Tag: metaphysical

Pet Prose: Spyro

Author photo.

“Some days it felt like she had to work hard not to be cynical. It could be that she was tired to the bone. It could be that she never felt surprised by people any more. She’d had many years to see the best and worst of them, but it was their predictability, finally, that had worn her down.

Still, every night around dusk, she took the tools of her profession to the same spot outside the fenced park where the vendors gathered to wait for the tourists. She set up her table and covered it with the beautiful cloth a friend had brought from her travels in India decades before. The colors had dimmed, but in the light cast by the period street lamps and her candles, that didn’t matter. The fabric was just exotic enough to lend authenticity to the service she offered.

She placed her crystals and wands strategically on the table and took her cards from their scrap of silk. A stick of nag champa and a cleansing ritual, and she was ready for business. Until the first clients came, she could observe at leisure. She noticed the skateboarder, whose name she didn’t know, and his dog Milly. Some of the others didn’t like the skateboarders, but she’d long ago stopped being quite so precious about the marketplace. Skateboarders, musicians, beggars, shamans, or charlatans–there was room for all of them. Besides, Milly was a beautifully behaved dog and her young man was always polite. His eyes were intelligent and had a bit of mischief. As far as she was concerned, the world needed a little less meanness and a little more mischief.

Behind her, on the other side of the little park, she heard the cellist and the violinist begin. She closed her eyes for just a moment, breathing in whatever good energy there was, and then heard a sound she’d never thought to hear again, certainly not in the middle of the city. She tried to process the clamor of people’s reactions to what they’d heard, then opened her eyes just as the skateboarder and Milly hurried by. He tossed her a pouch and said, ‘Hold on to that until I find you again.’

She felt a moment of confusion and then, magnificently, wonder. The night was suddenly full of surprise.”

From Spyro’s novel Scorpio’s Deck.
 

I take photos. I write. My volunteer job is taking photos of rescued dogs and cats transported by the rescue group whose records I manage. Since working and volunteering don’t leave me a lot of time to write, I’m spending 2017 borrowing from what these dogs and cats are writing. They said it’s okay.

Stoned!

How is it possible that in all the times I’ve been to New Orleans, I never knew about the French Quarter Gem and Lapidary? Tom and I stumbled into it by accident. Actually, we didn’t stumble into it. We found it and I pressed my nose against the glass kid/candy store style, and I think they opened a few minutes early to stop me from drooling on their window.

Seriously, if you love stones and crystals, do NOT miss this place when you’re in New Orleans. The staff is wonderful, the merchandise is amazing, and the jewelry they make is extraordinary. I could have stayed there all day and been happy. Tom and I came away with a couple of new friends to take with us on vacation.

Moony and Jas.

Quiet Corner


Other than when it was full of boxes as we were moving in, I didn’t take “before” photos of a quiet little corner in the library of the wall opposite the fireplace. It’s nestled just outside the kitchen, and I’m not sure anyone will ever use it but me.

My parents’ roll-top desk is there. In one of our moves from house to house in Alabama, they bought furniture in the store where my first boyfriend worked as a high school student. I think the only things left from that shopping trip are the desk and a glass ashtray. Even though that boyfriend was lifetimes ago, when Mother started giving away her stuff, she said I should have those two things because Tim G sold them to her. How could I argue with such logic? And I do love sitting at that desk to write letters.

The paintings over the desk are watercolors my father painted in Germany. Once again, I scored possession because I was born there. I’m pretty sure this is where my siblings believe our mother’s logic broke down. It was kind of fun at my birthday dinner, with the two of them sitting at the table with Tom, Tim, Lynne, Rhonda, and Lindsey, to try to negotiate trades of things that used to belong to our parents. I don’t think any agreements were reached.

On that other wall is the painting I once talked about here, and under that, a photo taken by James in Montgomery Woods, home of the Sequoia sempervirens redwoods near Mendocino, California. This is where he scattered some of my friend/his boyfriend John’s ashes in 1997. James had the photo framed with a poem I wrote, “Montgomery Creek.”

Speaking of James, he was in town a couple of weeks ago and came by to visit and check out the new place. Anime fell completely in love with him and stayed glued to him his entire visit. I’m not surprised. As long as I’ve known him, James has always had an adoring fan base (I’m by no means a founding member, but I am a devoted one).

The bookcase in that corner holds a lot of reference books–technical, grammatical, metaphysical, geological, spiritual, astrological–as varied as any lifetime of interests can be. It also holds two drawings our niece Toni did when she was a little girl and found out our dachshunds Pete and Stevie had died.

Those will always have a place of honor with the dogs’ ashes. The little monk was my mother’s and reminds me of Francis of Assisi, patron saint of animals, and next to him is a tiny carved wooden dog that my mother talked Cousin Elenore into giving her. Then there are photos of the dogs through the years.

I probably should be at the roll-top desk writing thank-you notes right now…

Button Sunday

Many years ago as a wee lass, I was taught by a bunch of hippies–the original variety–how to use mandalas for meditation and reflection. It’s been interesting to see the way mandalas have reappeared in my life through the years in different ways. For example, Laurel has been developing her skills as a Zentangle® artist, including the merging of Zentangles® and mandalas to create “zendalas.” This is a button (using her “Queste” zendala) that I purchased from Laurel’s Zazzle store, Ten Thousand Tangles. Check it out for some of her other zendalas and all the products that feature them.

I love how each drawing is unique, and that these are actually drawn and not perfectly created with software. There are valuable things to be discovered in the tiny variations as well as in the patterns themselves.

Legacy Writing 365:331

It’s time once again to break out the story of the Angel Books.

I first became acquainted with these through my friend Steve R in the early 1990s. Though I’d been a fan of Christmas in my younger years, the luster of the holiday faded for me after my father died. My two biggest Christmas advocates, Lynne and Liz, lived far away from me, as did most of my family. It really took Steve, whose excitement about Christmas never wavered even when he was sickest, and our friend Tim R, who went all out for the holiday with his decorating-passionate mother, to melt the holiday icicles encasing my heart.

Steve had found, at Bookstop, one of these books of angels, based on women in Renaissance paintings, to color. That was a period when I’d developed a passion for Renaissance art, thanks to Houston’s museums and a past-life regression I experienced. The angels intrigued me, so Lynne and I bought a few books and began coloring, painting, and otherwise decorating angels. After Steve died, the tradition continued. Though the books are out of print, one year Marika found several and dispersed angels among some of our friends to color and surprise me. I was thrilled to receive new angels from around the globe, and they’ve joined the many angels that Tim arranges throughout the house each Christmas season.

Thank you to everyone who’s ever colored one of these angels for me. There are still angels left to turn into art if you’re interested in contributing one to this festive band.


Dining room windows.


Living room window.


Double windows in living room.


Angels now spill over to nestle among stones and crystals.

Legacy Writing 365:318

It’s so strange to me that four years later, I still open little boxes or tins and find things of my mother’s I didn’t know I had. This bracelet is one of them. It reminds me of one I had when I was a ‘tween. I don’t know if mine is packed away somewhere, was lost through the years, or was stolen when my apartment was robbed. Regardless, the stones on mine were larger and the bracelet itself looked a lot more costume-y. This one is rather delicate.

I don’t recall seeing Mother wear it, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t, especially if it was a gift from a child (grandchild, great-grandchild). I know at least some of these stones are real–that is, not dyed, not synthetic. Real or not, I think they are, beginning to your left of the clasp: pink tourmaline, zircon, jasper, moonstone, obsidian, peridot, rose quartz, hemimorphite, garnet, fluorite, carnelian, amazonite, agate, sodalite. Of course, I could be wrong on any of those, so feel free to correct me if you recognize something I’ve identified incorrectly.

If you’re interested in any of the metaphysical qualities of these stones and you don’t want to google, ask me in comments. I’m happy to share what I know–I’ve had a lot of good and generous teachers.

Speaking of good and generous teachers, my friend Trish, who taught me Reiki and lots of other helpful stuff, has a Kickstarter project that might interest you. Trish has always been an enthusiastic supporter of my writing and came to our Houston signings. She and I have had many great discussions about our creative efforts through the years, and I’m always interested to find out what her next project will be. Trish is a playwright, and she’s seeking funding for a Christmas book based on one of her plays (and it has original music!): The Night The Animals Talked. You can check out her Kickstarter page here to learn more.

Two Indiegogo sites I mentioned in a post a couple of weeks ago–Michael Thomas Ford’s novel and the Markeroni project–were both funded. I don’t know if any of my friends and blog readers helped make that happen, but if you did, thanks! I’m looking forward to reading MTF’s Lily and to seeing Markeroni grow. Even when we can’t contribute a lot individually, many individuals can help wonderful things happen.

Legacy Writing 365:279

Sometimes I find things I’ve forgotten I own. I was moving stuff around the other day, including an interesting wooden box on little wheels, and I wondered what might be inside it. Among other things, I found a bag of rune stones and the book that goes with them. Once I saw them, I remembered that I used to enjoy the stones, but they’ve long been out of sight, out of mind.

The stone I pulled out for this photo has the symbol for strength on it. The stone is called Uruz and suggests endings and beginnings. Sometimes there’s a period of darkness and loss before a new opportunity presents itself.

The reason I pulled it was because my late friend John wore that symbol on a necklace until he died. I think James kept the pendant afterward and wore it for a time, too, not only in memory of John, but to remind him that out of deep loss can come new perspective and strength. That can be a hard lesson, but it’s something positive we can take forward.

October 5 is John’s birthday. I still smile when I think of him–he was full of mischief and sometimes got me into trouble, almost like a bratty little brother. I miss him and feel so fortunate to have known him for the time I did.


John on his birthday in 1993. Maybe out of sight now–but never out of mind.