Ithaka Bound

the taste of living

2005-11-06T20:11:00.000-08:00

Enough. Enough of this day. Her work was done enough, the cat was fed enough, the night was late enough and so it was time to close the door. Shutting her bedroom door with a soft click behind her, she stepped out of her shoes, let her feet sink into the soft carpet and, standing still, she savoured the nearness of the end. The painful pleasure of knowing it was over. There would soon be no turning back. Not once she made the decision to let it go.

Sloping across the room on her way to the en suite she glanced briefly out the window, casually flicked back the heavily brocaded pink silk curtains, touched her nose to the icy glass for half a breath, then closed her eyes as she turned away from the world. The wind howled against the glass, ever the determined and graceless bully. Enough. She had closed the door on the world and soon wouldn't be able to open it again regardless how long and hard it howled for her to care or to carry it.

She nudged the bowl of orange spice potpourri out of the way, leaned tiredly on her forearms, and gazed into the bathroom mirror. Touching her hair first, feeling the smoothe healthy hair and the rough wiry white ones, she drew one hand across her newly wrinkled forehead and delicately fingered the soft, sagging skin around her eyes. When? Gently, she pushed up and back the useless flesh slowly amassing under her chin, sighed, and let the hand drop back down on the faux marble counter. There was nothing more to explore or crave or reject or reach out to. Enough now.

She looked down at her well-used hands for a moment before she pulled herself up straight and lifted them to her mouth. It took her a couple of breaths before she could start, willingly but joylessly, to begin to taste them. The finger she had pointed at the child was bitter and still stank of accusation. The finger she flung up at the bus driver who turned the corner too sharply for her liking smelled of excrement and was both acidic and salty. The thumb she banged against the doorframe in the ladies room at Zeller's still felt hot against her tongue and tasted of metal. The side of the palm she scraped against the cheese grater when making dinner was salty with a hint of the lemon zest from dessert. Both palms were full of him: musky, maddeningly sweet, tasting deliciously of the thighs, the groin, the belly she caressed on her lunch hour. All the other lines and folds and fingers were the same: a common blend of disappointment, incompetence, and regret. Enough of that.

She reached under the counter and pulled up two thick, fluffy bath towels to catch any of the mess that didn't wash down the drain and prepared to let go entirely. Nudging open the levered hot water tap, she breathed, "Good enough," put her well-used hands under the scalding water, and forced herself to hold them still. As they began to melt, the layers separating and falling away, she watched the colours of the day reveal themselves...the purity, the passion, the resignation swirling white, red, black... Through the haze of steam she witnessed time present fall out of her grasp and drain down into the past. Seeing the mistakes and blunders and "I wish I dids" and "I wish I didn'ts" and "I didn't get enoughs" flow deep and fast into forever-ago, she cried, heartbroken. Then she gave thanks, relieved.

Finally, nudging the hot water tap closed with her wrist, she used the towels to gather whatever parts of the day and her part in it that weren't so easily washed away and tossed the whole mess in the trash with yesterday's leftover mess. Smiling, she shook her head to muss up her hair and laughed at the useless brush on the counter as she passed it on her way back to the window. Nose against the icy glass once more, she smiled at the stupid bully, luxuriating in the freedom from the folly of trying to hold back the forces of nature. Turning her back to the wind, she shuffled contentedly toward her warm and inviting bed. As always, she sighed a great heaving sigh of gratitude as she dropped blissfully down for a wholly unburdened rest. She looked to the left as the cat meowed at the door. "Too bad, Jack. I can't give any more and I can't take any more."

Rolling her head to the right, she looked wonderingly at the hands she had laid out for her tomorrow. She wondered what kind of life she would make with them. She wondered how they would feel. Were they hard? Cold? Kind? Strong? Capable? Clumbsy? How much could they hold? How mightily would those hands resist letting go when the time came? Every day her hands were so very different there was simply no knowing their unusual ways and unique worth until she put them to some use.

Stephanie K. Hansen

All Roads Lead to Baba Yaga's

2005-11-02T04:45:00.000-08:00

The Amazon Queen has heard that Baba is organising the Advent Calendar this year and has 'all hands on deck'. So she has made haste to be at Baba's and help with the preperations. The Golden Spinning Wheel will be heard whirling late into the night.

Donkey Tale - Name Games

2005-10-29T16:03:00.000-07:00

My donkey, impishly grinned and said, "you don't know my name, do you?" "no," I answered. "Well," he mused, knowing I was embarrassed at neither knowing nor having tried to know, after all I could have asked. Trying to set it right I bit my lower lip and said in a barely audible voice, "what is your name?"

"Well," he teased, "it is not sweetie, or babe, or little donkey, and it most certainly is not you stubborn old thing." I tried to mutter an apology, again, he stood there, grinning.

"You can be insufferable." I was nearly crying.
"You've nearly made her cry" came a small voice just to the side of me. I was quite shocked as I was not aware that the geese in the gypsy camp were also able to speak.

"You can speak too?" "If you are willing to really listen, we can be heard to speak," the goose explained. "I'm sorry I did not mean to be insensitive, but since I did not know you could speak it seemed silly to ask you your names. Still I am truly sorry if any of the things I've called you made you feel hurt. Would you tell me now please, what are your names?"

"Mine is Ginny," said the goose, "and my grinning friend the donkey is Doncaster Grey, he likes to tease, don't feel too badly" with that ginny crawled into my lap like a cat, she was a lovely and affectionate goose. The donkey was still grinning and making faces.

"Alright, Doncaster Grey, what is it?" "Well," started the donkey while shuffling his donkey feet in the dirt, "I've been thinking I should like to have a Halloween costume too, just as the humans do. I thought I'd like to be and angel, after all I already have wings." It seemed like a fair enough request and after a bit of consideration I took Ginny off my lap and made a few changes to have Doncaster go from just plain old flying and talking donkey to an angel donkey.

Some glitter in the wings and sparkly eyelashes glued on and a halo fashioned from tin foil and wire. "Would you mind very much, marm, sketching me in costume, to remember the moment by?" so this is what I sketched. Donkeys can be very silly.

Episode 11. The Amazon Queen

2005-10-29T00:36:00.000-07:00

Sophia's injunctions to seek the Amazon Queen had somewhat heartened me. Supposedly she would help me to return to my true home, not a lair masquerading as home where Sybil and her daemons dreamt up disasters for unsuspecting travellers.

An old Fresian cow came abling towards me along the path. She nuzzled into the grass by the edge, pulling up any green shoots she found.The bell around her neck rang each time she lifted her head. As she came closer I could see her brown eyes silently assessing me. Then dismissing me as she searched for another mouthful. Engraved on the bell was.....Amazon Queen!

Not at all what I had been expecting, but I sized the opportunity as it presented and hoisted myself onto her broad and ample, if somewhat uncomfortable, back. Gripping with my knees I began a slow, but for a footsore traveller, a fortuitous continuation of my journey.

Much ,much later we arrived at an open clearing on the side of a hill. In the centre was an old multi-paned glasshouse. Each pane was of a different design...a miracle that they were all intact.
A motley crew were gathered listening to a brightly clothed speaker. Moving clser I could hear
"....and with great pleasure I declare this exhibition of the Amazon Queen OPEN!". There was much cheering and clinking of glasses, and there, bowing to the adulation of the crowd was indeed a tall figure, of indiscernible age and questionable beauty dressed in a long and red cloak!

As the crowd started to disperse, I boldly approached her. She had the look of a wise and loving elder so without hesitation I poured out all that had led me to find her and ventured to ask how to find my way home.

"Home, child?" she questioned. " Which home? A home in Heaven or a home in purgatory? A home of security and love or one of dysfunction and rejection? A home of starting or that of the journey or indeed perhaps that home of final destination. When you have decided which one you really want, come back and I will tell you how to reach it.

I sat by the nearby river, a very broad and swiftly flowing river, with reed beds along the edges.
I stared deep into the water, past the reflections and the weeds and the fish and a lazy turtle following some minnows. Deep down.

First I saw the home of my beginning- my mother's laugh and my father's admonishments. Years of chores and homework and piano lessons. No, I didn't want to go back there no matter how much fun it had been. The home of my journey came into view. My flight over the mountains, the welcome of the gypsies and my obeiance at White Owl Island.The carefree years on the Island in the Archipelago.The adventures and the friendship of Sophia and the scary bits...no it was just a journey. Not home.
Next I was transported into a murky reflection of a caclking Sybil with the raven on her shoulder. A home of fear and stomach knotting anxiety. No love. An anti-home.
Suddenly the murkinesss vanished and sunlight dappled the now clear water. I could see my real home! For sure the garden was ramshackle and the Roller door needed attention, but there was love and predictable acceptance and the fluffy mutt looked pleased to see me. My final home!

Hurrying back to the Amazon Queen I pushed my way through the milling crowd and told her of my decision and asked the directions she had promised.
"Simple" she said. " Just shut your eyes and think of nothing else. Wish hard with every fibre of your being and bring into your heart all the love you can summons."

So, as the sun set, I did just that. Screwed up my eyes and thought and wished for all the peace and joy of the little things. The things I had taken for granted. And so I opened my eyes to a joyously barking and welcoming dog and a partner who would have been wagging his tail if he had one and indeed the sun was shining on my ramshackle garden.

" If death prove an experience I live through,
good angel, guide me to a sunlit kitchen
with bread rising, the great black kettle singing
of wisdom and the peaceful life to come".
( Gwen Harwood)

Spirit Servant and Medusa

2005-10-26T23:13:00.000-07:00

Baba Yaga has bought in her Spirit Servant and the Medusa to avenge herself. Le Enchanteur can run but she will have trouble hiding from these two. Let's see how she gets herself out of this pickle. The Spirit Servant's plan is to capture her in a bottle and let her be a servant, at everyone's beck and call for awhile.

Short Lived Glory

2005-10-25T19:59:00.000-07:00

Baba said it 'would all end in tears' and right now she is far from happy. Le Enchanteur will need to watch her back because Baba is not someone to toy with. Turning Baba into a purple dragon is not one of le Enchanteur's better ideas, especially when Augustus and Moonbeam are playing out their hero archetypes. Could be interesting come Halloween!

Tree of Lost Letters - Hermitage

2005-10-25T05:20:00.000-07:00

This is a tree of lost letters. Seeing Halloween is coming up, the Hermitage is welcoming lost letters, so if you have a letter that was lost, this tree has caught them all. Feel free to write that letter and make it breathe new life. Even if you just think the letter, it might come to pass. The tree is for lost wishes that are captured by nature, and may come true one day.....

Spells Abound

2005-10-24T06:13:00.000-07:00

Le Enchanteur and The Amazon Queen are down at the Archipelago practicing some spells for Halloween. Baba has flown away saying that 'it is all going to end in tears'. You would think she'd be happy to be turned into a purple dragon and not a common and garden green frog. Some people just cannot be pleased.

Episode 10. Home?

2005-10-23T23:56:00.000-07:00

I was home and dawn was breaking..this had been the longest dawn ever in my varied experience. The accompanying breeze suprisingly was ruffling the curtains. Suprising because I never opened that casement with the ever present possibility of roaming possums. I lay back, gradually taking in the old familiarities, or hoping to.

What I saw made my heart skip a beat. So much was as it had always been..the bed, piles of books scattered in front of the window. The changes I then noticed were subtle, but definite. The increasing light revealed the ceiling have become a dark purple, now matching the once forest green lampshades. The frames were all on the wall on their old positions, but closer examination showed the subjects to be changed. The rolling hills of the South-west Arthurs in Tasmania were now the mountains in Umbria I had flown over in my journey. The gypsies too were frozen in a moment of dance where once Tuscan villas were sketched. In place of my grand-parent's wedding, still in the same intricate gold frame, was an unmistakable portrait of my guide Sophia. Her eyes seemed to be watching me knowingly. Disarmingly. But to my horror, my beautiful, peaceful St Hannah had been irrefutably replaced by the outline of none other than Sophia's alter-ego, SYBIL! her long bony fingers tracing indecipherable words on the pages in her lap. A flash...was it that lightning again?...flickered through the room.

Bewildered I turned towards the prone body under the covers beside me. Closer examination was necessary but fear had gripped my soul and squashed any courage I might have summoned.
I crept out of bed, scared witless. I needn't have worried, or need I? Hesitant peering and poking showed there was NOTHING there gently pulsating with simulated life. Nothing. 3D of nothing.

Holy Toledo! Heavens to Betsy! What and Where and How, but for sure I wasn't at home at all. As sure as anti-matter existed I was at some anti-home! I fled up the hall to retrace my steps, noting as I ran the ball of fluff I thought had greeted my arrival was non other than a sleeping raven. Now stirring.

Again I raced towards the garage door, fumbling in blind panic with the obstinant and little-oiled latch in my eagerness to escape. Blundering forward I found myself falling headlong into a chilly
murky pool of water. White water rafting may have crossed my mind in the past, but simply swimming? Not. As my reluctant toes felt no sand or, shudder, mud or weeds, underfoot I had no option but to strike out. Breastroke.

By the time I had exhausted my repertoire of swimming styles, interspersed with lots of simply floating, I was not only becoming exhausted, but desperate. The gloom started at last to lift and I saw that in fact I was in quite a small billabong. Well at least that accounted for the eucalyptus smell and the tannin-coloured water I was by now simply trying to stay afloat in. I must have been swimming in circles for hours! It was then a squidgy repulsive ooze became evident underfoot and I was able to heave myself onto the bank. Standing over me, her hands on her hips, was Sophie!

"Heavens, child. I told you to go home! To escape from Sybil before she could take you to her cave."

"I think she did catch me" I sobbed in dismay, describing the anti-home I had found myself in.

"You were lucky to escape.Sybil works in mysterious and devious ways. You must start your journey towards home again. Find the Amazon Queen and follow Her directions. You will find her heading for Ithaka. That is the only true way home now." Sophia counselled. Even as she spoke, she walked towards and into the tea-coloured water, and disappeared.

Where will I find the Amazon Queen?
Is she coming? Or has she been?
Or, is she somewhere in between?

Will she greet me with a croak?
Swirl around in a long red cloak?
or, look more like ordinary folk.

Perhaps some young thing, sweet but strong
Urging me to "come along"
Bewitching travellers with a siren's song.

So I search for this Queen of Amazon
Follow the path she'll set me on
and hope that Sybil is once and for all..GONE!

The Golden Bone Chair

2005-10-23T05:57:00.000-07:00

Baba Yaga brings out this designer, hand crafted, chair especially for Halloween and All Soul's Night. The idea is that travellers can take turns to sit on the chair and have five minutes in the spotlight as they perform for the crowd. Come October 30th - through to November 2 Baba is hoping that one by one travellers will take the golden seat and make a special presentation. Costumes and wigs are available in Pandora's Costume Box. Excuse drunken Silenus who can never miss a party. Hopefully the donkey is taking him away.

My Goodness, Is that?

2005-10-22T23:16:00.000-07:00

My Goodness, Is that?

I come huffing and puffing the last little bit into the gypsy camp. The camp which until now I'd only watched from the hilltop. Somehow I've just been to tired to face too many people all at once. Today I am determined to take myself all the way to the bottom of the hill and look into the Sunday market.

There in the middle of a open area of grass just behind one of the few permanent houses sat an old woman. Not old really, more like weathered, as if there were several lifetimes carved into her knowing face. Her eyes looked through and beyond everything, or so it would seem. Maybe she was daydreaming off in some distant world. Her life might seem to her as mine now does to me, like nesting dolls, one life inside another. I don't know about the gysy but I cannot know if I am in the inner life, the outer one or one in between?

She seems oblivious to the goings on, ladies dancing, pied pipers piping, giggling girls putting up laundry and a lively kitten swiping away at butterfilies. My donkey is trotting off to meet with other donkeys at the other side of the camp, they too are making quite the commotion.

I think I'll just sit here and rest a while. I'll think if I really should tie the old gypsy scarf around my head and read cards as my aunt Anna taught me. Perhaps I might see what teas the guides suggest I prescribe for the betterment of the customer's health, all in the spirit of the market to profit the overall karma and barter back and forth for what we earnestly need.

My fingers nervously knot the scarf around my head. I shuffle my Marseille Tarot deck. I don't need the cards, they are a prop, a lovely prop once given to me by a dear friend, for seeing babies in her future, when her twins were born, she gave me this deck. These cards have been with me for thirty years. Twenty years since I last used them.

I slipped the deck in my volumenous skirt pocket, and slowly descended the hillside, stepping gingerly sideways hoping to not be noticed just yet. Baba looked up and smiled. "Good, you're here".

For new arrivals

2005-10-21T03:46:00.000-07:00

that you may know of the Enchantress --

for Heather.

papa faucon
..............................................

Homing Tree

For each and all called by a sense of peace,
drawn to a seat of balanced calm and spirit shade,
there is a tree ‘neath which to pause and smile a tune,
or at least listen to the rustling, branching prayer.

Do you seek a shamanist World Tree to ascend,
or Kabalistic framework of intertwined paths,
or mystic single branch on a slow dieing vine,
or grafted rebirth on proven roots of worth?

Could it be, that in a more earthly, simple way
you yearn for a home – a hearth by heart warmed fire;
a chance to move beyond a house of another’s dream
to a place where your soul will hear an ancient song?

Then come soon and gather under the Enchanting Tree,
where bold spreading boughs of caring heart reach beyond
the dizzy, daily rush of hide-‘n-seek of earthly claim,
unto the fine passions of true humanity.

Arrived!!

2005-10-20T05:15:00.000-07:00

I found Hope waiting for me at the enterance to the forest. She almost had to knock me off my feet before I realized that she was indeed waiting for me, and not just munching on the grass. I was so excited to leave, I would have just have trekked!

The ride through the forests of Umbria was one of the most wondrous experiences in a long time. The bit that most stands out was the beautiful lake, filled with crystal clear water, that I stumbled upon. There were masses of wildflowers growing along the mossy bank and many colored butterflies flying around. I could hear birds chirping in the trees around, so I dedcided to stop for a while and soak in the experience.

As I approached the cave of the enchantress towards evening, I felt the excitement mounting and my weariness just melted away. As we approached closer, I caught my first glimpse of the enchantress. The rays of the setting sun cast a golden glow around her, standing regal and proud, in what looked to be a sheath of gold.

She extended me a warm welcome, asking about my journey as she led me towards my room. And my! What a room! The first thing I noticed when I entered was the bay window, and I gave a little exclamation of joy! Smiling, the enchantress left me to explore the room and rest a while.

A Little Reading by the Roadside

2005-10-20T01:03:00.000-07:00

A little reading and playing with pencils the order of the day.

down the rabbit hole

2005-10-19T20:53:00.000-07:00

It's disturbing at first, not to hear your own footsteps, but then you start to wonder how you ever put up with the constant pounding, thudding, and scuffing of souls - pardon...soles - on the unforgiving sufaces of the city. I never noticed how stiff I was, either, until the give of the sound-absorbing pine needles on the uneven spongy loam of this Forest of Forgiveness let my joints lose the jarring defensive tension and my hips began to sway and roll with the lope of my mind. Unrushed. What's their to rush to? I still don't know what I'm looking for. But I know I'm looking out for something. That feeling of being hunted by mediocrity and meaninglessness is the only thing I took with me, the rest of the diamonds of my life all rusted already by the back door of my discontent for all I know or care.

I suppose at some point I'll need something to guide me. Yeah...to what? To what not? Whatever. Whatever for? Whatever for? I'm sick and tired of asking. I've been asking myself this crap all my life. You know what I want? The one thing I know for sure that I want is someone ELSE to ask...someone what aint got no reason to lie. They aint no such person, I know. Everybody got something on the mind. Something they want and gonna get by getting what you shoulda had coming to you. Yeah, "shoulda". We all get messed up over that word, getting all up in knots inside, worrying about what we shoulda had, but all that fury and upset never makes us do what we shoulda done, or stops us from doing what we shoulda not done. I've come to the conclusion that that "shoulda" is a bad joke we all ought to stop telling. Stop telling ourselves, and stop beating others to death with it. Just a bad joke.

And I'll be honest with you; I'm a taker just like everybody else. In my heart, I've always been a taker, but I've been a coward, too, so I never hijacked anyone else's credit or good fortune or hard earned whatever, not 'cause I'm not willing to walk away with Yours, but because I always wanted people to think I was too good to do anything like that. Better. Better than. Arrogant. Prideful. Playing the nice girl but never feeling it, fantasizing about stealing your man and scratching your eyes out. You gotta be careful a me. That hot ass bitch comes out a little sometime. But I'm her keeper, her handler, her cover story. But if she ever - hey...what's that? Down in that hole? It looks like a doll. What the hell is a doll doing stuck out in the middle of nowhere?

"Waiting for you. I'm yours. Come and get me. I've been waiting."
Nothing surprises me. Nothing really surprises me, you know. Except kindness, sometimes.
"Okay. Just a minute.
...You're dirty. For something I suppose is special somehow, you're dirty and you don't look like much."
"I could say the same about you."
"I don't care."
"Yes you do. You're just tired of caring. But you care."
"Oh LOVELY! A million miles on the other side of inhibition and I dig my conscience out of a fucking rabbit hole. Or would you be Little Cindy Psychiatrist? Doesn't wet the bed, but tells you why you do?"
"Oh stop it. You know who I am. You've always known. You're the bastard who keeps dumping my body in all these filthy, cool kinda places where you figure no one'll spot me. I'm cold. I'm tired a this. Why don't you just take me with you. Tuck me back inside somewhere. I'll tell you what you're looking for. You're right: they aint no such person. I'm the only one who knows. Let me tell you."

No more words. No more words. No more words. No more words. No more words. Won't be no more words. Not now. No how. No. Just no.

She was maybe fifty yards away and over a small hill, already out of sight, but that damn dark hole where she stuffed herself was too obvious, too much a part of her awareness. There comes a time, there comes a day, when no "hidden" is "hidden enough". Standing still, sore, sorry, alone, lost and looking in that awesome Forest of Forgiveness, her mind ached and throbbed to the rythm of that familiar desperate mantra: I'm tired-Leave me alone-I'm tired-Leave me alone-I'm tired-Leave me alone-I'm tired-Leave me alone-I'm tired-Leave me aLONE!!!! Crashing down inside herself, she turned and ran back to the dank hole. Without looking inside or looking back after, she lit a match and tossed it in. She heard the whoosh of the rejected, ragged, damaged doll going up in flames and felt nothing but relief as she ambled away, unguided, uncaring, unwilling. Safe from knowing for a while longer.

Steph

Pied Piper Archetype

2005-10-18T23:41:00.000-07:00

When le Enchanteur is in Pied Piper mode there is electricity in the air and Pegasus cannot resist coming to take someone with her, on the wings of imagination. Le Enchanteur is playing a tune that the hardiest of travellers will find hard to resist. Follow her and go for a night ride with Pegasus. Pegasus will take you anywhere in the world. He is yours for the night.

In the Water and on the Shore

2005-10-18T20:13:00.000-07:00

My invitation to skinny dipping was answered by a bevy a ladies and chatter and laughter skated across the water to Owl Island and the whole of the shore for miles. The water was cool. Our donkeys hawed and honked on the shore.

Blue lipped we hurried out after a few minutes to dry off and warm up. Someone came up with a box of goodies (much of it chocolate, a fire was quickly built from deadwood, so dry it lit with little work. We swapped stories of how we got here and we thought we might go next. It was late when we each left to find a bed for the night. I chose mine right there, under the stars and by the fire. My is donkey, part guardian and part pet, still keeping me company.

Dolly Dreams

2005-10-17T23:25:00.000-07:00

My cat Stimpson, missing his favourite hug-dolly Jamaica to take naps with, is having dolly dreams.

Letter To the Letter To the Gypsy Chief, Lavengro

2005-10-17T12:40:00.000-07:00

Letter to the Gypsy Chief, Lavengro

Lavengro,
Greetings, old friend. Your band has been quite busy I hear, with the newcomers trickling in, regaling you all with stories and other talents they possess. Not to mention the Festival of Lights you are getting ready for. It should be quite fun and spectacular.

I hope to be there in time with my traveler in tow. I don't want to miss it and I don't think Treasa will either. She is a fun, quirky, spunky soul, who is quite flummoxed and awed by the Soulfood Silk Road. She talks to a grandmother who passed away recently and to Jack the Chatterbox Donkey--whom she got for a ride. It's been quite an interesting trip thus far, unlike the one other I've had along this road. Treasa is enjoyable and she and Jack have been entertaining, to say the least. She's never ridden a donkey before, so we've been slow going, trying to help her get a riding rhythm established...when she hasn't been knocked or hasn't fallen out of the saddle.

After two days Treasa finally began to get the hang of it, but she's gotten so stiff and sore, poor thing, that we're still going slow. We're about three days from your camp--if you're still in the Valley of the Temples--so expect us hopefully by twilight's fall then. Treasa is enjoying, despite her discomfort, the scenery of Umbria and the temples of the valley. Apparently, she is very into Roman and Greek mythology, which is another reason we're taking a bit longer than normal to reach you. She's enjoying the history and tales Jack is telling her about each temple, and she's regaled all of us in turn with myths and legends she's learned or read about. I'm very happy I was asked to be her guide.

See you soon.

Best wishes,
Ophelia

2005-10-17T06:41:00.000-07:00

Leaving the Sunday Market I was now ready to proceed to the Gypsy camp. I had left Lucinda and Destiny camping just outside the market entrance, after much insistence on my part. As I approached the campsite it was obvious that there was a problem. Lucinda was sitting on a blanket, a new hat perched stylishly on her head, and a beautiful green fan in her hand, but she was definitely not happy. Destiny was pacing and pawing the ground in frustration.

�What in heavens name is wrong�, I asked.

�I am not real�, Lucinda whaled.

�Not real? What does that mean? You look real to me�

�Yes, to you�, she answered, but not to anyone else.�. �No one else can see me.� she sobbed .

�Oh dear, I answered, How do you know.�

Lucinda proceeded to tell me that while I was at the market the Secretary of Donkeys Inc. came by and talked to Destiny. She was telling Destiny she was welcome to come and stay there any time she wanted. She even introduced Destiny to her donkey and they visited. It seems that in all that time the Secretary never spoke to Lucinda. �I even got right in front of her and she walked right through me.�, she sobbed and none of the travelers on the road could see me either.�

I did not know what to say but I knew that the Enchantress was not pleased by her taking over. Perhaps this was her way of making this journey mine instead of Lucindas. I said nothing, and luckily so, as behind Lucinda something was happening. A large blue mist was forming and I could see an outline of a figure within it. �Look Lucinda, what is that?�

Lucinda turned around, and out of the mist stepped a man. He smiled and bowed in front of Lucinda in the most gallant, old fashioned way, and said, �I have been sent to be your escort to the gypsy dances.�

Well, one more drama solved, but my little group is slowly growing and luckily the gypsy camp is now in view. I need to relax there for a while and quiet my fast moving mind. I need to stay in one spot for a while.

In need of self indulgence

2005-10-16T21:06:00.000-07:00

Still licking my wound from the last week, in retreat with treats, I think I might need another day's rest.

Misery loves calories, and that always means a trip to the store first, a chace to work it off built in by having to go back a second time.

A video version to Stravinsky will be on my video page later this week.

aletta

2005-10-15T07:17:00.000-07:00

For some reason that totally escaped my understanding Destiny was passively obeying Lucindas� every word. As we headed down the road Lucinda filled me in on all her past reincarnations and why she was here with me. It seems her memory only goes back to the 1700s� She was born in Ireland during times of severe hardship and only lived until 8 years old. Just long enough to have dreams of the future?, she told me.

Then in the 1800s� she came into the same family line in Scotland, for only a few hours. She did not understand why she had not lived but tried one more time in the 1900s�, to my grandmother and grandfather, in the United States. This also ended in early death. I held my breath. This was not just an interesting tale. This would have been my fathers sister. I even have the obituary that was printed in the local paper at that time.

So�, she continued, You can see why once you started using my name in all your visualizations I saw a perfect opportunity to actually live in your world. as an adult and not just a newborn helpless creature. The Enchantress has allowed me to enter, with certain powers and restrictions, and here I am.

�Amazing�, was all I could think to say. But� I stammered,this is not the real visual world, this is an inner world of my imagination�

She gave me an indulgent glance. I am well aware of that, but I have a satchel filled with beautiful things to wear and I am heading to a gypsy camp to sing and dance and have pleasures I have never had before.� Now hang on. The forest is just ahead and the gypsy camp is just on the other side.

Take to the air Destiny.� We are taking a shortcut over the forest.�

Just a Little Progress, But Progress Nonetheless.

2005-10-15T00:19:00.000-07:00

Starting off again today, too late in the day to fully get to where I am going but still feel I should make the effort. I passed the most amazing trees wearing lacy fungus skirts, patches of toadstools at their gnarled roots.

The donkey still followed me, though not at my urging. Doing what could only be described as an awkward bunny hop and nose-nudging it dawned on me (I am none to quick on the uptake today), the donkey was trying to point something out to me.

Quite surprising I found a doll, looking just like the one my mother made from my dad's old corduroy pants. That was a half century ago, and miraculously this doll has never been lost, nor needed mending.

Her name was Jamaica.

I've no idea how she got beneath the tree, all they way out here. I last left her sitting on a shelf in my hallway. Jamaica has always been profoundly important to me, representing constancy, after all she is always there, even when I am away and forget to pack here, somehow she still is there. Gifts made with love are never lost.

I suppose I've taken her for granted and not noticed her wandering off.

aletta

A Clutch of Hedgehogs

2005-10-14T21:52:00.000-07:00

I had a particularly stressful day dealing with the powers that be, and are, and sadly evermore shall be. so when I got home I really needed to unwind in the worst sort of way. Well, at the end of it I found I had created this clutch of hedgehogs and thought I would share.

Now while this may not be particularly part of the journey, it should always matter what is just to the side of us also.

aletta

Feelings, at last

2005-10-14T18:25:00.000-07:00

The girls were very excited about Aleta's picture.
I asked them to thing about what they felt --
not what they thought. Here are a couple of
offerings:

Jade, "I feel sorry for the donkeys. They can probably fly over alone, but pulling a cart may be lots too much."

'quoise, "I feel surprised. I hoped there would be roads. I can help Coral if we have to walk."

Coral, "I am excited to see what happens. On this journey I am sure a friend will show us how to get across."

Nessie, "Who is that on the other side?"

Coral, "Is that a donkey or a wolf?"

'quoise, "I'll bet its trying to catch the blackbird."

Back on the road

2005-10-14T07:31:00.000-07:00

As soon as we had our picnic lunch the ladies were back on the road heading for the Gypsy camp. Destiny was grazing nearby and Lucinda, the doll, seemed to be very busy transforming herself. I called to her a couple of times and she always replied, "Just a bit more time. I am picking a wardrobe and fixing my hair". Ok, I guess we can get acquainted later. Right now I was anxious to finish my snapshot of the Silk Road for my mental photo album. That was what the "SEEING" game was about which we did not have time to play.

I was just settling back to enjoy the next sense, hearing, when I received another message encouraging moving on to the gypsy camp. I groaned….I just am not a speedy traveler. I would have slowly explored the Silk Road, gone to the Sunday Market, and check out the silky merchants that have warehouses on this road, with no specified destination in site, but others were already at the Gypsy camp and I was expected.

"I’m ready, Lets go" called Lucinda carrying an old fashioned satchel. I was stunned. My doll had transformed herself into a women. She also was a women of the 1800s and was the same size as me. I was speechless but their was no chance for me to say anything anyway as she was excited and quickly loading everything into a cart which appeared from nowhere. Calling Destiny who was as startled as I was, she hitched up the wagon and jumped into the drivers seat. "Come on board" "We have a gypsy camp to get to"

Raven Guards Report to Amazon Queen

2005-10-13T05:11:00.000-07:00

Ravens have alerted the Amazon Queen, who is in her Summer Palace near the lake, that many travellers are on the road and that the Gypsies are camped quite close by. They have reported that le Enchanteur keeps opening the door to her realm and that the roads of the realm are busy.

At Last

2005-10-12T22:07:00.000-07:00

Packed and ready with some vague sense of what lies ahead. I have put my faith in the enchantress to not lead me into anything but adventure and warmth of friends. Trust has to be put somewhere. To laugh and dance, that's what I'm looking for.

aletta

The Back Seat

2005-10-12T10:09:00.000-07:00

I wrote this some time ago but Steph's Strike Three brought it back to me. Some of you may have read it before but most have not so here goes.

The Back Seat

She was the child
who played in the woods,
who thought the world
was hers to grasp,
the child whose dreams were bigger than the sky,
whose playmates were wild;
fleet of foot, winged, and finned.

She was the child that had needs,
that had visions
of what she wanted to be,
but the child who was told
over and over
that she would amount to nothing at all,
that she was useless,
a dreamer,
a wastrel.

She was the child who was told
over and over
to be seen and not heard,
to silently listen to what others may say,
but not to butt in,
for her thoughts and her words
were worth nothing at all.

She was that child,
tho' now an old woman
whose dreams lost their way,
who knew that, no matter what,
she could never succeed.
She'd been told so, you see,
over and over.

She was that child,
tho' now an old woman
who wonders
where went the child
that rode life like a merry-go-round,
the child that wrapped her arms around Pegasus's neck?

She was that child,
now frail and in limbo,
remembering
in the clear view of hindsight--

Her friends were their friends,
never her own,
so she sits here alone
tied into her chair
silently listening,
withdrawn into self
and searching--
for what?
She was the woman
who, throughout the years,
sat in the back.
That was her burden, you see,
to live through the lives
of those who sat in the front,
for she was no more than a shadow
on the back stage of life,
for a shadow, you see,
is seen and not heard.

She is the old woman who mourns
for the years that have passed,
with hope too late to be hopeful.
For the road back is too far,
the journey too difficult,
the path --
over-grown and weedy.

She is the old woman,
tied into her chair,
trying to escape disillusion
while life rots around her
in the half dead and the dying,
while shadows pass by
ignoring the child that once was.

She is the child, now an old woman
tied into her chair,
who knows
that by taking the back seat,
she lost her most precious possession--

her life
and what could have been.

Vi
©July 18, 2005

I am not really tied to a chair, but I could have been had I not gained the freedom of cronedom.

Vi

Preparation

2005-10-12T07:23:00.000-07:00

During the picnic preparations there was a lot of chatter about why they like picnics. Here are some thoughts. Often conversation is difficult since they will interject comments that have little to do with any flow of idea or theme (to me). ‘quoise especially, just spurts out ideas as something stimulates her interest. Just so you are prepared.

Jade -- “No. The mayonnaise has to go on the lettuce side and the mustard on the meat side. Everybody knows that!”

Coral – “At Opportunities [their workshop] we can put olives on our fingers, but she [me] says it is not grown up. So you have to eat ‘em quick.”

Nessie – “Who knows the cottage cheese nursery rhyme? [no answer]

Coral – “How do they make sun tea in Oregon where it rains all the time?”

‘quoise -- “does this man on the label cut up the bologna with his sword?”

Nessie – “On the box it says ‘large curd’. What does than mean?”

Jade – “Are there spiders where Jane is at?”

‘quoise – “itsy bitsy spiders.”

Jade – “Big ones! Miss Muffet saw a big one and it liked cottage cheese, right Nessie?”

Coral – “Pickles will keep them away, I bet. Do donkeys like pickles?”

GREAT FUN: A PICNIC

2005-10-12T06:41:00.000-07:00

Welcome ladies. Glad to meet you. I am known as Grandma Jane. I would love your company for a picnic. Also we have one more coming in soon to join us. The secretary of Donky Inc. has asked if she can join us too. She said she shall come with her dancing donkey, bringing a supply of apples for your team, a jug of ice cold lemonade and a sponge cake. What fun, a spontaneous party.

What am I doing? I am playing the SEEING game. I am sure you have never heard of it before because I made it up but it is a game you can play with 5 people or all by yourself. Until Fran joins us do you want to play too?

"Great! The first thing you have to do is to tell me, " What are the five senses"? Then once you know what that means you put them on 5 pieces of paper, fold each up and then each of us we will draw one I will tell you how to use it in the game later. Think about yours tell we start to play. Tell Nessie to join us too. ( Fran or I can take the fifth sense and after you finishing drawing you can tell us what ours is. )

This bologna sandwich is delicious. I havn’t had one in a long time. OH and would do you happen to have a folding chair in your cart for Fran. She says ‘Do you think the girls might have a picnic chair for me as I am very old and my knees don't bend enough to sit on the blanket’. I will have to teach her some of my yoga moves. She can’t be older then me. If you don’t have a chair I have one wish left on an old magic wand. We could wave it and take all her stiffness away.

GREAT FUN: A PICNIC: Any passerby on the road is welcome. Plenty of food for anyone.

On The Road to Ithaca

2005-10-12T03:30:00.000-07:00

So, there we were; me, my cats, and the dragon, well, to be honest, she is my dragon. I created her from fear and a sense of helplessness, she became far more than a spirit-guide or guardian. She became a friend, and sweet comfort when I had no other comfort.

We were stopped at Destiny's Crossroads, and like an African Destiny it was fan-shaped. At the end of every path was a Destiny. Now, I coould only choose one, which one? I have no clue as to where any of them will lead, or if that is the path I should be on.

I seek any clue, even a slight hint as to where I should go. I laughed for a breath, scratched me head and did what any red-blooded over tired,over-worried, under reassured, pained of flesh, mind, heart, and spirit woman worth her Midol would do.

I sat on my fat arse and started to have a damn good cry.

I know, it won't solve anything, nothing will change by my tears, but I knew if I didn't 'blow off steam' I would lose it in a far worse way. I am the first to admit that I don't know everything; I am knowing myself better nowadays though.

I knew from that feeling of having innards made of a macrame of living snakes, and being too aware of feelings, yet being detached from even my body what could happen if I didn't release some of the pressure.

I was already avoiding knives and the kitchen, the bright edges of those cutting implements can hypnotise, and I would not follow their dictates; not today, nor for any of the tomorrows.

Yet, the pains that called this forth from the dark places of my spirit remain, and do not allow me peace or rest. So, I weep, on the dusty verge of the crossroads, with cats and dragon awaiting my choice.

"Hay-yooo-munn?" The sweet, accented voice was far too high and soft to be from a 'hay-yooo-munn' larynx. I looked up as I wiped my face with the heel of my one good hand.

A doll stood there, oh not just any doll. No Barbie, or Skipper, or betsy-Wetsy for me; she was a lving, breathing, moving 'Jane West' doll. The only doll I liked as a girl, she wore her Western Jeans and Shirt, she had on her tan chaps and cowboy hat with a spiderweb fine line of sweat-salt around the base of the little-bitty crown.

She had a living Breyer horse for her mount, I remembered him, I called mine "Chippewa Chieftain". The horse whuffled and bobbed his delicate head as if in recognition of the name.

"Hay-yoo-munn? 'ow long do you t'ink you be cryin' like dis? We need to trabell fast now, I hear dat Koschey's on de prowl. We don' want git caught by 'im. Nosirree!" One fingernail clipping-sized foot tapped impatiently, the dust it raised almost invisible.

"Uhhh..." I snifffled and wiped my eyes again. "Let me blow my nose and I'll be ready to go. Do I call you, ahhh... Jane?"

"Ho! No hay-yuu-munn!! Dat is not m'real name. Dat is what de oodder hay-yoo-munns calls me." Her wink was barely seen. "You know my real name, don' you? I'm alive peetuzz of yooo."

"You're Annelinna." My words weren't a question. I hated being the same as everyone else, even as a child, so I renamed my doll, and her herd of horses to suit me.

"Yezzz!! You do remember!!" Annelinna hopped onto my leg and clambered up to my shoulder. "Hyoo needs choozzzz w'ich way we go now."

"I know..."

"Jus' chooozzzz." The tiny whisper sparked me to choose, not by thought or even instinct. I chose by where my feer were pointing when I struggled to my feet. "We go now!!" Annelinna's chiming voice was truimphant as our strange entourage got under way.

strike three

2005-10-11T19:19:00.000-07:00

When I was a child, we told "behind the tree" jokes. Do any of you remember those? "When you were born and God was handing out brains, you were hiding behind the tree! Ha ha!" Those jokes upset me terribly because, while I knew I had the brains, I also knew I was missing some other important things. Instincts, for instance. I had no natural affinity for play. I learned to watch the other children and do as they did. While the other children whined to their mothers, "I-want-I-want-I-want-I-want-I-WANT!!!" I stared, wondering what this "want" thing was, and felt ashamed that I did not seem to have it. That lack of wanting was not a result of being fulfilled, but being without a sense of passion, of desire, of drive. I was a watcher of life, not a participator. So I stood out.

I learned to keep my head down, my mouth shut, and follow the crowd so as to seem to be one of them. I did as the others did. And when I couldn't find an immediate example to emulate, I responded in what I thought would be considered a 'normal' way. And so it went, for years and years and years. I'm not so devoid of personal interests or instincts today, but it is still ingrained in me that when life tosses me something, I swing the way I see others swinging, and if I get a second chance, I get more honest and swing the way I think I *should* swing, but then I need one last chance to remember to go from the guts.

I learned to pack 'the right things' by watching and emulating my partner, wilderness canoeist extraordinaire, and packed for the first of these mythical wilderness tours as he would, but with a little artistic flair thrown in I thought my fellow Soul Food dreamers would appreciate. Heather's striking up this third tour for my fellow latecomers and laggers gives me one last chance to pull out my instincts and roll 'em out like runes. Today, I pack nothing. What I have belongs where I am, not where I'm going. I'll leave my worldly goods at the door for the wolves. And then I will leave here and become the wolf. I will not beg or barter or buy my nourishment. I will take it.

Steph

River Deep, Mountain High

2005-10-11T18:25:00.000-07:00

The doll was old. Very old.

From the looks of her, she was held together by “toy magic”. There were a few wisps of string where her hair had once been. The fabric of the body had a sheen to it. It felt smooth and thick to the touch, and very fragile. The clothes were newer, though by no means “new”. I had to wonder just how this doll was to guide and advise me, when she looked like a change of weather might disintegrate her.

As I held her at eye level studying her carefully, she raised her hand and squeezed my nose.

“Beep.”

Needless to say, I was not expecting that, and I think it was perfectly understandable that I dropped the little creature.

“Did you just say ‘beep’”, I asked inching backward?

It, I mean, she, sat up and looked up at me blinking her wide eyes at me. I regarded her, and she, me. Her eyes suddenly seemed to crinkle up and she flung herself backward onto the ground giggling uncontrollably. Her laughter was clear and high and full of delight.

She sat up, legs splayed before her looking up at me.

“You is so scared” she exclaimed with glee. “I’s thought your eyeballs go pop!” With that statement she returned to her giggling fit.

I sank to my haunches with a sigh as the doll got up and ran rings around me chanting “pop, pop, pop,” repeatedly. What were the words of the Enchantress? Oh yes,” if we should lose our way, or be in need of help, all we have to do is ask the doll what to do. She says that the doll will assist, that we must keep her with us at all times.” Oh yea! I wrapped my pity blanket around myself and felt that this was inevitable.

This is my guide through an enchanted land, and she is broken.

Nessies ladies

2005-10-11T10:12:00.000-07:00

I found a comfortable spot under a tree and took the blanket off of Destiny’s back and spread it out. My doll Lucinda immediately jumped from my hands and stretched herself in a tall yogi pose, "A person could get all their circulation cut off tightened in a belt like that" she sputtered.

I picked up an apple beneath the tree and began eating as destiny grazed near by, as Lucinda seemed to be conjuring images of clothing around her. I left her to her tasks and gazed across a field of grain. Inhaled deeply I absorbing the fragrance of my surroundings. Their was the dry, crispy smell of grain ready to be harvested, the smell of the grass next to me and the faint smell of clover in the distance. I once more was enjoying the reason I wanted to be on foot; To see the road, in depth.

I was deep in the enjoyment of the moment in smell when I heard a rattling sound coming in the distance and people laughing and singing . Glancing down the road I saw a donkey pulling a wagon which seemed to be filled to the brim with ladies having a fun time. I smiled as they came nearer and discovered me under a tree. All of a sudden all three lovely ladies jumped out of their wagon and came running over to me, all asking questions at once.

"Hello, hello, hello." Who are you? "What are you doing" "I am Coral, I am Jade, "I am Quoise", they all choired at once. "What is your name?" "Is that your horse? Why don’t you have a donkey"

I laughed and welcomed them to my blanket.

Let Me Out Of This Restraint

2005-10-11T06:59:00.000-07:00

?Let me out of this restraint, you silly old lady, the doll demanded.

?What do you think you are doing�

Well now, is that any way to talk. After all you were just a cotton stuffed doll.�

That shows how much you know lady, and if you would have paid more attention you would have realized that I am much more then what meets the eye at first meeting.�

�Now stop somewhere while I search for some decent apparel for myself and we will have a little talk.�

�HMP� � I have never wore an apron in my life.� � What do you think, I am a maid!� � HMP��

Enchanted Realm - Lemurian Journeying

2005-10-10T21:47:00.000-07:00

When I first came by the Lemurian Abbey, and indeed the realm of Lemuria via the many patterned roads, I could see it in the distance, towering and full of dreams.

Since then, this place has gained mind pictures to its vistas, and experiences have been indelibly stamped in the various corners and turns of the roads. I see a smile in words from a fellow traveller, a word of advice from the elders, a helping hand from a raven, plants and flowers caressing the path wherever I go.

Wise words say we build our own reality. These days of strife test us to make a new book, to paint a new picture, to try out a new thought. To think deeply about places we have never been but are bidden by instinct to go.

Travel on, and build a new reality, one that values the finer things in life, sharing your dreams with all you meet on the road. Then Lemurian Realms will always be towering and beautiful, filled with dreams and adventures on the roads of the journey around the self.

copyright Monika Roleff 2005.

Servant for Highest Bidder

2005-10-10T15:11:00.000-07:00

By night this designer, Soul Hand Candle Holder, in Red Boots, will illuminate your manuscripts and art work. By day they will do the bidding of their owner and guide them safely to the Gypsy Camp. They will be a match for any of the indentured hands in Baba's house and will make sure their owner is protected from any unreasonable demands.

These hands will go to the highest bidder. Make the best, non monetary offer, to the Amazon Queen and she will command these hands become your servant.

Over the Hump

2005-10-10T08:12:00.000-07:00

I think the girls finally understand the mixture of pretend and reality here. I hope I do. While they understand they are not really traveling to these interesting places, we are play acting some of the preparation and planning parts. Jade was the first to grasp that the list of items to bring on the trip were not "her things", but an idea of what anyone should bring. Somehow she got the others to understand. SInce she can type fairly well, she made up a list for Coral and 'quoise to carry in their scrap book. Now we will all fit into the cart easily and are on our way.

The selection of a doll is creating a new set of problems. Do we need one, three or four? Don't answer! We will figure it out. (they will. I am deliberately not helping much)

They say they have been talking with the donkeys but I am not part of this. They just giggle, though once Coral looked sad. 'quoise has always talked to herself out loud. I wonder if this donkey-chat will make any difference.

Nessie-Nessie

Usless guilt

2005-10-10T06:20:00.000-07:00

I am afraid I am going to miss the roll call and the wake. This being only my first morning on the road I sent a message to Donkeys Inc. hoping the donkey would get me there in time for roll call but fate or rather Destiny has created a problem that will cause me to miss the roll call. This is the message I was forced to send Donkeys Inc. when they answered and informed me they would take care of Destiny.

Donkeys Inc.
Thank you for your kindness but Destiny has read the message and is putting up a continual argument. I am afraid she has a terrific superiority complex. To be sheltered with mules has put her into a state of unmanageability that I can not seem to change. I may not be able to work this out. She seems to think she knows the way to the gypsy camp so I have finally agreed to let her try first and if we get lost I will put my foot down and call t o you for help.. I hope by that time you will still have a mule left. I hear everyone is already at the wake and I feel terrible not to be there to lend my support.

I am feeling terrible guilt as everyone was so supportive when I went through my two losses this year. I know how touched I was at that time to have others sympathy. I know guilt is completely useless and I must get rid of it. I shall hunt for a florist shop along the road. In the beauty of flowers there must be a flower that would expresses comfort at this time.

BUT now the doll in my belt, which I haphazerdly named Lucinda, is kicking and screaming to be released from my tight belt and I must look into this.

The Doll Guide

2005-10-09T20:42:00.000-07:00

Vasilisa, her magic doll, and the White Horseman of Dawn
(Courtesy of Russian Sunbirds)

When you set out to Baba Yaga's, via the Gypsy Camp, you were told you had a doll guide. You also had a bag with various things that the le Enchanteur felt you needed for safe passage within this realm. Items include magical spectacles, a candlestick, a tiny anchor, a compass, a medallion with the imprint of the Unicorn and a set of wings. The bag also contained a map showing where the Gypsies are currently camped.

Le Enchanteur's ventriloquist doll Stanley is a bit of a worry and keeps giving poor directions and generally distracts Sibyl. Hopefully your guide is more useful. Vasilisa, pictured here, found her doll to be a very reliable companion and indeed, the doll regularly comes to the rescue.

Many doll folktales were published in collections from Russia, Ukraine, Belarus and Poland, from the 1830s through at least the 1970s. Slavic tales feature dolls which aid, comfort, and advise the heroine. In most of the tales, the dolls open up the earth to enable the heroine to sink through to the underworld and escape an impending incestuous marriage to her father or brother. These tales are analyzed as stories of initiation. The heroine grows up through the course of the tale, performing various initiatory tasks, acquiring adult attributes, and subsequently marrying. The heroine's magic doll is an East Slavic variant of the fairy godmother. She is a talismanic incarnation of the heroine's dead mother, who provides life, nourishment, care and advice from the next world. The doll also embodies the "fairy" or sacred aspects of ancient Slavic earth goddess-spirits by acting as a guide in the crossing between the perceived worlds of the living and the dead.

An investigation of the heroine's descent leads to the hypothesis that the doll tales are related to narratives from agrarian rituals held between the winter and summer solstices. In these rituals, the burying of a vital female leads to her symbolic rebirth in spring, as evidenced in crop growth, marriage, and human fertility. On another level, the tales articulate the history of the Christianization of the East Slavs during the second millennium. The descent of the heroine into the earth depicts the submersion and subversion of pagan traditions under the influence of the newer religion. With the introduction of Orthodox Christianity in the tenth century, the use of dolls as votive objects literally went underground in the East Slavic lands, while the image of the female helper transformed and came to be represented instead from within the gilded frames of Christian icons.

As you travel down the Silk Road the doll is just one guide who will look after you. Some travellers have actually made dolls to accompany them and the creative results have been fascinating.

source: Doll FolkTales of the East Slaves
Make dolls inspired by the Baba Yaga mythology.

Doors

2005-10-09T16:08:00.000-07:00

Somewhere I know we supposed to decide on a door,
but it has taken the girls a while to search and choose.
They like this the best because evryone is free to
come and go as they feel.

Nessie

2005-10-09T15:34:00.000-07:00

After safely tucking my gifts away in my backpack and sliding Lucinda, my doll, into my belt, I headed out a onto the Silk road. I put a harness on Destiny and she followed begrudgingly behind me, complaining under her breath constantly. She is use to leading. I could not hear most of what she was muttering but definitely heard the sentence "� Who ever heard of walking", many times in between mutters. I explained patiently that soon we would ride, as soon as I had heard from Donkey Inc. which we would fly to, and this seemed to make her more indignant. After repeating "A DONKEY"� a few times she kept sound to a low mutter. I was glad as the sun was now coming up and the fields were glowing in autumn colors. It was time for me to enjoy the walk.

All along the road cat tails were swaying in a gentle breeze. A group of six sparrows swooped and dash through the weeds as though in play. It is golden autumn and even the air seems to have taken on an autumn glow. The clouds are large and heavy and all the bottoms are grey. I hope that does not signal an approaching storm. For now though I will absorb all the sights my eyes can absorb, snap picture with the camera in my mind, and record them in the Silk Road album in my brain, to review later.

Gunnie Sack

2005-10-08T03:00:00.000-07:00

When the girls learned they would have a cart to travel in, they immediately assumed they could take a lot more things with them. Somewhere between hiding in a gunnie sack with nothing and being "able to stretch" can a thought of transporting everything they own. Part of the problem is that none of them has ever taken a vacation trip. Coral remembers flying here years ago, and they sometimes take day trips on buses or in our old Dodge Caravan. I don't think either Jade or 'quoise have ever been more than twenty miles from home. Staying overnight in a strange place is somewhat frightening to them. The covered cart the Secratary has arranged will help a lot. 'quoise knows what a sleeping bag is and wants to take one, but has no remembrance of camping.

Anyway, they arranged piles of "necessary" things on the livingroom floor. All together this might fit in the van (Vincent van go) if they stayed home. No plans for me to bring anything. So they reduced the piles. Jade had the idea of sharing some items to save space. For this grand thought she got to decide on what snacks to bring along. (lots of rewards here). Still too much. Our neighbor Fred has an old Volkswagen bug in his yard. He has let the girls play in it before. This is interesting because 'quoise is almost six feet tall and all elbows, while Jade is almost too wide to fit behind the seat. Coral can climb throught he window. So, I have decided that they can take whatever all four of us can fit in that bug. All of the snacks, toothbrushes, pillows and such will ride on the top. All they have to worry about is their personal stuff. Good luck!

Morgaine's Beginnings.

2005-10-07T21:55:00.000-07:00

Morgaine awoke to birds singing and noticed the first light break through the darkness. how she loved this time of day and dusk too, everything was so peaceful and serene. She lay there awhile thinking about what may lay ahead for her.

'Morgaine, I foraged with the remaining donkeys last night while you slept, they said you need to get to the Enchantress cave first to receive your bag, in it you will find some things to help you on your journey'.

'How do I do that, where do I go,'? Morgaine asked.

'You must have faith Morgaine, the answer will come, in the mean time, prepare yourself for the day, eat something, enjoy the sunrise, I shall return shortly, I will try to find out more'.

'Thank you Gallahad I am so glad you are here to help me'.

'Your very welcome Morgaine'.

Confused - Check Soul Food Silk Way for Tour Route

2005-10-07T20:52:00.000-07:00

Remember to keep checking the Soul Food Silk Road Official Tour Route if you are experiencing any problems on the road and mail le Enchanteur if you have a problem. Once you are familiar with the bloggers you will be able to flit from place to place and get to know people in this realm. Persist and you will find your way.

Calling on the Sec of the Donkey Union

2005-10-07T08:06:00.000-07:00

Dear Secretary,
I am in somewhat of a dilemma in getting transport to the Gypsy Camp...I did write to you about a week ago when you asked for the name of our Donkeys we used to travel when visiting the Baba Yaga ...I wrote to tell you of my experience in not gewtting down to names ...and that the donkey and I just called one another " Donkey and Me" like in the A.A. Milne poem name of
"I met a man when I went walking

We got talking man and I " and it seemed to work well for Christopher Robin at the time.....

But I digress Secretary........ What I need is a donkey to take me to the Gypsy Camp to meet up with Megan and other travellers and was wondering if you have a spare donkey in your stable I might borrow ... It is a bit hard for me to look for the one I met as I don't know his/her name so all the calling out won't bring him/her to me.....So how about it can you oblig , if not I will check out Raven Headquarters or I believe there are a few wild camels that might do ...can you let me know A.S.A.P

I await a reply after you check out the stable and your inventory journal ...A busy job you must have , do you have an assistant you could train for the busiest season ?

Many Thanks.....Lois ( 6-10-05)

Three Gems

2005-10-06T17:36:00.000-07:00

I would like to introduce you to my three girls. At first they will travel as hidden gems in my gunnie sack. Later they may come out of hiding and ride in a donkey cart that is being prepared. This is their selection and thoughts (edited).

JADE
"I am Jade because my daddy wear a ring like that.
When he holds me in his lap,
I play with it and know everything [is] all right."

CORAL
"Nessie help me look it up.
I found a jewel like my hair
And it comes from the sea
Because I was born in Montery [California]
And also coral is a tree."

'QUOISE
"I have a bracelet made of silver.
It has chucks of turquoise.
Grandma says like my eyes
But these have red things in them
And I don't cry anymore. "

The Soul Food Silk Road Tour

2005-10-06T16:43:00.000-07:00

At the moment we have quite a crowd who have come through the doorway into the world of the Soul Food Silk Road. The door to the cave is shutting and brambles are beginning to hide it from view again. Now only those who are on blogger lists will be able to participate (a few people are still listed to be signed in.)

Once you come through the door and are sent on your way you will find yourself in a labyrinth and people are at different points of the labyrinth. Only le Enchanteur and Baba Yaga have been to the centre and visited the Amazon Queen but eventually everyone will find their way to her summer palace on the lake overlooking Nemi. They will do this in their own time frame and not on a tour bus.

It is totally up to the individual to explore this realm but le Enchanteur does provide a guided tour which you can follow. Experienced travellers are unlikely to go back to the same spots all over again but they may want to revisit places. Gail Kavanagh is welcoming everyone at the Gypsy Camp. This does not mean she does the journey again any more than Fran, the Donkey Secretary will tread more leather down all the pathways. These early travellers found places to call home within the Silk Road and that is the primary object. You are not all meant to walk in continuous circles. The journey is an organic thing that keeps evolving and changing. It is not static.

If experienced travellers can lend a hand and help new travellers find places and post their work so that they are archived this would be wonderful. Everyone is currently enroute to Baba's house but not everyone will make it there by the most direct route. We have so many blogs because many are acting as archives once visitors have gone. White Owl Island is a lovely place to visit and you will find the original instructions at the beginning of the blogger.

At the moment I am trying to complile a sequential journey at Soul Food Silk Way Tours so that if people get lost and need to orientate themselves they can go and check what the outline is.

Once again

2005-10-06T05:13:00.000-07:00

Again I am reminded that I am somewhat too protective of the girls. I attempted to explain the heading message on this blog. I guess I was a bit afraid of the concepts since they are warned never to go near a lake, and certainly not drink from one. A couple of their comments were;

"Johnnie carries a canteen to work and offers me some. Maybe the water comes from a lake. It is OK because he is my friend."

"Didn't that Florida guy look for a lake that would make him live forever. Is it like that? Except this water just makes you better for a little while"

"sometimes [Jade] and I play tea when there isn't any really. We pretend that the tea comes from a place in a book or a movie. Then it tastes good."

Then we talked about the ventriloquist thing and why someone would talk through a doll rather than speak directly.

"I saw one of those on a movie we were not suppost to see. I came alive and ate people."

"Silly person. You talk to Bettsie [her doll] all the time and told me sometimes it is your mother talking instead."

"If those donkeys really talk I don't care if it is them or someone else pretending. If they are nice."

"Those people in 'stralia don't think it is the computer talking, do they? They know it is a real person who maybe can't talk fast."

I cry here sometimes,

Nessie

The Donkeys' Union has taken too much time

2005-10-06T01:44:00.000-07:00

I am afraid I am rather slow in setting out on the trip myself and still cannot leave the office as more donkeys will no doubt be needed by those travelling and I do have to do some administrative chores for each of them. It was good of Treasa to send us a record of her relationship with her donkey, Jack. I have posted Jack's portrait and his rules. Excellent advice as you will see what happened when his rider forgot to watch where they were going. I did slip away with Mehitabel for an evening on Owl Island where I took a couple of photos. The lovely Moonbeam, our most beautiful donkey has returned to us if any of you need a very special mount. Geraldine is still at the Hermitage looking after and teaching young Georgia and so is not available. Please report to me if you need any extra equipage on your tour. Yours The Secretary of the Donkeys' Union.

2005-10-05T05:58:00.000-07:00

Back to the Grotto? I sat down on the ground, dejected. I could feel myself slipping into the brooding child, sitting under a lilac bush, who had just been reprimanded for being mischievous . Not only that but I had no idea how to get back. As I sat there, cross-legged on the ground feeling sorry for myself I heard my courier raven calling in the distance.

�OH no� I thought, �Not again� , but he just circled above and dropped a dispatch in front of me on the path. Obviously he was still a little annoyed with me but it was not the first time and he will get over it. Opening the dispatch I find that we are soon setting out for a gypsy camp on the silk road and the entrance to the Grotto will soon be completely hidden. I must hurry and find my room. There was a picture of the grotto entrance but the dispatch had fallen in a puddle and the ink was smeared. I was just about to head out on my own journey once more when my horse, Destiny spoke.

�Get back in the saddle and I will take you to the entrance if that is where you want to go�, he said. � I know the way.� By now it was getting dark and I was tired. Obediently I climbed back on his back and he headed towards the sunset.

Stanley - Le Enchanteur's Ventriloquist Companion

2005-10-05T04:05:00.000-07:00

le Enchanteur is not a ventriloquist of any note. Stanley is her companion as she heads off to see her old friend Baba Yaga. Knowing Stanley there could be a few detours on this trip. Meanwhile everyone in the Gypsy Camp is enjoying Stanley and the Chief is currently reading 'Ventriloquism for Dummies' which he picked up at a second hand bookshop on the road.

Letter To the Secretary of Donkeys Incorporated

2005-10-04T19:22:00.000-07:00

A Letter To the Secretary of Donkeys Incorporated

Dear Secretary,
Hello from the open road. My name is Treasa O'Leary, a traveler along the Soulfood Silk Road...but then...you might already know that. I wouldn't be a wee bit surprised if you did, the way this fantastic adventure is constantly keeping me in a state of surrealness. I never know what expect next!

*shakes head in amazement* Certainly not a talking donkey! Jack has made the trip quite...interesting and humorous thus far--we've only been on the road two days. He's been helpful at times as well. And that's why I'm writing you, to tell you what an amazing trip this is going to be with him as a mount and to thank you.

I don't know how you choose which mount for which traveler, but, in my case, you hit gold. You see, I've never ridden a donkey before in my life; only horses a handful of times and not since my childhood at that. The longest I've ever ridden one has been two or three hours and afterwards I was saddle-sore for two days!

*as if the mere mention of it is their cue, all my various aches and throbbing pains intensify and I shift stiffly, trying to find a more comfortable position on my sleeping bag, unable to hold back a low moan*

*silent wry laugh as I resume writing in the combined light of flickering fire and flashlight* I'm in much the same position as I was then. Saddle-sore. But Jack is being an awfully good sport about it, thank goodnees. Right from the start it was painfully obvious to both of us and to my silent guide (whose name I've since learned is Ophelia) that I'm no natural horsewoman--or donkey rider. Jack's gentle swaying gait is as smooth and fluid as any donkey's could be. But until today, for the life of me, I couldn't establish a reasonably good rhythm that allowed me to move as one with him. My butt kept bouncing, up and down, up and down, hard on the saddle until my poor abused tailbone made its first throbbing protests. I felt like a Mexican jumping bean. *rolls eyes and shakes head in embarrassment*

Ah well. At least no one has laughed at this bobbing Irish lass yet--well, not very much and not because of my poor riding skills. For that, I have to give thanks. Jack has been really sweet and has been trying to give me pointers.

"Consider this a crash course in riding," he said after Ophelia helped pull me from the ground at his hooves that first day. We hadn't gone 20 feet down the road from the Enchantress' cave before I was bested by a low-hanging branch that caught me in the chest and knocked me from his saddle. "Rule Number 1: Relax! Your fear and uncertainty transmits to your fine noble steed, letting me--I mean, him--know he's the boss. Rule Number 2: Match your body's rhythm to your donkey's gait. The ride will be smoother and easier this way--for both of us. And Rule Number 3: You've got to be smarter than the average tree. Be aware of your surroundings too."

In my defense, I have to say I was in a state of shock when those leaves smacked me in the face and that branch connected with my breastbone! Jack had started talking--without warning--about the journey and introducing himself and Ophelia and her horse Nightshade. Who wouldn't be floored by a talking donkey when, where I come from, they don't speak?! Well, except for the ones in the Bible and Arabian Tales, but the one was from a parable I believe, the other from a fairy tale.

I gaped at his big gray-brown donkey face, blinking stupidly into his velvety brown eyes once I was back on my feet, repeating over and over, "He talks! He talks! My donkey talks!!"

Ophelia nodded, an amused look on her face. She went to Nightshade, who stood five feet up ahead, with his ebony neck craned right in our direction and dug through his saddlebags. On her way to the stallion she gave Jack an admonishing look. Pulling out medical supplies from one of the bags, she walked back toward me and doctored the few cuts and scrapes I'd sustained from the encounter with the olive tree. (I thought olive branches were supposed to be peaceful?) Once she was satisfied I was ok and taken care of, Ophelia nodded to herself decisively, gathered the box of bandages and ointment and rejoined Nightshade. Putting the things away she mounted the black stallion and motioned with her arm I should do the same.

"Yes, I talk," Jack said, gazing at me with what passes, I suppose, for patience in a donkey. "And you're quite the observer. We have a lot of miles to cover before we reach the Valley of the Temples, where we will be camping over the next few days before reaching the Gypsy Camp. Are you brave enough to try again?"

Dumbly I nodded, reaching behind me to check and make sure everything in my backpack was ok after having landed on the bag in my fall. I mounted and we were off again--albeit at a slower pace--the guide and her black stallion, Jack the donkey and me, the Irish Mexican jumping bean.

As I said, Jack has been sweet and pretty understanding, only making fun of me once in awhile, laughing his braying laugh as he watches me move stiffly about the campsite or if I do some clumsy thing like trip over an exposed tree root. "It was right in front of you, in plain view! You shouldn't read that book of Roman myths as you walk." He admonished just today as we took our lunch break.

I have to thank you. Despite moments like those, I'm sure you're well aware he can be quite amusing. I also have no doubt you already know he can hold entire coversations with himself, for Jack can talk and talk. And talk. I can't help but laugh when he gets going. By no means would this journey be dull or ordinary without him; he just adds to the the wonder and joy of it. So, with all my gratitude, thank you. He is a wonderful companion and mount, and I will take good care of him for as long as he is with me.

Sincerely,
Treasa O'Leary, Awed, Amazed and Humble Explorer

*folds the letter written on the lavender stationery from the cave room and seals it in the matching envelope; writes the address on the front and hands it to a waiting raven who accepts it with its beak and a nod; spreading its dark wings it takes off and I shut the flashlight off, sliding and settling into my sleeping bag by the fire*

Diary of a Frantic Traveler

2005-10-04T18:24:00.000-07:00

“What exactly does one pack for a journey to an enchanted land?” Since I posed this question to the dog, I had little hope of finding any help. You can never find a cat when you need one.

Should I pack an actual luggage set, or just a duffel bag? Or maybe a backpack is more appropriate. And shoes. Just what kind of shoes will I need? And clothes….sporty, dressy, casual…what was everyone else going to wear? I was beginning to regret ever signing on for this. It is so against my nature to leap into the unknown. The knot in my stomach was tightening.

“Doing it for yourself, weren’t you?” Oh goody. The cat had arrived.

“Of course it’s for me” I snapped at the little black and white fur ball. I sunk onto the bed. Deflated. I didn’t know anyone going on this trip. I’ve never done anything like this. Was I going to be good enough to be there? Would the others have more experience than I? Did they all know what to do? I was making myself sick with worry. And to top it all off, I was going to be late

“What matter are things you take. Possessions only. That is not what you are”. Elephi was a vision of tiny, efficient smugness.
.
“Okay Yoda, you’re right. I am doing this for myself. To learn for myself, test myself, and hopefully enjoy myself. But I think I should at least bring some personal hygiene products, for the sake of my fellow travelers.

I throw some jeans, t-shirts and undies in my satchel. I add some pencils, markers, crayons and paper in to the mix. Hopefully these will come in handy. I zip up the bag, stash some of my carefully horded chocolate mini-eggs into the outer pouch, and head for the door. I grab my keys and take one last glance around. I hit the lights, and close the door.

The Ravens' Scorn

2005-10-04T12:11:00.000-07:00

After getting over the first fear of the speed and the height I found the view breathtaking. I could see my castle And the mountains to the west. The sun was just rising, casting an orange glow across their peaks. I was totally exhilarated. As we headed closer and closer to the waters beyond I heard a frantic cry in the wind, "GO BACK’ GO BACK’. I turned in the saddle and looked over my left shoulder and accidentally pulled the reins to the left. The horse turned left.

I realized for the first time that I had control here. We began soaring in a wide circle over the kingdom, viewing the many roadways, forests and hills below, but the disturbing shrieking then continued in all directions. I discovered that by pulling back on the reins I could slow the horses pace and once slowed down I could see the sounds were coming from the courier raven trying to catch up with me. "This is bad, bad, bad." He cawed.

I pulled back hard on the reins and the horse settled down on the ground and stopped . Settling right in front of my face on the horses neck the raven proceeded to give me a thorough tongue lashing:

"Why do you always go running off on your own?" " Why don’t you read directions better? Why don’t you follow them?" "How much patience do you thing the enchantress has anyway"? "Do you expect her to take you by the hand"? "Go back-Go back"
"Ok, OK," I shouted. " I know" "You obviously know where I should go..so tell me". His loud screeching was getting on my nerves and it was obvious he would not leave me alone until I agreed.

Authoritatively he loudly stated, "You are to wait at the cave for further instructions", and with a haughty flapping of his wings and a deep grumble that sounded like swear words he rose in the sky and headed back towards the silk road. All my shouts of, "where is it, how do I find the cave, which direction do I go", was of no use. He was definitely done with me. Perhaps I can find him a crows gift on this journey to make amends. It is obvious, with my personality, I will need his help.

One Last Entry Before the Trip Begins

2005-10-04T10:44:00.000-07:00

Making one last entry as I wait for my guide to come take me from the Enchantress' cave. I know naught where I'm headed in this strange new land, or what I'll find, or where I'll end up. It's still so surreal to me, this journey. It's not quite sunk in that I'm actually here, in an enchantress' cave, no less, by the grace of a rainbow's magic. I'm stunned, I'm thrilled beyond description, I'm nervous as all get out and...I'm humbled. I'm humbled that my grandma and I are being allowed to follow this dream, to take this journey. For this is the journey of a lifetime.

I woke up this morning, after a restful night's sleep--this mattress is sssssooooo comfortable I wish there was a way to fold it up and pack it away to take with me and the gorgeous royal purple comforter is filled with the lightest and softest down ever. *closes eyes in ecstacy for a moment as I run a hand lightly over the material then dig in briefly before resuming* Utter heaven, let me tell you!

Not a bad way to start a journey either.

It's been a wonderful room. Shaped like an upside down stone bowl with a circular window framed in dark wood, a grid molding in the same dark wood on the pane, it's the most unusual accomodations I've ever had. The window, facing the door, is about 31 inches in diameter. Beneath it is a window seat, its cushion upholstered and tufted in a tone-on-tone brocade the same material as my duvet.

Outside the window is the most exquisite, magical garden. Among roses of all types and colors, the Enchantress has tigerlilies of white, orange and pink, bleeding hearts, snapdragons that really snap and roar, chrysanthemums, carnations, daisies, lilac bushes of both white and lavender and many more flowers too numerous to name. Some I've never seen before and don't know the names to. And there are actually fairies flitting around out there! Real, live, small people with wings and a golden glow surrounding their tiny forms flying from blossom to blossom! They like to tease the snapdragons, making them snap and roar when the fairies get too close or too bothersome, then the fairies will fly away, giggling, to a tamer flower that'll open its petals for them to land in. And the sweet perfume of all those flowers mixed in such profusion! It wafts in through the slightly open window on invisible air currents, mingling with the magic scent of roses, sandalwood and that mystery element I'm unable to name still, heightening, awakening and intoxicating the senses.

On the wall to the right of the window hangs a small tapestry done in forest colors and a burst of blue, flesh tones, red, white, gold, purple, cinnamon and pink: the scene of a golden-haired elven queen presiding over her court in a secluded forest glade, her Fae courtiers laughing and making merry captured and woven for All Immortal Time. To either side of the tapestry are two comfortable medium-sized chocolate brown leather armchairs. In one a cream crushed velvet pillow, sewn in equilateral triangles, sits. In the other, a pillow of the same royal purple brocade as the window seat, resides. Four gold tassels adorn its corners. Underneath the tapestry and between the two chairs stands a small round side table of the same dark wood used at the window. At four places around it, about an inch and a half in, the tips of carved ivy vines begin. Trailing over the edge of the table and underneath to its bracings and downward, the wooden vines continue, spiraling round and round the pedastal support and along the base's four "feet" carved to resemble tree limbs bearing flat-bottomed fruit. The only items it boasts of are an inkwell with a cream feathered quill pen placed into it, sheaves of lavender parchment patterned stationery with matching envelopes and an ox-blood leatherbound copy of the complete works of the Brothers Grimm with gilt-edged pages placed at an angle.

Standing against the left wall is an armoire, again in the same dark wood, with the carved ivy vines trailing up this time. They reach up the front and sides, some higher than others, for the top of the wardrobe, but only making it halfway, some of them. The handles are gorgeous! Handcrafted gold acorns pull the doors wide and two open the drawer set in at the bottom.

To add more color to the gray stone floor--and room--a large area rug has been placed in the center of the round room. Done in an ivy covered white lattice or trellis pattern against a purple background, its threads are thick and soft and muffle any footsteps. (It was also a boon this morning when my feet touched it--and not a stone cold floor, ha ha, an unintended pun!--as I dragged myself out of bed.)

The bed itself--on which I'm sitting cross-legged--is situated in the middle of the room at an angle to the tapestry, table and chairs. It has no headboard or footboard, just a wonderful pile of pillows, shams and two regular pillows underneath. The pillows match the ones in the leather armchairs, a pair of white and gold vertically striped ones trimmed in gold braid joining them. Behind them the shams are a set to the duvet. The pillow I slept on and its mate, along with the mattress, are sheathed in white satin.

Sinfully spoiled for the night, wasn't I? *grins* I almost hate to leave! But I know this is only a stopover place before the journey begins. And we are anxious, my grandma's spirit and I, to see what lies along the Soulfood Silk Road.

I awoke to the sunlight slanting in through the window and to the mouthwatering aromas of breakfast seeping out from under the domed covers keeping it warm. I heard a light tap then a sliding noise on wood as a tray was put down on the side table. Opening my eyes and sitting up I saw a cheerful rotund woman in a muslim(?) dress straightening from the table, her hands now empty. A second younger woman, wearing a similar dress yet this one having a yellow rosebud print on a white background and a baby blue apron, crossed the room as well to place a khaki-colored backpack in a chair along with a green box and an ivory envelope bearing my name: "Treasa."

They turned, curtsied to me and smiling, walked out closing the door behind them with a soft click. I was alone again.

The food called to me, and my rumbling stomach answered all the while I got ready for the day and the journey ahead. It was then, after I'd dressed and groomed myself, I gave in to my hungry, grumbling stomach and sat down in the unoccupied chair. Removing the lids over the plates and smelling appreciatively, I ate my breakfast of Eggs Benedict, bacon, toast with fig jelly and chocolate milk.

Now that my belly was satisfied and filled I inspected my gifts. Opening the envelope I pulled the white vellum note card from it and read the neat, slanted handwriting in gold ink. It was from the Enchantress.

Treasa,
I trust you had a good night's rest and have enjoyed the garden and room. Today you and your grandmother begin a wonderous journey that is unlike any journey you've ever taken. However, for this journey and the mode of transportation you'll be taking, you'll need a smaller, less cumbersome bag to carry your things in and store the things you'll want to gather along the way. Do not be deceived by its size; it can hold all your things and the things you'll acquire in the near future and throughout your life. It always has room for your most precious memories and prized possessions.
"Please enjoy the box of chocolates, as well. They will inspire you. However, if you do take one, or however many you want, there is a requirement with each. You must write whatever or create whatever they bring to your mind. Remember, as you go along the Soulfood Silk Road, as you experience all that it offers, write, draw, create, so others can see and share your journey too. I hope and wish you all the magic, all the happiness and all the excitement this trip has to offer the travelers who wander this road. Godspeed and be careful,

Sybil, the Enchantress"

And so, I packed my things into the backpack, even the green velvet chocolate box, *laughing sheepishly* deciding to eat them along the way. I folded and placed my big overnighter in the armoire's drawer, knowing it will somehow be safe until I collect it.

Oops, gotta go. Someone just knocked on my door, telling me my guide is here. I wonder where we are going?

I Am Not Alone

2005-10-04T10:39:00.000-07:00

The Chilean poet, Pablo Neruda once said, "And we must pass through solitude and difficulty, isolation and silence, in order to reach forth to the enchanted place where we can dance our clumsy dance and sing our sorrowful song--but in this dance or in this song there are fulfilled the most ancient rites of our conscience in the awareness of being human and of believing in a common destiny."

What a profound quote, and seemingly apt for this journey I've embarked on, but...I can't help but be disagreeing in part with what he said. I mean, *stops to think in order to try and put the words in the way they'll make the most sense and convey what I mean in a clear, concise manner* figuratively and sometimes literally, life, if you like to think of it this way, is a tapestry of journeys. A journey of the mind or imagination. A journey of the soul, or self-discovery and awareness. A journey of choices with consequences of either rewards or mistakes. A warm, nostalgic journey of memories and "Remember Whens..." And a rocky, bleak journey of regrets and "What ifs..."

Each thread is a different journey; each one having a beginning and an end. Each one intercepting or connecting to others to form a larger, more complete and intricate picture, a whole that becomes a person's life. No tapestry is the exact same, for each life is different, unique. Though some are similar in size, texture and scene and some aren't, and some are more vibrant and rich in color and some are duller and more sedate, Neruda was correct in saying "we must pass through solitude and difficulty, isolation and silence" to reach our journey's end or destiny. No one can live our lives for us but ourselves. No one can sit before our looms and weave our tapestries for us.

Our choices are our own and they affect our destiny, what colors, size, threads and design our individual tapestries will have at our lives' end. In this, we are alone on our journeys. And in order to grow and progress along any of them, we must needs have adversity. As my grandma was fond of saying, "Fire is the test of gold; adversity, the test of men."

But here it is where I disagree with the esteemed Señor Neruda. People cannot live my life for me, but they can touch it, for good or ill, sometimes leaving a lasting impression. And with an omnipotent God watching out for me, and with people coming and going along the way, I am never truly alone. And never will I be.

Take this journey I impetuously started, for instance. This morning I awoke to rain tap-tapping on my windows and thatched roof and was seized with the impossible and highly whimsical desire to see just what lay at the end of a double rainbow. It was so compelling I couldn't ignore it. Perhaps I am touched in the head a wee bit, or the luck of the Irish is with me, or I have a bit of the blarney about me, or just simply the magic found me and was kind...but however it came to pass this afternoon, I discovered my humble self to be standing before my whimsical idea. I had chased and found me a rainbow. Not just any rainbow, but a double rainbow!

It smelled fresh and clean as it only could, like rain. *laughs* But, of course! And when I finally regained presence of mind and gathered my courage to satisfy a child's and old woman's curiosity from so many years ago, I closed my eyes and reached out, holding my breath and stepping through the many hued magic gate.

It's a curious sensation, walking through a rainbow. Just like being enveloped in the lightest of gossamers, a gossamer so thin it seems to seep into the pores to flow through your veins somehow, filling you with its many colors and a sense of rejuvenation and well-being. And the sparkles one feels in the charged air standing before the rainbow continue to travel along the nerve endings, causing a pleasant energized, yet tingly feeling.

In fact, even now, several hours later in my new room in the Cave of the Enchantress, I still feel energized and tingly from head-to-toe because of them. I can't see them--unless I close my eyes, then they are winking in and out of existence in all their rainbow glory--but I sense them under my skin and all around me, like an aura.

Getting back to my journey and not being alone... From the start of it, I may have looked to be alone to anyone daft enough besides me to be out of doors in the dwindling rain, but I wasn't. I had my grandma's spirit to keep me company. It was she who instilled the magic of and love for rainbows in my young heart those many years ago. She's with me even now--I can feel her--as I lie on this comfortable bed on my stomach, writing this in one of the journals I brought with me on impulse. (There's no phone jack here in the Enchantress' cave. Any and all travelers who manage to find the secret gate to her grotto are simply told such modern conveniences, such as the phone and tv that link us to the outside world, aren't necessary here. "The travelers who come here are here for one purpose and one purpose only," she said. "Whether or not they know or understand it yet, they, like you, are here to start a magnificent journey that'll be a feast for the imagination and soul. It'll be a journey you'll never forget. Of that I'm confident enough to assure you.")

A feast for the imagination and soul. I knew this afternoon after stepping through the magic gate and seeing my surroundings and the cave 20 feet before me my day, my life, had taken an unexpected and magical turn.

"We're not in Ireland anymore, Grandma," I said to her.

The whole landscape had changed. The terrain was now mountainous and rocky in places, especially before me leading to the cave. The cave with an arched stout wooden door with iron hinges and handle.

How curious, I thought. I wonder who lives there?

Bemused and awed, I stood in a small clearing with trees to my back and a small stream to the northeast of the cave some yards away. It rippled and gurgled softly along its course to some unknown destination. Jammed into a small pile of good-sized rocks near its grassy bank was a wooden sign painted a pristine white. Neatly printed letters in turquoise pronounced this "Mnemosyne's Stream." I would have to check it out later, I determined.

Turning around, still wide-eyed and probably a wee bit slack-jawed, I noticed and was somewhat disappointed to see my rainbow was no more. It was like a friend had dropped me off at an unknown place and disappeared without so much as a fare-thee-well.

Ha! That's exactly what happened! I thought with some amusement and trepidation, which settled in the pit of my stomach.

I looked up and shaded my eyes with a hand. The sky was cloudless and an intense baby blue. If I hadn't known better I would have believed there hadn't been a storm today. The sun had traveled to the west aways and burned brightly, a yellow-white orb hanging low in the sky. Its rays were warm upon me as they fell to the Earth.

I lowered my hand and gaze to look about me more closely. Directly ahead of me, mixed with the deciduous trees I recognized but could not name at the moment, I noticed some trees I'd never seen before, and...what were those things on the branches? I squinted and took a few steps closer. "Olives? Where, by all that's holy in Ireland, are we Grandma?"

"Umbria, Italy. The Cave of the Enchantress."

I started and felt a hot blush creep up my neck and face, settling into my cheeks. I'm sure I jumped a foot before tightening my grip and readjusting my bag on my shoulder, spinning around again.

"Er...hi!" I said, striding forward to the now open cave's entrance and the woman standing there. My brow furrowed in consternation as what she'd said sunk in. "Umbria? Italy? But that's not possible!" I blinked at her. "I was in Ireland not more than...than 15 minutes ago!"

She looked back at me calmly, then quirked a brow. "As impossible as chasing a rainbow and passing through its gate?"

My blush burned fiercer and, chagrined, I realized she was right. My mouth opened and closed a few times without any words coming out and in the end I just swallowed. Stepping back inside the cave she waved for me to come in. "Come along and I'll show you to your room." she said, going deeper into the cavern. "I am Sybil, the Enchantress of this cave. And you, my dear Treasa, have a long and glorious trip ahead of you tomorrow. You'll need to get a good night's rest."

Curious, stunned and bewildered, I meekly followed her from the main cavern. She raised a long-fingered, graceful hand and the door swung shut with a soft click all on its own. Turning left we entered a long corridor. Here, elegant gold wall lanterns with spiraled bases hooked into the stone walls at intervals on either side. As we passed they lit up on their own as well, illuminating our way, then winked out once we'd moved on. The hem of the enchantress' peacock blue robe swished softly as it moved around her trim ankles, and her matching slippers made no sound on the stone ground. Her white hair, worn in a bun at the crown of her head with loose ringlets on either side of her cheeks, was lightly gilded in the lanternlight.

If you've ever been in a cave before then you know how dim, musty-smelling, dank and chilly they are. But this cave isn't like that. There're no stalactites or stalagmites barring the way. It's dry and warm and has a cozy feeling. And the air is fresh with an enigmatic scent I can't quite identify...roses, a hint of sandalwood and something...mysterious. Perhaps it's simply the magic of this place; perhaps that's the scent I detect. I dunno.

It was then that her words registered with my bemused brain and I stopped in my tracks. "Wait!" I called, hurrying to catch up with her as she rounded a right corner. "How did you know my name? And what d'you mean, I'm going on a trip tomorrow? What trip?"

Three people, a man and two women, were coming from the opposite direction. Each smiled and nodded in a friendly manner as they passed by. "Oh, how lovely!" one of the women declared, twisting aroud to wave at me. "Another fellow traveler! You'll love the Soulfood Silk Road, honey."

"The Soulfood Silk Road?" I echoed.

"Yes. The road you'll be traveling on for the next little while." The enchantress turned left again and walked several more paces down the newest corridor before stopping in front of a door similar to the one at the cave's entrance.

She waved her hand again and the door opened inwardly on well-oiled hinges. She looked at me briefly with a slightly amused smile on her youthful face, her emerald green eyes sparkling with a secret knowledge.

"I am an enchantress, remember?" she answered, then entering the room she spun around to face me as I followed her in. "I know most anything: past, present and the near future. I knew you were coming as of yesterday, before you even thought of chasing that rainbow.

"As for the journey, you've earned it. You are here because you're not afraid to attempt the impossible, you're not afraid to reach out and chase your dreams. There are very few like you left in this world, my dear, which is a pity. You are the ones, with the open minds and imaginations, that are needed to keep hopes and dreams alive, for without them the world would die. You and your grandmother have wanted to know what lies at the end of a double rainbow. Now is your chance, Treasa O'Leary, to find your answers."

I looked at her solemnly, overwhelmed with emotion. "This is all so...surreal!" My brow furrowed. "I honestly get to find out?" I was hesitant as I slid my overnighter to the bed.

"Yes."

And so here I am--well, we are, Grandma and I--in a room in the cave of an enchantress. Already, because of two women, my grandma and now the enchantress, my life has forever changed. I am, or rather my grandma's spirit and I, are embarking on a journey of a lifetime to follow a lil girl's and old woman's dream. So please, don't tell me, Señor Neruda, that I am traveling alone in isolation, solitude or silence, for I am not. I will reach that enchanted place with the help and company of others. I will dance or sing my song with the support and encouragement of others. I will recognize my humanity and reach for my destiny with others as they recognize their own and reach for the common end we all share. In the end, when my life is over, my tapestry will be richer for this experience.

I am not alone. I rather like knowing that.

Chasing Rainbows

2005-10-04T10:29:00.000-07:00

What's at the end of the rainbow?

It isn't a pot of gold. Nay, no wee spry leprechaun lies in wait for a bumbling human to come along for a bit of sport in the game of "Catch the Leprechaun...If Ye Can."

It isn't a pool of rainbow water, where the fairies in charge of Nature come to replenish their store of dyes.

It isn't a gateway back to Kansas from Oz. Nay, only the Ruby Slippers and a powerful wish can send someone back home.

It isn't a fountain of rainbow colored Skittles, where one is told to "taste the rainbow."

And, sorry it is I am to say, it isn't a roadway to Rainbowland or Rainbow Brite.

Ooooook, then what have you found at the end of the rainbow?

The joy of dreams.

Renewal...fresh hope.

Magic...beauty.

A place which only innocent eyes and those with open minds can view. It's here, in the few precious moments when the rainbow touches earth, the gate to this unseen world is opened to mortals.

It's here, if such a one is lucky enough to pass through the bands of color into this new, unknown world, they will see and experience things beyond their wildest imagination.

It's here, where time has no meaning or seems to stand still, one can remain ageless.

It's here that dreams come true.

It's here that one is granted a boon, but only one, by the great Queen Mab.

It's here that one can dance with the Fae folk in one of their enchanted circles while Queen Mab presides over her court in a secret glade.

It's here that one's innocence is sustained and renewed.

Aaahhh, so what happens when there is a double rainbow? Are there two gates?

*smiles* I think ye are just the explorer needed for that answer, my child. Next time ye see a double rainbow, ye can tell me your answer.

Aye, Grandma.

*Inspired by a P-O-Y archived post.

*******Lil did I know it at the time, that entry in my journal was to be the beginning of my journey along the Soulfood Silk Road. The child in it, now grown up and having seen a double rainbow just now on one of her many excursions just outside her village, is off to find the answers to her questions of what lies at the end of this twin beauty.

Last night the wind blew hard enough outside my windows to be heard, and I knew the heavens would soon be opening up to release the cleansing tears we mortals call rain. For when the wind comes, moisture is sure to follow. It was a playful wind I heard, scuttling the first of the fallen leaves of the changing season along the path following the west wall of my cottage. It swirled through the village square, and sometimes, lying abed, if the wind brought it near I'd hear the slow wooden cccrrreeeakk of a business sign hung outside Paddy's Pub and a few other shops down the road aways. It rustled and pushed through the leaves of the trees, and in my mind's eye, snug warmly under my covers, I could see their limbs dancing and swaying to the wind's whistling tune.

If there's rain on the morrow, I thought before drifting off to sleep, as sure as Ireland is green, a rainbow is sure to grace our sky. And I determined then to watch for it.

Ever since I was a wee one, I've loved the tales told me by my grandma. Tales of Old Ireland, tales of the Fae Folk and Queen Mab, tales of the heroes of yore. They fed my fertile, young imagination and oft times I would go exploring, to see if I could stumble upon Queen Mab's court and espy what it was the Fae Folk were up to. Or perhaps to try and catch myself a leprechaun and have three wishes granted.

One day when I was seven, and it was nearing the end of the summer vacation my family and I had taken to visit her here in Ireland, it had rained most of the day. I was quite put out because I couldn't leave the cottage. I wanted to explore! I wanted to see if I could find and capture a wee man or woman and have them grant me my wishes. I knew exactly what I'd wish for too. I wanted to stay in Ireland with Grandma, not having to go back to the States come next week. I wanted to meet Queen Mab and dance with her people. I wanted to be great, like the hero Cuchulainn.

"Now child, don't mope so," Grandma told me as she sat knitting in her rocking chair. "Ye can go explorin' tomorrow. 'Tis sure to be a better day."

The rain had stopped by then, but twilight would soon be falling upon the tiny village and my parents and sister and brother would soon be returning from the next town over. The adults didn't like it if it was nearing dark and I wasn't within calling distance.

I was at the window, despondently watching the leftover raindrops slide in slow, meandering rivelets down the pane of glass. I was about to turn and answer her when an arc of color caught my eye. A rainbow! A beautiful, brilliant rainbow perfectly arching across the gray sky!

"Grandma! Look, a rainbow!" I said excitedly and launched toward the door, throwing it open and hastening out into the front yard. I pointed to Earth's natural prism hanging above the trees and drank in the deep red that lightened by degrees then bled into what soon became orange and all the other colors. I had never seen a rainbow this vibrant before and I wanted to take in every last detail so I could tell Da and the others about it later. Da loved rainbows.

Grandma was slower in coming, but come she did and placed her thin arm around my shoulders, a smile wreathing her beloved wrinkled face. I noticed then one end of the rainbow seemed to touch the hills in the distance, and I remembered the tales of a leprechaun's pot of gold being at the end. Having a child's curiosity I asked her. It was that day she shared the true magic of what lies at the end of a rainbow if one is lucky enough to get there before it fades. It was that day my world changed just a lil, my imagination expanded to include new possibilities and my own love for rainbows was born.

I never forgot that day or her words to me when I asked about double rainbows. "I think ye are just the explorer needed for that answer, my child. Next time ye see a double rainbow, ye can tell me your answer."

Now I'm grown and have come back to Ireland, having inherited Grandma's cottage.

Sure enough, the rain came. I awoke early this morning to the tap-tap-tapping of its drops on the windows and thatched roof. I smiled into my pillow and curled my toes into the mattress, my heart dancing at the prospect of seeing a rainbow. Grandma's words filtered up through the lingering mists of sleep and I was suddenly gripped with the whimsical thought of chasing a rainbow to see what was at the end of it. Maybe this time I would be quick enough to slip through the gate into the invisible world of the Fae and finally meet the queen I had so longed to know.

What if there's a double rainbow? You could finally have your answers and no more wondering... This thought followed closely on the heels of the first and my eyes opened. Sleep was firmly banished in the new compelling whimsy of the idea.

Why not? I thought as I stretched, pushed back the covers and rolled from bed. It's crazy, but then Grandma would say, 'It's magic. It does'na haveta make sense.'

True, and it would give me another excuse to take my camera, journals and things and go exploring. And maybe, if today's is a double rainbow I'll be able to find the answers to my long-ago questions for both Grandma and myself.

The chilled wooden floor instantly cooled the soles of my bare feet, sending lil shivers up through my legs, causing me to yelp in surprise. Hastily I reached for my Irish green zip up slippers and put them on. Hugging myself and chafing my arms a bit to ward off the chill that invaded my room early this morning, I walked down the short narrow hallway to the common room where the fireplace and kitchen are. I knelt and started a small fire to warm the place up then moved to the kitchen area to start a pot of tea.

"If the rain lets up later, Grandma, I'll go exploring," I told her. "Perhaps then I'll be able to answer those questions we both wanted to know about and find out what's at the end of a double rainbow."

It may seem crazy, I know, talking to a dead loved one, but it's comforting to me. Since she died four months ago I've been missing her something terrible; talking to her fills the void and brings her spirit close.

*******The rain let up just after one this afternoon. I spent my morning in restless anticipation, cleaning my cottage and then packing any and all things I thought I would need for this exploration in my oversized Texas Flag overnighter. When I noticed the rain was letting up outside my bedroom window I slung the bag over my shoulder and started down the short hall toward the door. My image in the hall mirror caught my eye and I stopped briefly for a quick once over. My reflection grinned wryly back at me. Dark brown hair was pulled into a bun, but flyaway wisps were falling around an oval face on the rounding side with sea green eyes evenly spaced apart. Thin-rimmed tortoise shell glasses were sliding down a short wedge of a nose. I pushed them up then looked down at myself. A red sweatshirt with the old-fashioned Mickey Mouse sewn on the front and on the right shoulder, paired with black floral-printed stretch pants and Ugg hiking shoes. I had to laugh. Eccentric Colleen O'Leary's granddaughter was sure to be thought of as eccentric as she if people ever caught wind she was chasing after a rainbow.
Stepping outside the rain was falling intermittently now, and I knew I had to hurry. Not caring that the occasional drop splattered on me or my glasses, I followed the muddy path in front of my cottage until it forked left or continued straight on into the village. Turning left I walked at an increasing pace until I left the path altogether and began climbing a knoll. The heavens soon dried up and cleared, and though I crested the small hill and kept going and climbing others, I remained alert, searching the lightening sky for the rainbow.
Stopping to catch my breath for a moment, having climbed over a low stone wall and hoisted my bag over it, I twisted to my left to scan the horizon. And there it was! A double rainbow! The inner arc of banded colors was more vibrant and prominent than its outer sister, but I thought the first just as lovely as the second. I knew I was grinning foolishly and my heart jumped into joyous overdrive. A double rainbow!
"What a magnificent sight, Grandma!" I cried as I shouldered my bag hastily again and took off in that direction as fast as my bag, the terrain and stone walls allowed. "Here we go!"

Always keeping the curved bands of color in sight, I prayed they wouldn't fade before I could get there.
Funny how magic works, especially on Time and distance and other things. The rainbows always seemed to hang in the distance, no matter how far I traveled. Then all of the sudden they were before me! Shimmering arcs of brilliant color, one about 25 feet from the other and duller, but no less beautiful. Their ends barely brushed the tips of the grass blades, and they sssooaarred into the sky. I felt insignificant standing there in front of them and shivered.
It's difficult to describe what it's like standing in front of a rainbow, but I shall try. Words, speech failed me as I stood there looking up with my mouth hanging open. The air seemed thin, charged with some invisible force and my nerve endings tingled as if sparkles, all the colors of the rainbow, traveled along them.
I don't how long I stood there in silent awe. A hundred years, or mere seconds, I couldn't tell you. Belatedly, and excitedly, I remembered my digital camera and began recording pictures. Talking to Grandma, I put the camera away back in my bag and, looking at the wonder of colored light and mist I stood up, taking my bag with me.

"Ready Grandma, to find out what's on the opposite side?" Taking a deep breath and closing my eyes, I stretched forth my right hand and walked through the rainbow's curtain...

Again with the doorway!!!

2005-10-03T22:26:00.000-07:00

A good giggle will clear the mind and set you on the journey!!

What to pack?? My minds whirls briefly and then begins (from force of habit) the mental countdown of 'necessities', mercifully small after living on the back of a motorcycle for a month.

Clothes, comfortable, versatile, stain resistant; I'll wear my beloved first 'Hippy' skirt in such vital shades and a plain, short sleeved cotton shirt in faded black. I toss in a fuzzily warm sweater, closed shoes for rough terrain, and socks to go under them. There is a pair of comfy and sturdy jeans in a lovely barely worn prussian blue.

I hang my medicine bag around my neck as I am a-swirl in the scent of smudging sage. I tuck my favourite crystal, and my antique French Tarot deck, and my runes in a little gold figured velvet bag as I ask the support and protection of the Creator of Man and the Mother of Man.

There is a new journal/notebook, a sketch pad, basic pencils and charcoals with a kneaded rubber eraser. My camera, and extra photo cards wrapped securely in the jeans and sweater for protection.

Should I bring gifts? I already bring them, all I really have to give is myself. If that isn't enough, no material thing will do either.

Stop, take a cleansing breath, redolent with sage and the small bottles of herbal oils I take for small injuries, and relaxation if needed. Check the weight and balance of my pack. Although the pack itself is light, it is also heavy with anticipation and expectation. Last, but most certainly not last is my staff of seven-barks wood, engraved with the face of the Father of Man, a green suede handle and my secret Wiccan name engraved on it. across from the thong that goes around my wrist is the summoning rattle that found me.

The summoning rattle is seven times seven, seven strands of tiny wooden beads, with seven slivers of mother-of-pearl equally spaced around each strand. Thrice magical in form, and powerful in function conjoined with my staff.

Last but not least my books on herbalism, and wildfare, for foraging along the way, and adding to my stock of herbals. Who knows what magic lies in a tiny white flower? Or what may be needed along the way. Slip on my comfy, secure sandals, looking so Greco-Roman in style, settle my feather hat on my head and take another deep breath.

As I turn off the lights in my room and head out the door I 'chirtle' to Pye and Skye to join me on this adventure, my familiar and her brother fall in on either side, light blue eyes burning with excitement and curiosity.
And thus begins the jourmey...

Let the God and Goddess be with us on our way!!

2005-10-03T20:25:00.000-07:00

As soon as I made the decision to explore, my horse rose slowly above the path and headed east towards an endless stretch of water ahead. There was no time now to change my decision and wait for the others. I hope my raven can find me if I am off course.

Hoof beats echo

2005-10-03T18:09:00.000-07:00

What does one take on a mystical journey.? I grabbed my back pack and started walking around the castle, thinking. What in my life is most important? My FAMILY, naturally, are number one but they are stamped in my memory so clearly that there is no need for pictures. Then there is CREATIVITY AND IMAGINATION. I threw a journal with pencil and pen into the pack along with a drawing journal for quick sketching of ideas and scenery. Next? BOOKS. Oh dear…Which book shall I take in case I have trouble sleeping. What book gives me the most reading pleasure that I could read over and over? I knew just the one and I grabbed the small book, "Elizabeth and her German Garden" by Elizabeth Von Arnim. I also have wanted to sketch the different paths and flowers mentioned in her journal. Perhaps if we have rest camps on the way I could do that. Except for a couple of changes of clothes, a rain coat, a warm jacket, and two pair of shoes, that would have to do ….But wait…I may need some gifts to give out. I grabbed a few of my favorite books and blank art journals with cloth covers on them that I had made. And added them to the now heavy backpack. I hurried down to the carriage house to get my man, Jasper, to hitch up our best and fastest horse and started out to the entrance to the cave of the enhanteur.

Two huge rod Iron gates stood open on the side of the dusty road I had been following. I did not know where the doorway was, but the sign over the gate said, "The Enhanteurs' world" so I entered. No one was in sight when I went through the gates, but as I rode down the path that led east I could hear the creeking of the metal gates as they closed behind me. I had the funny feeling that I was not supose to enter yet..Perhaps I was to wait for the others. Last time I took the wrong tunnel and ended up on the island of Iona and missed the whole journey. I could turn back and wait for the others...or I could go ahead and see what was waiting. I can always check back by sending my raven back for the latest instructions and change my route. I am here now and I am curious. I shall explore.

Leaving for Ithaka

2005-10-03T15:21:00.000-07:00

People are standing around with bags, rucksacks, suitcases, backpacks, carry alls and saddle bags at the door to the Cave. And to think Sibyl said to travel light! Lucky we have a big store room to keep things so that people can pick them up on their way back home. That room is filling because there hasn't been too many leave the realm.

The first instructions from our guide are at Soul Food Silk Road. Keep checking this and Ithaka Bound if you get lost. We are bound for Ithaka. Ithaka lies within the realm of the Silk Road somewhere, tucked away from view. It is a very enchanted place, a bit like the dreamlike lake of Nemi - Diana's Mirror, as it was called by the ancients. No one who has seen the calm waters of the lake where the Amazon Queen's summer palace nestles, can forget it. Sip from the waters and you forget about the earthly realm and feel the creativity pulsing through your veins.

Ithaka Bound will be open to the public for comment. If you don't get an invitation to join and want to post on this blogger please let me know. I will post out a swathe of invitations but it is very easy to overlook someone so for goodness sake don't let this happen and get lost.

If you are on the Soul Food Cafe mailing list do make sure to ask for an invite to join because I will not keep sending instructions to the whole group.