There was nothing left, just dust and stars…

A dear friend, David, passed away on the 22nd of November, and the days since then have been a slow calming of the disquiet. A yawning void has been growing, and it’s difficult to come to terms with the fact that there will no longer be any words sent when inspired, no more sliding in on lightbeams, or dialing in from the Sky Bunker. No more tales and photos from his travels. No more exhilarating surprise of finding a hand written letter in the mail, with his (sometimes hardly legible) scrawl and doodles. He was brilliant, kind, and funny. I would swear that he could make a friend out of anyone who crossed paths with him. The outpouring of love, and happy memories shared in the wake of his death are proof of that.
He will be missed by all that knew him, and remembered always.

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I dabble with Tarot from time to time, as a personal thing. It’s not something I do lightly or often but I do find it useful for personal introspection and not necessarily divination.

David, was fond of doing Tarot as well. I think he’d been doing it since he was 15 (circa 1986). A fan of the classic, Rider Waite was his go-to.
It’s been well over a year since I’ve pulled cards, but after these past two weeks I just felt it was time.

Not necessarily solace, but an affirmation of what was already perceived and known. Message received universe.

Farewell my friend. Dangerous Dave, Zed-killer and Literary Type.
-Sjr-

Dreams and Plans: Her name is Bonnie

I’ve fallen in love, and her name is Bonnie. I remember being in a motorcycle/motorsports store back when I was around 17, brother needed a part for his dirt bike. As I strolled around the floor I noticed a very classic looking red and white motorcycle, it was adoration at first sight. Years later all I can remember was that it was of British manufacturing.
After a very short search on the internet, I discover that what I’d fallen in love with was a Triumph Bonneville T100.
I see the going prices for new and used models and of course I go through all the things in my head that I could fix up on my Jeep instead.
One day though, mark my words, Bonnie and I shall finally meet again. What a glorious ride it shall be.

Dreams and Plans: Tea Cottage – Brewing Laboratory

I’ve been in my head quite a bit lately, dreaming, and planning. I’ve wanted a tea garden for quite some time so I can start processing and creating my own blends and such. Sadly I don’t live in an agricultural zone that’s conducive to growing most varieties of Camellia Sinensis (tea plants). The extreme heat, sun, and wind do suck the life out of anything that’s not hardy enough to withstand it. I live in the Sahara sometimes I swear.
If I had a tea garden, I think I’d very much like to build my own little tea cottage. A slightly expanded version of the one pictured below so it would have a kitchen and a cellar. Shelves would be lined with varieties of tea in corked jars. And downstairs, that would be the brewing laboratory for the beer and wine! Muhahaha *ahem* anyways.

First thing for the To-Do list, relocate to an area with grass and trees. Secondly, look into taking up a third job.

Ah well, a girl can ogle wistfully and dream.

Images found here: A Tiny Victorian Cottage

Welcoming Back The Sun

A month has passed and I feel it is time to share a timely update. I had pulled a reading after what had happened a month ago asking “What is ahead of me now because of the choices I have made?”

Like the Spring after a season of Winter, I was greeted with The Sun as my first card in answer. I instantly smiled, cheered. It helped to put things into perspective. Life goes on, and the sun comes back each year chasing away the darkness of Winter. With Imbolc passing now, harkening the beginning of Spring, I find it all very synchronous.

I am eternally grateful for the tireless support of family and friends, near and far, who have been privy to the details, ups and downs, and moods involved in these past few months. Those who have so unconditionally given of their energy and assistance, which is what I see reflected in my second card. The bonds of friendship that have strengthened during this are ones I treasure, again, thank you.

As to the final card, I think I’ve got a long and promising year ahead of me to see what all the future holds. But I look forward to the journey along the way.

A happy beginning of Spring to you all!

Card images used are from Stephanie Pui-Mun Law’s Shadowscapes Tarot which can be found at http://shadowscapes.com/

Aftermath

Whenever I find myself in a relationship with someone and I feel strongly about it, I end up doing a tarot reading. The same thing results every time. I don’t like what I see so I forget about it until down the road it all comes to fruition anyways. I have had a hard time with more classical style decks but found I worked well with Tarot of the Secret Forest by Lucia Mattioli. It feeds into the more intuitive form of reading rather than classical symbols.

The tarot images I will be using below however are by Stephanie Pui-mun Law, her deck does a wonderful job conveying the imagery and meanings I find.
Her website for her tarot and other artwork can be found at http://shadowscapes.com/

This past year I had been in a relationship, and I loved like I had never loved before. Six months into it things got a little rocky and I tried to end it. He insisted on speaking on the phone and I was charmed and wooed back into his apologizing arms to try again. He would work on fixing what he did that bothered me. Time goes on and we eventually discuss living together. The past four months have been spent preparing for that step. More and more issues continued to crop up during that time and finally culminated into an emotional explosion. After over a year with him I have found out, however charming, that at the core he wasn’t good for me. Everything I’d read into the card reading showed absolute truth and played out in its entirety.

Here is the three card spread I had pulled concerning his personality and the course of our relationship.

Today I’m finally getting back on my feet and finding my calm in the aftermath of the storm. Starting off the new year feeling a little raw but that’s okay. I’ll mend in time. I don’t believe in carrying regrets, and in this I still don’t. I see every individual that crosses your path in life as an opportunity to grow and change.
Something to take with you perhaps.

Synergy – A Retrospective

I have no crafted verse for you readers out there today, only some memories from Life, The Universe, and Everything.

Upon folding and rearranging some clothing today I found a long forgotten lace soap sachet that Mom had made when I was probably around six or seven years old. We were living in Texas at the time and my father was stationed on a Navy Minesweeper. The bar of soap is still the same one that Mom originally put in there, Caress, wrapped in a dusty rose lace with a thin matching ribbon tying it shut. When Mom gave it to me and told me to put it in my dresser drawer I wanted to know why. Simply, “You’re supposed to put it in your dresser, it’ll make your clothes smell nice.” So I put it in there and it has been kept with the rotating clothes of its assigned drawer in three different dressers, over fifteen years, and four different states.

Among the memories from Texas I remember making a treasure map that corresponded to the back yard with invisible obstacles that my brother and I used to navigate through in our adventures, making certain to avoid the deadly sticky burr patches. The day prior to Thanksgiving climbing up in the pecan tree collecting and shelling them for Mom to make chocolate pecan pie. Learning to ride a bike and singing songs from the Chess musical  loudly while speeding down the sidewalk. Hours of playing Mortal Kombat at the neighbor’s house.

Early gray mornings riding in the back of the pickup truck while we dropped Poppa off at his ship for 6-month long deployments. Sad hugs and tears asking him if he could just stay home instead. Walking out on the rock jetty so that we could wave goodbye to his ship as it left the harbor. The 6-month calendar Mom printed and taped to the kitchen wall so that we could “X” off each day that passed until he came home again. The letters Pop and I wrote back in forth to each other. Poppa would draw little cartoon ants in his letters as commentary to his letter. I still have every single one tucked away. The frantic excitement of “homecoming” to greet the ship when it pulled back in. The emotional reunions of hugging my weary (and even more tanned from months at sea) Poppa on his return home. Sometimes we’d be standing for nearly two hours in chilly and rainy weather waiting for the ship to dock. I remember one time the ship was secure but Poppa couldn’t leave yet on this cold rainy day, so they had us go up on the ship and wait. It was freezing and miserable and anything you touched chilled you to the bone, Poppa brought us some orange and vanilla ice cream from the messdeck as a treat while we waited. Nothing has ever quite matched the taste of the ice cream from that day.

The smell of that soap has been in my drawer all this time, it was new then, a part of all these memories. I know I’ll never get rid of it. One day I’ll make a new one to go alongside it as well as one for those in my own young family when the time comes. It’s the little things in life that actually are a part of the big things.

Until next time,
Belgium.

Dreams – Lost Ship

((Names and some details have been added to fill out what I internally had built in my head and knew as I was dreaming this. Too much Lovecraft, Battlestar Gallactica, and Yellow Dawn lately lol.))

We have been in space for nearly a year now, having left behind an Earth no longer inhabitable by normal human beings. I am a fighter pilot aboard the battleship Opilio, we are undermanned with few renewable supplies, but still we search for survivors. It’s all we can do.

We came across a civilian ship, Cassilda, drifting near the star cluster Hyades. There were refugees aboard from our infested home planet. They were grateful but quiet and withdrawn as they had run thin on their food supplies and many were malnourished and weak. Out of the thirty-one human beings brought onboard, I myself helped bring over eight. We housed them in an unused sector of the ship, a long corridor that branched into habitable living quarters.

We had long since stripped majority of the lights and electronic components from the sector for use in our operations areas. The sector was dimly lit, but we were pleased to hear the sounds of life echoing from its halls. So few of us were left to man Opilio when the exodus began, even the smallest addition to our numbers was a relief.

Dr. West, our only physician onboard, cleared all of the refugees as healthy and sane aside of the lack of food and rest needed to restore them back to tip top shape. But that wasn’t the case after a few days had passed. Something was wrong, something escaped our notice. The refugees grew crazed and aggressive. The quiet sounds of life in the dimly lit corridors changed to screams of predators and their victims. Infected.

We initially quarantined the sector at the first signs of violence, preventing any of the refugees from accessing the rest of the crew on the battleship. Our fear overruled any thoughts of humane compassion in trying to save any of the refugees who may have not been infected. I no longer slept peacefully, and when I managed to finally close my eyes I met horrifying and vivid dreams that drove me from my bed again. A dark city haunted my sleep, and I imagined black stars hidden in the Hyades.

After the screams ended, and the refugee sector grew quiet, a team was gathered to investigate. My squadron, the few marines we had available on board, and Dr. West were suited up protectively prior to entering the sector. The lights flickered overhead and the heavy door sealed shut behind us. In the faint light we could see dark wet spots spattered against the walls in areas, bits of flesh clinging to the cold metal. It was quiet except for the sounds of our shallow breathing and our boots traversing across the tacky floor.

I followed at the rear of the team alongside Dr. West, assault rifle gripped tightly in my hands. From the farthest end of the corridor we could hear movement, faint and shuffling, with raspy breathing. The only sign of life was ours and that of the un-dying. Dr. West began to panic and was muttering frantically, his eyes were wide and rolled looking back towards the entrance to the sector. Seeking a way out of here. His voice grew frantic and shrill and hoarse screams erupted from the darkness in a cacophony of sound. The horde swept in to attack, crashing against the marines and my squadron first. Dr. West ran for the door, condemning us and screaming curses for bringing the refugees aboard. Gunshots and unearthly shrieks rattled against the walls as flesh was torn and bitten into. Anger welled up inside of me and aimed the muzzle of my rifle at the fleeing doctor with a guttural snarl. Then I dropped my weapon and opened my arms to embrace the horde as they swept over me.

Fireflies in Summer

Poem submitted for Children’s Literature assignment. Probably more complex than what the teacher anticipated us to write. Ah well, I like it for what it is meant for.  Quiet years, but they were magical. I hope this captured some of that magic.

Spiraling across the landscape,

Veiled from the summer moon,

Fireflies dance and glisten

To the rhythm of a nocturnal tune.

 

The sweet smell of honeysuckle

Floats softly in the warm air,

While fireflies dance and glisten,

And alight upon my hair.

 

I long to catch them in a gossamer web

And set them on the ceiling of my room.

Still the fireflies dance and glisten

Across their nightly loom.

 

The clouds have cleared and the stars shine,

Casting shadows from the forest’s trees.

Yet, the fireflies dance and glisten

While the wind whispers through the leaves.

 

Dawn’s rosy fingers touch the horizon.

The land is waking up with the light.

I hope the fireflies will dance and glisten

For me another night.