Camp of the Amazonians

2005-08-27T16:17:00.000-07:00

Happy Birthday Heather!

~Lucrative~

2005-08-24T20:38:00.000-07:00

~Bath Dreams~
In a moment of less than conscientious
I ride the fin of a river fish.
Wrapped in royal blue waves she
takes me under the green surface.
Plants nestle and sway to a silent orchestra of cellos.
Shells settled among the rocks keep time
to the hollow sound of drums.
An octopus plays piano to the carousel sound.
Gentle bubbles escape my lips, my hair
flows to the east.
Long slender vines tickle my feet ...

I awake to a kind indiviual messaging my feet. They are covered in teal cream and smell of fresha and camay soap. The rough dry skin gently peels away. My toe nails have been trimmed and buffed to a matte sheen. This often neglected part of my body is coming alive into wellness. My feet will carry my body to another place. I am led down a path and given oversized stripped towels of blue and white. They feel warm to the touch. There is a porcelain tub in a wooded area full of clean water and dried lavender floats on the surface. I remove the blue robe and step carefully into the tub - the water steams, the smell of lavender is poignant, strong. I wash my hair twice, once to remove the dirt of everyday and again to feel the newness of clean and smell. The bar of soap is filled with tiny chips of stone, the lather is thick and glistening. I hear the tinkering of wind chimes somewhere in the distance. My eyes are heavy with sleep. There is a small water pump next to the tub. I stand and fill the creamy colored water pitcher with fresh water and rinse away the soap. I sit in the morning sun and dry my hair. I linger on the small stool taking the view of blue mountains, the sunrise, and the violet mist that surrounds them. I enjoy my aloneness and savor residing in this very moment.

Ms. Lovelace ( Patricia )
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Unsettling Travels

2005-08-19T21:45:00.000-07:00

I left the Hermitage feeling like the rabbit in Alice and Wonderland. "I'm late, I'm late, for a very important date!" My donkey and guide were patiently waiting for me at the quay. I don't know how many days they have been waiting. I find the patience of others in this amazing land to be quite astonishing. No one is ever perturbed about me taking as much time as I need, even though I'm running behind schedule. I know my capacity for patience needs to improve, so maybe they are all teaching me a lesson.

I stroked my donkey and climbed aboard, but not before I placed my colorful, fluffy wig on the donkey's back. I could sware the donkey giggled when she saw it. After finding my spot on the donkey's back, I leaned over to her ear and introduced myself and thanked the donkey for carrying me to my next destination. She made the sound that donkey's make, kind of a "Hee-haaaaaa" sound, and within it I heard, "Me-Dawn." Well, it was quite fitting that I be taken into the dawn of the next day by a donkey named Dawn.

Off we traveled for many miles. I enjoyed the quiet and soaked up the beauty around me. After being in the bath house for way too long, I felt like a wet noodle. I knew if I let myself doze, I'd slide right off of Dawn's back. I leaned down for part of the journey and whispered into Dawn's ears all about my adventures. She nodded her head and Hee-haaaaa'd at the appropriate places, so that I knew she understood what I was saying. I showed her my walking stick and a tear came to her eye at the site of Mother Nature's image.

We stopped for a moment at a water's edge for Dawn to get a drink. I had no idea where we were or what body of water we were at, but it didn't matter to me. I love all bodies of water. I slid off Dawn and was about to wade in to cool myself when Dawn grabbed the back of my shirt with her teeth and pulled me back. She nudged my head with her nose so that I looked down at the surface of the water.

There, on the surface of the rippling water, instead of seeing a distorted reflection of myself, I saw the striking face of a woman who told me her name was Marika. She said she was a Water Healer (http://www.water-consciousness.com/teachers.htm). I don't know what that is, but I listened to her words for her eyes had me locked in her gaze. She said had planned to meet me along this road to give me a message of healing, but now she also had a message of warning. She said to listen very carefully and memorize her every word.

"AshleyShea, you have learned much and traveled far to make this journey. What you have seen is just the beginning. There's more to come, some not so pleasant, some more pleasant than you've ever experienced. Continue to be like a starfish on a wave. Float where the wave takes you. Do not resist.

"My original message for you was to spend some time here at these waters to reflect upon your reflection. I know that you are haunted by voices that tell you you aren't good enough, not beautiful enough, not young enough, ...not enough, period. Those voices only serve their own purposes. They hold you back. They hide your glory...your strength. They fog the pathway to your inner self. Whenever you hear these voices, dismiss them. Tell them you no longer need their opinions because you have it on much higher authority that they are wrong.

"I am also here to give you a warning. Your traveling companions have entered the woods before you. They were met by hooded figures and taken off to places untold. I have it on good authority that those who struggled and fought their hooded figure were taken to places I would rather not speak of. They are fighting for their lives as we speak. Those who released themselves to the hooded presence were taken to a place where they are learning a life lesson they need to learn. Honestly, both groups of travelers are learning. One group is doing it the hard way. The other group, while it may not be all joy and roses, are learning their lesson with much less pain.

"I believe there is one more hooded creature waiting for you in the deepest darkness of the woods. Do not be afraid. Let the creature take you and, I promise, you will not be harmed."

As Marika's uttered the last words, her face faded into the water. I didn't have time to ask anything more of these hooded creatures and where I might be taken. As her face faded, I saw the reflection of my own face. Just as Marika's gaze held me captive, I noticed, for the first time, my own striking looks. I found it hard to smile, nervous about what destiny was waiting for me, but I did feel a twinge of joy inside as I pushed away the "not enough" thoughts and saw my own radiance.

Dawn brought me back to the present by tugging on my shirt. I climbed on her back and allowed her to carry me into the woods. Nervously I kept watch. At first I jumped or twitched at the slightest sound, but soon I became accustom to the sounds of the woods. I could see the light recede as Dawn carried me deeper into the woods. A distance before me I could see no evidence of light. I took a deep breath and prepared myself for the hooded creature. I relaxed on Dawn's back. I bent over once more and whispered in her ear, "Wish me luck," just as a hooded figure swooped down from the trees and took me to....Who Knows Where.

Donkey riding2

2005-08-17T19:59:00.000-07:00

Donkey riding2
Originally uploaded by FranSb.

Here we are on our journey. Mehitabel was a most excellent donkey.

The Donkey Ride

2005-08-17T18:50:00.000-07:00

My donkey calls as I reach the Quay
My name is Mahitabel, follow me
I’ll wander around but find the path
prepared for us by a friendly giraffe
Now that’s a problem for a very short mount
for the top of the trees have very few leaves
but the bottom is covered with bushes
O dear Mahitabel what shall we do?
Look in your bag, silly, she gave it to you
just for this predicament, I fetched forth the wings
that fitted Mahitabel’s ears, she wriggled the things
and we flew to the top of the very tall tree
a post where the pathway was easy to see
No problem for donkey, but I held on tight
to the saddle, for flying by donkey
for a very old lady did not seem quite right.
We managed quite well through the daylight hours
although dear Mahitabel did eat the flowers
from the tall eucalyptus, and dodged around towers
where someone was watching but a crow showed the way
until nightfall. Mahitabel had no night vision
I searched that dear bag, expected derision
but tied those spectacles
onto the nag. That’s better she told me
Let’s get on with this, when the night rider
grabbed me, I gave him as kiss
and he blushed, as who wouldn’t at such a bold old lady
He gathered us up in his long black cloak
called “gee-up” to his steed
and dropped us quite close
to the House of the Serpent
but he wouldn’t come nearer
I don’t care for snakes, said the darling, I’ll leave you
there’s a lady nearby, who will surely retrieve you
but don’t tell my boss, who might just believe you
and I’m already in trouble, I rescued a girl
and I want to go home and give her a whirl
around the big dance hall down by the barn
where the young raiders play. I gave him the anchor
felt he might need it. So with my dear donkey
I stepped through the gate
and you will all be glad to know
I’ve given up rhyming, and halting rhythm
tripped over the mat
kissed my donkey goodbye
and collapsed into bed.

A night in a gypsy caravan

2005-08-17T13:30:00.000-07:00

It was already dark but it did not matter for I knew from a good source gypsies like to dance and drink and party thru out the night. As I made my way thru the vegetation I heard music and laughter. Curiously I kept walking feeling the enchantment of the music take over my body. I could not resist anymore and ran as fast as I could to get there and be part of that rhythm.

Once there a man greeted me smiling and dancing. At that moment I lost control of my whole body and dance. I remembered the basic movements I learned in my belly dancing classes and put them in practice. They came naturally like they were responding to the music. Suddenly, women of all ages surrounded me and accompany me in my dance. One started chanting another took a sword and dance with it. All of the sudden we were all moving as one.

Everyone was happy and danced with pleasure and joy. The music lasted for hours and at last I stopped exhausted hardly breathing. But still I felt so content with myself for I had needed that for a long time.

I sat down on top of some cushions catching my breath and clapping to the children that were still dancing. My daughter will have loved this; after all she has a gypsy name, Versaly.

A woman of dark hair stood in front of me. She was smiling, her eyes were mysterious and looked at me as if they were about to enchant me. I smiled back waiting for her to say a word but instead she offered me her hand. With out any questions I took it for I felt that she could be trusted. She helped me get up and we walked through the dancing crowd, the gypsy woman still holding my hand tightly.

A tent was in front of us, a red glamorous tent. We entered it and she told me to sit on some cushions that were lying on the carpet floor. A small table was in front of us. She sat on the other side of the table. Some tarot cards, incense and a red rose were the only things on the wooden table.

“Give me your hand.” She said. I figure she was one of those women who read palms and I gave her my hand.

She studied it quietly looking at it with detail. “A long life.” I felt joyful.

“Love!” That I have.

“But why?” She asked and I looked at her in dismay.

“Why what?” I asked back, even thou I knew it was not polite to answer a question with another question. But since I didn’t knew what was the question about I simply figure it was appropriate.
“You tend to see your future projects so far away, like they will take an eternity to come to be.”

She was right. I always see them like they are so far away they turn out to be only desires that I can not have.

“Even thou you have a strong faith on God, you still are not letting him do the work for you.” She moved closer. “See your projects nearer every time you think of them. This will help you reach them and to help you fulfill yourself. They are making you get stock in life and not advance. Feel them nearer and they will come to pass. When you want something close your eyes and pray. Look at them as if they were in front of you, take them with your hand, and make them part of you as if they are happening in that exact moment. This will give you the confidence you need to make your dreams a reality.”

I smiled feeling more peaceful and astonished with her words. She kept looking at my hand a little longer. “Hmm.” She looked at me.

“Your center of stress is your throat that is why you loose your voice when you are challenge with important things.”

I touched my throat realizing her words and understanding it. I have worked my throat to much. I will need to find a way to channel my stress away from it.

Suddenly, her face had an awkward look to it like she was worried or something. But she smiled immediately. Then she let go of my hand and said firmly:

“That is all for today.”

“There is nothing of my future you can tell me?”

“What needs to be reveal know, was. When you come back here next time, I will tell you what you need to know then. For know that is all.” She took the red rose and offered it to me. I took it a little disappointed but smelled it sweet aroma. I was perplexed and since I don’t like to argue much I took that as a final answer. I stood up and walked towards the entrance of the tent. When I was about to live she said:

“The future looks bright. Things are coming to you, big things. They are just around the corner and you must prepare for them.” Then, just like that she was silent once again.

“Thank you.” She made a nod.

I exited the tent thinking of those last words the gypsy woman had told me. The future is just around the corner and I have to be prepared for it. From a near by table I took a bottle of red wine and a glass. I sat near the fire camp and lay on a carpet full of feather cushions.

“What may come, will come, of that I am certain. But for know I will enjoy this night, tomorrow I will worry of the future.” I said to myself smelling the rose again.

I stared at the stars above me smiling and taking a sip of wine. It is surely the drink of the gods and that night I, a mere mortal, was going drink like one and let my body be seduced by it.

Ancestors cabin

2005-08-15T23:55:00.000-07:00

Ancestors cabin
Originally uploaded by FranSb.

By the year following their arrival the grandmother had a place for her family and a wide verandah where her pupils came for school.

~Dress Rehearsal~

2005-08-14T17:35:00.000-07:00

~Dress Rehearsal~
I have had some private moments this day with the Enchantress. I would really like to remain here, but my heart insists I move on. I hope it comes from my heart and is not an ~ego~ based decision.

The Enchantress is all knowing, comfortable in her own skin. She listens carefully as we sit on large rocks by a quiet stream. I talked with her about poetry or rather my reasons for the writing of it.This poetry is my deepest emotion - it stays in layers, these buried parts of my authentic self. As I write a shift occurs within my rational mind. The layers peel back and flip quickly exposing bursts of words. Sometimes, I explain, the words seem angry, perhaps misdirected. They, my words don't have bad intentions. They are the excavated parts of myself the human race does not see. ~Not for Daily Consumption~ would be the title of my poetry book.The Enchantress nods. Her eyes are smiling which I take to interrupt she understands. And so I read her my composed piece -

~Ancestors~
Ancestor of two generations ago
bloodline continues the flow.
Female pink bundles explode
Five daughters long, born twice.
Young strong women
You just don't know.
Curling brown hair
Green stern, bright eyes
Tall, lean bodies a glow.
Just like you,
piercing lips of anger
Injustice takes hold.
Heads and wire rimmed glasses in books
Labors of ten hour days.
Plowing up fields
Computers, cell phones, and books
Strapped to their backs,
They guide Chevy's not horsesUp and Down the roads.
Babies of your dreams
Emerging patterns explode.
Married to limbless men
From necessary wars
Masking their feelings,
Climbing into bottles,
with new friends,
Bud, Jack and Jim.
Comfortable residents,
Female pink bundles explode.

She smiles, this is enough for me. I tell her I pulled these words from lost ancestors, women I miss, their bloodlines are mine, too. I thought so many things about them, and my own daughters this past week on my travels here. Their strengths are many. Their burdens a different form, but are still burdens.Again, she understands and judges not.

She asks to see the costume. I carefully remove it from the box. She knows immediately the era I chosen the dress from. The Regency. She feels the soft pink muslin. She suggests perhaps I need a cape or long coat.

We walk back through the woods to the entrance. My horse is waiting. A message has arrived and some change in plans has occurred - I am to venture on to the ~Isle of the Ancestors~. A bit confused I add the note to my maps. The Enchantress points the way, with a parting gift. I know we will meet again.

Ms. Lovelace ( Patricia )

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Dancing from the Soul

2005-08-13T20:54:00.000-07:00

I don't know why I hesitated visiting the Gypsy camp. I was certain I would be eaten alive by mosquitos, but that's nothing new. I had such a lovely time, I didn't want to return to the Hermitage.

It was enchanting to walk by the light of the full moon from the Hermitage to the Gypsy camp. I was surprised by the coolness of the evening, and so, too, I guess, were the mosquitos, because I saw narry a one of them. The cool air on my skin was a welcome change from the heat of the day. Still so, I was quite chilled by the time I reached the camp. The blazing fire was dazzling, mesmerizing, and a welcome source of warmth.

As I sat gazing alternately into the fire and then at the glowing, full moon, a gypsy sat beside me, put a shawl around my shoulders and a deck of cards in my hands. I held the deck thinking of the many hands that had held this deck before. I touched my walking stick and its image of Wisdom with one hand as I chose a card with my other hand. This is the card Wisdom felt I needed to see most.

I smiled knowingly upon seeing this card. Art. What could be more appropriate. Art, I have come to realize, is a more truer form of communication for me than any thing else. Art is what gives me life. Art brings messages from my inner soul to the surface.

Finding my way to art has been a long process over many years. I get close enough to feel its warmth and I back away saying, "No. I am not worthy." Just as the Gypsy's fire gives my body warmth on this cool evening, I can feel the warmth of art again. I'm traveling the path to art's door. Slowly...carefully...and then I pause. I wonder what I'm doing here. I say there's no time. There are more important things to do. I was about to turn away from the door again when the Gypsy's cards reminded me. This is a door I must pass through. It's not an option. The invitation cannot be refused.

Coming back to my present surroundings, I notice the gypsy's dancing. My body takes this as an invitation and doesn't give me a chance to refuse. I find myself dancing, without knowing the steps, without knowing the song...my body is moving on its own expressing all that is within...all I need to know. This moment is bliss.

In the halls of my ancestors

2005-08-13T19:23:00.000-07:00

I found my ferry soon enough, “Dark Ferry Woman row me across the river, row slowly so that I may see the distance spaces, the edge where sunset meets the sea, the golden clouds that grace the summer sky. I want to feel the wind that pushes this small craft, this boat with rainbow sail that billows full and freely. As we reach the further shore I wave farewell and ask you to be ready at end of day to take me back to the pine covered mountain for I have been asked to report.

I wander slowly up the dock into the island centre where a great golden gate is lit by the rising sun, this gilded gate carved by the centuries of finest workmen opens before me and I find myself able to dance again, to carry the silver torch, to trip as lightly as I did in childhood up the long stairs, into the sacred hall. There is hope in my step and in my heart for this is the place of my own people, these are the hallways walked by all who walked before me through all time.

Here in a deep forest by a lake I find a small log cabin surrounded by a kitchen garden. October colour everywhere, deep crimson leaves fall from above and crunch beneath my feet. I knock. A soft voice calls, Is that you, my dear, I have been waiting here that we may talk.” The accent is familiar, just a hint of old East Anglia, the dialect my father knew and was forbidden to use. “ I met your dad long years ago, he passed by on his way to his own family shore. He was from Norfolk but not Norfolk born as I am for I am your mother’s people. Come tell me, why this quest for your time has not yet come although I see your aging as I watched your childhood.”

A thousand questions, questions, questions too personal it seems to ask this woman with the bright eyes that see into my mind. What made you grandmother-twice-back-and-more cross the great ocean to this place in deepest wood? Why bring your sons and leave a daughter at home? “So many why’s my dear.”

“Did you not move across an ocean? leave a son behind? stay in a country where the accent was not yours? We have much in common you and I. I crossed the sea for love, for a proper place for sons, for their father’s sake we built and grew. My daughter was well cared for, her father claimed the child. She would be safe, safer than a yeoman’s child and learned. “

“ My sons grew tall, broke their own land, and made their way no longer laboured in the fields of some descendant of King Williams thieving clan. I taught them well, my daughters too, those younger ones, and all the others too in the tiny school we built. Dear Dr. Strachan, dear old kirk where learning was allowed for all who came.”

“ Did you see our school house ? We had four rows of benches, a board my husband painted every September. The Bishop was generous; every child had his own slate, a bible and a first book. My pupils learned to read, and write, and, on the winter’s nights lit by fire and candle taught their parents too. When harvest came our sons, all of the sons, could count and claim all that was rightful, and give thanks for freedom and bounty.”

But all this does not reply, I see that one question too intimate to ask.”

“Why? I’ll try to answer. I was a gentle cousin in his lordship’s house, kin without status, a pretty girl I think. We touched, we loved, a child was born. I lost my place within propriety. The child was taken, I was given to wife to my yeoman. My great fortune, we brought four sturdy sons to the new country. You have his blood and thus most dear to me.”

“Now tell me”, she asked, what have you done, to make me proud?”
I thought for a moment and said that I had loved to learn and tried
to teach my students honestly.

“You have your answer. “she said, and laughing, “We’ll have a cup of tea, share stories of those children we have known, and fill the time until the ferry woman calls you home. Don’t be afraid for you will come again. We will be friends.”

I give my gift, a tiny book of poems as I wave farewell

Endless Journey

2005-08-13T11:09:00.000-07:00

While walking through the woods en route to the Gypsy Camp, many things were going through my mind, not the least of which was the journey. Not necessarily the journey of the moment as much as the bigger journey … the one we all take in our time.

Endless Journey

Upon this sphere of sun-warmed rock called Earth,
I lay,
nude
beside a sparkling stream.
Tall pines share their fragrance
while, on the ground, their cones are waiting
for a conflagration
to urge them into life,
to feed,
to build anew,
stately forests of the future.
The sphere of rock on which I lay,
wrinkled,
warm,
invites me to press my naked self
into Her blue-green reflecting body,
to feel Her reassuring surface,
to be one with Her
as She makes Her endless journey,
to watch the ever changing mountains
as they become a million, billion, trillion noble specks
of sand upon a beach.

All living things have their niche;
The womb,
then birth.
With birth, we start to die,
but first, we live, ignite the fire
of love and caring
for those traveling with us upon this earth,
two legs and four,
feathered, finned, and scaled,
then, like the ever-flowing stream,
we move onward to our destiny
until, we too, are but fossils in the rock.

Vi
©August 13, 2005

A dance for a Queen

2005-08-13T10:02:00.000-07:00

Amazonians are told to be creatures of seduction.
Seductress in their own rights
But fearless and powerful warriors
A dance should be appropriate for a Queen
So I have conjured the dancer in me
I have awaken the dancer from afar
The one who let herself be seduced by movement
By a way of life in the sandy lands of Arabia
For the Amazonian Queen I have prepared
A performance that is ancient as the Amazonian themselves
I will dance the ancient art of the belly dance.

Güarionex, the steed who took me to the Hermitage

2005-08-13T09:59:00.000-07:00

There is a strange thing about horses I do not understand. There are very mysterious and if you don’t see my point just look at them straight in their eyes. Their eyes have stories to tell but since they can’t speak they are silent. Still some creatures can speak to them and hear their stories and transmit them to others like me. They are called the Horse Whisperers, a rare species among humans. One of them introduced me to Güarionex, my golden steed, the one who will take me to the Hermitage.

I felt scared as I approached Güarionex for I have always been afraid of horses. If they don’t trust you there is much that can happen. I look deep into his black eyes at the same time as he stared at my green eyes. A moment of eternity passed between us while we gaze upon each other reading our souls.

Suddenly he made a nod and I came out of the trance. “He will let you ride him”, said the Horse Whisperer. I smiled for what I saw in his eyes was a story so extraordinary that was uplifting and inspiring. This horse was no ordinary steed he was a warrior who was a companion to legendary warriors. I felt unworthy of such an honor of being able to ride him.

“We must go know, is getting late”, the Horse Whisperer added as he climbed up his white horse. “The trail is long but inspiring. Let Güarionex feel the road and do not be scared for he will take good care of you. He has seen something special in you.”

“Why you say that?” I asked.

“He is letting you ride him. Last time he let someone ride him was a century ago by a great king of kings.”

“Maybe his bored and want to feel the road under his hooves.”

“No. He saw something in you so do not think of yourself as entertainment for him. He knows when someone is worthy of him.”

I look at Güarionex once more wanting to ask him what he saw in me. But as I gaze upon him I felt a warm feeling inside my heart that took my fears away. I smiled, he nodded.

I climb on to his saddle and waited for the Horse Whisperer to tell me what to do. He just said, “Hold on and seat tight, is a bumpy ride.” Suddenly the horses started running fast. I hold tight on to the rope in order to slow him down but Güarionex did not give in.

“Loose him up”, the Horse Whisperer shouted.

I did not want to do that. A chill went up my spine as the only thing I could do was hold on. I got closer to his neck trying not to fall down for I knew it was going to hurt a lot if I fell.

“You have to let go.” The Horse Whisperer shouted to me.

I looked at him not understanding what he said. I was really scared, the wind blowing hard at my face. The road passed fast underneath us as Güarionex rode faster and faster each passing second. The valley was hard to admire at that pace. Everything was a blur because you could not distinguish one color from the other, a wild flower from the grass. The only steady things were the sky above and the mountains beyond. They looked as if they were spectators looking down on us not wanting to miss the action that went on in the valley beneath them.

The Horse Whisperer’s words echoed in my mind as I tried to understand their meaning. “Let go.” I said to myself. “Just let go”. As I said that my hands relaxed their grip and loosened the rope on Güarionex. A sense of freedom revolved around me and confidence took over my soul. It felt great! I let go of my fears and enjoyed the ride letting Güarionex ride faster than before and trusting myself to him.

A rush of adrenaline flew thru my veins as the wind in my face felt exhilarating. Then it came out of my mouth like it had been there all my life trying to get out but never had the chance. A loud scream, yes I screamed so hard it was heard through out the valley as we rode fast through its green pastures.

The Horse Whisperer laugh and I joined him. “Oh, this is awesome!” I exclaimed.

“Every time, every time” He repeated with a huge smile.

“Can he go like this for a long time?” I asked out loud.

“A little longer!” He answered.

“Well then let’s have a race!” As I said that I let out a “Hia!” and Güarionex started to go even faster. It was a glorious experience that uplifted my spirits. The Horse Whisperer caught us in seconds and he pointed to a group of trees for us to stop and for the horses to rest.

We stopped at the chosen spot and when I got down Güarionex caress me with his face. I smiled and said to him, “Thank you too.” I kissed him in his forehead and hugged him. We stayed there for an hour eating and laughing. The Horse Whisperer told me of his craft and talents, of his family and how he was chosen to be a horse whisperer. He explained to me that they choose a name that only the horse appointed to him must know. But I could call him Rob. He was taught at the University of Centaurs by a legendary old centaur. He told me that the centaurs are the only creatures capable of teaching that craft for after all they are half horses.

The road was waiting for us and we climbed up on our horses but this time, for we were closer to the Hermitage as we covered most of the road in our ride, we took it slow. I wanted to enjoy the sites as we past beautiful trees and enchanting roads. Soon enough the sanctuary of the Hermitage was visible in the distance. It look beautiful, I smiled as I saw it. I was finally there and my heart was full of joy to gaze upon it.

“When we get there I will attend to the horses. You go in and relax and enjoy your stay. It’s a good place for meditation so take advantage of your time.”

“I will”

“I will see you when you and your party are ready to live.”

“Thank you for this wonderful trip”

“Don’t thank me, thank him.” Rob, the Horse Whisperer, said pointing to Güarionex.

I smile and gave Güarionex a pad on his mane. We entered the Hermitage and left the traveled road behind.

Cancel the Dance of the Knives

2005-08-12T22:28:00.000-07:00

Good evening everyone

Gracious, I must appologize for my absence the last day. Salish and I were just settling in to our room at the Hermatige when a carrier pigeon flew in the window and deposited a note on the desk. It was from my son Connor begging me to perform my famous "Dance of the Knives" for the Queen.

I did pack my knives and my costume (made up of no less than seventy veils in all sorts of bright jewel tones). Now how shall I explain this? Well bother, I may as well jump right in and be honest with you all. I do have some stage fright, and I was so terribly excited to perform for the the queen that when I was practising in front of Salish (and I had all 9 knives in the air) I tripped over three of my seventy veils! I went flying, the knives went flying, and, well, you can see what happened to poor Salish. Frankly, he came out of it better than I did.

I have decided that it is best if I play it safe and perform one of my favorite poems told to me as a child by my mother. I will be posting it shortly.

Bobbi & Salish-the-Owl-on-the-injured-list

~Travels~

2005-08-12T17:11:00.000-07:00

~Map to the Hermitage~
Arriving at the Hermitage was not an easy journey. I passed through many strange and curious places.

Leaving the cave my first stop was The Land of Prey. Incrediable birds of great girth and height reside here. Their main oject is the hunting of cats. Yes, cats ! I am relieved I gave second thoughts to bringing my dearest friend, Big Moma. My journey would have been very short.

Second Stop - District of Dolls
Third Stop - Village of Dwellings

Forth Stop - City of Chairs. I had to show identitification, have my passport stamped, a finger print was taken, and my small baggage checked.

Thinking I had plenty of time, as the Hermitage was only one hour away, I took Heathcliff to a nearby blacksmith where he could be watered and fed oats. I walked across the street to a diner, washed up in the rest room and sat in the most elegant of chairs to order a proper meal. The food was delicious. The wine and cheese after dinner seemed to revive my spirits. I was ready to continue.

I must have read my map wrong, as I ended up in the township of travel. I asked an elderly gentleman for directions. His manners were that of a prince and he was so well spoken. His directions were none of the above and again I was to become lost in the Village of Crowns.

I took some extra moments to study the map carefully. As I traveled back I once again noticed the elderly gentleman. This time he was riding in a vintage car, waving and smiling as he left me in a cloud of smoke and dust.

I reached the Hemitage around midnight. My first thoughts were for Heathcliff. I am thankful there was a groom to meet me. To say the least, I am tired and in need of a comfortable night's sleep.

Ms. Lovelace ( Patricia )
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Performance

2005-08-12T15:56:00.000-07:00

Elizia borrows a dress

I do not wish to impede the progress of the group, so I am ready to preform. I wrote this, but I do not sing. At least . . . when I do sing, someone usually tells me to stop.

I walked down into the Gypsy camp when it was almost morning, when the last wisps of white smoke from the campfires had dissolved like spun sugar into the tangled green of the overhanging trees and the blackness of night began to pale to pearls of grey. I found him sitting with his back against a tree playing a Bach concerto on a piccolo. He stopped and looked at me.
“I’m looking for a harpist,” I said.
He raised an eyebrow. “Do I look like a harpist?”
“Yes.”

He wore unrelieved black; black breaches, tall black boots, a black poets shirt. His long black hair was pulled back with a length of thin black leather.
“And what is it you want with a harpist?”
“I need someone to play and sing a Ballad while I dance. A performance with a fairly large audience.”
He raised the other eye brow. “You’re a dancer, are you?”
I narrowed my eyes. The piccolo flew out of his fingers and up into the tree. But not before it had rapped him sharply across the forehead.
“I am.”

His hand went to his head, his eyes following the small silver sphere as it hurled up through the branches and out of sight. He looked at me again, his own eyes narrowed. “Yes, indeed,” he said softly, “I can see that. I suppose you wrote this Ballad yourself? The one you want sung?”
“I did.”
He pursed his lips for a moment, considering. “How bad is it?”
“It’s actually quite good, but it’s very long.”
He nodded slowly. “I have no problem with that, my memory is excellent regardless of . . . regardless. The problem would be that I haven’t a harp. My last one somehow found it’s way into the hands of a wine merchant.”
“I have a harp,” I told him shortly, “small. Celtic. A knee harp. You sing for me and play well and I’ll let you keep it.”
Both eyebrows went up together. “That is quite an offer. I sing one night and get to keep the harp?”
We will have to rehearse, of course,” I said, “and” I added flatly, “I said, play well.”
He smiled, showing white even teeth beneath a clipped black mustache. “That you needn’t worry about. I always play well regardless of . . . regardless.”
“Fine.”
“He glanced up into the tree. “What about my . . .” He was struck squarely in the center of the head by a falling piccolo. He caught it on the second bounce, laughing silently.

He unfolded like a cat stretching, coming easily to his feet and executing a deep bow from the waist all in one smooth movement. The piccolo remained clenched in his fist. “Very well, my Lady. You have a harpist. I am Alejandro.”
“I know.”
He nodded, a smile playing around his lips. “Of course you do. And you are?”
I smiled. “The Ballad is in first person feminine. Do you have a problem with that?”
He thought for a moment. “No. I will merely be a sounding board for what you are doing.”
“Exactly.”
Another eyebrow went up and he smiled slowly. “No problem at all. I can sing anything, regardless of . . . regardless.”

The Gateway to Tir na Og

A Ballad of the Sidhe

I went up from the Derbane Dales
When the green had just begun
As sweet, young Spring unrolled herself
I walked into the rising sun

A path I found through the Dryadwood
Beneath the sound of birds
My journey out into the wide world
Questing for radiant words

Searching for words like thin rare glass
So a touch would make them ring
Seeking for new ways to weave them
Into plaits that will sparkle and sing

I carry the tools for this gathering
At my side in a small velvet sack
An empty book hungry for markings,
My harp in its case at my back

Sing for the words that are wakening
Sing wild for a bright game of chance
Sing for the turn it is taking
Sing hey, For the Dance, For the Dance!

I followed my footsteps pattern
Though the paths that I knew disappeared
I left behind the well known wood
And began up the Mountain of Wyrd

Looks are black toward this mountain
From the folk of the lush Derbane land
Mistrust, fear and suspicion
For something they don’t understand

For ‘things happen’ up here on the mountain
Where forces unknown hold sway
So they spit on their fingers and turn them
To keep the Wyrd of Wyrd Mountain away

Yet here’s where my foot steps led me
And I followed, my mind flying blind
Knowing that what I would find here
Was exactly what I would find

Knowing that what I might take here
Would be several kinds of chance
Knowing I’d take all that followed
Searching for words that would dance

Sing for the words that are wakening
Sing wild for a bright game of chance
Sing for the turn it is taking
Sing hey, For the Dance, For the Dance!

I came to a hushed bright hollow
Where I stood silent and very aware
There was enchantment in every rustle
A witchery in the bright air

I held my hands up to the sunshine
No, not witchery per se
I took a breath of the trembling air
What I tasted was something fey

I saw nothing move in the brightness
I heard not a sound on the breeze
Except for the drowsy droning
Of butterflies, sunshine and bees

But that sunshine was thick with magic
The air had a sharp smell and taste
I knew I had come to a turning
That the Children of Dana had graced

Like being at once in two places
I gazed at an old, sleepy tree
I smiled and said to no one
“Ah! A gate to the land of the Sidhe!”

Sing for the words that are wakening
Sing wild for a bright game of chance
Sing for the turn it is taking
Sing hey, For the Dance, For the Dance!

One doesn’t trifle with Tir Na Og
Or find these portals for free
The clearing spun; a kaleidoscope,
Or a rainbow on some drunken spree

Colors flew and sang and filled
My ears with a insane buzz
And I found myself facing a yellow moth
Somewhat bigger than I was

He flew into the whirling colors
And when at last I coulds look around
I found only about three inches
From my head to the loam covered ground

Beside me the tree soared skyward
And I saw what had been there before
As a tiny crack at the tree’s base
Was a vaulted and towering door

And standing in the dark opening
All smiling and serene
Was a beautiful red haired woman
Dressed in wide silks of green

Her voice was like cream on moonbeams
Like stars on sweet sea foam
“Welcome,” she said, “to our dwelling
Our Home Away from Home

So glad we are that you’ve joined us
We hardly know where to begin . . .
A feast is prepared in the dwelling
Come in, my dear, come in

Sing for the words that are wakening
Sing wild for a bright game of chance
Sing for the turn it is taking
Sing hey, For the Dance, For the Dance!

I knew it was never this easy
Soft words to entangle, entwine
But I’d known all along what I found here
Would be precisely what I would find

So I smiled at the beautiful lady
And I entered the darkened doorway
To find a hall so majestic
That my breath was fair taken away

The walls were covered with carvings
Of stars and beasts and flowers
Which glowed from inside with the soft light
Of golden kissed moonbeam showers

A feast was laid there on trestles
Full marvelous to behold
Vines twined ‘round plates of silver
And goblets of wine made of gold

“Come break your fast!” said the clear voice
“Here’s all that a mortal desires
Bread soft as heaven, and sweetmeats
Mulled wine come just from the fires”

I smiled as I looked at the trestles
And I said, “What a feast here for free!
But I’ve heard it’s unwise to unthinking
Partake in the food of the Sidhe”

Here smile only deepened
She looked down at the carved wooden floor
She said, “you might as well eat, dear,
Your mistake was to walk through the door”

Sing for the words that are wakening
Sing wild for a bright game of chance
Sing for the turn it is taking
Sing hey, For the Dance, For the Dance!

I turned back to the dark doorway
To find it had quite disappeared
The walls were all covered with carvings
Of the towering Mountain of Wyrd

“A mortal who walks through that portal
Returns not to Valley or Dale
You’ve crossed over into a new land
You’ve walked through Tir Na Og’s veil”

I smiled at the beautiful Lady
“I did recognize your veiled portal
But I'm not really sorry to tell you
You’ve captured a . . . not quite a mortal”

One delicate eyebrow raised
Said I, “I hope this explains . . .”
And I held out my open hand to her
‘neath a tracing of bright green veins

She threw back her head in laughter
And took my outstretched hand
She laughed, “This is so delightful!
The best trick I ever planned!

Look just what I’ve done here!
Unheard in the tales of the Shide!
By my well woven ruses and wiles
I’ve a Dryad trapped in a tree!”

Sing for the words that are wakening
Sing wild for a bright game of chance
Sing for the turn it is taking
Sing hey, For the Dance, For the Dance!

Our eyes were both full of laughter
As we stood there holding hands
Then she laughed, “your not off the hook yet,
I’ve still got a few demands

You have walked into my portal
Now you must give something back
And if I am not mistaken
That’s a harp there at your back.”

“It is,” said I, still laughing
“Though that guessing isn’t hard
Though I am Dryad of the Woodland
I am also a wandering Bard

Are you telling me I can win freedom
For the price of a well turned song?
That is surely something worth doing
I don’t see how I could go wrong”

“We’ll make a barter pact,” said she
What is it you most require?
What would you ask of the Fair Folk
If you had your fondest desire?”

Sing for the words that are wakening
Sing wild for a bright game of chance
Sing for the turn it is taking
Sing hey, For the Dance, For the Dance!

“I can give you a tune as soul soaring
As the song of the rarest of birds . . .
And what would I ask in return?
What I seek are enchanted words”

The smile fell from her face
And she dropped my hand
“Though you may come as a friend here
There is something you must understand

The secrets of Tuatha De Danaan
Are never to be bought for a song
We’ll give no magic away here
To someone who doesn’t belong”

I smiled and shook my head
“I seek for no such chance
The enchanted words I am questing
Are the kind that make poetry dance”

“Ah! That is a different story”
She looked at me in thought
“That kind of enchantment we could share
Though its something that couldn’t be bought

So, I’ll make a trade with a Dryad
If you will take this final chance
Besides your song, you must feast here
And beside me you must come and dance”

I laughed and I said, “I agree then
I’ll accept your ‘final chance’
I looked down at my traveling clothes
“Though I’m not dressed at all to dance.”

She laughed, stars sparkling on sunset,
And said, “this is no distress
It seems you’re as small as I am
I’m sure you can borrow a dress!”

Sing for the words that are wakening
Sing wild for a bright game of chance
Sing for the turn it is taking
Sing hey, For the Dance, For the Dance!

So we feasted into the starlight
And I played them my sweetest tune
And in a borrowed gown of lilac
I danced ‘neath the light of the moon

Beside the beautiful lady
Of the Tuatha De Danaan I danced
I Never have spent such charmed hours
Enchanted, enthralled and entranced

I was, in truth, unsure of the outcome
Though ‘chance’ was the way that I chose
But I awoke in the morning
Clutching a blood red rose

Leaning against the trees trunk
Just the right size I should be
With nothing else at all to show
I’d spent the night with the Sidhe

‘Til I opened my sack, and opened my book
To find bright dancing words there penned
And at the end, in life-green ink
‘From Roisin, your friend’

Sing for the words that are wakening
Sing wild for a bright game of chance
Sing for the turn it is taking
Sing hey, For the Dance, For the Dance!

Roisin, Daughter of Dana

©Edwina Peterson Cross

Detour......

2005-08-11T16:39:00.000-07:00

Oh I am so sorry to have seemingly disappeared the last few days!! That great brute of a horse took it into his head to take a bit of a detour and go galloping all about the country side :) I have recieved a message from heather and we have (hopefully!) figured out a way to control him, so I will catch up with you all and be at the Hermitage very soon!!

Lisa

The Hermitage on Castle Mountain

2005-08-11T01:35:00.000-07:00

Heather mountain
Originally uploaded by FranSb.

When I looked up from the trail I saw the glow
of light and knew that I had come to the home I was to know, to be greeted by loved ones and taken to a place of beauty to rest. My weary wee pony must have been very glad to be fed and petted by the hostess.

Gramma rides easy

2005-08-10T01:15:00.000-07:00

Gramma rides easy
Originally uploaded by FranSb.

Arriving at the Hermitage

~Leather & Lace~

2005-08-09T22:31:00.000-07:00

~Heathcliff~
Sitting on a bench, with the sides shaped as horses, I am adding the final stitches to my costume. A plain box wrapped in brown paper was left on the writing table in my room. My name was written on the lid. Various printed pink and orange cloth, tulle, ribbons and a strand of pearls are among the contents in the container. A small card lays among the folds of tissue paper. It simply states, 'For your dress. Keep in mind you will wear this at your presentation. Search your heart, search deep and compose a poem to read aloud at the performance. Tomorrow morning wait by the gardens and horse stables for further instruction.'

I clip my last thread and hold the costume out - it's beautiful. I brush the hair piece of brown curls. There is enough material left for a long sash to tie around my head. I sit the curls carefully in the box among the crinkled tissue. I replace the lid.

The vegetable gardens are lovely and bear oversized fruit in between the story book leaves shaped like long hearts. Yellow summer squash gleams in the sun. Two men gently lift one squash from the vine. I see beads of sweat along their foreheads. They shift their balance and tightly grasp the highly varnish vegetable. As they pass me I see morning dew on their prize weight.

The sound of hoofs coming from the white washed stable catches my ears and I turn my head. A white and brown spotted horse is being led by a groom. He stops in front of me and hands me the reins. 'His name is Heathcliff - take care.' He nozzles his cold nose in my hand - his nostrils flare as he breathes in my scent. I scratch between his eyes - what deep brown jewels these are - the color of amber and night. Black oblong pupils stare into mine. His mane is off white, shining, well brushed. One braid shows itself with three dangling bells. It is hard to say how many hands tall he is.

The saddle is English style and smells of soaped leather and oil. An empty saddle bag awaits my custom box. On the opposite side the bag holds a canteen of water, what appears to be a ration of food and a well worn map.

I mount the beast, at once I know I have become his burden as he moves slightly from side to side. I give the time he needs to ajust to my weight. In only a matter of seconds we are off, slowly, surely following the garden path toward an open iron gate.

Patricia ( the picture of the woman in the framed film strip is my Grandmother )
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purple time

2005-08-09T17:35:00.000-07:00

purple time
Originally uploaded by FranSb.

As I looked down from the mountain
I could see
through the magic glasses
the bottom of the ocean
and the place the porpoise plays
as he follows my small craft
the day I sail

Distant bells

2005-08-09T10:42:00.000-07:00

A distant pounding of earth.
A jangle of bells.
The breathing of a dragon.
I look up and see my ride,
A white beauty with brass bells.
Festive designs decorate her forehead.
Her ears perk forward as I reach out.
I pull out a carrot and flatten my palm.
Her large brown eyes blink those lovely lashes.

My guide hoists me up and we are off.
My beautiful mare runs across a field.
The moon is new and it’s very dark.
Light magically emanates from the trees.
Freedom! Exhilaration!
My hair falls free of braids and feathers.
And we are in darkness moving with the night.
My skirt blows around like a small storm.
I lean in closer to hear her breathe.
In this moment, I feel truly alive.

Cave's Entrance

2005-08-09T09:48:00.000-07:00

Entering the Enchantress’ Cave

2005-08-09T09:36:00.000-07:00

As I walked through my door I found myself deep inside a cave. It reminded me of “Las Cavernas de Camuy” because it was huge and for the simple reason that I have never been inside another cave than those of Camuy. The floor was leveled for I was expecting it to be steep. Uneven for after all it was still a cave. I started looking around and saw some unique doors in the distance.

“Maybe those are the doors of the other Amazonians.” I said out loud. My voice echoed and I found it amusing.

“Yes.” A voice said from behind.

I turned around quickly for I was not expecting anyone so soon. A tall woman of long straight white hair was standing in front of me. Her skin was pale blue; her eyes were of a beautiful deep green color and she had pointy ears. She wore a sterling silver simple tiara that fell on her forehead and that was bejeweled with emeralds and pearls. She had an air of confidence and elegance that made me think she was someone very important.

“Hello.” I said to the woman because, to tell the truth, nothing else came out of my mouth.

She smiled slightly like she knew what happened. I smile back nervously wondering if she was a troll or something else.

“You most be one of the Amazonians we have been expecting.” Her voice was soft and low but still you could hear it clearly for the echoed of the cave helped.

“I am.”

“You have arrived just in time. It is such an honor to have you all with us during your quest.”

“Thank you.” I said humbled.

She placed her right hand on her chest right below her throat; her left hand was on her belly as she made a nod and said:

“My name is Xaoks; I have been the general manager of the cave for centuries. I am what you may call unique specie. A mix between blue trolls, that are cultured and refined, and elves. I was send by the Enchantress to greet you and see you to your room. Please leave your baggage here for one of the bell boys will come for them and take them to your room. Would you like to have a tour of the cave?” She said cheerfully.

“Oh, yes!” I exclaimed while I figured in my head why two very different species would come together.

“Follow me, please.”

As we walked through a narrow corridor, lighted with elegant golden candle chandeliers, I was wondering how would my stay in the cave would be. I was imagining something out of the common nothing fancy. Humid and cold for sure! The cold part I did not like that much for I always get chilly. It was certainly that I was going to ask for an extra warm blanket once I arrive at the room. And of course my hair will be in crisis with the humidity in the air. It was a good idea to bring the blow dryer not that it would be of any help if they don’t have any electricity.

We stepped out of the corridor and what I saw made my jaw drop. I have heard before of hotels made out of ice but this was amazing. The lounge area was under a huge satin tent of gray color. Underneath there were small tables surrounded by chairs and sofas made of stone and wood, all cushioned with feather pillows. There was a carpet made out of white fur decorating the lounge floor.

“Here’s the lounge area for visitors only. You may come here to relax at any time. The tent has a special purpose that’s why is here. At night the bats come out this way and the tent protects our visitors from what ever it may fall from their little bodies.” Xaoks said with a smile.

I laugh trying not to be to loud because of the echo. We kept on and she show me the way to the pool. Who would think to have a pool inside a cave? Xaoks said it was a pool of thermal waters good for the body and the soul. Right beside it was a spa area that specializes on mud treatment and other stuff she did not wanted to tell me. She explained that they use a secret ingredient in their treatment that could only be found in the cave and work wonders with the skin.

“The cave is merely a small labyrinth that for those who don’t know their way around could get easily lost. For that we have this unique contraption.” She took out of her pocket in her white dress a little black beeper that she gave to me. Xaoks explain that if I get lost I should press the green button and someone will immediately come to help me.

“The blue button is for room service, the violet is to enter your room and the red is for emergencies or special requests that need urgency. The corridor at your left will take you to the main hall where you will find the main entrance to the cave. There you will find your party when they leave soon for the camp of the Amazonians.”

The walls were decorated with enchanting paintings made millions of years ago. Golden torches lighted here and there to give enough illumination but at the same time to make you feel tranquil. We entered another corridor and soon we came upon a door.

“Ah! Here we are. This is your room, AW-9. Please push the violet button.”

“Oh! Yes.” The door opened slowly when I pushed the button making no sound at all. I entered my room and was astonished with what I saw. It was decorated in a French country style just as I like.

“I hope is of your liking?”

“Yes, it is more than I expected. Thank you!”

“You are most welcome. We figure you will be inspired in it. To your right is the bathroom area. As you can see we use a little magic of our own and created a window for you that look upon our garden. Is a special garden for it grows from the magic of this cave and the one generated from every visitor who comes here. We know nature helps you relax and we figure this would be helpful.”

“This is wonderful, thank you again. How did you know about that?” I asked Xaoks curiously.

“It is our business to know, to make your stay here more comfortable. If there is anything else you need please let me know.”

“I will.”

Xaoks left the room closing the door behind her and I was left alone in the room. My baggage was already there and for what I saw someone took the liberty to put my stuff in their place. My clothes were nicely folded in the drawers, my notebook was on top of my night table, and my family photos were on a table beside the bed. I felt like I was home, like I belong there. It felt really good to be in that place to do what I love most. I smiled and drop on the bed. Then I saw a chocolate box beside my notebook. It had a small note on it that said:

“Welcome dear Amazonian. Enjoy! With love; the Enchantress.”

I open the box, took a chocolate and ate away an adventure.

A Gentle Soul

2005-08-09T08:18:00.000-07:00

The smell of well-worn leather and horse flesh excites my senses as I succumb to the rhythmic movement of the line-back dun beneath me. He has a gentle animal soul and is patient with the likes of me who haven't been on the back of a horse for many years. There was a time in my younger days I would have leapt unaided into the saddle and with a 'Hi Ho and away we go, galloped off into the sunset.' But things are different now. I need a boost. When Oliver, that's his name and what a peculiar name it is for a horse, turned his head and stared at me with those big eyes, he snorted and I thought, I'm screwed … he's going to give me a bad time. He's going to buck me off the first time the trail gets close to a drop-off. But Oliver has turned out to the gentle, caring soul he is and I'm able to sit back, relax, and enjoy the journey. Thank you, Oliver.

Vi

My Secret Companion Rides with me

2005-08-09T01:05:00.000-07:00

My secret companion, I thought hidden well

Was brought on this journey for stories to tell

For he begged me to take him on this mystery ride

So he could write poetry and song by my side

For grown ups and children, a passion so strong

To write from his soul is what he does long

This owl called Salish, a bird of the night

A shy and hurt being, he must be carried at light

He makes observations from silent high perch

At his home, in the Soul, of the Cafe..... his church

He watches the patrons and weaves story and song

from the wise and understanding conclusions he's drawn

Now Salish and I are being whisked far away

by Wizard and Stallion and owl, Aday

through snow and forest, to where this journey will end

to new lands and adventures, a warm Inn and good friends

Bobbi (and Salish_the_Owl)

waking up

2005-08-08T23:25:00.000-07:00

I woke the next morning to see light streaming through the f holes in the door. Leaning against the mantel, there was an ornately addressed envelope that had not been there the night before. The letters of my name were scratched in flowing script, the edges of letters flowing off the page into small vines and tendrils. Gently detaching the envelope, I open it. "Your guide will arrive at exactly the right time to escort you to the hermitage. Be ready." I look at my wrist only to find that my watch must have fallen off on my journey to the cave. I feel panic at the not-knowing. Well, I reasoned, even if I had my watch, it would not help me to know what the 'right' time was. How will I know? "You'll know . . ." a voice whispered through the f holes. I peered outside, but of course no-one was there.

So I sat for a few moments to collect my thoughts and clear the cobwebs from my brain. My nose twitched as I noticed an exotic bamboo tea tray with trailing feathers that had been left on the floor. The scent of earl grey rose from the tea tin as I lifted it to my nose for a sniff. There was a plate of sliced kiwi and strawberries, a lavender scone, and two small bowls filled with lemon curd and devonshire cream. "This is cave food?" I thought.
"It is exactly the right food in exactly the right place at almost exactly the right time," the voice whispered through the f holes in the door, more an echo of a voice than a living thing. I poured myself some tea, added a lavender sugar cube and a few bits of dried herb for endurance. As I swallowed the last bit of scone and wiped the crumbs from my mouth with an embroidered napkin, a knock sounded at the door. "Come in!" I called, expectantly.

Thoughtfully Wind-blown

2005-08-08T19:27:00.000-07:00

These past few days, I have been waiting. I knew something was about to happen, though what, I did not know. I set the house in order, packed a rucksack, and set my walking stick by the front door. I then returned to the things I was "supposed" to be doing.

Suddenly, I heard music--faint in the distance. I could not understand the words, but the music itself beckoned. When the invitation arrived, I was ready to leave at a moment's notice. Where am I going? What am I doing? For what am I searching? I'm not sure. But I know that the way will reveal itself as I travel to join the others, and I look forward to making friendships with fellow travelers. Grabbing my rucksack and satchel of dried herbs, I grab my walking stick and set out by moonlight.

The music grows more audible by the mile, though never loud. The hike is shorter than I had expected, and I arrive at the cave with too much energy to immediately retire. There are several doors to the cave, oddly enough, and I choose the one that has "f" holes in it, like the f holes on a violin. As I put my ear to the holes, the music grows clearer and more haunting. I knock, and with a burst of harmonics, the door opens.

As I enter the room, a crackling fire sends glints to the shimmering crystals hanging from the hearth. I can't tell where the music is coming from, it almost sounds like it is inside my head. Leaning against the sleeping-pillows piled on the earthen floor, I pull out my flute and softly play. My eyes grow heavy and I return the flute to my rucksack as I curl up with the cushions and blankets. My last thought is of what hand that stitched the exotically embroidered quilt that lends me comfort.

The ride to the Hermitage

2005-08-08T18:05:00.000-07:00

well a messenger finally found me in the caves and I rushed back to my room and quickly packed my rucksack!! It can hardly fit another thing in it, so I certainly hope i don't find anything that I need to bring back with me or I'll have to leave something else behind!! I followed the passage and went through my door back out into the sunshine - squinting and blinking at how brilliant the light was after so long underground! There I saw my horse that I am to ride - and he is beautiful!! The guide is already astride her horse, and is a creature of beauty herself. She is lithe, with dark skin and kind eyes and long long flowing hair. I try my hardest not to stare, for not only is she beautiful beyond description, she is adorned in all sorts of handmade jewels and feathers of all different sorts!! As I gape at her she explains that my horse is wild, he will not allow a saddle or bridle to be put on him, I must ride bare back. I must ask him carry me, and if he agrees I may name him and ride him. If he agrees, he will allow no other to ride him as long as I live. I approach the great horse tentatively. He whinnies and stomps, throwing his head and his tail about and rolling his eyes back in his head. I am afraid, but I slowly move closer until I am right in front of him. I feel like I should say something formal, and am thinking hard how to put the words right. Suddenly he calms and levels a direct gaze at me. I return it, then, as if he had read the question out of my mind, he bows his head and kneels so I may mount him. I climb onto the great creature, and can feel him breathing heavily beneath me, as if he simply cannot wait to break into a gallop. I gently stroke his neck and murmur soothing words, calming him slightly. My guide smiles at me, turns her horse and heads off through the forest. I follow, and soon we leave the trees and enter a vast green plain. My horse whinnies in delight and breaks into a full gallop, faster than I've ever seen a horse go before. I can feel his muscular body stretching and reaching underneath me as he flies across the fields, turning everything into a blur of green. Such freedom!! I inhale it deeply and enjoy the feeling.

Lessons learnt from the Caves of the Enchantress

2005-08-08T17:40:00.000-07:00

Oh dear me!! Where does the time go?! Has it really only been a couple of days? I feel I have been in the caves for weeks, months even! They feel like home. The messengers in the caves have had a little difficulty finding me in my meanderings, so I hadn't heard any news of how and where everyone was until this morning when I recieved the message it's time to leave already!! I sat in my room the other night, after I sang my song, and wrote in my journal for a while. The song made me think of my grandfathers :) Without even realising it, I found myself wandering along the passageways of the caves. It's strange, the stone passages here are not dark and cold as I imagined them to be. It is quite warm, and if I place my hand on the walls and listen, I can hear the earth herself breathing and sighing and laughing and crying. I fell to my knees in tears at one point when I heard her heart break. Time here though has no meaning. A second is no different to an hour. All time is here is a collection of moments, and it seems I can choose how long to stay in each one, indeed I could easily have chosen to stay in some forever. As I wander along the passage I come to a fork. It is the first thing resembling a decision I have had to make since entering these caves. Without any real reason for it, I choose to go left and wander off. A little way down I come to a door, like all the other ones I have seen here it is dark wood, with intricate carving and no handle. I reach out and touch it and it swings open. I step inside and the first thing I notice is that my door has disappeared, I am in a room with no way out. I look around and I see my bedroom from home, yet after a moment everything fuzzes and blurs into my childhood room. It continues to do this, with the slight image of the other rooms underneath remaining and blurring in and out of the foreground. Sitting on the bed, I see myself, blurring and changing with the rooms. Yet in each image, I sit alone, crying. As if it were a stranger I rush over to comfort the other me. I won’t relay the entire conversation, but the other me is inconsolable and will not see any truth in what I say to comfort her (me?!) I do not lie or twist truth with what I say, I am honest and I know what I say is true, yet the other me will not believe a word I say. After a long time of comforting, cajoling, berating, reassuring I finally throw my head back in frustration and scream, to no one in particular “WHY THE HELL WON’T I LISTEN!?!” Then it struck me, even know, I hear those truths, but I do not listen to them, not with all my soul. I do not trust them.

I must learn to listen to myself.

The other me has stopped crying and is now smiling at me through the remaining tears.
“Thank you” she said.
I smile back at her and look around again to notice the door has reappeared. I give the other me a quick reassuring hug and step out of the room to find myself at the same fork I was at earlier on.

Rather than relate all the stories to you, I will simply tell you that no matter what way I chose to go, I ended up in a room without a door, and the door only reappeared when I had learnt what I was supposed to learn in that room. Some of the lessons were easy and obvious, some were more difficult and I spent eternities trying to figure out the answer to questions I had forgotten. Some I discovered the lesson purely by accident. Some I had different scene’s trying to teach me the same lesson. Some of the lessons I still don’t understand, but I know that I will remember the meaning of them some day soon.

I learnt that I must listen to myself. I must have faith in myself. I must trust myself. I know the solutions to all my problems, I just need to remember them. I must believe that things will work out the way they are meant to. I must remember that, even when things don’t go as I plan, they are as they are supposed to me. I must remember to be gentle with myself. I must remember to be tolerant of others. I must remember not to let a bad day ruin a week. I must remember that matters of the heart and soul are more important than everything else. I must remember that I am able to achieve anything I set my mind to. I must remember there is beauty all around me, all the time, if I take the time to see it. I must remember that everyone is a teacher. I must remember everyone is a student. I must remember to never stop looking for the lesson. These are only some of the things I learnt, though the first was by far the most important.

I must remember to remind me not to forget these lessons :)

Lisa

The Journey Begins

2005-08-08T09:22:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting cross-legged at the entrance to the cave, waiting. I have packed what I am allowed to take into my rucksack. There is not a whole lot of room with the mask I carved from a downed branch and painted with earthen dyes. It was a labor of love and I'm not about to leave it behind. I scouted the area for feathers, leaves, and other adornments and found plenty to authenticate the finished product. I worked the eyes to look like those of an eagle and to make me look fierce indeed when I take my turn dancing beside a campfire.

Ah, I hear the horses in the distance; the jangling of the tack and the creaking of well-worn leather saddles. They will soon be here and the journey will really begin.

Vi

Treasure and Traveler's Tail

2005-08-08T07:41:00.000-07:00

I had just completed carving the Asian characters for Wisdom on my walking stick when I was notified that the riders were approaching. I grabbed my backpack and started making my way to the passage way that I traveled, was it only 24 hours ago?, on my way into this cave. But before I could enter the passage, I felt the familiar tug I had felt in the Conference Room (which, by the way, I've changed the name to Wisdom's Lounge). I looked to the hole in the stone walls that lead in Wisdom's direction and something caught my eye. It looked like a piece of ivory amongst the scattered rock. The tug wouldn't let me leave without inspecting.

Picking up the rectangularish ivory shape, I felt warm radiating from it. I knew immediately that it was a gift from Wisdom. It was her tug that made me find it and I knew her radiant love. Flipping the ivory over in my hand, I gasped in surprise.

On the back of the stone was carefully etched an image of Wisdom. I knew in my heart it was her. Her stunning beauty was familiar, even though I hadn't seen her during our conversation earlier in the day. So as not to keep the other travelers waiting, I put the stone in my pocket and made my way out the cave thanking Wisdom for her precious gift all the way.

The bright sunlight was a shock to my eyes as I exited the cave. But the even greater shock was the immediate discomfort in riding the mare. "Hey, where's the cushioned seating?" I wanted to ask of my guide. Just like an American, I thought, always looking for First Class accommodations. I tried putting my mind to something else like enjoying the view or deciding what I would perform for the Queen. But my thoughts were always brought back to my tail bone with each pothole (of which there are many on dusty paths). I decided, "I do not have to ride on a mare like a Princess. I can walk, at least until my legs become to tired." I signaled to my guide to stop for a moment so that I could get off the mare. At first he took it as an insult that I wanted to walk instead of ride but somehow I was able to communicate to him that, for my health, it was better for me to walk, at least for a bit. I gestured to my leg and pretended it had a cramp I needed to walk out -- rather than point to my butt and try to pantemime great pain. I'm not sure that that would have translated as well.

Walking alongside the mare and my guide felt great! My legs were well rested from spending a day in the cave, so it was nice to stretch them. Plus, I had the added benefit of taking pictures along the way -- an impossible feat perched on a bouncing merry-go-round mare.

I took turns riding and walking during the long trip to the hermitage. I'd get on the mare when my legs were tired and got off when my tail bone could no longer stand the pain. I was relieved when we passed a cave with this image painted on its side.

I took it as a sign that the hermitage was getting closer. By the looks of this primative map, the hermitage would be just past a marshy land and a campsite. Sure enough we were approaching wetlands, so I hopped onto the mare's back with glee. It couldn't be long now.

P.S. The image of Wisdom arrived today as a gift in my non-virtual world. It is a transfer on the back of a domino made for me by a friend -- Maureen Doerr.

Hermit Welcomes Travelling Trevere'

2005-08-08T05:33:00.000-07:00

Welcome, welcome weary travellers,

one and all,

to practice your fine arts -

may joy and inspiration visit you

while you wander and create within

these peaceful walls!

Imogen Crest - Hermitage Keeper

Ride to Amazon Queen's Camp

2005-08-08T02:48:00.000-07:00

Everyone in the cave must have heard the commotion, the clatter of hooves as the riders came into the cave ready to take residents to the camp of the Amazon Queen. There are twelve of them waiting in the stables with stable women.

It will be a long journey and you must travel lightly. You need to bring a light bag with a wig and a costume inside. When we get to the Camp of the Amazons we will be performing for the Queen who I believe is currently preparing a banquet to welcome us and celebrate our arrival.

Don’t be daunted by this. You could do a poetry reading, tell a story, sing a song, read her Tarot, tell a fairy story or an old wives tale. The only requirement is that you make a presentation using your distinct voice. This is a stage you see, and I agreed to bring you because I figured you are all here because you are looking for a stage door, eager to walk out into the spotlight and be heard. You could just tell the Queen about your doorway or the vista that greeted you as you entered the cave or do a dance for her. I am sure you will be innovative.

Bookings have been made and we will be staying at the Lemurian Hermitage, recently occupied by a Hermit who will greet us and allow us to rehearse within the Hermitage. The good news is that members from the group who are currently staying at The House of the Serpent will fly in on ravens wings to join the preperations. They will not, however, accompany us on the the Queen's camp.

~My Room~

2005-08-07T22:17:00.000-07:00

~A Room of One's Own~
... My finger tips push the door open. Astonished, I try and take the whole room in at once. An impossible task. The flow of calmness and serenity speaks volumes to my soul. It is the colors of sky and water. It's as soothing as the sound of the waves past midnight, this ocean blue room. It is instantly an escape from any world. The room shares my passion for vintage embellishment ...
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Luna's Door

2005-08-07T17:08:00.000-07:00

the door

The journey is quicker than I thought.
I find my way onto a gravel path,
that leads to a giant tree.
I circle around
and find a funny shaped doorknob.
Pounding on this door is not the way.
I wait for something,
but nothing happens.
My journal calls to me.
I write and speak aloud my truth,
and with a tiny click, it opens.
Through a small doorway
down the hollow,
I enter a cave.
And there are thirteen doors waiting,
with one for me.

A golden door beckons to me,
I slip inside.
I find a simple room.
It vibrates with anticipation.
The things I need, I find with a thought
Yet, what I sought was not there a moment ago.

Wisdom for the Journey

2005-08-07T09:15:00.000-07:00

In a moment's notice we must be ready to leave again. We will be heading out to the Amazon's Camp. Before I make this journey, I decided I must visit the Conference Room.

As I pass through the archway the opens upon this room, I feel the presence again that I felt yesterday. It's a loving, generous, expansive presence. Still, I'm a bit fearful of what may be revealed to me here. I am a life-long seeker of wisdom and have learned that some wisdom brings pain...at first.

I slowly make may way into this sacred place. Out of habits from years gone by, I genuflect before crossing the bridge to the three chairs. I hesitate on the bridge. I feel a pulse coming from the area of the chairs and glowing, warm light. It pulls me in a gentle way. I hear a soft voice in my mind, "It's ok. Do not be afraid. Come sit in the chair to your right. We have a lot to discuss before your journey to the Amazon's Camp."

The pulse gently guides me. I glide as if my feet aren't touching the cold, stone floor and find myself seated in one of the three chairs. I don't know who will sit in the other two chairs, but, at the moment, I don't care. I feel myself immersed in joy and enfolded with love. It's even better than the feeling I have when my bathroom is sparkling with candlelight I am as soaking in lavender-infused water in a bubbling, hot tub. I'm relaxed. I'm a bit heady from a perfume I can't quite identify, thought I know I've experienced it before. I'm in love with lavender. This is 10 times better. This must be the almost drunken state the Sufi's describe in their poetry.

"Welcome. I am proud of you, dear one. You show great courage, strength, and willingness to be guided to whereever your journey takes you. This is a much different you from a few years ago. You have come a long way."

"Thank you. I enjoy the new me much better. Less stuffy. Less judgemental, though I know that's something I still need to keep a watch on. And a whole lot more free to be and share joy and love."

"I sensed fear when you came to this room. With the courage you show, what do you have to fear?"

"I sense that I am speaking to Wisdom itself. Am I right?"

"Yes, dear one."

"In the past, wisdom has come to me as a plank whacked across my head. I know this was necessary because I was asleep at the wheel. I needed a wake-up call. I had gone so far off track, it was very painful finding my way back. I know that I am awake now, but I'm never sure if I might meander a bit off track during a nap. And I'm not quite sure if wisdom can be won without the pain I endured."

I heard a spritely, joyous giggle before the reply. "First, let me assure you. Wisdom does not always bring pain, especially for those who stay awake. You describe your previous state very well. I'm sorry I had to wake you in such an alarming and painful way. But, as you said, it was necessary. If I had let you go farther, it would have been more painful, and likely impossible, for you to wake up at another time. The wakened state is still somewhat new to you, so I can understand your disorientation of not knowing if you have drifted to sleep again. Without a doubt, when you check in with yourself, you are awake. During that check in, you'll discover any times when you fell asleep at the wheel again. The more often you check in with yourself, the less trouble it will be finding your way back to the main road."

"Thank you. That is very helpful. I do check in with myself often. I connect with my inner spirit through words and art and meditation. I have sensed times when it felt more challenging to make the connection, and these are probably the times when I was coming back from having been asleep."

"On this journey you are taking, you are wide awake, dear one. And you have a lot to discover that will bring you great wisdom. I can't promise that some of those discoveries will not cause pain. It'll all depend on how you approach them. Now that you know of this room, you can return to it at any time and talk with me about your discoveries. Please come and share them with me, especially the painful ones. I can help you rub the pain into shining light. If you are not here, physically, in this cave during your discoveries, you can conjure the image of this room in your mind and I will be there for you."

Tears streamed down my cheeks as Wisdom spoke. I was full to overflowing with joy and relief. "Thank you so much. I have even more courage knowing Wisdom is accompanying me on the journey. I know I will have support beyond my walking stick."

Sensing it was time to leave, I knelt and then laid prostrate on the stone floor, which was surprisingly warm. I kissed the warm stone in appreciation of Wisdom, her message, and her companionship. Slowly I made my way from the sacred place.

When I arrived at my room, I knew my mare would be coming for me soon. While I waited, I carved the Asian characters for wisdom at the top of my walking stick to forever remind me of Her presence.

~Through the Door ~

2005-08-06T22:28:00.000-07:00

~The Door~
The air this day is hot, humid. I choose the seat closest to the old, rattling fan. The constant hum of the ancient motor is reassuring. My shoulders begin to relax, my eyelids close. I sleep for what seems only for a few seconds when suddenly the driver stops and announces this is where I am to get off.

He instructs me to continue down the alley to the french, blue door. He pats my hand as he hands me a large, black key. The touch of his hand is filled with kindness. I feel a prickle down my neck. This is always the first sign my fear is about to interfere with what I am trying to accomplish. I am afraid. I feel the need to turn back as I view the long alley way. I swallow hard, and slowly walk to the door.

The temperature seems ninety and I shield the sun from my eyes. Finally, I am in front of number eleven. The gloss paint upon the door is lovely. I run my hands across it. It's smoothness and even texture consoles me.

All the hardware is jet black, running around the sides and top of the door. Black nail heads are riveted into it's edges. I play with the key nervously and stare at the over-sized oblong lock. Instinctively I know it's time to go in. I put the key in the hole and turn left, the sound is clanging, permanent. I debate pushing on the tall structure when I feel instant coolness - it draws me in.

Patricia
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My Cave Dwelling

2005-08-06T20:12:00.000-07:00

I was surprised by the amount of time it took for my eyes to adjust to the darkness of the cave after the door shut behind me. After the glare of the afternoon sunshine, the darkness of the cave set the hairs on the back of my neck on end. It felt like an unnatural darkness. Not even being able to see myself, I felt what I can only assume it feels like to be spirit -- completely without form -- except for the cold, clammy feeling.

A gasp stuck in my throat when I felt a chilling breeze. Did someone walk past me? I wouldn't have known it by sight. Was it an animal? A bat? Or some other creature I hadn't learned about in science class? I stood frozen, wishing for my sight to return, when I realized I wasn't breathing. Ok, first lesson in dealing with stress, b-r-e-a-t-h. I forced myself to take a deep breath and felt as if I was swallowing the cave. The cool air reached to my toes and then shot back up to my head. I had to stay focused. "Keep breathing. Slowly." I reminded myself.

Finally, the oxygen must have reached my eyes and they began to see shapes and shadows. I saw a narrow passage way and a hope of light far off in the distance. Using my trusty walking stick, I felt for confirmation of the path in front of me. Sometimes I discovered I was facing a solid rock wall when I thought I had a few more steps to take before the next turn.

Making it through the maze of rock walls was worth it when I reached my room with a view. My whole body breathed a sigh of relief. The lapping sounds of the water brought down my heart rate and reminded me to breath at my natural rate again. I was home. The ocean always feels like an old friend, and here it was to comfort me. As soon as I regained my senses, I took my digital camera from it's pack and took this photo.

In this room I discovered an elevated area where I'll stay dry even in high tides. I have a wonderfully soft mattress that hugs me. I can't believe the mattress is sitting on a cave floor. A plate of luscious fruits, native cheeses, and a fresh-from-the-oven loaf of bread sat on a tray beside the bed. I'm glad I found this luxury before it was sampled by the other creatures who call this cave home. Honestly, I don't know why it hadn't been devoured.

After eating a portion of the food left for me, my strength, along with my curiosity, was renewed. I noticed a second passageway off my room and thought I'd wander its length to see where it would take me. Without fear, I let my eyes adjust as the light left and soon I discovered a new light to approach. It didn't take me long before my eyes were rewarded with this sight. I knew my camera would never be able to capture the beauty, so I sketched this image when I returned to my room.
What an amazing place! It is completely lit by glowing icicles, stalagtites and stalagmites. It glows with the energy of the earth. I felt a strong, wise, loving presence in the room, though I was the only being I could see. I wasn't ready to sit in one of the chairs and commune with whatever may be there. My senses were already on overload. I decided to return to my room with a view to rest and relax, record these scribblings in my journal, and take a short nap. I'll return to what I've dubbed the Conference Room when I feel more settled.

NOTE FROM CONSCIENCE: The images I have posted in this blog I found on the net. They are not mine. I do not own copyright for them. Since I assume only my few traveling companions will see this blog, I felt it was ok to use these images as this is for personal use only. Please do not share these images with anyone. In future posts, unless I take credit for an image, assume it is not mine.

Michelle's room

2005-08-06T17:14:00.000-07:00

I've reflected long on this room I am to call my own and realize I don't want to be closed in by four walls and a ceiling no matter how attractively furnished with its stone hearth, iron wall sconces, and authentic primitive artwork. Heart racing, breath ragged, I feel buried alive in this cave. I am more claustrophobic then I realized. I will sleep outdoors.

Tonight, when the yellow moon rises and reaches the zenith hour, I will dance in the warm breeze under an inky sky filled with stars--semi attired in an ankle length, sun colored, belted skirt of scarfs, hair flowing loose against otherwise bare skin, face tilted, eyes closed. My steps sure, filled with knowledge so ancient it has been forgotten until now.

After joining you on the bus

2005-08-06T16:57:00.000-07:00

I've walked the pathways
lost an hour dreaming by the waterway
launched my winged canoe
and floated past the great white mountain
flown across the sea
and painted a few dolphins during flight
but
when this morning I reached the silence of Umbria
I knew I could not go
into the cavern, or any place beneath the ground
unless I was allowed to take the sunshine with me

Now I have made my gate
and posted it twice
I can press it's magic bell
and hope that the enchantress will let me in
with my box and hope that she will let me keep the light
as I wander the strange labyrinth
and seek direction from strangers

A song.....

2005-08-06T16:52:00.000-07:00

Well, as I have already described and explored my lovely quarters inside the caves of the enchantress, I have been sitting here in front of the fire and I feel like singing. I hope you can all hear me from your quarters. I want to sing a song by a group called the Waifs. It is called Papa, and I sing it in a blues scale, acapella. It may seem sad to some, but it fills me with joy. I am a daddy's girl - at 27 years old, I still walk down the street holding his hand, and my hand still feels tiny in his. I still stand on his feet and dance and hug him whenever I can. I loved both of my grandfathers very much also, incredible men who helped influence and shape who i am. I will always be these men's Little Girl, so rather than finding this song sad, it makes me feel happy, it makes me proud - it may not be the story of my grandfathers, but to me it honours the men in my life who do and have meant so much to me, so I sing it loud and clear.

We-eell, my Papa was a fisherman
and he fished the deep blue sea
he did home-make some fine blackberry nip
and he always passed a nip along to me.
Well he smelled like black tar fishing nets
of tiger-belly growl
He was my good Papa, yeah
but he just be bones now.

Well Grand-daddy was a sailor man
and he sailed from far across the sea
he did talk some kind of funny, yeah
but it never did bother me.
When he talked about his home-land
Twas with a sad and furrowed brow.
No more tears Grand-daddy
you just be bones now.

Well I look now at my Papa
and his black hairs all turned grey
and the strong arms that did carry me
they're now withering away
Lay down your burden Papa
Won't you come sit with me at home?
We've got to spend some time together
before we just be bones.

Lisa

Reaching My Door

2005-08-06T16:37:00.000-07:00

I apologise that my account of this stage of our journey is so long winded, but I wanted to capture every detail!!

Well my excitement and anticipation has been replaced by a happy exhaustion! We have finally arrived at the Cave of Sybil!! The bus ride was uneventful - you could feel the excitement of beginning a journey tingling in the air, quiet chatter as we scooted past fields and mountains and rivers.

Winnie cruised along in her little car behind us - I hope she wasn't so busy concentrating on driving that she missed the picturesque landscape we were passing through. We stopped in the cutest little town to have a quick lunch - the street was lined with small shops selling just about anything and everything. I wolfed down a sandwich as quickly as I could and went for a quick explore. There was one store that was selling beautful handmade soaps and things - I bought a bar that smells like jasmine and lavender, a bottle of body lotion and a couple of lip balms (I already have about 12 in my pockets and carry bag - but you can never have enough lip balm!) I would have loved to explore some more of the little stores, but before you could say "impulse spending" i would have used all my money, so the bus loading back up saved me!!

I settled back into my seat and pulled out my mp3 player and headphones and spent the next little while watching sun drenched fields and trees roll by, my ears filled with my favourite music from Carla Bruni. The whole album is accoustic, and in french. I don't speak french, so I have absolutely no idea what she is singing about, but I lay there daydreaming and imagining who she is singing to and make my own story for each song. Not too long after, we stop apparently in the middle of nowhere.

We have came down a small dirt road that weaved through the forest and has suddenly come to an end. Sybil Enchantress informs us (almost a little too gleefully!) that it's on foot to the caves from here, but not far. There are a few groans at this news, but I'm actually quite happy about it - a stroll through the forest will be quite nice. Surprisingly though, we aren't going to the caves as a group. we could, but we would have to take the old path, which is steep and rocky and dangerous, not to mention takes several days (if you're lucky) to get to the entrance of the caves. There is a shorter way - a path for each of us. We must look through the forest for our path - I'm a little concerned I'm going to accidentally follow a trail not meant for me and get lost, but Sybil assures me that that is not possible and I will most definately know my path when I come across it. Once we find our path, we must follow it and it will lead us to the entrance of the caves.

Everyone has loaded up their gear (I've offered to help Winnie carry some of hers!) and is heading off in different directions. I choose to stroll towards the gap between two giant trees, that have great boughs reaching out across each other forming a kind of archway. They look like ancient old lovers holding hands. I pause and gently lay a hand on the trunk of one of the old trees. My hand looks tiny on it's huge trunk, and it tingles. I can almost hear what the trees are whispering to each other, but not quite. I continue on and pick my way through the shrubbery. I hit a thick patch of brambles at one point, much too deep to go through, so I decide to try and go around them and turn south and follow them downwards. After walking for about an hour, i spot a small hillock and climb it to see how much further I have got to go. Much to my dismay, the trail of thorny bushes seems to go on forever. I turn back northward and decide to try the other direction, only to find the same thing - they are seemingly endless.

Suddenly I begin to panic - I am out in the middle of a forest, alone, seemingly lost and stuck. It will get dark soon and then what do I do? Breathe, keep calm. You can remember the solution to this problem. I need a better view - surely these things must stop somewhere!! I look around frantically for a tree and spot the perfect one. It's branches hang low and it will be easy to climb. Dropping my rucksack, I scramble up the tree. After much grunting and a few scrapes I am almost up the top of the tree. I straddle the branch I am sitting on and cautiously move out towards the edge of the limb. As the foliage parts before me I gasp in astonishment. I am high above the forest, and an ocean of green spreads out before me in every direction.

Mountains rise up into the distance, their rocky peaks pointing accusing fingers at the sky. I scan the forest, and see very nearby a clearing amongst the trees. There is a large rock in the centre of it, and a small deer grazes nearby. I try to find the path to the clearing and groan with the realisation that it is through the brambles. I have to go through. Well, no-one said it would be easy. I climb down the tree and pause before I go to thank it for it's help. I don't know why I do this, it's just an impulse - I feel it would be rude to leave without showing some gratitude. I move north still, figuring I'll get even with the clearing then go straight across. I come to the place where I plan to push through and decide to have a quick break before I undertake the task I am so dreading. Sitting on a large rock, i sip at my water and ponder the best way to do this.

Then, there is a deer in front of me. I swear it wasn't there a moment before, and blink to check my vision isn't tricking me. Perhaps I scratched myself on some poisonous bush and I'm hallucinating? Again, I am taken by the idea that the deer can understand me, just as the tree could. I put my water away, move to within a few steps and drop to one knee. "Hello" I say, solemnly, inclining my head slightly. "Oh what a stupid thing to say!" I think. I feel I should be more formal somehow. I suddenly jerk my head up and stare at the deer. It looks back at me with it's huge, dark, trusting eyes. It is telling me that hello is fine. It is telling me that it has been waiting for me and will show me the way. I have no idea how it is communicating to me - it is not out loud, not in sentences, somehow I just seem to understand. "thank you" i reply sincerely and stand and gather my things. The deer turns and leads me a little further northward, glancing back over it's shoulder at me every now and then to make sure I haven't fallen behind.

Suddenly it veers left and disappears into the brambles. As I reach the place where it vanished, I discover a tunnell through the thick growth! I laugh out loud and enter. The deer seems to be smiling at me, then suddenly we are running. The bell on my wrist jingles as the edges fo the tunnell flash past me. The deer prances ahead of me and i am chasing it - i never knew I could run so fast!! Then i burst out into the open clearing I had seen from the tree. I laugh again and collapse on the large rock. I feel the deer nuzzling my hand and gently stroke it's head. Its fur is so soft! I gently pet the deer, thanking it, then start just chatting to it. It still isn't dark yet - I can't believe it's only been a few hours!! It feels like a week! - but the sun is just beginning to set.

I rest for a little, then feel the deer nudge me - it wants to play. It wants to dance. I smile as it begins prancing round in circles, calling for me to join it, then start to sing out loud as I do join in. My voice rings clear and loud through the forest as we dance. I spin round and round until I am dizzy and have to sit down before I fall over, and collapse in a heap on the lush grass, laughing again.

When I sit up I notice, with some surprise, a door!! It is just, well, there!! It's not attached to anything, there are no walls either side of it, it's just there! I grab my rucksack and approach it. It is a big door, and made of dark wood. It has intricate carvings, and intruiged, I reach out and trace the beautiful patterns with my fingertips. Like the tree as I left the bus, my hand tingles and I can once again almost hear what the trees are whispering to each other. I wonder whether the trees I felt first, and along the way, were telling me I was going the right direction? There are a myriad of shapes carved into the door, with no apparent pattern, but all fitting together perfectly. There are straight lines, spirals, waves, all sorts of shapes.

As i follow the path of them, the door gently swings ajar. it's then I realise that it doesn't actually have a handle on it. I gape at the door, then stare at the deer, then back at the door. The deer tells me there is no handle on the door so that it cannot be opened by anyone else. It opens to my touch only. I nod and look at it again. I turn to the deer and kneel once more, I thank it for its help. It prances a little circle - it is proud of itself. It has been waiting for me. It's task was to guide me, and it is full of pride that it has done it's task well. It tells me we will meet again, but for now it must go run through the fields. I wish it well until then, and turn back towards my door. I push it all the way open and am surprised that it is almost weightless.

There is a hall beyond it, a hall of stone. There are torches flickering at intervals along the walls. I step inside and the door gently closes behind me. All bemused at the events of the afternoon, I give a shrug and start moving down the hall. I stroll along, often touching the stone. The hall winds this way and that, then suddenly stops at another door. Seemingly the first door has just moved to this spot, because it is exactly the same, no handle and all. I reach out and touch it and again it swings open. As i touch it I have the understanding that this is not the same door - it is a different one, with a slightly different working. Anyone can open this door by touching it - anyone except a person who intends me harm of any sort, be it physical or emotional. That knowledge makes me feel incredibly safe.

I step into the room and look around. There is a massive canopied bed. The fire is already going and there is a hot meal steaming on a small table - my favourite pasta in fact - with a glass already poured from a bottle of my favourite red wine. I sit down and wolf down the food and then relax for a moment, enjoying the wine. The bed is covered in thick blankets and I'm tempted to crawl into it right away! Instead I explore the room a little more - there is a huge bathroom off to one side. It has a double shower with multiple jets, and a massive bath that appears to be carved into the stone floor. It is full of steaming water, yet there are no taps. A hot spring! that's it! Without a second to waste I strip off and dive into the bath, the hot water relaxing my aching muscles and cleansing me. I clean myself with the soap I bought today (which seems a lifetime ago!) and just relax. "aahhhh" I think, sipping my wine, "heaven!!!". I had been expecting a guide to lead me to my room and wondered what had happened to them.

Then it struck me - a guide had lead me to my room. The hall I followed led directly from my door into the caves to my room, there were no intersections of forks the whole way. The earth itself had been my guide. I reluctantly climb out of the bath and wrap myself in the massive fluffy bathrobe and slippers hanging in the bathroom. I refill my glass and settle into the huge armchair in front of the fire and wonder how all the others went, how they managed to get to their rooms and what their doors were like. I certainly hope it was easier than my trip! I will go find them soon and find out, but in the meantime I am hypnotised by the fire, so I sit quietly.

Lisa

My Quarters in The Cave of Enchantress

2005-08-06T16:36:00.000-07:00

Inside the Cave of the Enchantress

I stand looking tentatively at the sealed cellar door that leads deep within, to a place I have been reluctant to enter alone. Others have bravely opened their tailor made doors, but this one has been haunting me for many years. I have seen it in there, amid the parched arid terrain, tightly, heavily closed and I have felt an overpowering apprehension. The fate of Pandora and her box has been well and truly etched into my psyche and I have dreaded the thought of opening it, only to release winged terrors.

Right at this moment something is very different. As I stand looking I can hear sounds that I have never heard before, soft voices calling me to explore the expansive chamber below. Intuitively I know that this will not be the last seal to break but I have been released from a stressful work-place and feel a little stronger, more able to cope and those voices are haunting me.

It has been a long day and I am weary. I am standing in harsh, flat, scrubby plains that have little appeal. I am confused! The Sibyl's Grotto is supposed to be in Umbria, Italy and this landscape most certainly is not Umbrian. The enchantress is not going to be impressed when she cannot find me at the appointed spot.

The voices become louder, urging me to lift open this door, at the bottom of stone steps. The steps remind me of an abandoned factory where I played, alone, as a child. At the end of those stairs there was a sealed door and I spent hours imagining what lay beyond. Curious!

With a strident, unfamiliar self confidence I grab the steel handle and pull it towards me. The hinges had appeared to be rusted but the door opens without so much as a creak. Relief washes over me as I pass through the doorway into refreshingly cool darkness. I lightly touch the chilled, stone ledge and make my way down into what feels like a vast chamber. It is the sounds, the smell that reveal the dimension of this place that I have entered. I sense that this is an enchanted, mystical , spiritual place that I have stumbled upon and stand quite still, adjusting my eyes to the light.

A warm hand grabs mine and as my guides flashlight hits the walls I gasp. All around us is exquisite, sacred art, art that is calling up my past. The rocky overhangs have been transformed into magnificent galleries, adorned with hand stencilled images, painted with striking red ochres and yellow clay paint. A thousand eyes turn to look at me, eyes that had been motionless until I made my entrance. Figures turned in recognition, figures longing for life to be infused into them.

What artist painted these halls; carved these figures, shaped the towering rocky overhangs?

My guide turns, looks at me and smiles. I know her immediately to be the Enchantress that had said we were going to Umbria. "This has been a place of celebration and ceremony for thousands of years. These are to be your quarters for the coming months!" she tells me and before I can respond she has vanished.

Still holding my empty suitcase I look around. No longer dark or gloomy the cavern is filtered with a radiant luminosity. This hauntingly sacred place, so full of atmospheric secrecy, has no sign of permanent occupation. It is pristine, the ultimate refuge. Nearby are deep, dark, still pools, filled with reflections and memories by Mnemosyne, Goddess of Memory.

I put my suitcase on a ledge, leaving it open, ready to store the stories, images, artefacts and look for a place to rest. I am suddenly beyond weary. I yearn to sleep. The Enchantress is gone, riding, galloping towards the Lemurian Hermitage. A night rider, dressed in black she is sure to return, eventually. I have faith that she will return.

Through the Door

2005-08-06T14:53:00.000-07:00

It took many years of stillness, then slowly wading my way through a thick pea-soup mixture of an emotionless land, before I arrived at my door. Just the sight of my door thrilled me. I knew to the tips of my toes that it was mine. I could tell by the way it shimmered and echoed my name. It was beautiful, pristine, not a mark of wear or tear on it.

When I tried to open the door, I was surprised to find it locked. How could that be? This is MY door! Why can I not open MY door? The door
wisely responded, "You must know how to open this door, for it truly is yours. Certainly you know what you must do to open it."

"Open Sesame!"

"Alla Ka Zam!"

"Bibbity Bobbity Boo!"

None of my incantations worked. So I tried, in a smaller voice, "please." That didn't prove successful either.

I pounded at the door. I wailed. I tried to pick the lock. You'll see, the door was no longer pristine by the time I had worn myself out. My
physical strength had nothing on this door.

I sulked away hoping someone in the village would have an answer...or know of a key.

I was pointed down many long paths. I know I took the wrong forks in the road many times. I got lost. I stumbled. I started to believe I
would never find the key. I got so disoriented that one day my meanderings lead me right off a cliff.

I fell for what felt like forever. I thought I was falling into the next world because I saw my life pass before my eyes -- all of my failings, all of the wrong turns, all of the times I could have
been/done so much more. I finally landed with a thud so hard I thought all of my bones were broken.

At first I was afraid to move, and certainly afraid to open my eyes. I lay in a crumbled form on sandy ground. Gently I moved a toe, then a finger, and, since I felt no pain in their movement, I took a deep breath. My lungs didn't hurt, but something in my chest did. I
continued my inspection gradually moving other body parts. While everything ached a little, everything felt intact. The only pain I felt was in my chest.

Still afraid to open my eyes, I used my hands to cautiously touch where I felt the pain. Like a girl in school, my hand immediately went to the spot it knew by rote from all of the times I had said the Pledge of Allegiance. There, right over my heart, I felt sharpness -- it almost felt like shards of glass. Fearing I may be bleeding to
death, I finally opened my eyes.

My first surprise was seeing my heart, shattered in a million pieces, all poking through my chest. Even so, I wasn't bleeding. I looked around to find out where I was and, there in front of me, was my doorway. This time, the door was open.

Astonished by the beauty inside the doorway, and not wanting to risk it closing again, I ran inside. There I found the wisdom that had been
hiding in my heart. I found the voice I knew was mine but could never find when I spoke. I found the instructions for reassembling my heart
-- using some of the old pieces and adding some new pieces -- until the finished heart was more beautiful and stronger than the old. Oh,
you could still see the cracks from where it had shattered, but that didn't matter. It only made it more beautiful.

Today, in the hopes of getting through the cave door, I've created an image of my doorway. I hope the master of the cave door finds it to be true. Or, hell, I guess I'll have to go meandering again to see if I can stumble upon another truth.

by Ashleyshea

2005-08-06T14:32:00.000-07:00

The door in front of me

My bags are in my hand as I stare at the door in front of me.
What would she say?
Will she give me a warm welcome as I make my way through?
Or will she laugh at me? Of that I’m certain she won’t do.
It was a long trip from home to this place.
The road seemed endless but the sites where beautiful.
It definitely was worth it!
For I feel full of magic since I got in the bus.
I stare at the door in front of me,
Wondering if she will open her heart for me.
What wonderful things and experiences lay beyond her?
What is waiting for me behind her wooden skeleton?
I take a deep breath as I see the Enchantress passing by.
“Everything all right my dear?” She asks.
“Yes” I answer.
She smiles and keeps walking with her own bags on her hand.
I stare at the door in front of me once more and lay my bags on the floor.
Full of wonder I walk towards it, trembling a little.
My right hand slowly rises to grab the iron curvy handle of the old wooden door.
Its surface is cold and smooth.
I smile for I have made it this far with out being struck by lighting.
My thumb finds its way to the bolt pressing it down.
I hear the unlocking of the old door and I feel its love flowing through my fingers.
It is exhilarating!
I breathe deeply as I pull the handle towards me and the door gives away.
It is not heavy as I though but light as a feather.
Then suddenly silence.
As I open it all is in silence, not even the birds are singing for they are all waiting in expectation of what will happen between me and the old door.
A smooth country breeze caresses my face.
I take a look to what lies behind the door and smile full of joy contemplating the splendors that are in front of me.

Dusk Comin' Down

2005-08-06T07:51:00.000-07:00

I'm thinking as I sit here, pleasantly exhausted, after my journey to the cave. I remember another night when magic floated, as it does this evening, in the still air. I believed then that everything was possible. I believe that tonight.

I strolled homeward off the hill
just as dusk was comin' down
and the air was softly still.
Moths fluttered by on double sets of wings,
erratic helicopters unsure of destination.
The only sound … my footsteps on the graveled road
and the rustle of unseen insects in the grass.

Out there, beyond this shore,
the Straits--
calm as a pond in failing light.
Headlands marching one and then another,
slowly vanishing into the night.
There is one more shadow cast,
that of another Nation,
a neighbor and a friend.

I’m tempted to step into a kayak
and paddle toward that distant shore,
but the moths insist they lead me home
before darkness takes both view and sight.

Vi
©August 6, 2005

~Baggage~

2005-08-05T21:14:00.000-07:00

A grotto in the mountains of Italy ! My heart is over come with joy. My head swimming with anticipation. I grab my journal bag of canvas cloth, hand dyed orange, tattered lace and ribbon shimmer with a metallic cast that have been sewn with patience on the outsides. It lumps up gently as I lay it upon the bed.My speckled notebook is there half full of painted collage, clippings, envelopes and scratched photos. This is my prize possession. I see well worn brushes and water color pencils, a bottle of glue, and a sprinkling bottle of water. An old notebook with a torn yellow cover I use to record daily thoughts in. I can always fill the other side of the pages. My camera is loaded.

It has been said if one chooses a fictitious name, acts that character, it can build self confidence. On this journey, I am Ms. LoveLace - artist, poet/writer and restorer of antique dolls. A flapper style dress of dark hollyhock pink is part of my traveling attire. Satin ballet slippers, dyed to match are already on my feet. My hat is big, broad,and made of straw. I tilt it on its side almost covering one eye. Fresh flowers adorn one side.

I have soft denim jeans, embroided down the sides of each leg and a simple poor boy shirt. My flight jacket is old, well worn leather and very oversized. Thick socks are stuffed into the hiking boots I place at the bottom of the vintage suitcase.

My night shirt is off white, made of dotted swiss and ties with ribbon n the back. Various unmentionables are stuffed into the pockets.

And lastly, a well worn edition of Wuthering Heights, gardenia body lotion, I so often splurge on, eye wear, my penny doll, a lace hankie and two small silver framed photos of my favorite (male) movie stars whom I shall not reveal are all in a round paper mache box.

I kiss my cat on her head, she stretches and returns to her dreams. I take a last look in the hallway mirror. Ms. LoveLace quietly shuts her front door.

Patricia

Warriors Gate

2005-08-05T19:25:00.000-07:00

I needed a gate with a light behind for I cannot go beneath the earth without taking the sun with me.
by Fran Sbrocchi

Cave of Enchantress

2005-08-05T14:37:00.000-07:00

"Every man must have one secret, even if only one, from his wife', he said. 'Promise me this my whey-faced piano player; promise me you'll use all the keys on the ring except that last little one I showed you. Play with anything you find, jewels, silver plate; make toy boats of my share certificates, if it pleases you, and send them sailing off to America after me. All is yours - all is open to you - except the lock that this single key fits. Yet it is the key to a little room at the foot of the west tower, behind the still-room, at the end of a dark little corridor full of horrid cobwebs that would get into your hair and frighten you if you ventured there. Oh and you will find it such a dull little room! But you must promise me, if you love me, to leave it well alone. It is only a private study, a hideaway, a 'den', as the English say, where I can go, sometimes, on those infrequent yet inevitable occasions when the yoke of marriage seems to weigh too heavily on my shoulders"

"I took the forbidden key from the heap and left the others lying there... I felt no fear, no intimidation of dread."
from the Bloody Chamber by Angela Carter

Now I do not mean to sound alarmist since some of you have gone straight through the doorways without fear or intimidation of dread. Maybe you have not read Angela Carter's Bloody Chamber. No doubt you have and no doubt, like me you are ready to take the forbidden key, whatever the cost and go past the cobwebs and through the door to that little room.

I was in a bit of a quandary really because I do believe that door represent hope and opportunity, a passageway from one state or world to another. I am closing a door behind me as I leave the Victorian Education Department and opening another as I blithely head off with all of you to Italy and the Cave of the Enchantress. I have often told people that Soul Food is my inner world and so when I think of a door I think of an open doorway. But, we all know there are many doors don't we. 'The entrance to the seven zones of Paradise or the cave of initiation. The three doors of the Cathedral are symbolic.

So I come to another door. This one has been sealed for a very long time. It is set in a space like this.

It is a heavy door with old hinges and is very firmly shut. I mean, really, if I go around opening doors like this I may just end up in a room with book titles like The Keys Of Mysteries, The Initiation or The Secret of Pandora's Box and find myself as an unlikely heroine in some gruesome, sordid tragedy like the seventeen year old bride in The Bloody Chamber.

Between you and me I am just a wee nervous about this Enchantress who is taking us off to a subterranean cave in the Umbrian Mountains. We will see....

As soon as I saw the cave of The Enchantress I knew that I had to make a journal in which to document my stay here. It happened that I had a copy of a National Geographic containing images of some of the most famous caves that have been discovered, particularly in France. So I cut out a number of images and covered an inexpensive, ring binder book. Then I covered the book with contact plastic seal and each day I am putting my notes in it. For once there are no complaints. This is a significant shift from old journal entries where I plotted and planned my future away from the regimentation of a school. This book is filling with ideas. It is becoming a container for my journey of self exploration and the creative treasure I return with.

Life's Doors

2005-08-05T11:40:00.000-07:00

Doors of my life (reality & fantasy). For full sized viewing look here: http://photobucket.com/albums/y7/Nicola_466/?action=view&current=Doors3.jpg

Bobbi

2005-08-05T00:28:00.000-07:00

Oh yeah . . . the garage door where they told me to park the Porsche. Had to be able to open that as well.
There is a somewhat bigger copy of this very convoluted picture here: http://www.outbackonline.net/cross/CrossLove.htm

2005-08-04T15:30:00.000-07:00

My Double Doors

2005-08-04T03:51:00.000-07:00

With Wheels

Quad Haiku

2005-08-04T03:48:00.000-07:00

Unpick the cliche
Prepare to stitch it again
I’m packing heavy

To the open road!
With just what is on my back
Plus everything else

Stowed so carefully
In my strong Eagle Creek Bag
Equipped with wheels

Luckily, I find
Just enough room in the bag
To pack Kerouac

2005-08-04T03:47:00.000-07:00

Don't forget to pack the Kerouac

Packing To Leave

2005-08-03T14:29:00.000-07:00