those who seek you out”. “You are one of those walkers who provide the balance that is needed on either side. A powerful weapon if one cared to use it as such”. I shook my head…”now who does that”, I asked. He laughed. “I think you may have run across a few who would love to know how to work that trick of the mirror. “. “Portals, tools..nothing more”, I said dismissively. “To you, yes. For you have no need of weapons. But to others, they can be used as such”. I agreed, for it’s the reason the mirrors in my home always have sigils on them to break the plane, in case someone is more than a little curious. We sat in silence a little longer. “Come Cher”, he said. “let’s have a drink”. “You know that always fucks with my head when I drink with you”, I laughed. He laughed as well. “I promise to allow you to set your own limit”. So we sat, drink in hand, listening to the waves. I looked up at the stars, shining brightly like little diamonds , and the atmosphere seemed changed. Less angry and more peaceful. “I’m sorry I yelled”, I said. He shrugged. “You are unsettled and demanded to be shown some things. Perhaps not as much as you would like, but we can speak our minds n’est pas” I shook my head in agreement. “Besides, its more than a little amusing for you to come in charging much as a fierce dragon”.he laughed. Awaking this morning, I am reminded that some things are not easy, nor will answers always come when we demand them. I was just reminded of things that I already knew, and maybe that in itself was an answer.

So yeah.  This has been long week, and will be longer still since I work for a bit tomorrow.  To top it off I am moving. Not that I want to, but the trailer park that I’ve lived in for over 12 years is being sold.  All of my little people have lived here, family has been in and out, and now  I have to start over.  It’s not like I am moving way far away..just an hr down the road, longer drive for work//minor inconveniences.  One would think at this point in my life that starting over would not be so scary, but it is.  I am sorting through things, trashing some, storing others and taking a little with me.  Why not just do a sort and move it all?  Well I might have considered that if I wasn’t moving in with my daughter and her husband until I decide what I want to do next.  So it truly wont be my home, or even feel like it.  I guess that is what has me in a meltdown kind of mood atm.  I think I’m took old for all this stress shit.  It’s shown up in the cold sores on my lips, the chest pain that has been relieved by the nitro..but short of knocking myself out, I can’t staunch the flow of tears.  As I have gone through things, I find things that belonged to my parents that I had sitting out as a remembrance…they go to storage.  My son’s belongings are here until he is able to come and retrieve them.  Also storage. My corner..the one with altar, herbs, etc…majority of it will go to storage as well with just a traveling altar that I usually carry on trips will go with me.  That makes me sad because most of what makes me feel comfortable will not be around me.  It may be temporary thing, but it sure feels like a knife between the shoulder blades.  But as I continue to sort, I have also let go of things that no longer function for me either in the mundane or pathwise.  A friend on FB has a blog/newsletter that he emails out and this week’s was about letting go of “stuff”. Since the move this weekend wasn’t unexpected, it hit right on time.  So I began a purge.  Finding shineys that I thought I HAD to have in the beginning of this walk, books that I havent read in a long time, and probably will never open again, so they will be passed along.  Herbs that were forgotten and are beyond a time that I use them will be burned later on this weekend.  My own personal ritual of sorts in letting go.  It’s all been a little overwhelming.  Ya’ll remember I have control issues, so yeah…its freaking me the fuck out. But I’ll live, let go of things and move on to another chapter, whatever that brings.  So looking at brighter side of things..here is to new beginnings…SLAINTE’