It was a dark and stormy night

Last night, there was a huge storm with thunder and lightning.  I was reading.  Then I wasn’t.  I could hear the thunder and see the lightning – still, I had a sense that I was sleeping.  “Strange dream” I thought – and then “I’ve had stranger.”

I was in the theatre I happen to love which has a wonderful row for people with mobility issues and the most comfortable chairs. I had a soda in the arm of the chair and a tray of nachos on my lap.  I was confused because I was alone and I NEVER go to the movies alone.  A series of films were presented. Each set of credits were very brief – and only rarely showed the actors/actresses names. Shortly after the credits in the first film, I recognized characters from my work.  Each work had its own film.  It was interesting to see the characters and settings as I have envisioned them. I was surprised at some of the scenes I saw – I know I had NOT written those scenes. Or at least – I haven’t written them YET.  Since there were scenes I was not expecting, I had a great deal of fun.

When the screen went dark and the lights started coming up, I saw the Goddess Bhride walk down the row toward me. “What did you think?” She asked.

“Interesting work, my Lady. I didn’t write all the scenes that were portrayed.”

She smiled.  “True.  You haven’t written them yet.  Don’t worry.  You will.  They may not make the Director’s Cut, however, you will write them.”

She helped me up (which my husband would do ordinarily), and hugged me.  “You won’t remember the scenes, you know.”

“I am not surprised. You never make it that easy.”

She threw back Her head and laughed and laughed…and I found myself literally blown away by Her laughter.

Then I woke up, it was 3:30 AM, and I had to get undressed and ready for bed and take my night meds.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t sleep after that.  I knew that I wouldn’t be able to recover any of the new scenes, so it made no sense to write.  So I finished my book, and caught an hour nap, and have been up since then.

I’m sleep deprived, and I have a headache.  I know I will eventually find my way to those scenes I haven’t written yet.  That’s Her way of telling me: “Just keep writing.”

©Cedar Wolfsinger, June 29, 2016

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Adirondack Dryad

As soon as I sat down at the picnic table, I knew there was something wrong.  It had been two years since I’d been to this campground – still, I had camped at this particular site for several years before that.  I was familiar with the rocks, with the vines, with the trees… With the trees… Something was wrong with the trees.  I tracked around the perimeter of the site, checking each of the trees in turn.  As I moved to the trees near the fire ring, I realized the problem.  One of the trees had recently been cut down.  The heart wood was not sound.  And the Dryad was still connected to Her Tree. The tree had been declining for some time before it was cut.  It hadn’t been very long before we arrived, since the wood was still green and not at all dry. The Dryad had been unable to get away. She was a young one, the tree was not large nor old, and the dryad was just inexperienced.  I felt her sadness, her grief.  Being a mere human, I had no idea how to free her.  However – I have friends – not all of whom are human.  I sat down on the fire ring, centered and grounded, and called to a friend of mine who is of the Fair Folk.  She is actually Royalty – but I called to her because she is my friend and could help the dryad, not because she is Royalty.  I let her know what was wrong – and she came directly.

Many of my friends and relations wonder about me for being close with humans – especially with humans who are young, compared to my people – the Fae. Then, something like this happens and they acknowledge that having human friends, especially human friends who are Bards, is a good thing by turns. 

The Human Bard was clearly distraught. 

"What is it?” I asked her.

Instead of words, she sent me the picture of the failing young Dryad. There were others who could have gone, who could have helped the youngling. I was the one who was asked. I went immediately.

The place is beautiful – in the mountains the humans call the Adirondacks, with a lake close by.  The Bard is lame of body, but sound of mind and heart. Many of the Standing People there have connections to Fae Home. I have visited that location many a time, frequently to visit this Bard while she is awake and when she is asleep.  This is one of the places in Nature in the home of the Humans where the Veil is thin and Fae Home is closer than usual.

I hugged the Bard who is very connected to Nature in her world, and held my hand out to the fading Dryad.  “Come, Child of the Tree. It is time to return Home.”

"Why?”

“Because the physical manifestation of your Tree no longer stands tall here. I believe it stands tall in our Home. It needs you, as you need it.”

“How can that be?”

“When the worlds are placed close by, youngling, the Trees can exist in more than one at the same time.  The Tree here in the home of the Humans, was no longer sound.  The humans had no choice but to cut it down, for fear it would be blown down and hurt someone at that time. You were not prepared for that, where you?”

The Dryad hung her head and said “No.”

CHILDREN!!

I nodded and smiled. “Come with me, Child.  We will walk to the Tree as it lives in Our Homeland.  You will recover your health.”

I was very proud of the youngling.  She turned to the Bard and said “Thank you for caring for my Tree here.  Thank you for getting help for me.”

The Bard said “I am named for a tree in my World.  I am careful and caring of the Trees.  I also knew who to ask for help.” And then, my dear friend, the Bard, bowed to me.  “Thank you, Your Highness, for coming.”

“You are most kindly welcome, Taliesin’s Fosterkin.” I took the Dryad by the hand and walked through the veil to Fae Home.

Feeling a trifle tired, I sat back down at the picnic table.  My friends and my husband came back from fetching water.  I doubt they even knew that anything out of the ordinary had occurred.  My husband put out the sandwiches we had purchased for dinner, and asked if anyone wanted anything to drink.  I asked for water, then moved to the fire ring, where the fire was burning brightly.  I sat, waited for the rest to join me, and ate – knowing that I had done a Good Thing.

©Cedar Wolfsinger 26 June 2016

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A Most Unusual Tool

The crutch sits against the bed rails.  I stare it down.  It is the most obnoxious thing in the world.  I know I will be able to walk again.  It will take a bit though.  Since both legs are broken.  The air socks inflate.  Goddess Above, I *HATE* those things.  I know how necessary they are.  The last thing I want is a blood clot on top of everything else.  They just seem to be the defining piece of equipment in the legion of equipment I have attached.  The IV is OK, the heart monitor is OK, the ET finger O2 sensor is OK.  I can ignore those much of the time.  No matter what I am doing, when the air socks inflate, I stop.  Partly because they hurt.  Partly because I have no control over it.  It just drags my attention away from anything I am doing – watching TV, reading my tablet, talking a journal entry into Evernote.  It just draws the attention.  Why did they have to set them so tight?  I’ve asked at least three nurses here at rehab, and no one of them has told me.  They just repeat “Well, they are to prevent blood clots in your legs.”  Yes, I know that.  I just feel like they are much too tight.  Anyway, they are what they are.  I have better things to do.  I go back to my book.  I’m reading “Pollyanna”.  I need the glad game in the worst way.  I have not read this since I was a child.  I have a problem, as an adult, with the concept that the book is about only seeing the best and there is no bad in the world.  That is absolutely NOT what it is about.  It is about – damn those air socks – finding something positive in all the darkness, finding a reason to get up in the morning, a reason to go on.  Pollyanna would say “Melody, be glad you can FEEL the air socks, since they were not sure you were going to gain the feeling back in your legs.”  She would be right.  Interesting that I should have been reading this before the accident.  She gets hit by an automobile (a very new thing, she doesn’t realize how fast it goes relative to a horse.)  They believe she will never walk again.  Of course, that is a big block to her playing the game.  Then people come that she has helped with the game and try to help her to feel glad because she helped them.  She finally comes to find something positive.  It is very hard for her… DAMN those air socks!!

©May 17, 2015 Michelle R. Owings-Christian

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Who Are You?

I walk the plains of the Kindred of the Winds. They can see I am one of the Fair Folk -- since I am not one of them and the StarBorn flicker in the light of the twin suns. I walk alone, as the entourage of the Ambassador, my Father, bores me witless.

"Who are you?" they ask.

How should I answer? The simplest answer would be my name. My name, which would be just so many syllables to them, not knowing the stories our names tell.

"I am Tiffinari. I'm with the Ambassadors from my home."

All of which is true. Not surprising, since the Fae cannot lie.

"They are in conference with the Leaders of the Star Folk and Our King and the Mother of our Kindred. Why are you here?"

"I am the youngest member of the entourage.  The talk of tariffs and trade, and who gets what Embassy, and where it should be located -- that makes my head spin."

Again, the truth, if perhaps not the Truth.  None of my Elders have yet told me what may be shared and what may not.  I think it makes me sound like a child or somehow impaired. I suppose I can attribute that to a failure with the translating spell. Which will, of course, make them think I am incompetent.  There appears to be no way to be cautious without being seen as a fool.

I am not a fool. I know how important this Alliance is to my Folk, the Starborn, and the Kindred of the Winds.  StarChild believes that I am the only one of the members of the entourage of the Ambassador who can be seen as safe to those of the Wind's Kindred who have heard of the Alliance but have not yet met one of the Allied Kindred.

I am a crafter of magick, of glamourie, of spells, of song and story. Thanks to the Bright Arrow, I love to work at the forge. I am, however, a whitesmith, not a blacksmith. I am the one of my Kindred here present to whom these folk are most likely to relate. My mission is to walk among them, to ask and answer questions, to converse with them in a non-threatening manner.

I am Tiffinari. That is as much as I can say presently. In the fullness of time, I hope these good folk can know me for all the gifts I have. They ARE good folk.  I know why the Alliance is important, over and above what Father, StarChild, StarCrafter, and StarMother have stated. These good folk, who are so different, have much to teach the Fae and the StarKin. The changes that are so pervasive in their daily lives give them a love of and a desire for structure and a culture in which stability and immutable rules are prized above all measure.

I am Tiffinari.  I am a student. I wish to learn the Wisdom of the Kindred of the Winds. That is certainly a Truth. It feels *right* somehow, as if the resonance rings in the Heart of the Home of the Fae, in the Heart of StarHome, as it carries on the eternal winds of the home of these good folk.

October 3, 2014  Cedar Wolfsinger (Michelle R. Owings-Christian)

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The Light of Truth

Teleri, Starsinger's Third, paced in the small room a few doors away from the Council Chamber. This session of the Star Council was being convened because she had requested a hearing. She knew that Talani, Starsinger and Tallishandra were planning something. The three of them had friends in high places and Teleri had her own worries. She had barely recovered from the attack during which the Starcrafter had been killed. She suspected that several of the Councilors had been involved. What they had not anticipated was her strength and her small human magicks which had enabled her to keep hold of the Shadowblade, recognize it for what it was, insulate it, and set a tag on the Starborn who had wielded it. She wished she had been able to save the Starcrafter. Teleri had been befriended by the Old One without knowing his rank. He taught her so much about energy, focus, control. . . She found the tears welling up in her eyes and began the centering exercises again. This session would be transmitted to the Council Chamber of the Fair Folk and the Presence Chamber on Dragon Home. Teleri had to maintain her composure. She was a Bard and Taliesin's Fosterkin, after all.

Master Morloch entered. “Starchild has called for you. Come with me.” She made a half-bow, Student to Teacher, and followed him to the Council Chamber. Before he opened the doors, he said “Be your Truth. Don't hold back and all will be well.” Teleri smiled grimly, straightened up and squared her shoulders. Master Morloch nodded in approval and entered the Council Chamber. “Star Council, Council of the Fair Folk, Council of the Kindred of the Winds, I bring before you the Petitioner: Teleri Moonstone, Fosterkin of Master Taliesin, and Starsinger's Third.” There was an instant astonished silence in the Chamber. Never before had a human joined with one of the Starborn in a numbered soulbond.

Teleri approached the dais and stopped at its foot. Starchild addressed her: “What do you seek from this Council?”

“I seek to share Truth Song about the death of the Starcrafter.”

“Are you aware of the risks?”

“I am.”

“Are you willing to give all you have to the Truth Song?”

“I am.”

“Even unto Death?”

“I am.”

“Then approach and begin your Truth Song.”

As she mounted the dais, there was a murmur of dismay from the assembly. One of the Councilors rose and cried “Have we fallen so low that HUMANS have a right to our Sacred Rites?”

Teleri looked at the speaker and replied “Councilor Astrucido, what harm can my song cause you? Do you fear the Truth?”

“I have nothing to hide, parasite! Nothing you or your kind can discover!”

Starchild spoke in Command Voice: “Truth Song has been requested and granted. There will be silence in this Chamber that the Truth Song may be heard!” Two Council Guards moved to flank Astrucido, who sat down. Teleri smiled at Talani, Tallishandra, and Starsinger. Whatever they were up to, they were on her side. She took the ritual three sacred breaths – and began to sing.

She sang of the abuse she had received just for being human. She sang of the kindness shown her by the Old One, the laughter they had shared, the lessons she had learned. She sang of his Wisdom and his Compassion. She sang of his fear that some members of the Star Council were corrupt, and others too easily manipulated. She sang of his support of the Alliance of Kindreds, about which many members of the Council were concerned, some even fearful.

Teleri realized that she was not losing strength as she had expected. She also noticed that Starsinger, Talani, and Tallishandra had become one somehow and were sending energy to her, to the Song, and to the Truth. She hoped all would be well, closed her eyes again, and gave herself completely to the Song once more.

She sang of a walk with the Starcrafter, of a conversation broken by the menacing presence of three Starborn, one wielding a Shadowblade. She sang of the Starcrafter's energy diminishing and changing phase. She sang of her wounds, and of the voice of the assassin saying: “Maybe we can turn this against her and Starchild. The thought of a human with a Shadowblade will strike fear into the heart of Star Home. It might even destroy this infernal Alliance.”

In Truth Song, the voice of the Singer becomes any voice he or she hears. The voice coming from Teleri's Song was that of Councilor Astrucido.

The Chamber erupted. Astrucido's henchmen engaged both of the guards and the Councilor himself drew a Shadowblade and threw it at Teleri. It struck the energy field of the Truth Song and stuck there for a moment. The energy being pumped into the Song was so concentrated that it shattered the blade. Then the energy retraced its pattern back to its point of origin – Councilor Astrucido. The Councilor flared – and exploded. Teleri was able to put a shield around Astrucido to contain the explosion. Then all went black and, silent, she fell into the gentle arms of darkness.

“Bard! Open your eyes, Bard! Come on! I know you can wake up!”

Teleri just wanted to sleep. She was exhausted. The mastermind of the traitors had been unmasked, the parasite removed. She had done what she had set out to do. Why couldn't they just leave her alone and let her sleep?

“Teleri Moonstone, Truth Singer, open your eyes.” OK, this time it was Starchild – not someone she could ignore. She sighed and opened her eyes. Starchild and Star Mother were standing over her. She tried to rise, only to find herself as weak as a newborn kitten.

“Starborn, you honour me. Forgive me – I find myself unable to accord you the reverence you are due.”

Star Mother laughed. “After being unconscious for three days, we will grant you leave to recline in our presence. We feared we might have paid the ultimate price for Truth Song after all.”

“Where are Starsinger, Talani, and Tallishandra?”

“Explaining exactly where they learned the trick of combining to provide you the energy to sing a Truth Song the likes of which had not been seen in several millenia.”

Starchild explained: “Teleri, we expected to see the images of what occurred in the attack on my Father during your Truth Song. Instead, it was as if we were actually there – as if it were happening to each of us here on Star Home, and Elf Home, and Dragon Home. The last Bard to sing Truth Song like that was Taliesin himself.”

Teleri shook her head in confusion, and asked: “If I did so well, why am I in the Healer's Hall?”

“When the energy stream fed back to Astrucido from the Shadowblade, you shielded us from the explosion. Your bell jar shield absorbed that explosive energy and shoved it along channels already raw from the amount and force of the power given to you by Your Prime and her associates. They were down for a day. You are less experienced, so it was more of a shock to your system.”

The Healer-Adept approached. “Starchild, Star Mother, with all due respect, I must give this patient more remedies and more rest.”

Starchild replied: “We understand, Healer. I have two questions for Teleri, and then we will take our leave. Directly after you passed out, the Council acclaimed me as Starcrafter designate. I would like you to speak at my Ascension.”

Teleri responded: “It would be my honour, Starchild.” Her voice only shook a little bit.

“I also want you to think about accepting a position I plan to reinstate on the Star Council.”

“What position is that?”

“Star Bard.” Teleri gasped as Starchild made room for the Healer-Adept.

Star Mother patted Teleri's shoulder. “You won't have to answer until you are healed, my girl. You've got a great deal to teach the Alliance. What better way than as our emissary?”

Teleri swallowed the herbal draft the Healer gave her and closed her eyes. If she was become the Star Bard, she might not have many opportunities for sleep for the foreseeable future. “One thing is certain,” she thought before sleep claimed her, “I'll never be bored.”

©Michelle R. Owings-Christian, September 6, 2009

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Fighting Inertia

Staring at the blank page

The story is bubbling inside me

Demanding to be told NOW

But the words won’t come.

So I make the Herculean effort

Reaching down to my toes

And pulling the words

One by one

Inch by torturous inch

Up my legs, then my body, down my arms, to my fingers

Onto the page.

Again.  And again. And again.

For an hour

That feels like forever.

Hoping with every fiber of my being

That it will be easier tomorrow.

©Cedar Wolfsinger, January 21, 2013

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Cailin's Lament

(C
Th

(These are actually song lyrics.  If there is any interest, I may figure out how to make a recording and put it on the blog at some point.)

Lost and alone

A memory of a memory

I know my name is Cailin

Mother a Human Bard

Father a Fae Warrior

I know my name is Cailin

Against the Unseelie

I stood in the Shield Wall

I know my name is Cailin

Thrice named is ritually alive

Grounded in Earth, Sea, and Sky

I am Cailin, the still insubstantial

Sometimes I wish I had died

I follow the voices

My friends and my lovers

They whisper to me on the Wind

I sing to the Silence

The scent of the flowers

Where corpses and carnage had been

The Dark that is Nameless

Stole Magic and Music

I comfort and hallow the Land

Thrice named is ritually alive

Grounded in Earth, Sea, and Sky

I am Cailin, the still insubstantial

Sometimes I wish I had died.

Heart sick and soul sick

My purpose is fading

My journey and songs nearly done

I seek in the Dark Moon

The soul who will hear me

Our keening is sounding as one

Dissolve this misery

With love crush despair

Find me and help me survive

Thrice named is ritually alive

Grounded in Earth, Sea, and Sky

I am Cailin, the still insubstantial

Great Danu, return me to life

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The Storm Before the Calm

Tuesday, March 16

I found the equipment room. I found it three days ago. I can turn off the electric fences any time I choose.  Any time I choose.  They are still on.  I am afraid.  I have gotten used to this place.  There is enough food to sustain me.  There are books to read, instruments to play, words to write, a labyrinth to walk.  I thought I hated the fences.  Now they comfort me.  When I had no choices, staying put was easy.  Now I am afraid to leave – and angry that I am afraid.  

The weather seems to be on my side -- it has been snowing for two days.  I tell myself that I can’t leave when it is snowing.  I should wait until the weather is warm.  I should wait until the ground is reasonably dry.  I want to be safe.  I want to know what is outside this damn place – I am safe here.  I want to remain safe.  When did I become so comfortable?  I have wanted to explore outside the fences.  Now I am afraid.  I cannot do anything while the storm rages outside my window.  

Tuesday, March 23

It is still snowing.  I am not terribly surprised – there have been ten, fifteen, twenty, and even thirty day snowstorms before.  It makes no sense to shovel the snow until the wind stops.  I have made myself a little den on the floor in front of the hearth in the living room.  A sleeping bag, pillows, books, my pen and journal – even a kettle on the hook to heat water for tea.  I don’t have to impress anyone – I am here alone.  If I want to rest in front of the fire while the storm rages outside, then I shall.

I have decided what to do.  Once the storm subsides, I will go through the house and find a good strong and sturdy knapsack.  I will provision it as a day pack.  In the spring, I will start at the fences on the boundaries of the cardinal directions, and walk until the sun is overhead.  I will mark that place, and return.  It will take some time to go a half day in each direction.  Then I will rest and make notes.  Then I will provision my pack for an overnight stay.  I will go a full day from this place in each direction.  Once that is done, I will decide if I want to go farther away in each direction.  It all depends on what I find.  Having a base to come back to, a place I know is safe for me, will give me courage to make the short trips into the unknown.  Who knows what I might find?

©Michelle R. Owings-Christian March 15, 2015

To Pass The Time

(FYI -- the person speaking is Jo from the story I posted Wednesday)

Last week, while looking for the switch to turn off electricity to the fences, I slipped in the snow and fell down an embankment I had never noticed before.  I wasn’t hurt, just a bit bruised.  As I rose from the ground, I noticed that there was no snow under my hand, and the ground was warm. I stood up, stepped back, and looked around.  I was standing at the entrance to a labyrinth.  Someone had built the walls of the labyrinth about knee high, and the open ground was warmed from underneath.  I remember liking to walk labyrinths in The Time Before: before I woke up here 18 months ago, as well as I can determine.  I found them a profound spiritual experience.  (I can’t remember my name, where I am from, why I am in the house I am in, what happened to the people, why the property is surrounded by electric fences, but I remember labyrinths.  The mind is quite the undiscovered country.)

I looked around a bit more and found a bench a bit to the left of the entrance.  I cleared it off and sat and gazed at the labyrinth.  I threw some stones at the walls and the warm ground, afraid that there might be unpleasant surprises.  As I sat, I saw a vixen and her kits walk out from the shadow of one of the walls and, ignoring me, play and romp over and around the labyrinth walls, and roll on the warm ground.  Clearly, it was not harming them.  I sighed, still unsure, and walked home.

In the days since, I have walked in all directions looking for the source of the electricity for the fences. I have been unsuccessful.  I sometimes wonder why I even look anymore.  I just cannot accept that I may never be able to leave this land, this house – that this is the prison that will hold me all the days of my life. In the time between the fruitless searches for the equipment room that consume the mornings of my days, I have researched the labyrinth.  I know the difference between a labyrinth and a maze.  I know that the Minotaur was in the center of a maze, even though it was called a labyrinth. I have seen a picture of the labyrinth in the Cathedral of Chartres in France – wherever that is.

Today, I decided to return to the local labyrinth.  I sat on the bench and watched the sun on the snow beyond the space that was snow-free by design.  I found myself entering the labyrinth. I started to breathe deeply, breathing in light, breathing out darkness.  Breathing in hope, breathing out fear. Breathing in peace, breathing out unrest. Slowly, I walked around the path marked out by the brick walls. One step after another, lightly, turning each time the path turned, but ever onward. It seemed to me that time changed character, slowed and became less rigid, as I walked.  There were mini-minotaurs to grapple with – my worries about who I was, why I was here, where the other people were.  But I kept breathing in and out, in and out.  The air above the labyrinth was warmed by the same design that warmed the earth.  I breathed it in, and with it hope, and peace, light and trust. All the out breaths carried away my fear, and worry, and darkness, and suspicion.  Breathing in, breathing out.  Step by step, slaying the mini-minotaurs, and moving ever onward. Finally, I reached the middle.  There was a raised column in the center. I moved close enough to read the words carved there:  “Be at peace in the silence.”  -- Hildegard of Bingen

I turned a collapse into a controlled action of sitting on the warm ground. I knew of Hildegard – I read her “Illuminations”, I played her music on the CD player in the living room. … I had no idea she had used a labyrinth as a spiritual tool. I looked around the center, and there was no Minotaur. I felt the silence wrap around me like a blanket, a soft and warm feeling of comfort.  This silence was different from the silence I knew from being the only human being in the vicinity. In this silence, I felt a gentle breeze, and heard a voice saying: “Be still, Child.  Be still. Be not afraid.  You are not alone. Be at peace.” I did not know if the voice belonged to a man or a woman.  I do know that it was the kindest, most gentle voice I ever remembered hearing. I was still.  I was warm. I closed my eyes for a time. When I opened them, I knew it was time for the outward journey.  I rose. I began walking the pathway back out.  Breathing in, breathing out.  Breathing in, breathing out. I heard a song I remembered singing in the Time Before.  “May I be filled with loving kindness, may I be well.  May I be filled with loving kindness, may I be well.  May I be peaceful and at ease.  May I be whole.” I remembered a man’s voice saying over voices singing, “May you be filled with loving kindness”, and then the voices singing those words again with that change of pronoun.  The man’s voice again rose over the singing voices “May we be filled with loving kindness”, and the voices singing those words with the change to the inclusive pronoun. I remembered that this practice was called “Metta-meditation”, and the spiritual path it came from was called Buddhism. Hildegard was a Catholic Nun.  The words I heard at the center were spiritually neutral.  The words I remembered, and sang again on the outward journey were from Buddhism. As I made my way deliberately back out to the beginning of the labyrinth, I looked up at the sky in wonder. I had come out here just after dawn. It felt as if days had gone by during my journey of the labyrinth. Yet the sun was directly overhead.  It was only noon. I turned my back on the labyrinth. My steps back to the house felt as if I were still walking to the center, where I could be still in the silence, before walking back out, the whole journey making me well in my own soul – at least for a time.

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