Annalia's Simply Splendid Flight
Product Description
Annalia’s Simply Splendid Flight
(From Another Side of Day)
Author: Candace A. Croft, Ph.D.
Trafford Publishing, 2007 (2nd ed.), 244 pages, paperback ISBN: 1-55395-573-0
Contact: 1-866-941-0370 or www.trafford.com
19th Annual Writer’s Digest Self-Published Book Awards, Judge’s comments:
“The writing here is as smooth and engaging as in the author’s other work, [Living With Heart]. Her ability to craft a unique plot that serves as a thematic metaphor is again evident, but with the switch to a fictional female narrator she is able to explore life and relationships from an altogether different perspective that is convincingly conveyed with a deft touch in transitions from scene to scene. The plot’s basic premise is a compelling one and the plot successfully delivers. There is a professionalism to the prose that allows the novel to appeal equally as a metaphysical parable or as a literary novel.”
Reader comments:
“Annalia’s journey easily becomes one’s own as the monstrous fears, self-doubts, and obstacles she faces are all too familiar … a masterful job of enticing the reader to learn what happens next and … encouraging one’s highest, truest self to emerge as destiny.” ~Keith Smith, MA, EdD, MBA - minister, educator, & therapist
“An enlightening journey of inner hope and strength that takes Annalia and the reader out of a dark place to shine as a star … inspirational.” ~Rosa, spiritualist
ABSTRACT
"...and a little child shall lead them." ~Isaiah 11:6
The young girl in this story represents the child who remains at the core of each of us, within our hearts--woman and man, younger and elder, enlightened or wandering about in the dark. May you always be guided down life's path to your star by the soul of a chlid, the HeartLight, within you.
Annalia envisioned her life as paradise. Everything was heavenly until three hellhounds stormed into her world, center stage. A shadowy presence, they eclipsed life’s brilliance and made her plot a weedy mess. They invaded her dreams and chased her into a nightmare. Repeat performances took their toll until she stood on the brink of despair.
Enter Lazy Lapis, the Dream Magician, who arrives on the scene and escorts Annalia to the Forest of Perpetual Night where she must face the nightmare she dreads. Like the other Sleepy Noggins mindlessly wandering there, she encounters horrible happenings that shift the landscape, trap her in dark despair, and keep her dreams form coming to light. She has seven nights to tap into self, clear her way, and master her nature. Can she perform the magic needed to open the door to a brighter day and produce a dream?
A readers' guide is included for personal growth with questions for self-reflection. Perfect for individual study or book groups.
If a young girl can rise as a star and produce a living dream, any child can.
Excerpt from Annalia's Simply Splendid Flight
. . . Lazy Lapis and I slid upward through the aurora borealis that flowed as an astral stream across the sky’s raven wing. Petals of liquid light blended with metallic ribbons of copper, mercury, sterling and gold. They lent a bent-foil shimmer to the heaven’s diaphanous glow. Floating ever higher, I was immersed in numerous baths drawn from colorful waters that washed away earthly sediment until my soulful self shone through. I learned that such cleansing was necessary before being allowed to set foot in Tabankhu. Each spectral hue had its own purification to perform. Waters of red and orange rinsed base emotions and material desires. Yellow and green dissolved unworthy thoughts and feelings. Blue, indigo, violet and finally white left me pure of spirit and ready to alight as I flew hand-in-hand with my guide toward the mystical land.
* * * * * * *
. . . Secure that Lazy Lapis would alert me to impending danger, I relaxed my guard and plodded away from the beasts, but failed to notice I headed directly toward the edge of a cliff. I could hardly be expected to see the bottomless pit when I could see neither the forest nor the trees.
The wind grabbed my attention with a rare and hearty, “ANNALIA!” Eyes opened, I was startled to find my toes perched on the brink of a great abyss. A sheer drop extended as far as I could see and beyond, I suspected. Light from the wizard’s lantern would never penetrate its layers of blackness. One faltering step and I would be impaled with a sickening sound upon hopelessness, death, and self-destruction, left to lie among countless other souls erased from existence.
My head swam, dizzied by scattered thoughts swirling through my brain. My body swayed as various emotions rose from some unknown depths. Not knowing how I came to stand at the edge of despair, I was unsure of what to think, how to feel, or what to do, although it seemed unwise to sway with indecisiveness when teetering on the brink with life hanging in the balance. One thought surfaced clearly: Leap into the pit and have done with it. One pitch forward and my torment would be finished.
The wind whispered. The heart is deathless.
Knowing I was off-balance, the monsters slobbered and accelerated their torment.
“All you have is a pipedream that will never come true. Step off the stage.”
The taunt drained my value.
“You lack the fiber to be a success. Look at the mess you have gotten your self into. Put an end to the torture.”
The barb punctured my hope.
“And, look, you are no star. Who would notice if you took a headlong tumble and never recovered?”
Their arrows tore into my soul. Feeling small and all alone, I accepted their expert assessment without question. Flung into the great abyss, I would only add to life’s emptiness. I was taking up space—a big zero, nothing more than a place holder, a waste of universal real estate.
If I ended it now, I could come around and start on fresh ground. If I had an ounce of heart, I would take my leave and make room for those who were full of promise, those with substance and fiber, not quaking limbs. Jumping required little effort or talent; one step and gravity would take care of the rest. Jump and I would do the world a favor, but I could not work up the courage to do even that. The consummate loser, I failed at being a failure.
The wind rustled. The heart is deathless.
“JUMP! JUMP! JUMP!” Hellhounds tugged at the part of me willing to do their bidding. Energy coiled inside me, ready to spring into action.
Maybe this was one of the sacrifices Lazy Lapis had talked about. The edge of an abyss seemed an unlikely crossrood, but what did I know? One violent separation and the nightmare would be over. If I had been decisive and acted instead of questioning, the deed would already be done.
The beastly direction was insistent. “JUMP! JUMP! JUMP!” I wondered, if those voices had said, “LIVE! LIVE! LIVE!” would I have soared to the heights? As much as I hated to admit it, the honest answer was “no.” Truth be told, Lazy Lapis had whispered that directive through my heart countless times, but I had either ignored or resisted it. He had tried to warn me about the force of anti-energy. The whispering wind had tried to direct me.
For some reason, either because the sheer volume of the monsters’ words gave them influence, because theirs was an easy path, because I was oblivious to my choices, or for a host of other reasons, I was willing to listen to the voice of sinister reason over intuitive guidance. To expect more from a Nogginhead would be illogical.
Sulfurous, yellow eyes glinted through blackness. Coiling my body, I prepared to hurl my self into the void. Don’t hesitate. Do it. Let go. JUMP! Again, I failed. Was I incapable of committing my self to anything? Even oblivion?
In that moment of hesitation, I no longer feared hellhounds, I frightened myself. That I was willing to cause harm to self left me shaking. Realizing I was clinging to what little ground I could find, I looked down to find the source of resistance. My red shoes doubled as grappling hooks, digging deeply into the earth, opposing me. Thank heavens my red shoes had the sense to give me roots.
I startled and nearly toppled into the great abyss when Lazy Lapis made a sudden appearance. “That is a fatal mistake too many people make.”
“What is?”
“Believing that death at your own hands is an avenue to new life. Good heavens. Can’t be done. Peace is never found in the abyss. You would only delay the inevitable by spiraling around in darkness. Such an ending poses an additional challenge for a new beginning. For heaven’s sake, get a grip. You have been uprooted by life, you say, so what? Such is the human condition. Stop blithering yourself into withered submission. Learn your lesson here and now before coming by it the long, hard way around. What keeps you from jumping off the edge into the brink?”
“I don’t have the heart.”
“Impossiblous. The heart is deathless.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“Now, believe. All children encounter demons that send spirits plummeting. Plating of conviction having worn thin, your core has little protection from hellhounds. That’s the fatal flaw of the forest.”
“What’s the flaw?”
“Death, child, death. You have reached the ultimate point of depression where death and darkness are walking companions. Completely severed from your true nature, you turn away from life because it seems alien to you.”
“What can I do to save my self?”
“I would suggest immediately coming to your senses. Put down the sackcloth, back away from the edge slowly, and no one will get hurt.”
It was a simple direction, yet I teetered on the brink of indecision.
* * * * * * *
. . . “Splendid, simply splendid,” Lazy Lapis said, raising his voice to be heard over the band that had started a new set. “Hold onto a stellar sight and see your self in pure light. That is how to stretch into the morning sun. Do you know who you are?”
My response faltered. Until that moment, I thought I knew. I thought the answer to the question was a simple one. But, as my guide had taught me, simple was not always obvious and the obvious usually pointed to a mindless path.
My mask began to chafe.
“Take it off. It is not you. It is costuming. Let it go and live free!”
“Strip myself of everything? I’d be naked.”
“Nothing wrong with a bare beginning.
Walking near the edge of the floor, I was picked by a frisky bachelor’s button for a turn around the floor. We danced a rather awkward, if lively, waltz. I couldn’t help turning his common botanical name over and over in my mind. “Devil’s flower … Devil’s flower … Devil’s flower …”
Had Lazy Lapis not helped me retrieve my senses, I doubt I would have noticed I was moving in reverse. No, not moving, being moved in reverse. Powerless to switch directions, I was left to witness what had already passed, without as much as a glimpse into the future. Even the present moment was over and done by a hair’s-breadth by the time I caught up to it.
Lazy Lapis danced in my footsteps alongside. I asked, “How did I become turned around?”
His tone turned dreamy from the stardust in his eyes as he danced his solitary waltz. “A child becomes spun when she thinks she is pursuing the sun and believes she is fighting the good fight, but has everything reversed—because she is turned around, you see—and so ends up going after the wrong things, with backward for forward, up for down, day for night, north for south, left for right, foul for fair, here for there.” He placed a hand to his forehead. “Goodness me, all this whirling, the stars are calling.”
“Living backwards is certain death.” I raised my voice to be heard as Mr. Button whirled me passionately. Feeling nauseated, I cut out early with thanks and joined my guide by the banquet table.
One bracing glass of punch later, Lazy Lapis returned to his usual, expository self. “Talk about being turned around; earth children routinely accept the rule of a fallible human tribe, while questioning the seed of the All-Knowing divine.”
“It’s easier to follow someone else’s pretense than to take charge of affairs and manage our own plots,” I added.
“Rules are made to be continually examined. They are meant to create a safe environment for creative work to be done and, beyond that, rules are hindrances. When they do not work for an individual bloom, they are meant to be rewritten, minus tribal egos. The only rules that are constant are those of the garden. If hellhounds deceive themselves with the façades they wear, why wouldn’t they deceive you, too? Monsters blow smoke to obscure our souls and prevent us and others from seeing who we truly are.”
“Masked, they believe they are hidden and hope to avoid responsibility for destruction of the plot, but the Master Gardener sees everything.”
“A fig leaf is no match for the All-Knowing, All-Seeing.” The wizard licked the final taste of some appetizer from his fingers.
“They are nothing but fakes.”
“A charred forest is not a garden. No substitutes are accepted. Take on a new role, a new perspective and have fun playing with it, but never lose your grounding. Pretending an identity, it is easy to be sucked into the act and begin valuing things that are questionable.”
“Loyal to the wrong beliefs.” I patted my robe. “I wish I had thought to bring along a notebook and pencil to write these things down.”
“No need to waste good wishes on such things. Everything worth knowing was etched on your heart from the beginning. Where do you think I find my material? And, yes, loyalty at the expense of heart is madness.”
Earthly rules were not chiseled in stone. By contrast, the absolute rules of the garden, which spoke the truth, had to be replicated as tribal laws before being taken seriously. Numbering no greater than one’s fingers and toes, I wasn’t sure anyone could list them anymore. . . .
I openly questioned the status quo that night and have not stopped questioning since, not to bring others to their knees, but to get up off my own. I wrestled to retain the divine rights to my unique story and, in that struggle, find pride from independence of spirit, not from arrogance. A sprout was responsible for coming to life—consciously choosing how to act and what to believe, and performing in character. As Lazy Lapis correctly advised: “Put that ego aside. It feeds anti-energy and will let you settle for a lackluster plot instead of a storyline with depth of field.”
Howling could be heard in the distance. The cries of lost souls and shrieks of wailing banshees served as a warning that the journey toward illumination would unleash a host of indescribable monsters to be confronted. I shivered.
Needing a break, I said, “Lazy Lapis, please excuse me. I’ll be back before the band finishes its moonlight sonata.”
“Hold on to yourself and you will be fine.”
“I’m just going to the ladies’ room, not war.”
He picked at the buffet. “Won’t be anything ladylike about it.”
Luxurious, the gold and black marble décor was fit for princesses. Bowls brimmed with toiletries to fulfill any personal need. Towels, folded in pleats fanned out in neat piles along the counter, their grey, accentuated by lotus pods in black urns. Lamps cast a rose glow upon the room giving the effect of a bleeding sun.
Pukeweed and Blowball stood at the mirror. So, they used the facilities and didn’t just squat behind bushes, I thought. Busy shredding Rue’s character, they did not notice me.
“Did you hear what she said about you? Said you were a toad.”
“Well, she ought to know.” Pukeweed laughed as she applied her hellfire red lipstick and pouted for effect. “Can you imagine wearing that dress?”
“Wouldn’t be caught dead.” Going whichever way the wind blew, she probably told Rue the opposite.
“Looks like she borrowed her grandmom’s lace tablecloth.”
“Too frilly for anyone over eight. And that jewelry!!” Blowball rolled her eyes, “Can you believe?”
“She could toss half of it and still be a fashion mess.”
I hoped to make an invisible retreat when Lazy Lapis appeared and blocked my exit.
“What are you doing here?” I whispered with a hiss. “Are you trying to get me in trouble?”
“Pish-posh. Quiet your squawk. They cannot see or hear me. Heavens, you have difficulty doing that most of the time and I am your guide.”
Rue entered the scene. “I’m tired. Jeremy said he would take me home.”
Pukeweed and Blowball froze and looked mutely at each other. Independent action was not tolerated. The pack arrived together and, evidently, the rule demanded that they leave together. More importantly, Pukeweed had her eyes on Jeremy. She smiled sweetly, a line of drool stringing downward. That is when the catfight broke out.
Lazy Lapis shouted to me. “The only soul to be saved or lost is each child’s own. Preserve your space and save self.”
I stood in a corner to create as small a target as possible. Lazy Lapis bobbed and weaved among the circulating pack to avoid being caught by the fray, as the girls pulled hair, clawed, and engaged in back biting, scratching, and slapping.
When Rue made a break for the door, Pukeweed unsheathed a dagger and knifed her in the back. It was difficult to tell whether or not the girl expected it; from the look on her face, I could see both. Walking to the sink, she removed the dagger and placed it under running water.
I turned to Lazy Lapis. “What is she doing?”
“There are those in the tribe who will stab you in the back, then ask for it back. There are those, like you, who will not only return the knife, but will wash life’s unpleasantness from it before you do. I’m ready to go. How about you?”
Keep Your HeartLight Shining™
Personal Illumination
• What landscape have you created from your imaginings? Where it is dark or desolate, what speck of hope will lighten the way?
• When do you operate on automatic pilot? Rewrite your script increase control of your nature.
• How do you sabotage your dreams and victimize self? What thoughts, beliefs, and perceptions do you carry around in your coalsack? Why not drop the routine?
• List ways to accept Self.
• How might you awaken and begin feeling life through your skin? List ways to increase awareness of the present moment and strengthen the connection with divine Self.
• Visualize the costume you wear through life each day. Be sure to consider your mask and the pattern of your fabric. What do they tell you about you? What alterations might you make to provide a better fit?
• How do you react when others attack your performance or stab you in the back? Identify how you might better protect self.
• When do you attack others for their performance? Stab them in the back? Rewrite your script to include more peaceful co-existence and support and less violence.
• Identify anything that contributes to a false performance. How might your performance be edited to give a more authentic portrayal of your seed, sensitive to season, situation, and context?
Author: Candace A. Croft, Ph.D.
Trafford Publishing, 2007 (2nd ed.), 244 pages, paperback ISBN: 1-55395-573-0
Contact: 1-866-941-0370 or www.trafford.com
19th Annual Writer’s Digest Self-Published Book Awards, Judge’s comments:
“The writing here is as smooth and engaging as in the author’s other work, [Living With Heart]. Her ability to craft a unique plot that serves as a thematic metaphor is again evident, but with the switch to a fictional female narrator she is able to explore life and relationships from an altogether different perspective that is convincingly conveyed with a deft touch in transitions from scene to scene. The plot’s basic premise is a compelling one and the plot successfully delivers. There is a professionalism to the prose that allows the novel to appeal equally as a metaphysical parable or as a literary novel.”
Reader comments:
“Annalia’s journey easily becomes one’s own as the monstrous fears, self-doubts, and obstacles she faces are all too familiar … a masterful job of enticing the reader to learn what happens next and … encouraging one’s highest, truest self to emerge as destiny.” ~Keith Smith, MA, EdD, MBA - minister, educator, & therapist
“An enlightening journey of inner hope and strength that takes Annalia and the reader out of a dark place to shine as a star … inspirational.” ~Rosa, spiritualist
"...and a little child shall lead them." ~Isaiah 11:6
The young girl in this story represents the child who remains at the core of each of us, within our hearts--woman and man, younger and elder, enlightened or wandering about in the dark. May you always be guided down life's path to your star by the soul of a chlid, the HeartLight, within you.
Annalia envisioned her life as paradise. Everything was heavenly until three hellhounds stormed into her world, center stage. A shadowy presence, they eclipsed life’s brilliance and made her plot a weedy mess. They invaded her dreams and chased her into a nightmare. Repeat performances took their toll until she stood on the brink of despair.
Enter Lazy Lapis, the Dream Magician, who arrives on the scene and escorts Annalia to the Forest of Perpetual Night where she must face the nightmare she dreads. Like the other Sleepy Noggins mindlessly wandering there, she encounters horrible happenings that shift the landscape, trap her in dark despair, and keep her dreams form coming to light. She has seven nights to tap into self, clear her way, and master her nature. Can she perform the magic needed to open the door to a brighter day and produce a dream?
A readers' guide is included for personal growth with questions for self-reflection. Perfect for individual study or book groups.
If a young girl can rise as a star and produce a living dream, any child can.
. . . Secure that Lazy Lapis would alert me to impending danger, I relaxed my guard and plodded away from the beasts, but failed to notice I headed directly toward the edge of a cliff. I could hardly be expected to see the bottomless pit when I could see neither the forest nor the trees.
The wind grabbed my attention with a rare and hearty, “ANNALIA!” Eyes opened, I was startled to find my toes perched on the brink of a great abyss. A sheer drop extended as far as I could see and beyond, I suspected. Light from the wizard’s lantern would never penetrate its layers of blackness. One faltering step and I would be impaled with a sickening sound upon hopelessness, death, and self-destruction, left to lie among countless other souls erased from existence.
My head swam, dizzied by scattered thoughts swirling through my brain. My body swayed as various emotions rose from some unknown depths. Not knowing how I came to stand at the edge of despair, I was unsure of what to think, how to feel, or what to do, although it seemed unwise to sway with indecisiveness when teetering on the brink with life hanging in the balance. One thought surfaced clearly: Leap into the pit and have done with it. One pitch forward and my torment would be finished.
The wind whispered. The heart is deathless.
Knowing I was off-balance, the monsters slobbered and accelerated their torment.
“All you have is a pipedream that will never come true. Step off the stage.”
The taunt drained my value.
“You lack the fiber to be a success. Look at the mess you have gotten your self into. Put an end to the torture.”
The barb punctured my hope.
“And, look, you are no star. Who would notice if you took a headlong tumble and never recovered?”
Their arrows tore into my soul. Feeling small and all alone, I accepted their expert assessment without question. Flung into the great abyss, I would only add to life’s emptiness. I was taking up space—a big zero, nothing more than a place holder, a waste of universal real estate.
If I ended it now, I could come around and start on fresh ground. If I had an ounce of heart, I would take my leave and make room for those who were full of promise, those with substance and fiber, not quaking limbs. Jumping required little effort or talent; one step and gravity would take care of the rest. Jump and I would do the world a favor, but I could not work up the courage to do even that. The consummate loser, I failed at being a failure.
The wind rustled. The heart is deathless.
“JUMP! JUMP! JUMP!” Hellhounds tugged at the part of me willing to do their bidding. Energy coiled inside me, ready to spring into action.
Maybe this was one of the sacrifices Lazy Lapis had talked about. The edge of an abyss seemed an unlikely crossrood, but what did I know? One violent separation and the nightmare would be over. If I had been decisive and acted instead of questioning, the deed would already be done.
The beastly direction was insistent. “JUMP! JUMP! JUMP!” I wondered, if those voices had said, “LIVE! LIVE! LIVE!” would I have soared to the heights? As much as I hated to admit it, the honest answer was “no.” Truth be told, Lazy Lapis had whispered that directive through my heart countless times, but I had either ignored or resisted it. He had tried to warn me about the force of anti-energy. The whispering wind had tried to direct me.
For some reason, either because the sheer volume of the monsters’ words gave them influence, because theirs was an easy path, because I was oblivious to my choices, or for a host of other reasons, I was willing to listen to the voice of sinister reason over intuitive guidance. To expect more from a Nogginhead would be illogical.
Sulfurous, yellow eyes glinted through blackness. Coiling my body, I prepared to hurl my self into the void. Don’t hesitate. Do it. Let go. JUMP! Again, I failed. Was I incapable of committing my self to anything? Even oblivion?
In that moment of hesitation, I no longer feared hellhounds, I frightened myself. That I was willing to cause harm to self left me shaking. Realizing I was clinging to what little ground I could find, I looked down to find the source of resistance. My red shoes doubled as grappling hooks, digging deeply into the earth, opposing me. Thank heavens my red shoes had the sense to give me roots.
I startled and nearly toppled into the great abyss when Lazy Lapis made a sudden appearance. “That is a fatal mistake too many people make.”
“What is?”
“Believing that death at your own hands is an avenue to new life. Good heavens. Can’t be done. Peace is never found in the abyss. You would only delay the inevitable by spiraling around in darkness. Such an ending poses an additional challenge for a new beginning. For heaven’s sake, get a grip. You have been uprooted by life, you say, so what? Such is the human condition. Stop blithering yourself into withered submission. Learn your lesson here and now before coming by it the long, hard way around. What keeps you from jumping off the edge into the brink?”
“I don’t have the heart.”
“Impossiblous. The heart is deathless.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“Now, believe. All children encounter demons that send spirits plummeting. Plating of conviction having worn thin, your core has little protection from hellhounds. That’s the fatal flaw of the forest.”
“What’s the flaw?”
“Death, child, death. You have reached the ultimate point of depression where death and darkness are walking companions. Completely severed from your true nature, you turn away from life because it seems alien to you.”
“What can I do to save my self?”
“I would suggest immediately coming to your senses. Put down the sackcloth, back away from the edge slowly, and no one will get hurt.”
It was a simple direction, yet I teetered on the brink of indecision.
. . . “Splendid, simply splendid,” Lazy Lapis said, raising his voice to be heard over the band that had started a new set. “Hold onto a stellar sight and see your self in pure light. That is how to stretch into the morning sun. Do you know who you are?”
My response faltered. Until that moment, I thought I knew. I thought the answer to the question was a simple one. But, as my guide had taught me, simple was not always obvious and the obvious usually pointed to a mindless path.
My mask began to chafe.
“Take it off. It is not you. It is costuming. Let it go and live free!”
“Strip myself of everything? I’d be naked.”
“Nothing wrong with a bare beginning.
Walking near the edge of the floor, I was picked by a frisky bachelor’s button for a turn around the floor. We danced a rather awkward, if lively, waltz. I couldn’t help turning his common botanical name over and over in my mind. “Devil’s flower … Devil’s flower … Devil’s flower …”
Had Lazy Lapis not helped me retrieve my senses, I doubt I would have noticed I was moving in reverse. No, not moving, being moved in reverse. Powerless to switch directions, I was left to witness what had already passed, without as much as a glimpse into the future. Even the present moment was over and done by a hair’s-breadth by the time I caught up to it.
Lazy Lapis danced in my footsteps alongside. I asked, “How did I become turned around?”
His tone turned dreamy from the stardust in his eyes as he danced his solitary waltz. “A child becomes spun when she thinks she is pursuing the sun and believes she is fighting the good fight, but has everything reversed—because she is turned around, you see—and so ends up going after the wrong things, with backward for forward, up for down, day for night, north for south, left for right, foul for fair, here for there.” He placed a hand to his forehead. “Goodness me, all this whirling, the stars are calling.”
“Living backwards is certain death.” I raised my voice to be heard as Mr. Button whirled me passionately. Feeling nauseated, I cut out early with thanks and joined my guide by the banquet table.
One bracing glass of punch later, Lazy Lapis returned to his usual, expository self. “Talk about being turned around; earth children routinely accept the rule of a fallible human tribe, while questioning the seed of the All-Knowing divine.”
“It’s easier to follow someone else’s pretense than to take charge of affairs and manage our own plots,” I added.
“Rules are made to be continually examined. They are meant to create a safe environment for creative work to be done and, beyond that, rules are hindrances. When they do not work for an individual bloom, they are meant to be rewritten, minus tribal egos. The only rules that are constant are those of the garden. If hellhounds deceive themselves with the façades they wear, why wouldn’t they deceive you, too? Monsters blow smoke to obscure our souls and prevent us and others from seeing who we truly are.”
“Masked, they believe they are hidden and hope to avoid responsibility for destruction of the plot, but the Master Gardener sees everything.”
“A fig leaf is no match for the All-Knowing, All-Seeing.” The wizard licked the final taste of some appetizer from his fingers.
“They are nothing but fakes.”
“A charred forest is not a garden. No substitutes are accepted. Take on a new role, a new perspective and have fun playing with it, but never lose your grounding. Pretending an identity, it is easy to be sucked into the act and begin valuing things that are questionable.”
“Loyal to the wrong beliefs.” I patted my robe. “I wish I had thought to bring along a notebook and pencil to write these things down.”
“No need to waste good wishes on such things. Everything worth knowing was etched on your heart from the beginning. Where do you think I find my material? And, yes, loyalty at the expense of heart is madness.”
Earthly rules were not chiseled in stone. By contrast, the absolute rules of the garden, which spoke the truth, had to be replicated as tribal laws before being taken seriously. Numbering no greater than one’s fingers and toes, I wasn’t sure anyone could list them anymore. . . .
I openly questioned the status quo that night and have not stopped questioning since, not to bring others to their knees, but to get up off my own. I wrestled to retain the divine rights to my unique story and, in that struggle, find pride from independence of spirit, not from arrogance. A sprout was responsible for coming to life—consciously choosing how to act and what to believe, and performing in character. As Lazy Lapis correctly advised: “Put that ego aside. It feeds anti-energy and will let you settle for a lackluster plot instead of a storyline with depth of field.”
Howling could be heard in the distance. The cries of lost souls and shrieks of wailing banshees served as a warning that the journey toward illumination would unleash a host of indescribable monsters to be confronted. I shivered.
Needing a break, I said, “Lazy Lapis, please excuse me. I’ll be back before the band finishes its moonlight sonata.”
“Hold on to yourself and you will be fine.”
“I’m just going to the ladies’ room, not war.”
He picked at the buffet. “Won’t be anything ladylike about it.”
Luxurious, the gold and black marble décor was fit for princesses. Bowls brimmed with toiletries to fulfill any personal need. Towels, folded in pleats fanned out in neat piles along the counter, their grey, accentuated by lotus pods in black urns. Lamps cast a rose glow upon the room giving the effect of a bleeding sun.
Pukeweed and Blowball stood at the mirror. So, they used the facilities and didn’t just squat behind bushes, I thought. Busy shredding Rue’s character, they did not notice me.
“Did you hear what she said about you? Said you were a toad.”
“Well, she ought to know.” Pukeweed laughed as she applied her hellfire red lipstick and pouted for effect. “Can you imagine wearing that dress?”
“Wouldn’t be caught dead.” Going whichever way the wind blew, she probably told Rue the opposite.
“Looks like she borrowed her grandmom’s lace tablecloth.”
“Too frilly for anyone over eight. And that jewelry!!” Blowball rolled her eyes, “Can you believe?”
“She could toss half of it and still be a fashion mess.”
I hoped to make an invisible retreat when Lazy Lapis appeared and blocked my exit.
“What are you doing here?” I whispered with a hiss. “Are you trying to get me in trouble?”
“Pish-posh. Quiet your squawk. They cannot see or hear me. Heavens, you have difficulty doing that most of the time and I am your guide.”
Rue entered the scene. “I’m tired. Jeremy said he would take me home.”
Pukeweed and Blowball froze and looked mutely at each other. Independent action was not tolerated. The pack arrived together and, evidently, the rule demanded that they leave together. More importantly, Pukeweed had her eyes on Jeremy. She smiled sweetly, a line of drool stringing downward. That is when the catfight broke out.
Lazy Lapis shouted to me. “The only soul to be saved or lost is each child’s own. Preserve your space and save self.”
I stood in a corner to create as small a target as possible. Lazy Lapis bobbed and weaved among the circulating pack to avoid being caught by the fray, as the girls pulled hair, clawed, and engaged in back biting, scratching, and slapping.
When Rue made a break for the door, Pukeweed unsheathed a dagger and knifed her in the back. It was difficult to tell whether or not the girl expected it; from the look on her face, I could see both. Walking to the sink, she removed the dagger and placed it under running water.
I turned to Lazy Lapis. “What is she doing?”
“There are those in the tribe who will stab you in the back, then ask for it back. There are those, like you, who will not only return the knife, but will wash life’s unpleasantness from it before you do. I’m ready to go. How about you?”
• What landscape have you created from your imaginings? Where it is dark or desolate, what speck of hope will lighten the way?
• When do you operate on automatic pilot? Rewrite your script increase control of your nature.
• How do you sabotage your dreams and victimize self? What thoughts, beliefs, and perceptions do you carry around in your coalsack? Why not drop the routine?
• List ways to accept Self.
• How might you awaken and begin feeling life through your skin? List ways to increase awareness of the present moment and strengthen the connection with divine Self.
• Visualize the costume you wear through life each day. Be sure to consider your mask and the pattern of your fabric. What do they tell you about you? What alterations might you make to provide a better fit?
• How do you react when others attack your performance or stab you in the back? Identify how you might better protect self.
• When do you attack others for their performance? Stab them in the back? Rewrite your script to include more peaceful co-existence and support and less violence.
• Identify anything that contributes to a false performance. How might your performance be edited to give a more authentic portrayal of your seed, sensitive to season, situation, and context?
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