Tag Archives: fiction

Art

Little Fractal

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My reflection walked through the door at the ripe age of almost seven and a half- she runs into greet me, but this time we don’t embrace right away because her senses are sensing me out-

Am I safe here?

And I sit with a smile, and a “Hey girl, hey, how ya doin'”

And she doesn’t answer but reflects back that question in a different way… “What are you doing?”

The answer is abstract, “I’ve been working on things- would you like to see what I am doing, working on?”

A gentleness sets in with the curious “yes.”

So I show her how hard it is to get the fur right, on Capricious the cat who is complex. I show her where my struggles exist properly portraying the nose.

I ask if she wants to see the one sketch book I know is meant for her because I was able to cut off criticism and ownership, to allow her to draw on the first page

Oh, help me- this is a book not a quarter finished and it is the most esoteric of my papers- mostly I bleed on the pages, metaphorically as I loose those last remaining eggs captured in my abdomen that I kept from procreating

She sees familiarity, even expressions of creative will when it comes to honoring the Nana and Papa-

Her hand was in that book- my hands will keep creating when the time suits- and someday, it’s for her too look back on in a remembering of care, creativity- unconventional and unique- just like her

I see this child has anger she doesn’t know how to express or articulate

I was there once, twice, three times two and again in spurts

I recognize those hurts spoken in another language, again and again- reminicent

She isn’t alone, it isn’t “bad” to be angry- it’s a life struggle to learn to tame it, know it, control it, be with it and breathe it out

So she wanted to control the wind- and I told her I already know how, and bonus- I know how to talk to clouds

So I ask, is today a day to build clouds or bust them?

Build them she says- I say that means the storm is coming in- and she isn’t afraid

Unknowing to her in the last days Rain and I have been talking about regulation of expression because Rain is just pain expressed, especially when the third wheel to lightening and thunder

So we covered the sun with clouds and watched the sky darken- and then we tossed the ball back and forth- acknowledging that too much force, misdirected can cause pain- so awareness has it’s gains

We take a lap when we are angry, we beat our fist into the leather mit, meant to capture the ball- we find a way to express without purposeful abraision-

Peace creeps in, but it needs patience and work- but the seed is there and I see how connection has many outlets- not all are my favorite, but I am willing to compromise so that she can get what she needs at a time she feels so unseen

I see her, and she sees me

Art, Writing, insight, life, poetry, imagination

It’s Rainamentary

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I’ve been having consistent conversations with rain, and wind- –

It definitely started with the rain, or lack thereof or the over abundance in certain places- and then I think about storm chasers, just waiting for another hit of adrenaline

Rain though, has such nuance- people always complain that it’s not enough or too much- the whole time denying that they might have something to do with the duration and intensity of its output

See, you and me exist mostly of water and mitochondria and compressed ZIP files we call DNA, and our adaptability has led us to Earth zones that may not be the best environment for our best expression yet

Here we are, wherever we are- dealing with the Elements

My heart never felt the desert because I adore water so much it hurts

Like should I drink her, conserve her, or disregard the thoughts that say “it’s okay to dehydrate as if you are a cactus easily revived by a five minute down spout? Maybe some old man watering you down once a month?”

I started to look back to times when it rained almost cinematically- the timing, so on time. And thus far it’s been fine unless someone else defines how unrefined that expression plays out.

I think rain is a representation of pleasure and pain. It is the barometer of what we have to lose or gain- and just asking for it to refrain will only pain you more- mostly because you see water from the sky as separate from you- not a collective expression of you and you, and you and you.

So as I have been talking to the sky, that holds the rain in a cute clouds that at times get together with a push from temperature- I see it capturing our pain. Our silent tears, our exhausted sighs, our deep night sweats fueled by incongruence- and I would categorize that as pain.

Human suffering, the great undoing of what binds us up inside.

We are water, we breathed out so that it is collected above us and it’s like it’s collecting in places that need a cleaning but not a flood.

So when I call in the rain, when I speak to her duty- I say take the pain for transmuting. Then send it down reasonably- we don’t need too much- just enough. Go above the places that need it most.

I clap, I sing for the greenery and the animals that may also be dehydrated. I roar with the Thunder and encourage her to raise her voice for those who can’t.

I make songs for the rain so that she feels welcome to self regulate in good company.

She tells me to thank you for allowing her into your space, to take the evaporate of your tears and breath, to transmute them into new life. She knows that she needs to regulate more, so she is calling for other nodes to see her consciousness and to engage it.

She is open to direction, she has learned many lessons over time by having no guide lines.

She laughed when I said “I think I might be able to manipulate weather.” Mostly because she already knew we all have some degree of ability to do that, but most are too distracted to hone in on the skill. They only want to call into request when something is personally dire and upsetting on a deadline.

I totally get that.

So I just call her in- no dance- no show-

Like calling a friend on the phone.

“”Hey babe- I got the feeling you are feeling kind of heavy right now- can I help you disperse this in a healthy way?”

She wants help, because everything she takes on was yours to begin with, and accountability is foreign but needed in her realm.

Art, imagination, insight, life, podcast, Sound Exploration

Post-Apocolyptic Laundry

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Imagine if you will- a tech-dominated world where people are slowly trickling in.  Their one domestic responsibility is to have responsibility for their own laundry.  In divided groups at certain times, they trek down to the last slow-running river in order to beat the shit out of their clothes.  This is their way of staying connected to nature and need. However, the scene is always distorted somehow by the leftover frequencies that pollute the air.

This piece is about a  woman trying to remember the “other world” she uses to live in, and she feels a very strong desire to share these memories with anyone who will listen.  In this world, it is rarely silent, but there are only certain times when it is permissible to speak.  The tones of the reception are measuring the frequency of the output from the people, and if the speaker derails into topics not meant for discussion- the frequency reflects that.

This is a personal compilation of solo creations I have made in the last month.  I would like to add more stories to this because I want to introduce you to Maggie- and her story is incredible.  We wouldn’t know about the Laundry Lady if we didn’t recognize Maggie and her participation in bringing her to view.

Please enjoy- Post-Apocalyptic Laundry-

 

 

Art, Writing

Experimental Story part 1

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She walked inside the liquor store and headed to the whiskey section, knowing it was going to be a rough night of transmutations.  The bodies had been building up around the liquor store proximity,  and no one was willing to help with their transition.

“They don’t call them Spirits, for nothing.” She mumbled to herself as she grabbed a bottle of Jameson off the shelf and headed to the register.

What the Living were unable to see, was the portal the liquor store was built upon.  No, it wasn’t an ancient burial site or a lay line per say- It was an artificial portal with a contract for operation, and that contract was nearing it’s end, which made it amplify it’s effect for a long range- like that final electrical release that happens from a faulty conduit.  The last blast was bound to shock the neighborhoods within a three mile range on every side.

Years previously, when the liquor store was mearly a small local bar, there were human volunteers that acted as a release valve for possible misfortune and violence, but most of them had ended up dying of consumption or what might be seen as insanity. Many generations passed and no one seemed willing or knowledgeable enough to pick up the Transmutation Torch.

She had no idea how she fell into this gig and surmised it was vicinity and convenience. She didn’t realize how on point she was with this assumption. She had the innate skills and was willing but ignorant.  No one approached her about it, everything just sort of fell into place and before she knew it- she had become a local representative of transmissions between life and death and communication with these Spirits.  She was more than a release valve, she was a kind of  compassionate but reckless reaper.

As she walked home with the bottle tucked beneath her jacket, she was given the transmission that this is a job few qualify for; that it was her philosophy that “Everything is temporary” that convinced the Soul Council to recommend  and essentially assign her to this hard to articulate task.  She had also previously set a strong energetic protection boundary around her, and this was rare, but an essential upgrade from previous Transmutators.   They knew that she had the muster to take on the amplification through the transmutation process, She came from a resilient line.  Of course it was all quite a bit of a risk, because she was also seen as impulsive.   To Soul Council Majority, She was a risk worth taking.

As She walked through the door She contemplated what this would mean in the long run.  She knew there was a reason they called it Spirits and Poison; the reason the medical community called it a depressant or addictive.  She knew.  That was another reason she was the perfect candidate.  They admired her awareness of herself and of things seen beyond the normal spectrum.  This Spirit situation needed to be regulated before it exploded.

Have you ever read a Portal Contract before?  They are lengthy, full of stipulations and very fine print.  They are tiresome to read and edit, and even more tiresome to try and comprehend.  It takes a Portal Contract Specialist to mind these matters, and those are also a dying breed.

The Spirit game has really changed over the last decade or so. Used more as a source of entertainment than their actual function of Soul Transport and Evolution.  Doesn’t that seem to be the case with so many things these days?

There were just so many reasons She was the perfect replacement for a job no one wanted.

No one asked if She was willing or able. She didn’t really have a say in the matter.  Like any job she was allowed “vacations” or breaks- but honestly it was going to be like Black Friday for her for several years.  The longest anyone had lasted was a year, but the pool of willing Transmutation Correspondents was a lot bigger then.  At one point people were literally lining up for the job- most were dispelled quickly as they were easily distracted from the job at hand, using it as a free bar tab.  Turn over could be high, but if one stuck, they could be there for five years tops.   A stipulation of the contract was duration for Transmutation.

It’s a well known fact that Spirit Transmutation is one of the hardest jobs a living human can have.  There is a constant bombardment of frequencies, and random variation from external output which can define the outcome and put extra pressure on the physical human meat suit.

One might ask why a Higher Spirit isn’t given the job; it’s because the job is a boot camp for initiation to Higher Spirit and the job requires previously mentioned meat suit.  She certainly didn’t know this when the transmissions started flowing in a few months before the confirmation transmission was sent.

Imagine a rather ordinary thirty something woman with what could be seen as a problem with consumption.  Imagine that same woman is met with a job that would require that she continue her consumption.  Now some may call that a demon, and that is what the Spirits do… but imagine that is only half of the story.

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“The blood that runs through these veins have seen unrecorded history.  It’s felt the damage of life times ravaged through experience.  It’s run across the land like a river taking parts of the landscape with it. It’s left parts and parcels of it’s mineral content in the wake of its flow.  It’s been absorbed back into the Earth like it should, only to assist in nourishment for the local surroundings creating a vibration that resonates for miles. She gives and she takes in perfect balance.”

There was no rational or discernible reason for these words to flow into her mind in this moment, but they did. She found herself inspired and confused.  What did it mean? She tried to slough it off as a last remaining mental by product of her moon cycle, finding its slow transition outward and down to be flushed back into the eternal life recycle we call Local Water Purification.

“If only they knew.” She outwardly commented to no one as she discarded the blood stained tissue into the toilet and watched as it swirled away.

The Soul Council had noticed these mental behaviors in her.  A sort of appreciation for the mundane yet macabre.  She was able to see beyond the 3D layers, and interpret the meaning of the symbols embedded into everyday life. The Soul Council had found, over time, that this capacity was necessary to the job, but a skill few had.  To make matters worse those who did have it, essentially lived in denial and found themselves reluctant when encouraged to entertain the notion, much less the actual experimentation of an essential element that made up their being.

Portions of the Soul Council thought that the program should be all together ignored; they argued that there was a reason no one was qualified nor wanted the job. Nothing in the contract said that position had to be filled. Their suggestion was to let the Portal Contract run it’s course, as chaotic as it may be, and sort out the rest later.  In the mean time find a top notch Portal Contract Negotiator that would be able to align contracts for any mess that may be made in the mean time.

The majority of the Soul Council argued that it would be unethical to abandon the station if they were aware of a candidate that could fulfill more than the basic requirements, and that the contract was Soul related, so  the initiated had no choice but to at least man the position until the term ended or they failed… whatever came first.  And that was the sad nature of it.  The candidates historically and consistently failed before their term was met.

Those few in the Soul Council who would rather abandon the project, coincidentally, were the newest and youngest members on the board.   The Elders in favor of this new solution felt that their experience with this situation was keeping in the alignment of the soon to be void Contract.

And all the while these distinctive and life changing Soul Council Conversations occur on the outskirts of awareness… this strange 30 something year old woman keeps plugging along daily- completely unaware that she is about to be employed by Spirit full time with no discernible vacation, no discernible benefits, no advertised severance package and no unemployment safety net if everything goes to hell in a hand-basket.  It wasn’t even a “paid” position, per say… it was more akin to an unpaid internship.  It may seem crude, but Soul Councils aren’t even known for “thank you” cards when a human helps them reach a solution.

In modern terms, you may say that “This bitch that lives down the street from the liquor store, is about to get shook by Spirits she never even knew existed so close to her proximity.  She’s got a job she didn’t know she applied for, and things are going to get weird.”