The Crossing

This is Fiction. I promise you that. And if it weren’t, what good is the world unless seen through the eyes of a poet? And then again, what good is her verse without the eyes of a stranger to behold it? And so it came to pass on to you. You decide if my words are true...

She was an elemental sorceress who lived in communion with nature’s unending cycles, and the faery realms; a dancer of the gypsy flame in the Borderlands of this world. At night she held audience with nobles and queens, parades of gypsy warrior dancers leading armies to battle with war drums' call! Parting rainstorms and triple rainbows, Pirates' cannon echoing across the valley punctuated by shouts of "aaaarrrrrr." She danced with rays of sunshine as her light-show; forests, deserts, hills and valleys as her stage. All the world in costume and pageantry through the days.

She received her magic from the elements; initiated into all five, but fire was her master, and she his mistress.

Trained by shamans and revolutionaries, she was also a channel, and was placed by unseen angels to wield the flames of change, and destroy the old energy vortex surrounding the planet. This power was bestowed on her by nature, and in return, it gave her the gift of dance to feel the shakti flames of bliss as she wove spells of destruction with the gypsy fire, while simultaneously weaving the framework and anchor points for a new light grid to be built in its place.

In her training, she faced the tests of ego. To do that, one must face all pain and fear and judgment; all obstacles that would be recognized and fed off by demons, lest one be tempted to the dark magics as well. Her virtuosity was destruction, because her passions were fueled by generations of anger and vengeance through bloodlines and histories of evil and separation and persecution. It was her birthright to wield this dark destructive magic for the good of the world without succumbing to its destructive powers.

She held the darkness of the world in her heart, transforming it, shaping it, trapping it, the whole time able to protect the liquid love source at her very core. She carried this foul seed of darkness in a Frodo-like manner, guarding it with her very innocence, keeping it in a holding pattern until she could find a way to overcome it.

But she would not always be so strong, and sometimes the very magic she carried would overwhelm her, and she would be forced to fight it. As long as she carried the seed, the demons saw her. They prodded at the darkness in her soul. The anger she had was a weak spot to them. They tried to control her through it so they could wield her destructive powers.

After her work was done, the elders of the Faery borderlands saw that it had become time to destroy the seed and find a way to heal the darkness she carried. As the seed's hold on her tightened, they cast her from the dragon valley. Alone, she was initiated into journeyman status; solitary sojourner. The seed whispered seductively, offering her dark powers to mirror the elemental powers she already possessed. Defiantly she stood to her birthright, and returned her gifts to the four directions, thanking them reverently, and asking for her mortality back, so she could hide, and pray for guidance.


Part 2

But this would not be the last she would see of her elemental friends, for the fire, her eternal lover, had other plans for her. He would not see her fail her task alone. He led her to another world; one out of space and time. Here they paid homage to him, and gathered in yearly reverence to his destructive/re birthing powers. Ashamed of her exile, and buckling to the dark seed's hatred, she insisted she enter without the help of her luminescent fire love. She would instead humbly find a way to dispose of the seed, and earn the right to again do nature’s work, if not to initiate to something else.

This land out of time and space had a doorway that opened but once a year. It was an intergalactic crossroads on another planet, but on the face of the Earth. Here each year, she would take a pilgrimage to pray upon the holy fires; each time releasing a piece of herself that served the dark seed. Each year she came back to this spot and prayed to be free. Each year she returned and shed a new layer of skin until her radiance began to shine through.

On the fourth year, after great turbulence breaking free of the chrysalis she had built around herself, her heart had been finally filled with peace and gratitude, and she had nothing left to pray for.

As a result, her desire to cross into that place had diminished. She sat with herself, trying to figure out what she needed to shed at the crossing. She looked into her heart where the dark seed had been for so many years. Most of it had transformed into nothing at all. She resolved not to go, and sat peacefully inactive, meditating as the excited scramble to prepare for the crossing bubbled up around her.

Without warning, the tiny shards of dark seed that had not yet changed to nothing, reached out again from inside, prodding her to go this way and that. Yet the stillness inside proceeded, despite the seed’s attempts at reaching what little pain she had left. She waited for a sign from source, and not from the seed.

Her fire lover’s voice appeared from the liquid center of her soul repeatedly. “Come and be close to me! I have something for you.”

“But I have nothing more to give of myself,” she answered. “I am sufficiently empty and content, and the dark seed does not rule me anymore, and I am in no need of anything in return. I am content to sleep in a sun beam where I have come to live for a time by the sea. You can touch me here through the radiant rays of the sun while I sleep in a comfortable place without the wind and the earth to hassle me, and where the water is only in the vessels I carry. I cannot be bothered with such a labor.”

She had become lazy in her exile, the power of the elements remained dormant as she stayed indoors, away from their call. But the call of a fire lord is fierce, though she had many dealings with his touch, she had come to a place where his call was not her command. Out of love for him, she agreed to listen to the liquid center of her soul, and waited, foregoing any preparations, until just before the doors would open, and the crossing would commence. And she received messages from source. Not once. Not twice. Not thrice, but four times. Four. A good solid, stable number. The same number that her crossing would be.

And then like lightning she understood all at once. The dark seed would not be gone until it had transformed completely. Her work had not yet been completed… The final destruction had to commence to make room for her Renaissance, and that path could also be found from there.

And to the dessert wastelands she is summoned yet again. And it matters not that she has nothing to give anymore. The vessel has emptied, and the seed itself is but an empty husk. Its carcass to be cast upon the flames of the fire lords, and a prayer for the evolution of all is invoked. The channel shall open again, this time cleansed and ready to be born anew with new inspiration, and a new sense of connection to source. The empty vessel shall be filled. The elements return out of space, out of time, out of need, out of intent. From a place of total transformation, and with eyes that can see, the sleeper awakens.

Celebration. Initiation. Invokation. Evocation. Evolution.

Journey to the Savage Lands

In a time of plastic containers and shopping malls, street lights and angry drivers, it's easy to get caught up in the illusion we've all created and perpetuated together. It's really ok that we've, in essence, been manipulated to build our own prison. We are taught all our lives that this is the way it is, and every molecule of our body is programmed to believe it to be so.

But what if I could be so bold as to propose that we are all little aspects of our source, and we have the ability to create our own reality. That being said, the more little aspects of source that come together at once and create something else, the more chance we can have at change. All it takes is a good leader... A good cause and a good method.

I'm not a leader, per se. It may seem so because I have been called Commander for the past five years. But all that sets me apart is I'm not afraid to speak up, and once I get on a roll, I am a relentless power machine. Okay, maybe I am a leader. Perhaps I just haven't accepted that, and one day I may jump up on a chair and make a speech, and everyone will listen. I don't dream of being the center of attention. I dress outlandishly. I carry around a little pink box that I've since learned is like what strippers carry around in the clubs. I am really just a big dork who should have been a pirate way back in the day when it was necessary to rebel against a tyrannical crown.

My family raised me to be patriotic. I am essentially a true American; a daughter of the revolution. And when you boil down the American dream, it's to battle for life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. GIVE ME LIBERTY OR DEATH! Yes, I would die for such a cause. I would witthold my right to even procreate because I do NOT accept the consensus reality that has been shoved down my throat, and I do not wish this for any child of mine. I've tried. But ultimately, I just can't accept it. What a tragedy, right? Almost 40. Still single. Unable to really deal with the world. Unwilling to. But I'm not alone. Welcome to the crux of my generation!!!

And so I find my refuge in art... which is what brought me to the Savage Lands of Los Angeles. By Savage Lands, I mean downtown LA. What a far cry from the faery forests of the SCA! This place reminds me of some kind of post apocolyptic mad-max escape from New York city in the future. The bums of Skid Row wander the streets at night, lumbering like zombies. The streets are caked with years of filth. The air is aweful to breathe. But I LOVE the empty foggy orange-lit nights. There's a blank canvas feeling that stirs my soul.

My road to the Savage Lands came after opening the portal to Burning Man; that temporary desert city made of art, and peopled by artists from all over the world who, coincidentally, numbering in around 40,000, also cannot accept the consensus reality. After my first Burning Man, I was spiritually summoned to Los Angeles. I went home to Colorado, dumped all my accumulated shit in the trash, and drove to LA, crying and miserable. I came here to face my paralyzing fears once and for all. And I have been raked through the coals since I came here. I have since burned off all the crap that has held me in a holding pattern of self-created stories, self-designed to keep me in a mental prison, and therefore able to be a citizen of the consensus reality.

The more I experience the sharp contrasts of fear and despair and pain... the more I release it, and understand what it means to be unhindered by the stories I've created, the more I understand what my power as an individual member of the whole is. I am here as a reflection to you... a bridge to your own self-mastery. I have many a tale to tell.

A pocket full of magic

This is a tricky world in which we exist.

I gave up on the pursuit of money a long time ago. In many ways I am not equipped to handle living in this world, and yet I have somehow miraculously made it to the ripe ole age of 37 human years. When I graduated from High school my intention was to run off with the Renaissance Faire and become a healer. Well, I made good on that promise, and spent about 10 years playing in the SCA (Society for Creative Anachronism) www.sca.org. This is basically a HUGE group of geeks dressed in garb, bowing to royalty, and doing what we called "living the dream." In many ways I was born in the right era, yet in many ways I belong in a simpler time. But I eventually accepted that I was too intense for this modern Renaissance, and allowed my character to be burned at the stake, which is what would have happened to me back then without a doubt.

So, the game was over.

A good friend of mine recently posted on my Facebook page... "How do you quit the circus? Where do you go from there?" This has since been my quandary. Not that SCA was actually a circus. It more felt like existing alongside this dimension in a traveling, morphing idyllic village, sort of like Mount Olympus, but not. My specialty is in searching for pockets of other worlds that are not THIS world. I would much prefer for magic to be real, and so I choose to believe in it. I want to find that special illusory break in the brick walls leading to Harry Potter land. And I keep believing one day I will find it. The truth is, what changes reality is when a group of people get together and decide to believe in something else. This is what I call Critical Mass.

My life all through my twenties was an adventure novel, to say the least. I often change my name to help myself believe I am finding my way through this illusion. My names are often descriptive. In the SCA I was The Faery Princess. And boy, did I wear that name well. My world was a novel of swords and sorcery complete with portals to the faery world, Alien abductions, "odd" weather patterns, rainbow halos and even demonic invasions.

If you look at my life in terms of achievement, I am a HUGE crazy ass looser. But as a writer, what counts as currency is experience, and in that, I am a millionaire. I could sit and write about my life for the next decade, and call it fiction just for the hell of it, cuz ultimately, who really believes in magic?!!! Yay me! Only someone named The Faery Princess for 8 to 10 years could really believe in magic, right? So then here's my assessment, perhaps one of the greatest lessons I could pass on to you at this moment before I really get into the nitty gritty of the matter...

What matters in life is not WHAT you Achieve, but HOW you lived it. Spiritually I have hit the jackpot!!! I will carry on the knowledge that I have overcome GREAT sorrowful odds to become a person who has laughed almost every single day since the day I was born. I have discovered the key to happiness. And in that, I am ready to reach a new level in my training as a self-master... or JEDI if you will.