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marlawentmadA spell hadn’t been cast here in a long, long time. She waded through the dark of her memory, barking her shins and stubbing her toes. The headdress was heavier than she remembered and it pinched. The stones on the path were sharp and hidden by bramble and overgrowth. She hadn’t went to the spring in an age. She didn’t recall exactly when she entirely had stopped seeing the gossamer threads of connection through everything.
It was a gradual fading of sight. It started with objects like keys and athames. The luster was no longer there, and she couldn’t see the swirling particles conjoin and make the new colors as she worked. She had still felt the thrum of energy through them though. Her heart clenched around the memory of the sensation, a kind of tingling vibration that worked under her skin and into her bones as she moved the intention, this way and that. She remembered the satisfying click of the pieces when they fit just right so it all balanced and hummed happily. The lump in her throat ached with the yearning for that sense of contentment. She lost the sight of the essence of the crystals after that. Then she lost the gifts from the animals; the feather, the whisker, the claw. The vibrancy of the plants was next, and eventually, she couldn’t see the auras of people either.
Those were lonely years. Without them, she grew distrustful and paranoid, unable to discern where her energy stopped and where others began. This is when she could no longer feel the currents reliably either. She felt invaded, drowned in the heaviness of boundarylessness. Every face was inscrutable. She couldn’t guess at intention or moods, their state of mind and deceit a sharp edge she cut herself on, more than once. She was taken advantage of, and hurt. But she learned, slowly. She felt like every interaction took ages with all the small details she had to analyze, and relationships formed at a glacial pace. The valleys and grooves of familiarity taking an age to develop over the long stretches she needed to make sure they were safe and worthy to allow near. She never invited anyone inside though. A sanctuary must remain a sanctuary.
The path became a thin line in the underbrush. She went on her hands and knees through the small opening and when she broke through to the clearing, two amber eyes met hers. The whiskers twitched and the feline sniffed her nose carefully. She stayed still and when the cat decided to rub its soft forehead against her cheek, she smiled. She knew for certain now, that all her years of stepping off the cliffside of her self-doubt was the practice she needed. The wide open sky was her domain of self-trust. She had no wings, but she suspected she could soar in a different way. The dreams had not led her astray. She had seen no tell tale glimmers, had felt no tingling pull, and yet, here was the cat. Just as she expected. She remembered the sense of abundance in those old days. When she followed her sight for the components she would need, but she had a different knowing now.
She felt her center drop, heavy and content as the cat in front of her, purring and rolling on the sweet clover. They made there way deep into the forest, following the sound of the water she had denied herself these past years. She had been ashamed and forsaken. The water was crystal clear as she remembered. Her eyes twinkled back at her as she leaned in close to the wide pool. With a sigh, she slipped off her shift and slid into the water easily, like she had dozens of times before. The sun was a conflagration of yellow and orange through her closed eyelids. She felt the reassuring hands of the guides through her hair and on her back, the tension in her shoulders loosening and her breath coming easier.
She had whatever she needed all along, curled into the recesses of her being.
***
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It was a gradual fading of sight. It started with objects like keys and athames. The luster was no longer there, and she couldn’t see the swirling particles conjoin and make the new colors as she worked. She had still felt the thrum of energy through them though. Her heart clenched around the memory of the sensation, a kind of tingling vibration that worked under her skin and into her bones as she moved the intention, this way and that. She remembered the satisfying click of the pieces when they fit just right so it all balanced and hummed happily. The lump in her throat ached with the yearning for that sense of contentment. She lost the sight of the essence of the crystals after that. Then she lost the gifts from the animals; the feather, the whisker, the claw. The vibrancy of the plants was next, and eventually, she couldn’t see the auras of people either.
Those were lonely years. Without them, she grew distrustful and paranoid, unable to discern where her energy stopped and where others began. This is when she could no longer feel the currents reliably either. She felt invaded, drowned in the heaviness of boundarylessness. Every face was inscrutable. She couldn’t guess at intention or moods, their state of mind and deceit a sharp edge she cut herself on, more than once. She was taken advantage of, and hurt. But she learned, slowly. She felt like every interaction took ages with all the small details she had to analyze, and relationships formed at a glacial pace. The valleys and grooves of familiarity taking an age to develop over the long stretches she needed to make sure they were safe and worthy to allow near. She never invited anyone inside though. A sanctuary must remain a sanctuary.
The path became a thin line in the underbrush. She went on her hands and knees through the small opening and when she broke through to the clearing, two amber eyes met hers. The whiskers twitched and the feline sniffed her nose carefully. She stayed still and when the cat decided to rub its soft forehead against her cheek, she smiled. She knew for certain now, that all her years of stepping off the cliffside of her self-doubt was the practice she needed. The wide open sky was her domain of self-trust. She had no wings, but she suspected she could soar in a different way. The dreams had not led her astray. She had seen no tell tale glimmers, had felt no tingling pull, and yet, here was the cat. Just as she expected. She remembered the sense of abundance in those old days. When she followed her sight for the components she would need, but she had a different knowing now.
She felt her center drop, heavy and content as the cat in front of her, purring and rolling on the sweet clover. They made there way deep into the forest, following the sound of the water she had denied herself these past years. She had been ashamed and forsaken. The water was crystal clear as she remembered. Her eyes twinkled back at her as she leaned in close to the wide pool. With a sigh, she slipped off her shift and slid into the water easily, like she had dozens of times before. The sun was a conflagration of yellow and orange through her closed eyelids. She felt the reassuring hands of the guides through her hair and on her back, the tension in her shoulders loosening and her breath coming easier.
She had whatever she needed all along, curled into the recesses of her being.
***
If you liked this entry, please follow the link to vote for it, and while you're there, you can check out other talented writers! The poll will close Monday, May 16th at 7pm ET. https://therealljidol.dreamwidth.org/1115479.html
no subject
Date: 2022-05-11 12:47 am (UTC)Do you know Eliot's The Four Quartets, T?
With the drawing of this Love and the voice of this
Calling
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
Through the unknown, remembered gate
When the last of earth left to discover
Is that which was the beginning;
At the source of the longest river
The voice of the hidden waterfall
And the children in the apple-tree
Not known, because not looked for
But heard, half-heard, in the stillness
Between two waves of the sea.
Quick now, here, now, always—
A condition of complete simplicity
(Costing not less than everything)
And all shall be well and
All manner of thing shall be well
When the tongues of flame are in-folded
Into the crowned knot of fire
And the fire and the rose are one.
no subject
Date: 2022-05-12 02:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-05-13 12:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-05-15 12:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-05-15 04:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-05-15 05:17 pm (UTC)Very thought-provoking!
And the ending is perfect. I always feel so loved, hugged almost, when in water.
no subject
Date: 2022-05-16 03:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-05-16 08:08 pm (UTC)I'm curious as to what led her back to the water just now, as it seemed to be the source of the guides. Why wait so long to return? There must have been something pushing her to learn to live without her sight. I love the revelation here at the end; it's very hopeful. Great job this week!