Enchanted

countdown

2006-07-18T16:33:00.000-07:00

In search of ruins

2006-06-29T23:27:00.000-07:00

Dear Travellers,

I was up very late last night with permission from the abbey's ancient librarian to search the archives of ruins. I found these images of the House of the Vestal Virgins, they look a lot like the ones from the Roman Forum. But I think they may be hidden somewhere outside the high abbey walls. So I have packed a light lunch in search of ruins. I'll be back shortly...

Blessings,
Luna

Stars on the ceiling!

2006-06-29T23:26:00.000-07:00

Looking up in the Abbey I was inspired to snap a picture while nobody was looking...

Spirit bag

2006-06-26T16:18:00.000-07:00

Long ago a grandmother I do not remember clearly, took a cutting from my mother’s dress the day I was born. She fashioned a rounded square into a small pouch with cords to pull it closed and a longer one so I could wear it around my neck.

As long as I can remember it hung up high on the wall where I could not reach it or touch it. But I could see everyday.

On my seventh birthday I was given a gift in tissue and ribbons. It was my spirit pouch, just for me. And for the first time I was able to open it. Inside were stones and small scrolls of paper, each with a date. The first one was today.

I carefully opened the scroll: Luna, girl of my heart, today you are seven. Your mother has labored hard for you to come into this world and you must always remember that. There may be times that you forget how much your mother and grandmother love you and how we anticipated the day you arrived to change our lives forever. Maybe at seven you think you almost know everything, but you must remember there will always be someone older than you, someone younger than you, someone to listen to and someone to give guidance to. Live in the present. Be brave and do not fear darkness.

The pouch is a robin’s egg blue with red thread running all over the edges, symbolic of the blood of my ancestors. I am told to remember them. Seven tumbled stones gently rub against each other: rose quartz, jet, jade, aventurine, citrine, crystal quartz, and amber. Each year a new bead is sewn on to the fringe and sometimes we forget and many beads are placed on at once.

After much moving in my life I have lost this precious pouch and the letters it held. But I still remember that first letter and the smoky smell of sage. I will try to fill in the gaps my grandmother meant for me to know. I can only wonder how my grandmother tried to imagine me as an old woman, even older than herself. Dreaming my own life into being.

Happy Summer Solstice!

2006-06-21T00:47:00.000-07:00

.
.
May the bonfires
glow bright
this night
as we listen
to the standing
stones sing
their dreams.
.
.

Night Flight

2006-06-19T09:13:00.000-07:00

I caught the night flight of ravens to the land beyond the sea. After receiving an email in the night telling me to pack quickly and come. I forget the name… I think it is an island.

I pack some water, my journal, pens, and simple toiletries. A travel size muse box, more of wish box, but I pack it carefully with a blue aboriginal scarf design.

It is dark and cold when I board the giant raven in a clearing in the North West Hills. I am overcome with so many feelings, too much loss.

While reading an essay called Beauty Tips for the Dead, I am overcome with the raw emotion of loss. First Aunt Doris, a sweet lady that slowly died of cancer and whose funeral I missed but sent a basket of yellow roses. And now Uncle Dick just passed from uncertain events. Our time here is so short. I just realized I have spoken to both my mother and father within the last 24 hours, kind of rare for me.

I also meet a woman last week who voluntarily removed both of her breasts after being diagnosed with the cancer gene. I am unsure what it is actually called. I just cried there in front of her. With her white hair and large glasses, she just stood there as real and herself as anything.

All I could see was this radiant woman who is the ultimate Amazon Warrior who sacrificed her own breasts to live. When I was younger I figured breasts were kind of new to me and I didn’t think they would be a big loss as I hear women like my grandmother loss them to cancer. But now at thirty-seven I am surprised by my own attachment to them. They are not as beautiful as they were ten years ago. But they are all I have. And to imagine them gone is almost unbearable and unthinkable.

It is only the body that carries our spirit and brain around. She said she wanted to live. At seventy, she got it right. But is this what I have to look forward to?

The eastern sky brightens and I can see the faint outline of land. The raven flies low over the water. And I am exhilarated by sea spray and the taste of salty tears on my face.

The Enchantress greets me with a hug. Good! You received my message.

I am here to do your bidden.

Is it not mine, but your ancestors. She says.

I am stunned. Nooooo, it’s too soon.

My head hangs and the Enchantress lead me inside her little house and we sit over some hot tea.

The gatekeepers complain that rapid whispers have been calling your name. And they urged me to contact you.

Please ready yourself. You must go before the sun has fully risen. I put my head in my hands to try to steady myself.

The ferry bumps into the shore. It is sharp and clear. Some stars still hang in the west barely visible, but I see them.

I walk up the familiar slope and into the red pavilion. An ancient woman waits for me. I recognize her as a great, great grandmother whose name I do not know. But she knows me.

She wears a cotton blue and white kimono. And smiles serenely. I look around; no bleeding samurai ready to ambush and scare the living daylights out of me.

I sit on the small stool next to her and bow my head. My name is Kana, your grandmother was named for me. I smile at the familiar accent.

We have been waiting for you.

I bow my head and wait.

We are only here for a short time. But the soul goes on and on and some come back and some find new places to go.

You must find your place in this world. You must not forget everyday is a gift. You let little things bother you and that is not what you should be dwelling on.

I cannot speak back to her, because I know this is all true.

Get your soul in order, get your mind organize, do your art, time is of the essence.

You do not know what tomorrow brings. It is only when those around you leave forever that you realize they are not on vacation, they are gone to the great unknown. Do not weep for them. They are free. They can go beyond the body and mind. The spirit can see and know all the mysteries.

You can only guess at the mysteries. And I am telling you. Know that you will someday be dust. But today you have time to do something worthwhile.

Your Aunt and Uncle have heard your prayers. They are happy to be free of the body that suffered. They did not linger, but went quickly. Even now they hear the echoes of their name but they do not want to be held back by the family weeping. Let them go.

If anything remember what they dreamed and continue the dream of music and art.

Do you have any questions?

As if my mind had been wiped clean, I did not.

Thank you Grandmother, Kana. Is there anything else I should know?

She thought a moment. We know you are having a hard time. Your friend has told you a way. Try it on Litha. You must believe in your own personal power. You must believe in your own magic.

Everything she has said has rung true.

Her black eyes look through me to listen to my own voices. And she smiles and nods her head. Do not listen to those who do not support you. You will find what you need soon enough. Just be ready when the moment comes to you.

I cannot thank you enough.

I give her a clear quartz heart I carry in my pocket. She takes it in her hands and whispers over it. And gives it back to me. You need it more than I do.

I bow to her formally and then hug her and she laughs.

My tears have dried and I walk down to the shore to see the bright red sky of dawn just as man has witnessed for eons.

I squeeze the quartz and the ferry women pushes off from the Island of Ancestors.

The Gorgon's Mirror Room

2006-05-25T02:26:00.000-07:00

A key is left in my room, enclosed in a letter.

Dear Luna,

Enter the Gorgon’s Mirror Room after midnight to see how others often see you.

Eternally,
The Enchantress

To prepare myself I bathe with neroli and jasmine oils. The warming scents relax and open my minds eye.

At midnight, the corridor is quiet. I can hear water dripping and soft echoes of night creatures. My smoky blue cloak drags on the floor making a hissing sound as I move. I feel like I am being watched. I distrust the dark; you never know what is there. The Gorgon’s heavy key has a patina of rust, softly worn down but unmistakably shaped like the head of a snake.

The door looms massive and ancient; the lock makes a satisfying clunk as I turn the key. In the darkness, I grope forward hoping not to crash into anything or anyone. My hands reach out and touch a cold, flat surface. As my eyes adjust, I see a large standing mirror, looking through it the room is filled with candles. A hooded figure stands before me. I push back my hood to see myself as a much older person with long grey hair. My face is wide with good eating and wrinkled with worry and laugh lines.

The room behind me is filled with paintings. The light shifts and it looks like a gallery opening, I see myself chatting with very well dressed people. That’s a good sign. The mirror dims and all is dark.

Light comes from the corner of my left eye. Turning , A little girl screams at me in the mirror. I am not sure if it is me, but probably how most folks see me: a spoiled brat. The mirror goes dim like the other one.

Far away another light catches my eye, I slowly move toward the back of the enormous room. Now I notice the room is truly full of mirrors, but the lit one calls to me with its brilliance.

A standing mirror sits on a table. I sit in a hard chair and look straight into this old, rough mirror. The light fades and swirls of mist churning, I wait. After many minutes of silence, I whisper, am I suppose to ask a question? A little swirl creates letters that oddly form the word, yes.

I cannot imagine what to ask this mirror. So I sit and meditate. My brain wanders around my foot begins to itch and I get a flash of a house with a funny shaped roof. I open my eyes and this funny roof is in the mirror, a house appears with a garden.

A house, roses are in full bloom, it is a slice of heaven when I see it. I smile and the image fades. I sense that the room is all quiet and done with me. The room is pitch black. Light comes from under the door and I make my way back to the corridor.

Two towering mirrors face each other. I get a funny feeling this is not over. As I approach, two giant samurais in full warrior battle gear appear in the mirrors, one red the other steel grey. Yes, I see you great warriors. I have not forgotten you. They incline their heads towards me and whisper: Shinjo, be brave, do not fear darkness, and vanish. Ah yes, my intense ancestors reminding me of honor and what it means to live well and without regret, which is a challenge.

The door opens on its own, the Enchantress looks up and smiles. Well done. Your ancestors wanted me to give you this… So you don’t forget. She slips me a blood red pouch, inside is a garnet and gold bracelet. It is so beautiful; I will think of them often as I wear it. I put it on and smile to myself walking back to my room in the dark, thinking about honor.

Walls

2006-05-22T01:10:00.000-07:00

Day by day
brick by brick
a wall was created
that enclosed my heart

Night by night
brick by brick
I mourned the loss
of my innocence

Day into night
night into day
the wall came down
to create a bridge

Luna’s arrival

2006-05-21T22:03:00.000-07:00

The House of Serpents

The mahogany reception desk is as massive as I remember. The Griffin looks up elegantly without blinking and says, “Yes, The Shinjo. Your room is ready.”

I bow my head, “Thank you.”

She remembers me, the Griffin who asked me to prove who I am. Did I make an impression? Or does she just have a really good memory?

A young girl leads me down the hall. The wide corridors are open like the Greek style with a courtyard full of plants and fountains. Birds sing and flit around happily.

My room is really a suite with a balcony overlooking the wide world. A private suite is the ultimate luxury and I draw a bubble bath and light some candles.

Before going to bed I pull out some parchment to send a letter. Her ravens appear without even asking. They will find her.

Dear Lady Enchantress,

I have arrived safely at The House of Serpents. My room is lovely and the view of the sunset is inspiring. I hope all is well with you. I look forward to chatting with you at the banquet.

Your dear ravens showed up just as I pulled out the parchment. What magic they possess.

Blessings,
Luna

A voice

2006-05-21T01:52:00.000-07:00

Bound tight
gagged and blind
I lost myself

Ideas hidden away
locked, sealed
invisible

A small voice
with no confidence
head low

Beaten down
by words that despise
and hurt

Yet words
are the way
to freedom

Release them
that lay heavy
on my heart

They ooze
like sludge
quivering

timid
shy
unlovable

Word by word
Poem by poem
Blog by blog

A wisp of a voice
grows strong
unafraid

My voice
came as a surprise
like a child

Gurgling
and laughing
with delight

Here I am
not a child

But believing
I can be again

On my terms

Letter from Le Enchanteur

2006-05-15T14:34:00.000-07:00

Dear Travellers,

What brave souls you to walk the Serpentine Road with me. I am you guide but I am not the sort of guide you may have met, or heard about, travelling on a tour bus somewhere. I have no microphone and I will not be providing particularly clear instructions. This is a tour with a differerence. You are pretty much on our own and you have to keep finding me. I will go ahead and help that whining Heather set up some camps (she does go on about having to do everything herself and it is simply not true) and will let you know our whereabouts. How you reach us is up to you.

Now you have your special bags don't you? Each bag contains spectacles, a candlestick, a tiny anchor, a medallion with the imprint of the Unicorn and a set of wings. However, each bag contains something that has been chosen specifically for the recipient. It also contains a map.

Look at the map carefully! You will see the Cave of the Ancients marked on it. This is where we are headed. The Cave of the Ancients is the place which is purported to contain remnants of ancient civilizations - wisdom that has been lost to humankind because of those who have tried to raze all memory of old wisdoms and truths.

It is a long and dangerous journey to find the Cave of the Ancients. Tracks have long been overgrown and you have to pass through steep mountain. We will need a number of stops along the way. At various stops it would be a good idea to find out as much as you can about this cave and its precise whereabouts. The map I have given you is old and needs to be updated. Perhaps there is a cartographer in our midst and that person will mark things as we go.

With scientists, botanists, herbalists, journalists, artists, amongst our number it is hoped that this path will be well documented and that come December the Advent Calendar will feature this journey of exploration. Documents are kept safely in sealed archives (bloggers) ready to be accessed after the journey is complete. It is a good idea to have your own personal blogger that contains your journey - and it will be linked to the Serpentine Road so that we can find you.

Now! I am going to go ahead to the House of the Serpents, which is close to Blind Springs. I will meet you there.

Good luck
Sibyl

Sweet Surrender

2006-05-15T11:21:00.000-07:00

I have become an amalgam of ideas.
I have become one I didn’t expect.
My philosophy shifted and my vision crashed
I am still reeling from my newness of mind.

Now I understand everything is grace
Everything is given to fulfill something

Take it!
All of it!
Leave me what you think I need
and I will trust that all will be well.

I have done all I can now
I can only go with the flow

I offer my everything
To the earth, to the sky
To the moon, to the sun…

The dreams of my heart
are the dreams of
the universe dreaming
through me

Prayer by Julia Cameron

found written on a tiny scroll inside a burnt out apothecary chest

A flutter of wings

2006-05-14T23:00:00.000-07:00

It’s time to go to bed and my mom comes in to tuck me in. I am getting a little old for it, but I like it. We walk towards my room and I gasp. She stops and looks at me, “What’s wrong?” I whisper, “Don’t you see them?” She looks at me, puzzled.

My room is crowded with pulsing, quivering wings of angels. They surround my bed and look at me. Their eyes are glassy. But they smile serenely.

My mom kisses me goodnight on the forehead, like every night, since I can remember. The door is left ajar. Light from the hallway barely streams in. But my room glows with their soft light.

Murmuring among themselves they gently tell me not to be afraid. He loves me and they will be near. I can feel their hands pass over my head, like adults do when they are saying hello, but with a more reverent manner.

All night I can feel them, watching me sleep. It’s comforting. In the morning only one angel sits and waits. She smiles at me and tells me, she will shadow me all day. I shrug, “okay.”

Jeremy’s birthday party starts with food and games. Everybody brings towels and swimsuits. We play King of the Mountain, Marco polo, and more games I don’t know. Everybody jumps in the pool and starts to push.

The pool is really deep with a fake waterfall and tropical plants. I only learned how to swim last summer and I hang on the side of the pool most of the time. When everybody starts to play water polo the real pushing begins. Kids start jumping for the ball and crash on top of one another, laughing. The angel gazes at me from near the house.

In the middle of pool the ball comes right to me. Before I can jump up to return it, kids from all directions crash on top of me. The water is blurry and bodies move everywhere. I can’t catch my breath. I struggle to come up, but I am sinking. Bodies wiggle and swim away.

I watch my body fall to the bottom of the pool. I feel warm hands around me. The angel has come close and says it’s okay. I can’t remember how I got out of the pool. The water glitters and somebody starts to shout. All the kids get out of the pool. The waterfall makes it difficult to see. A shape lies on the bottom. Someone jumps in and pulls out my body, it’s grey.

The angel holds my hand. Another wipes at my tears. A circle has formed around the body and kids stare and babble like they don’t understand. But they do.

The pool sparkles. I start to shake all over. Suddenly, I am wrapped in light. An angel leans down and whispers we need to go. Golden eyelashes touch my cheek. A fluttering of wings enfold me. A crowd hovers just like last night. I try to see my mom. I can hear her voice. I can hear her crying. A beautiful face looks inside me, without words, I feel safe. An overwhelming love embraces me. I feel a buzzing in my head and it’s peaceful. I drift with the angels like clouds following music that is vaguely familiar.

Author’s Note: I wrote this in memory of a little boy I didn’t know. He saw angels the night before he died. I wanted his story to be remembered here.

Mothers & daughters

2006-05-14T20:43:00.000-07:00

So many daughters cry
so many mothers cry
for what?

Mean words spoken
cannot be taken back

When all they want
is a tender word
a thoughtful glance

Why can’t mothers let go
why can’t daughters let go
forgive past sins

Why can’t they just hold hands
with gentle respect for one another

Let me set my own tempo
you set your own too
and dance

Daughters want their own way
mothers want their own way
sinking fast

All I want for you is simple
let us talk like friends

Be at peace to find
the loving center
within