All the makeup, your perfect hair.
The photos of you smiling brightly.
Yours is a damaged soul, twisted and bent.
In the name of love you destroy what is sacred.
Vicious lies drip from your forked tongue.
Does your reflection deceive you?
Does your mirror show decency, and goodness?
Pride and envy; poisons coursing through your veins.
Don’t mistake money for worth, dear.
You think you create beauty, but it’s only skin deep.
An illusion to hide the ugliness within.
The facade will fade and crumble with time,
And you will be left with glitter that was never gold.
This blog is about me discovering myself. Peeling the layers of me back one by one until my true soul is bared. This could be a long road, y’all. Virtually everyone has multiple sides to their personalities, and I’m no exception. Some days it’s a struggle to keep the groovychick in front, some days I fail. As much as I try to let my love light shine at all times, I can’t. I’m working on that.
So, I guess it’s time to introduce you to the rest of me. You’ve met the mom, the hippie and the bookworm. Say hi to the biker chick, and the cynic. I’m pretty random, I fully admit that. There are times when no matter how much I adore The Beatles, I just need some System of a Down, or Metallica, or Beastie Boys to put my mind right. I can headbang with the best of them, and love few things more than being on the back of a bike just cruising.
This life has been seldom kind to me, but I’ve managed to survive. I’m not really sure why I’m still here, only that I am, so there must be more for me to do. I’ve certainly cheated death enough times already to be thankful for each and every breath I still draw. I used to ask myself why the Fates had decided to test me so very often, but now I don’t care why, only that I pass. It’s not the easiest thing to balance my jaded side with my hopeful side.
“Patience is a virtue,” a phrase I’ve often touted to the Clones, is a daily mantra for me. I remind myself that though my spirit is battered and worn, it’s resilient. So long ago I can’t remember exactly when, I learned to compartmentalize. Boxing up and stowing away pieces of me until they are needed. I’ve found this approach to existence both lifesaving and troublesome. People tend to want me to only be part of myself, the problem with that is everyone wants a different side.
Like a jigsaw puzzle, it takes all the pieces to make a whole. Thank you again, for walking this path with me, and hope you enjoy journey.
I’ve been trying to make The Oracle easier to navigate, hopefully you will enjoy the new layout. I am still ironing out the wrinkles, but I think it’s somewhat better already. Please let me know what you think about my Scribbles by rating your favorite, or not so favorite posts. Thanks for taking the time to read my little blog, and as always for coming along for the crazy ride that is my life!
Have a groovy day
Eye on the prize. One of the grooviest things about the era we live in is the internet. Because of this amazing technology we get the opportunity to make friends around the globe. Thanks to one such friend, I now have a visual representation of my dreams come true. I’m choosing this photo as my personal carrot stick, Thanks, Sumewn, for helping me see my dreams are truly capable of becoming reality.
photo taken by Sumewn Lampropoulos Itea, Greece
Spring is around the corner! Can’t wait to take the Clones fairy hunting again.
I am thrilled to say, life is back on track, and headed in the right direction. After much soul searching, I went back to working full time, and I have to admit, I am loving it. Yes, the 12 hour nights are exhausting, but I didn’t realize how much I missed the pace, the work, and the people. Juggling being a mom, a writer, and a factory worker isn’t easy, but it’s surprisingly rewarding. At my job, it’s refreshing to be recognized for my hard work, and respected for the effort I put into it. As a writer, I feel I am blossoming as well, twelve hours is a long time, giving me plenty of opportunity to create whole new worlds and people in my head. I will be adding more chapters of “The Fae of Aedon” soon, so please, check it out, I think you will enjoy Natalia’s journey. Anyway, that’s all for now, it’s time to get the girls ready for bed soon, and my little diva insists on watching more Glee episodes together. I love my family and my life! Thanks for taking the time to read my Scribbles, and be assured I will be posting more regularly.
P.S. I could have never made it through the past few months without my amazing family and friends, y’all are my strength!!!
I’d like to apologize for the extended hiatus. Due to circumstances beyond my control, I haven’t been able to post as regularly as I would like to. This will probably continue until sometime in February. As the title of this post says, I’ve had to start over, once again. All I can say is, I am thankful that even though life repeatedly kicks me in the head, I have an amazing family and group of friends who are always there to help pick me up, and get me back to good.
On that note, must get back to work! Keep fighting the good fight, and remember; Whatever gets you through the night, it’s all right!
“Castle Moirai lies in the heart of this deep wood. Do the both of you understand that thirty years have passed since you were last there, Natalia? Much has changed. The serenity is shattered. Fae different and alike are grouping together, instead of working together. You will find Palace politics are now daily bogged with haranguing arguments that echo down the corridors. Petitioners line up daily to ask for resolve of the most inane disputes. Paedeon’s grand speeches mesmerize the masses. The melting pot you left has become a bubbling mass of dissent. The old ways are ridiculed openly, and the Resistance calls for open war if the King and Queen will not have the barrier removed. They wish to pass freely between the realms as in the days of old. They yearn for offerings at festivals thrown in their honor, like our ancestors were given. Your own fairy tales tell you all about the grand courts of the Fairy Royalty. But there were constant struggles between the human and Fae. I told you how acts by the Fae folk were represented as witchcraft, and innocent people died for it. When the Duchess’s ancestors settled here, they chose a remote location surrounded all around by trees. They didn’t tear out the forests to build, rather they chose it for its seclusion. They built their grand home in the valley near the center of the forest. They had no idea who they had just moved next to! Throughout the construction, the Fae tried to dissuade the continuing building. Sprite and Brownies, Fairy and Orc, Trolls lumbered from their caves all intent upon denying the Snippet’s claim to the land. The King of Aedon, stopped the bloodshed before it started. He met with the man named Snippet, and they struck an accord. If they both would disavow knowledge of the other, and live by rules of disengagement, then there would be no harm done by either side. If throughout the ages, one side ever broke their vow, then the pact was null and void, and war would be the result. Britta, I want you to imagine your world suddenly overrun with angry Fae folk, bent on seeking glory by forcing respect. Humans no longer believe in magic, that doesn’t make it non-existent. The Snippet family has always upheld their oath, and have been long friends of the Moirai Court.”
Pausing by a brook, Glen stooped to drink, the girls followed his example. Stretching his graceful body, he gazed up at the sun through the trees. Nodding to himself, he began digging a pit, instructing the ladies to gather kindling. By the time they had returned he had stuck up two forked sticks and made a spit, a small copper cook pot was filled with water and various vegetation and fruits. He again grinned at Britta when he lit the fire with a flick of a finger. He loved watching the astonishment on her face when he used magic. As the fire crackled, the pot began to warm, slowly coming to a boil. Fragrant steam floated out of the open pot, reminding the girls that they had missed their dinner. Glen sat crossed legged on the ground, leaning forward to stir the soup occasionally. Natalia was unusually quiet, seemingly lost in thought, only appearing half aware of either her friend or protector. Britta thought for a moment, then looked at her little princess with a mixture of awe and uncertainty. If what Glen said was correct, then Natty wasn’t six, she was sixty, nearly as old as Aunty Belle. This was a hard concept to swallow. How had Natalia really felt all the times the other children told her she was too young to do this or that? She had never mentioned the aging difference, perhaps to her it really didn’t matter. She had always been sure that eventually she would return to the Fairy world she claimed to have been born of. Another question flitted around Britta’s mind. How old was she in this world? Using Glen’s approximation, she was astonished to know she was closing in on two hundred years, or was it cycles? Her brow furrowed in thought, Britta directed her attention to the land around her. That in itself was enough to confuse her. The colors seemed to be somehow more alive than before. The sky was flaming reds and oranges, with the sunset. She didn’t know that she had ever seen such a beautiful sight in her entire life.
Everything in nature seemed to be more alive on this side of the veil, it seemed to the older girl, and she wondered how her little friend had endured the years without this vibrancy in her life. Instead of being morose at its loss, Natalia had brought part of it with her into Mercy Home. It was what they all adored about their Princess. Britta wondered at many things as they sat by the fire. She wished her sister were here, Sonya would understand all of this better. With her nose always in a book, she related to Natalia’s stories in a way that few others had. Was Sonya worried? Glen had made clear that the adults knew what had happened, but what of the other children? How was their disappearance to be explained to them? Lost in thought, she didn’t notice that dusk had begun to settle around them.
Peering across the fire, Britta noticed that Natalia again seemed to have gone inside herself . She wore an expression of only being half aware of her surroundings. The teen glanced at Glen seeking some sort of explanation with her eyes, the question left hanging unspoken in the air between them. He gave the barest of nods to indicate all was well, and she did not press further. Finally, the stew was ready, and Glen passed around light wooden bowls and spoons, as well as a cups for water from the stream. Britta decided she wasn’t going to figure out anything on an empty stomach, and set in hungrily. Natalia still acted as if on auto pilot. Systematically lifting the spoon to her mouth, then back to her bowl, all the while looking as if she were listening to something that only she could hear.
The stew was filling, and surprisingly delicious to Britta, who didn’t recognize most of the ingredients. A concoction of roots, mushrooms, and berries swam in her bowl, relaxing her with its earthy smell, and a calm spread through her body as she gave herself over to the peace and quiet of her surroundings. As the evening fell around them, the night birds began to chatter amongst themselves. Fireflies played tag in the woods. Moonlight dappled through the leaves overhead, and the girl found herself dozing. Britta struggled to throw off the sleepiness that seemed to settle upon her like a blanket, giving up as she idly wondered exactly what had been in the soup.
“Tell me, Little One, how did you manage to break the glamour placed upon you? The casting was supposed to last for at least ten human years. When it was safe, Nyomin and Itania studied and researched the ancient lore, waited for the exact moment of most effectiveness of the spell, yet, you broke the entire enchantment all on your own, several years ahead of time.” Glen spoke conversationally, but both girls could sense that underneath his calm statements was bubbling up an uneasiness that grew by the second.
“I guess you would do well for me to begin at the beginning, so to speak, Your Grace. As you are aware, time moves differently in our realm, than that of the humans. Miss Britta, I cannot assure you how long will have passed in your world, while you remain in ours. The greatest minds of the Fae and human world have both tried to calculate and compute the exact ratios, but the answer has eluded the most accomplished minds of both worlds. Miss Britta, in your homeland, this is but a grand forest surrounding a large estate owned by The Duchess. On our side of the barrier, it’s an entire kingdom, separated by races, affiliations and by Gaia’s own hand. You call your land Illinois. You find the area you live in to be plain, simple, and rather boring, am I correct?” Glen glanced over at Britta and saw her nod.
“You have always dreamed of daring adventures with dragons and knights, correct again?” another small nod, followed by a flushing of cheeks. The woods garb suited Britta well. Her natural gracefulness made the shifting fabric appear more fluid. With her cowl up, one wouldn’t know she was not of this realm. “The land you tread upon now has been here since long before your people, or the peoples that were here before yours conquered them. We call our home Aedon, as Ionia mentioned. For centuries our people thrived in this world, free to come and go as they pleased between Illinois and Aedon. This arrangement worked out fairly well for quite some time, but as the white people moved to the Americas, they brought with them a horrible disease. They brought “Religion”. This ”Religion” taught its followers that anything not approved by the churches was heathen and foul. Hundreds of years of atrocities were inflicted upon its own people, whether they were faithful or not. This epidemic was global. All over the world, the work of men in “the true faith” tortured and killed their brothers and sisters based on hysteria.”
Glen’s lyrical voice dropped low as he slightly shuddered. Shaking his head, a few stray hairs of purple slashed silver fell across his face. Struggling, he regained his composure and continued. “The Kings and Queens of all the Fae folk across the world met to decided what should be done to help these poor suffering humans. After all, most of the victims of the “cleansing” were merely humans who still chose to worship the world around them, as opposed to an unseen God. They were not being sacrilegious at all, they simply worshipped in their own way, and that would not be tolerated by the Inquisitors. Men, women, and even children were imprisoned, tortured, and killed in the most gruesome manners to prove that they were not witches. These good people had the misfortune of seeking natural remedies to illnesses, or left gifts to the Fae folk to help protect them from unkind forces. “
Britta spoke up, surprising even herself, Natalia seemed to be absorbing everything around her like a magnet. Nothing escaped her eyes or ears, it was as if she was seeing the world for the first time. When she heard Britta’s voice, the clarity came back into her eyes, and Natty smiled up at her friend.
“Master Glen, we had to learn about the time you are speaking of in history class. What does that have to do with us now? There are no more witch hunts, people who claim to be able to see ‘the other side’ openly offer their services. Humans have learned to accept the differences in others much easier than they used to. Children today grow up learning tolerance instead of prejudice. “ Britta cocked her head to one side to keep both her view of Glen and the woods around her clear.
“Please, no more ‘Master Glen’ business, I am simply Glen. Of the clan Oakseer. I’m sure our ways seem most quaint, but there is solace and respect in ritual, and then there are those who would promote change, change that would bring terrible events to pass.” Glancing behind him, Glen could see Natalia listening intently to every word being exchanged. She offered no interruption, simply listened and made it a part of her. The woods guide had a feeling he knew how the glamour had been shattered so completely, but would have to dig a little deeper into who the Princess was now.
“The night you were placed with Aunty Belle, your Highness, I carried you to her in my own arms. I took a vow the day you were born to be your sworn protector, till my life’s end. I gave you over to that kind woman to be cared for myself. You were never lost or sick in the woods. Your little friend Welsey pulled that prank. You see, what we had hoped was that the spell would last you ten full human years. Welsey was to pretend to be a lost babe in the forest, so that Paedeon would believe that you had indeed be abducted, and had been left for dead. The human staff at Mercy Home has always known exactly who you are, darling. They kept the secret to keep you safe, not to lie to you. Please, harbor no ill will to those kind folks, for they have done well in your care.”
“As I was saying before, when the first Europeans came to explore our country, they found much in abundance they coveted. The humans came sparsely at first, but quickly began claiming lands as their own. The same has happened to our cousins around the world. As a race, the Fae have been always here, evolving, like humans do, but at a much different rate. Time moved differently, between our dimensions, as I’ve said. As time moves in your world, the ratio is about one of your years to about ten of ours. So you see, when Natalia was but a toddler in both of our worlds, in yours she was three, in ours she was just past her thirtieth cycle. Did you ever wonder, Britta, how a child so small could seem to do anything she set her mind to? Or how she managed to get into such high trees and such? Were you ever curious as to HOW she knew so much about the world around her, without schooling by Ms. Snippet? It is because she is our own Light of Aedon.”
“Ionia spoke of cradling Natalia in her own boughs. Did you notice the look of instant peace and comfort simply being held by one of her own brought our little mischief maker? Ionia allowed the wood to be taken to make Natalia’s cradle from her own oaken body. It was a gift whose tradition goes back millennia. I feel as if I’m skipping around too much, Britta, jumping from subject to subject, yet never hitting the peg on the head. We only have about another day’s walk to reach before we reach. Like your country has states, and a capitol to encompass it all, so have we, you’ve just never known about it.” Glen winked and made Britta blush furiously, something she was not used to at all. She had never felt so gawky in all her life. Ducking her head down, she hid her face by the cowl. The dagger at her waist was very light, but she wasn’t used to having something rub against her as moved. As they walked Glen carried on his briefing, even if it was a bit random and strayed now and then.