This is to be a Bardic journey through time to find Magick. My life has changed and I am searching for new enchantments. I am keeping my mind and heart open to what comes my way in gentleness and truth.
On this journey to points south, along the way, I am reading a book called, “Faery Tale: One Woman’s Search for Enchantment in a Modern World” by Signe Pike to Harry as he drives.
The author is from Ithaca, she talks about Corning, NY, places where Harry & I have spent time in and there are stories of travel (as we ride) black dogs (Monty) and of her meeting Colleen O’Shaunnessy (with whom I’ve met and worked at some psychic festivals with).
We are also going to be passing by, shortly, Charleston, which is the place the author writes about in her book. That, and well, the search for finding faeries!
I usually name our tours, once on the road as it opens itself up for perusal. But for this journey, I have been led to name it as we set out. It is “The Magickal Mischief Tour” in honor of my mood, latest blogs and synchronicity and the fact that we plan on visiting “Hogwarts”, the new Harry Potter Park at Universal while we are on our adventure.
Magick indeed!
We head first to visit our friend, Valerie on our way south. She has been so generous to us all the time that we’ve known her. She wants us to stop on “the way by” so, we veer off the beaten path a bit and go to find her.
But, like finding and searching for faeries, it isn’t always as easy as you’d like. (read: we got lost). She came and found us and led us to their home. She lives on top of a mountain. We travel up, up, windy, snake-twisty roads to their home. Looking at the hillsides covered in bare winter branches and rock formations piled in fields, we agreed that we were, indeed, In Troll Country.
Valerie and her mate Keith, offered for us to sup in a most grand fashion, once we arrived. Cheeses, homemade pesto, compotes and jams to slather on fresh hearth bread. A glass or two of hearty red wine and a wondrous dinner of sweet potatoes and char-grilled steak had me feeling right at home in their cozy abode. They were sweet, fun and generous and the bed was warm, dry, clean and safe.
We, as the gypsies we are, offered our music to them for a gypsy trade. We were their own private bards for an ee’en and it felt good for us to tune our instruments and relax.
We, as the gypsies we are, offered our music to them for a gypsy trade. We were their own private bards for an ee’en and it felt good for us to tune our instruments and relax.
It’s good to have mates on a journey.
They also own several dogs and one is a Giant Schnauzer named Britta.
She is beautiful, very shy and looks almost exactly like “Old Iron Guts Joe’ the wonder Schnoodle. Only Britta is skittish and quiet and BIG. And I loved her instantly, but she wouldn’t come to me. So, I quickly devised a scheme to sneak pets of her beautiful black coat while blatantly offering her morsels of sweet potato and steak and bacon. I miss our black dog, Monty, already. He is our faithful cur and friend. Monty guards Squirrel Haven like Cerberus guards the gates of Hell.
And that’s ok. :)
I am also reading now about “black dogs” in my book and how they can be faery guardians of magick realms. Harry & I heartily enjoy the black canines in our lives at the moment and have to agree that they are magickal friends and protectors as well!
After waking and partaking in Val’s morning repast of eggs, bacon, warm rolls and jams, she filled our mugs with coffee, we packed our saddlebags again and we left with hugs and kindred smiles.
Setting off, we find ourselves high in the Blue Mountains, in a dense blue fog that covers everything. It lifts to rain and it is reminiscent of a grey day in Mordor.
And yes, it’s also raining in the story in the pages of the book too….
My life has taken many changes and twists and turns in the past few months. I am aware of how much I’ve changed and how my circumstances have also changed.
Oh, I’m still a babe and a mother and a lover and a bard…
But like Stevie Nicks’ sings:
“Well, I’ve been afraid of changing, cuz I built my life around you. But time makes you bolder and children get older and I’m getting older too. Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love? Can the child within my heart rise above? Can I sail through the changing ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life?”
And that’s where I seem to be right now.
I am hoping to handle the changing seasons of my life. I am turning from Mother to Crone and I embrace it and am terrified at the same time. In the last 3 months, I have realized all this.
My hair has turned grey. On this journey, it is graying even as we spake.
I am curious...and letting it do so.
What will it look like?
What will I look like?
What will it look like?
What will I look like?
I am trying to find myself and who I am now.
Who is this aging Enchantress?
Who is this graying songbird?
Maybe I’ll find an outer beauty that is new with the addition of silver hair.
So, I've been thinking...maybe I'll be brave.
Ok...I'll grow it out a bit.
Ok...I'll grow it out a bit.
Maybe I'll go the route like some brave sister musicians have chosen to go...
Maybe I’ll look like Bonnie Raitt
and Emmy Lou Harris and their luscious graying locks.
Or Joan Baez
Maybe I’ll “rock the grey, baby” like my friend Duchess O’Donnegal says.
Hopefully.
Hopefully I will grow into my age with grace and beauty and wisdom that I have earned so hard pressed.
But like the firm believer in change that I am…
I have an emergency box of magick color at the ready for a Gemini moment of impetuousness, up my sleeve.
It’s a nice and easy magick trick.
No comments:
Post a Comment