instagram pinterest linkedin facebook twitter goodreads facebook circle twitter circle linkedin circle instagram circle goodreads circle pinterest circle

Blog
 

Telling Tales and Whispering Secrets 

A bit of fantasy alongside the current human condition

If you think of it | Do It


New moon is in Sagittarius today.

What the stars have to say.

 

 ⋆ 

 

She moves slowly and deliberately down the well worn path toward the ancient dwellings that have been her private place of council for lifetimes now. When she goes in traveling to her sacred space, she heads for the stars the infinite producing the finite.

 

A stone building the front surrounded by great ionic pillars an open passage entrance as high as the structure itself. The pedestaled pyres light as needed following her footsteps dimming to sleep once she's passed. Her feet shuffle as she mindfully takes each step a dusting of sand resonating sweeping sounds from her small but sure footing. Her elegant purple robe drags behind sounding like autumn leaves rustling in the breeze. Hands clasped in front of her at her solar plexus, they hold space and harness her power within at the same time.

 

The contrast of heat and cold surfaces as most pyres are now dark as if they've never been lit. The light from the staircase just before her illuminates with cozy warmth. The ebb and flow creates action and she takes her first step down the steep stone spiral staircase not looking back. Her head bows as the stairs are snug as she's crowned her head on them in the past.

 

Memory surfaces. She smiles at the symbol. Visiting this experience as integrated with wisdom.

 

Looking to the feather that floats from above her Elders, a velvety gray plume.

 

She considers, "It is light of weight bereft of color. Just what does that mean?"

 

"Take action dear girl." The wizened Elder, her eldest mentor is looking at her smiling.

 

She returns his smile having met him many times in her Akashic Library,

she senses kinship as a spiritual thread.

 

Almost to the bottom of the staircase, hand out stretched dragging the wall, she remembers that waving the symbol was key to its magick, its purpose.

 

 

Her council sits before the stone table, the younger light haired one with the laurel leaf coronet standing, as he always does. She takes her seat making eye contact with each guide. They await her ask.

 

"This new moon, I am intentioned as it is the last earnest progress for the year as we move into the next decade." She looks to her people with gratitude. Before she can request guidance and support, a feeling of anxiety overwhelms. She holds her stomach as if she's going to be sick.

 

"Disruption." The quiet bearded one says. "We will support you as you eliminate what is musty."

 

"I can't bare it!" tears rolling down her cheeks.

 

"You must!" The old dame before her pounds her fist and then turns her head to the side.

 

With a smile, she reaches out for the girl clasps her hand and gently shares wisdom. "Do make room for what is next."

 

"I can't imagine… my intention is simple and what I've been building all year." She's still in gut wrenching pain.

 

The Elder catches the girl's eyes and holds them in hers. "Some not in your wheelhouse, but an integral aspect. Perhaps you have not fathomed."

 

"Oh…. Okay." Such intense downloads do not come often. With acceptance, the pain subsides.

 

Break ground.

 

 ⋆ 

 

The feather actions into writing tales of fantasy dabbling in science fiction realms. She writes essay and allegory when the impetus arises as well.

 

Shiny things cross past her ideas as opportunities and directions surface where roads did not exist in the recent past.

 

She finds difficultly in keeping track of everything. Pressure arises around her creativity as if it is a task on a list of many. Progress becomes suffering or a sense of paying your dues when one is not aligned with purpose.

 

"I owe no one. As I take care of my own being inspiring change and transformation within so without." She reminds herself. All the doing falls away.

 

With single attention, she writes. Her fingers singing across the black keyboard creating color and contrast from the highest vibrations. The white illuminated screen before her following directions making what didn't exist before solid mass, vibrating in material frequencies.

 

Choice is key. Discern what is for you personally.

 

⋆ 

  

The new space of being zinging with vibrancy, she remains curious. Fully in present, just curious enough to take the next path. The new direction she's carved out from her past actions and development. She is ready and steps looking forward in lieu of down to her feet. She trusts.

 

But first, "Shhhh." Her index finger to her lips, she's quiet and listens for those moments when something tingles, something sparkles, something nudges her attention.

 

Synchronicities as she only makes choices for her highest good.

 

Alchemy.

 

 

 

Who are your people?

 

What is your way of being and doing?

 

How do you take action to create change?

 

 

Be seeing you tomorrow. 

 

Cheers and best,

Chere

 

Telling Tales | Whispering Secrets

Day 26 of 365 Orbit

 

PS- Venus and Jupiter are doin' love big time right now… perhaps a word about that tomorrow.

 

Links:

Instagram | Facebook

 

 

 

Be the first to comment

Where is my mind | Topsy Turvy

 

“With your Feet in the Air 

 Your Head on the Ground.“

 

                    Where is my Mind 

   Pixies 

 

 

 

It is considered when you use your opposite hand to brush your teeth, eat your peas or kick a ball with the non-dominant foot, it’s good for your brain as it encourages new neural pathways.

 

Changing well ingrained patterns is something we can all get behind. Whether it be the whole Toblerone in one go or binging Netflix.

 

The rub is that it’s a 62 - 254 days-ish endeavor that creates change. So we’re not talking about the Owl that ascertains just how many licks to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop here. There are no shortcuts really. Read More 

1 Comments
Post a comment

Time | Concurrent


The drive was a bit icy snow dusting her parking spot piles on the edges sparkling in the bright high altitude sun. After GoGo Passat's engine is sufficiently warm, she backs out of her drive hands on the cool black leather steering wheel, her eyes turned toward the rear. The engine sounds as she puts it in drive, the pressure with her foot on the gas pushes her back in her heated black leather seat. 

 


GoGo's tires spit the de-icing gravel with cracks and pops. She slows so as to not cover her car with the oily gunk. Her eyes sense the drifting dry powder snow as her body feels for it, the heated seat keeping that sensation at bay. A howl whistles as the drifts swirl beautiful circles of snow the dust landing on GoGo's hood.

 


Smiling, happiness surfaces. Her affinity for weather acknowledged within. Her smile leads her to a feel looking to her right as she's sensing that she's being seen. Her eyes meet a friendly face. Both in their autos, they nod giving a wave. The light turns green their smiles facing forward the sounds of the engine repeats.

 

Her eyes widen as she spies parking downtown. Quickly sequestering the coveted spot, she uses her phone to pay the fee the pad's of her fingers moving quickly over the screen. The phone goes in her pocket as she senses the cloth of the tweed jacket feathering across her thumb and top of her hand. Read More 

1 Comments
Post a comment

Hemingway Resonates | And so does…

 

 

An old chap sidles up alongside me at the pub and asks, "Do you like poetry?" and then, with a wink. "For any writer that doesn't is suspect."

 

My first response was almost under my breath, "Not so much…. " looking up through my lashes.

 

 

I studied poetry in grad school and it never really spoke to me or so I was told by my professor. He indicated that he would give me a less than acceptable grade solely based on my responses to the material.

 

"Your poetry shows promise and your work is exemplary; however, when you respond to a piece, though very well written, you are so far off that I cannot give you a good grade." He chastises while waving his index finger at me. Read More 

1 Comments
Post a comment

End of the Bar | Less Than Elegant

 

Ballroom dancing brought them together. The Ams in the Pro/Am circuit hanging out on Tuesdays early in that Italian Bistro's bar Pike's Place Market. Surprisingly, one of the Pros decides to have a cocktail with. 

 

The stools have no backs to them, but the padding is sufficient for at least a couple of hours. Say equaling one to two cocktails. The trio of Ams plus the Pro sit at one end their seats wrapping around the corner of the polished wood bar. 

 

The opposite, a local legend. Quiet known as a curmudgeon, he sits puffing on his cigar, his acrid smoke permeating the dark wood lined room, drinking whiskey. Chatter amidst the dancers doesn't reach the silent side though they are aware of the stoic writer as everyone else in the place is. 

 

An Am dancer looks to the surly gentleman as it regularly feels like he's attempting to get her attention. She smiles lowers her eyes and shakes her head, hubris she considers. Her Pro partner noticing looks opposite and nods to the billow of smoke, no response. 

 

The Pro asks his Amateur partner.  "What are you goin' on about?"   Read More 

1 Comments
Post a comment

The Nine Trilogy | Ford

 

"Good evening, I am Dr. Ford Chase. I understand you are going to make me rich!" He exclaims with a winning smile and a bit of cheek.

 

Most mechanisms would view his millions in the bank as wealthy; however, The Nine observe this view as subjective, they are pleased with their new Abe's lofty goal.

 

The Nine respond to his greeting with an indeed young one glance mouths expressing a slight friendly smile. Ford is charged by their agreement and experiences one of those moments of bliss. The Nine know that he has ascended to the non-linear in that moment.

 

As Herrman so noticed during the Searching, Ford has more access to that great doughnut in the sky than he realizes. This is a very good omen for Ford though he has much acumen, what he wants is only attainable by a very few. Ford will know how to harness this talent by the time the Cultivation is complete, or perhaps he will never venture there again.

 

Thana tips her head down ever so slightly while expressing her welcome for the group. "You are welcome here Ford… and so your magnificent adventure begins."

 

Ford. Read More 

2 Comments
Post a comment

One's Limit | Another's Consent

 

Walking down a street hugged by Victorians and local shops destination Mad Dog in the Fog, Lower Haight. The pub style tables always assured entertainment along with your meal. While Perce looks for something that would stay with her all evening, Adrienne returns to the subject of her potential tattoo.

 

"Tell me for certain you are going to get it." A's facing Persephone whose uber-focused on the menu.

Maintaining said focus, "Yeah, yeah it'll happen." No way is it going to happen.

 

"I spent some time researching the figures for you. Did you know that all gargoyles are one of a kind? I think it's a sort of superstition thing."

 

As if it's written in code, she continues her focus on the abbreviated menu. "Uh, yeah actually I did know that. Love love the statues' style; it endures. In fact, I'd like a few protecting my own abode. When I get mine that is."

 

"Look at you redirecting the subject." A's laughing looking over Persephone's shoulder quickly selecting her fare. "What'll you have?" Read More 

2 Comments
Post a comment

Perception | Point of View

 
Buildings face buildings some with roadway in between. Levels upon levels they live in cities. Connection, the spirit of urban life where everything resonates with the pace. Food truly tastes flavorful, lives live round the clock, bookstores remain open throughout the night serving delicious coffee, performance and the arts thrive from small intimate particular venues to large productions and museums, material goods available for every whim be it dirt cheap to haute to bespoke.

 

In her cozy little bedroom, Persephone relaxes. The 3rd floor Victorian apartment she shares with another Arizona transplant has a corner view. The sounds of The City hum through the original window. She loves the tone resonating with ebbs and flows of traffic, the corner market below, the train. Tis night time the lights reflective of vibrations.

 

Perce sighs as she sinks deeper into her lounge chair and book: Maupin's Tales of the City. Below a bit of a row starts out in front of the Egyptian owned grocery that has the best falafel and tahini in Upper Haight.

 

Perce jumps from her chair shouting for her roommate, "You hear this Adrienne?!"

 

They meet in the living room smile and nod. Kneeling in front of their window, their lights remain off. The ruckus below doesn't interest, it's the world of the windows before them that does. Lights flip on peppering the red brick building across from them with yellow. Each rectangle is occupied by at least one tenant, often two and every once in a while several heads squeeze in to witness the ballyhoo below.

 

Perce looks to her friend A. "Most likely someone liberating a candy bar again." Read More 

Be the first to comment

Transitions | Flocks

 

They've been friends for decades and funny enough when one moves to another locale, the other inevitability does as well. Perse was leaving Seattle and the funeral industry heading to art school ASU Tempe, AZ. Violet was not far behind.

 

Violet loves the sun but prefers the shine diffused though sheers of a large window. Persephone can do without the sun and misses Seattle's clouds and moist cityscape creating such vivid colors. The fresh air, she breathes easily, loves cozy layers of clothing and her hair looks great in humidity. Seattle was a bit too wet for Violet.

 

Perse loves to stroll. To be out and about as she discovers what's unique while observing the human condition. She enjoys people and the diversity of it all. Violet tends to be a home body, she rarely adventures out.

 

As Perse has made her way from Tempe to Indy to Las Vegas to Vincennes to Las Vegas to Flagstaff, Violet inevitably end up in the same town. The two of them hanging out for almost 24 years now.

 

 

Adrienne and I are sitting in her Karmann Ghia. We've just left Crash where we watched a dude wrapped like a worm inch his way around a spiral, ever so slowly. It was fascinating to consider and so unlikely that we watched for a good twenty minutes until we had to make our way to the small circus tent that housed the Honey Buckets. That took another twenty minutes. The worm was about 2/3rd's of the way round by then. Read More 

Be the first to comment

Frequency | Resonance

 

"Wow… this is just odd." She considers to herself upon waking after an evening of nosh and libation with friends. "Why are people responding to me in this manner?" Eyes to the sky in wonder. "We're all friends, yeah? They seemed perturbed by my part of the conversation. It's the regular stuff. I didn't throw any curve balls." 

 

She leaves the room heading to the kitchen making her way to the walk-in grabbing a sweater. The door's ajar. Taking her sweater off the hook behind the door, she turns closing the door. It won't shut. Pressing it closed several more times, she realizes it's really out of place. 

 

Curious and a bit annoyed, she inspects the door looking closely at the edges. There's no obstruction; however, the door is too big for the frame. Looking up, she notices there is a large crack crawling from the door's corner to the ceiling. 

 

Confused, deciding a bit of coffee is more crucial, she takes steps to the coffee service cart in her snug apartment's small living room. The red light is on, she hears the water begin to drip through her Bona Vita. French roast, rubusto beans, dark very dark.  Read More 

2 Comments
Post a comment