And This Too Shall Pass

Isabella, the key holder to the gates of reality, swung the rickety, old fence open to reveal an old mobile home. This was her home. She allowed her red-tailed boa to wrap once more around her frayed, blue sweat shirt and took a drag from the cigarette in her hand before opening the door. She was met by a disdainful look from her cat.

“Hello, Lizzy,” she whispered fondly to the cat. “Where are we off to now? What mysteries are out there for us to explore today and what new people shall we share the wonders of the universe with?”

She flicked ash from the tip of her cigarette and swung her long blonde hair gracefully over her shoulder, only to hear a loud knock on her door.

“I wonder who that can be,” she muttered and opened the door.

Looking down at her with a twinkle in his eyes was Horace, the impediment stopping other realities from being viewed by the average person, and her exact opposite in every way.

“What are you doing here?” she said irritably, “I already rejected your marriage proposal fifty years ago.”

Horace took a moment to look at the snake still wrapped around her body: “And on which travel did you find that beauty?” he asked nonchalantly.

“Does it matter?” she glared at him.

“Are you going to let an old friend in? Surely it can do you no harm,” he said amiably.

Begrudgingly, she allowed him him to enter the house.

“Find a seat wherever,” she said carelessly, “This whole place is a mess.

Taking the initiative from her, Horace removed the empty coffee mugs perched on a rickety wooden chair and sat down.

“So how is life treating you Isabella, the people watcher? Still moving on from world to world, destroying the boundaries I place that allow people to live happily, and not chase the shadows of other realities?” he questioned sardonically.

“Happily?” she retorted. “You joke. I open up the doors for those who search for more and never find. They are not happy!”

“Ah yes,” he murmured. “And does it make them happier to see the mysteries of life? To jump from world to world always seeking more? To move on and never attach themselves to anything? Are they happy?”

“Why are you here!” Isabella bristled.

Horace ran his fingers through his long, dark hair: “I came to see you, dear.”

“I don't need you,” she stiffened, “and don't you dare try your seduction tactics on me. I see the openness of the world. The could be's. I see the different time lines and possibilities and answers and questions. I would never lose it for anything.”

She raised her chin haughtily in the air.

“But Isabella,” he said softly, leaning forward and touching her hand, “Don't you want a nice house somewhere? And a lovely family with all of your pets? You could wake up every day and see the person you love and drink your coffee with them every morning and not be lonely ever again. And you would have people there for you. Friends and happy children.”

“No, no, no, no,” she jerked her hand away, tears filling her soft gray eyes. “And this too shall pass. What's the point of it all. It will disappear just like everything else, and then I will be alone again.”

“Be attached to something, Isabella,” he intreated her beseechingly, “For once in your life. What are you searching for? You can go back to searching once it is all gone.”

She looked mournfully at the floor: “I don't want to lose anything. I just want to be a detached viewer of the world who understands everything and can be there for anyone.”

“Don't be afraid,” he said gently. “How can you understand everything without experiencing everything? Without experiencing the pain that other people feel? And the joy.”

“Come on, love, I can give you a reality, even if only for a time.”

Her hands trembled: “I don't want to lose you. It's better if you leave and I forget. I should depart far away with Lizzy.”

But he had already taken a firm hold of her hand again, and she did not resist. And this too shall pass she thought. This too shall pass. Why was she so afraid?

Forever

Forever
You dreamed of living on forever
As you tore the fabric off my mind;
You built realities for us together
As we jumped strands of time with so much to find.

Alas the butterfly effect that changed our fate,
Oh my love is it really all too late?

I feel you in my heart, dancing on forever.
Oh my dear mad scientist what have we wrought?
We've diverged from a line now lost to the ether,
But forever, in energy, you've been caught
And somewhere, my time lord, we're not apart.

The Three Keys Part 1

I was walking down the side of the road, crunching through goat heads and broken glass scattered on the pavement when I spotted something. It was an iron key ring with three keys hanging from it, along with a lock. The three keys were made of iron, and covered in a patina of rust, but each was a different color. The first was blue, the second was red, and the third was yellow. I glanced at them curiously, wondering if any of them fit into the lock.

I gently freed the blue key and inserted into the lock. Because of the rust it went in roughly, but it did fit, so I began to turn it to open the lock.

Next thing I knew everything had gone hazy around me. I felt like I was slowly going deep into murky water. Then my consciousness faded.

When I came to I was lying on a thick, carpeted floor, and all around me were little tiny men with full beards, wearing blue cloaks. They appeared to be more in shock than I was, because they continued to just stare and not say anything.

And my only thought was these look like dwarves. And am I dreaming?

Finally, one of the dwarves came forward. He had a very long, straggling white beard and dark, penetrating eyes: “It is the guardian,” he said solemnly. “She has come at last to reconnect us all.”

“Where am I?” I said. “What is this place? And who are you?”

“My name is Alim,” he said thoughtfully, “And you are within the blue house, Center of All Knowledge.”

“I don't understand,” I replied. “How did I get here? And where is this place?”

He puffed away at the pipe in his hands: “We are very familiar with you my dear, but only you know the path that leads into the Blue House and back out into the world.”

“So you don't know the way back out?” I stated somewhat alarmed.

“All I can tell you,” he responded cryptically, “Is that you must connect all before the twisting maze becomes clear and you can depart.”

“Surely if you know all,” I said, “You can tell me more than that.”

“The key to understanding does not derive from knowledge,” he said sagely. “It is a tool like all else. I suggest you use the tool wisely. I will show you your library if you follow me.”

I hesitantly stood up, and the dwarves around me gave way so that I could follow Alim through a blue door and down a long hallway full of doors.

“I will have to show you the way my lady,” he said. “It's a bit of a labyrinth in here I am afraid to say.”

I followed him down the twisting hall that took weird off shoots and turns in every which way. Finally he stopped in front of a door and beckoned me forward. He opened it, and stepped in.

Inside was an immense room full of shelves of books. Rows and rows upon books. In the center was a large blue couch and a coffee table, also covered with books.

“Where in the world do I start?” I murmured.

Alim replied solemnly, “On the table is what you last were pondering on. The shelves are rather disorganized I'm afraid. You were the last one to file things away, and I must say I do not understand your filing system at all.”

I walked over to the table and picked up a heavy book that was lying open. The title said The Meaning of Life. Apparently I was on page forty-five of this 500 page book.

“I guess I'd better start reading,” I faltered.

Alim nodded: “By the way, this key ring was lying beside you on the floor when you appeared. Perhaps it may help you.

A Strange Friendship

“Ugh, the internet is so slow over here,” I complained.

I was sitting at one of the computers in the lounge over at the Bosque Del Apache.

My sister was sitting at the out-of-tune piano in the corner, picking out the melody to the song Resistance, and my friend Gwen was writing out a new role play thread, on our Elvish role-playing site, on her ipad.

She started laughing: “This new user is so ridiculous. I can't believe he just suggested making up a religion for the elves, and he also messaged me to ask if he could add some of his elvish words to our lexicon.”

“He hasn't even done any role-playing yet,” I added, “And he already wants to make all these changes. He already asked me to make a band of human warriors in Senium, which I made.”

I clicked on the page I had made, and then let out a groan. He had added a whole bunch of script to the page I had made without asking. And not only that, he hadn't color coded it to match the rest of the text on the page, and it was full of run-on sentences. I breathed in and out, seething.

“Look at what he did, Gwen,” I exclaimed. “He can't just change pages any old way he wants to.”

“He's so irritating,” she agreed. “We need to change our settings, so that only moderators can make changes to pages. And give him a warning. He can't get away with that.”

Several seconds later I heard her start raging: “He just said the banner we made is fucking awful. The rules very clearly state that curse words are prohibited!”

I couldn't help myself. Even though I was seething over him adding to the page I had made, I started giggling. It was too hilarious. He was so stupid. I could not understand how anyone could be so oblivious.

“I'm sending him a message right now,” I said.

Gwen was still too busy raging and shouting out insults over him to pay attention.

I slowly typed, “Please do not change my pages again without permission. It is against the rules. It is also against the rules to use curse words on this site.”

I looked at what I had written, and then added a smiley face for good measure: “Please do not change my pages again without permission. :) It is against the rules. It is also against the rules to use curse words on this site.”

Then I hit send. A few minutes later I received a response from him: “Oh I didn't bother reading the rules. Sorry about that.”

I groaned into my hands. He intrigued me. I wanted to understand him, so I started writing him messages asking about himself, and then I sent him an enneagram test. He tested at type eight, the challenger. Surely all made sense now. Eights wanted control and didn't like following rules.

A few days later, a compliment popped up onto my profile page from him: “Hey, I think you're super!
no idea why they don't just have a type your own option on this but, hey, doesn't make much difference so basically; you rock, and i wish you luck in your endeavors.”

Gwen laughed and laughed until she almost died. But secretly I was pleased. Everything about him was intriguing. Not that I could admit to liking him. Everyone would laugh at me.

And then he went on vacation for two weeks, and I spent the entire time moping around, thinking he would never come back. I shouldn't care I told myself sternly. He's just some random person on the internet. Why should you care? But he had already taken a hold of my brain. I missed him, and I never missed anybody.

When he came back, I took the first chance I had and said, “I think I'm falling for you.”

He responded with, “I think that is the nicest thing anyone has ever typed to me. I'm sure you'll be glad to know I just got out of a relationship.”

And so began a long friendship with a guy that I only fell deeper in love with over time. 

Nothing makes the earth seem so spacious as to have friends at a distance; they make the latitudes and longitudes. ~ Henry David Thoreau

Symbols of the Unconscious Mind

"My hands slipped and down, down I went to the very bottom. The watery world surrounded me, cutting of my air supply. Desperation filled me. Would I die unnoticed at the bottom of a pool? I struggled up, but it was like working through a viscous substance. The water pulled at me, trying to keep me under. I would never reach the surface again, caught and trapped in a silent dungeon of unknowns. My chest felt squeezed. Oh how I hated water. Who knew what mysteries lay lurking beneath. Finally I broke the surface and grabbed hold of the ledge of the pool for dear life. All around me, the other kids splashed and yelled. The swim teacher glanced at me briefly and went back to instructing a child. I felt like I had been gone a long time in another world, only to come up and find the world still at the same place."

My brother was having a panic attack.

“My girl friend disappeared,” he said. “She's not answering her phone or anything, David.”

I have had a telepathic connection with his girl friend since I've met her, so I reached out to her with my mind.

“Where are you?” I called out.

There was no response. I tried again and worry began to creep up on me. It was like our connection had been severed somehow. I was beginning to wonder what I should do when our mother appeared, very angry at my brother over something. She yelled at him and grounded him to the house, and he started to cry.

“I'm stuck here,” he said. “I can't even look for her.”

“I'll go look,” I automatically volunteered.

I ran out of the house, towards her home. At her house, I hopped over the low stone wall into the yard. As I passed the swimming pool, I glanced in. Dread filled me. There she was floating at the bottom of the pool, her pale blonde hair floating out like sea weed. I automatically jumped in to pull her up.

I woke up, breathing heavily, a normal blonde-haired girl, no longer a guy and also not floating at the bottom of a pool. Water to me represented the fear of the unknown. The dark. The mysterious. And also a symbol for going down into the subconscious where repressed dangers lurked. Even now that I can swim, the uneasiness of being underneath water never leaves me. It is a vague horror that I have never been able to explain. Even beneath a swimming pool, I feel dangers lurking me, clawing at my mind.

Four Year Old Magic

Me in super cool pink glasses I picked out for myself

“Mom, mom,” I exclaimed, while wheeling my tricycle all over the kitchen. “I want to go to Disney Land. That's my dream.”

“Maybe someday,” she replied calmly. “Disney Land costs a lot of money.”

The phone ringing interrupted our conversation and my mom left to answer it.

When she came back, she had an odd expression on her face: “Apparently our friends from Arizona have an extra ticket to go to Disney Land. They want you to go with them.”

As our boat glided through the water, my eyes widened. It was mostly dark except for glimpses of treasure in the water. Gun shots rang out, and I startled in fright as we passed figures of pirates who loomed by the sides of our boat.  I clutched my lollipop close to myself to keep it safe from being stolen as we progressed through the terrifying passageway. I closed my eyes and shrank away, frightened that I was about to be murdered by pirates. When I opened my eyes next, we were in a restaurant eating lunch far away from the terrifying passageway. I was glad I was still alive. So happy was I, that when we walked back outdoors, and I spotted Goofy nearby, I ran up to him and gave him a hug.

“I want you to have my postcard,” I insisted.

“For me?” Goofy said, pointing at himself, and complied by taking the postcard I was waving at him.

I smiled at him: “For you.”

Going up on the Dumbo ride brought shrieks of protest from me: “Why do I have to sit on an adult's lap?” I exclaimed, quite self-assured at how grown up I knew myself to be, “It isn't fair!”

And as usual I received the typical adult comment of, “Life isn't fair. Get over it.”

Disneyland parade

Even now that I am much older I still cannot help but feel sorry for younger children over the unfairness of life. I suppose I have a better memory of the injustices of being little than most older people do. But I also have a more vivid memory of the magical events that happen at the most unexpected times. I have never been able to lose my ability to see magic everywhere, even outside the scope of a world built off of fantasy.

Our Last Outing

I, Queen Trystam Aoife Aryanna, ruler of the elves stepped into the river densely covered with grass. Behind me the Cottonwood trees formed a thick, barely impenetrable wall. Both my sisters, Gwen and Robyn, accompanied me in this hidden Elvish location within the land of Theria. Only the elves knew how to navigate the maze among the trees.

“Arya,” Gwen cheerfully said, “There are crawdad in these waters. I brought the net along so we could fish them out and make crawdad stew for supper.”

A sense of sadness lingered in the air. This was to be our last outing together before Gwen journeyed to the land of Ilundar to be crowned as the Queen.

Robyn immediately suggested we find spaces among the trees to prepare places for us to sleep during the night. We went at this with a will. In the water, I pulled my knife out and began hacking at the long grasses, which would make a soft covering to sleep upon. Both of my sisters went back up the bank and began clearing out spaces amidst the dense Cottonwood trees to sleep in. They took branches from the trees and laid them out on the earthen floor, and I clambered up the dirt bank, my feet accumulating mud, and brought them the long grasses. Then, we covered the branches in a dense mat of grass. Once satisfied, we returned to the water with the net to hunt for crawdads.

Gwen pulled up a dozen or so, and I returned up out of the river to build a fire. Robyn and Gwen followed behind with the metal pail full of crawdads.

As we chopped up herbs to go into the stew, I looked about the hidden place.

“I'll miss you Gwen,” I said. “Ilundar is very far away.”

For us, this was a place where time halted for a while. The world went on around us, but here we were unaffected in the quiet solitude of the trees.

I retreated for a moment to try out our grassy beds. Lying there, I could see the blue peeking between the green of the leaves about me. The sun sparkled through leaves. It was a beautiful moment caught in time.

Returning to them, we sat and joked and laughed and talked of our past adventures and wondered about the adventures to come. Soon Robyn would take over the headship of Theria and I already governed Narnuen. We were splitting from our path together, soon to each take our own destination. The moment was sobering and hopeful. And I all I knew was that my carefree days as an elf were soon to be over, taken over by the responsibilities of an Elvish Queen.

All pictures taken by the lovely Queen Robyn aside from sunshine through the leaves of a tree.

A Lonely Embrace

He looked me in the eyes slowly: “Are you absolutely sure you're ok with this?”

I paused, and glanced upward at a heaven filled with distant stars, and all I could think of was him. And how he wasn't sitting next to me. Seeing the vastness of the universe made me feel very far away from him. I was lonely and I was heart broken. All I wanted to do was escape for the moment.

“Yes,” I said in my expressionless voice, turning towards him again, “I'm sure.”

He cradled my face in his hands and leaned in to kiss me, and all I could think was that only stupid sixteen year old girls went off alone with guys they didn't really know. I wasn't scared though. Excitement made me feel alive, and in my barely kept up dead state, even emotion with no depth was better than nothing.

His lips were soft against mine, and he wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me down against the ground beneath him. I could feel the rocks poking at me, but I didn't care. I wanted to lose myself in the warmth of someone else. My face betrayed the emotionless I felt.

“Are you ok?” he asked.

“Yes, yes,” I assured him.

He leaned back in towards me, and I analyzed everything. I was not there. I rose outside of my body, up towards the sparkling stars, to watch the experience, and my body did not know how to respond. With only my brain to clunkily figure out how to react, I was left feeling like a very dull robot.

He laughed, “You really haven't ever kissed a guy have you?”

“No,” I whispered and I stared up at the stars again, melancholy filling me.

He guided me through, giving me instructions, unsure what to make of a girl whose face showed little emotion. And he was not in the moment enough to coax my brain to let go, so I simply enjoyed the empty touches, allowing them to obfuscate my sadness.

But when he finally turned away to leave after thanking me, I felt the void settle in. There was no comfort to be found in empty kisses. All I longed for was the hug of a friend who would hold my brokenness and not condemn me. Someone who would not shame me for what I feared were dangerous emotions that I could never destroy.

Picture from: http://www.forestwander.com/

One New Mexican Day

The day I met Alberto was a clear, sunny December day. I had seen him often from a distance riding a bike with a stereo mounted in a basket beneath his handlebars, playing all the local New Mexican tunes. I was walking up the hill towards my house at the same time as he, so naturally we fell into discussion.

He was an older man in his fifties or sixties, and not much taller than my height of 5'5”. He had a tanned, weather-beaten face, probably from hours spent walking and biking in the hot New Mexico sun.

As we passed rows of dingy trailers, their roofs covered with tires, he spoke in a slurred voice, barely intelligible: “I've lived here my whole life,” he said. “Long before there were paved roads in these areas. All of my familia lives in these houses.”

I nodded and he continued, “It's tough work on an old guy like me to walk all over this town. I get winded walking up this hill. But on Father's Day several years ago, I got my first DWI, so I went to my daughter Emma, I went to her and told her to sell my car so that it would never happen again. Now I just ride my bike.”

“Ah,” I murmured sympathetically, “That is sad.”

“It's good exercise,” he continued. “You know some of these houses are haunted. Mi hermana lives in a haunted house. I've seen the ghosts in them.”

Then he chuckled: “Nobody believes me. They say I was just high. Perhaps I was. Perhaps I was. It's hard to tell.”

We were nearing the top of a hill now.

“Are you ready for Christmas, mija?” he asked.

I laughed: “No, I've spaced Christmas.”

“I have a poor memory,” he said. “I'm not ready either.”

I laughed appreciatively: “It doesn't feel like Christmas time anyways. It's a warm sunny day.”

He turned towards a long dirt drive way with single wide trailers at the end.

“This is where I live,” he said. “Do you live near?”

“I still have a ways to go,” I said. “But it was nice talking to you.”

“Have a good day,” he said. “It was nice talking to you. I have nothing to do but go back and watch TV.”

I watched him as he walked down that dirt driveway with his bike. One of the single wide trailers had been blown apart in a heavy wind storm. You could see the interior now, where the walls and roof had been blown apart. As I stared, a shiny, bright yellow Camaro shot past me and turned down the driveway he was walking down. I shook my head at the sight. It looked completely out of place. Slowly I turned towards home again, walking past the broken pieces of beer bottles scattered along the pavement.

Ever since then, Alberto calls out to me when we pass and says hello. He thinks my name is Jennifer, and I have never bothered to correct him. Not surprising I guess, that a blonde would get called Jennifer, nor is it surprising he would call me that considering he was in his prime during the seventies and eighties when Jennifer was a very popular name.

Under the Water

Under the Water

Sinking slowly under, reality distorting

To form a fish bowl lens of rounded trees

That breaks asunder by a shaft of light importing-

To my chamber, a glimpse of the free.

How did I get here, my pale hair floating like seaweed?

Only hours ago I stared entranced

At my shadow sinking into murky depths,

And I reached out to meet my hindrance

Who pulled me under to drift in my regrets.

Then my mind severs from my lover

As I sink, unable to recover.

"My love, my love," he cries as the silence stretches;

Despairing ever more, he turns to action

To find me and from the darkness fetch-

My soul dwelling in a dark abstraction.

Finally finding me in those waters

He jumps in to save me, dragging me up

Out of my indifference, into what matters;

Now willing to drink all poured into my cup.