Spell-carriers and Sensitives

Anna Paint turned to her old friend. The journey to The Ledge had been a long and circuitous one for Lokea, difficult on most days the arrival of the golden wagon was an occasion to commemorate. “Are you living on the edge or living on the ledge?” Anna asked. Lokea Bird answered with no reservations. “I’ve been on the edge and I’m living on the ledge now.” “If you’ve been on the edge and need a rest pull up an “L” and “Lean” into it.” Anna cackled. The two old women knew precisely what that meant.

It was a pretty good day for Anna Paint. Her body rested now calmed from the razor sharp and uncontrollable movements she relaxed with Jane E. regally in attendance. Jane was past the point of being objective about Anna’s disease. “I just hate that disease. It makes Anna miserable, and more than that it makes her afraid. Don’t make Anna afraid, just don’t!” Few people heard Jane’s rants, but Anna knew them for what they were … loyal and unwavering love. Lokea had just finished taking a long hot soak in the tub and was perched on the stool in front of her laptop. Sharing the land and the home which seemed a mansion from Lokea’s perspective, the two old friends had begun to re-kindle their already near forty year friendship at a time when Lokea was scraping the bottom of despair with her own physical collapse. Anna’s voice on the other end the cell phone was the thin yet tenacious life line at a crucial time. Lokea blew on that thin spark of hope as if her life depended upon it. And of course, it did.

Bernadette’s song wove the journey of collapsing mortal life with the legacy of an over-looked barnacle in the nest-makings of two ancient wood crafters named Freeill Noa and Kaimala Noa of the Islands. Bernadette sang from memory the same one I have sung for cycles into all memory. She sang it as if I would: “Though all the care in the Cosmos was taken and intention blessed with clarity, a very tiny over-sight took place in the building of my father and my uncle’s nest. A bit of drift wood no bigger than a blink was woven into the bowl of the nest just beneath Kaimala Noa’s violet shell. Over the ninety moon risings and sunsets, a very tiny barnacle unseen in the process of nest building, grew from the surface of the tiny bit of driftwood as well. The unsuspecting Wood Crafters had collected a living creature and brought it into the mix of warming. The short version of a story that will reveal itself further as the song is told, is this: Kaimala Noa and that barnacle become intimately coiled and during the soft shell stages of growing into a Wood Crafter my uncle had also absorbed the memory of a being whose destiny was to cling to survive.”

Bernadette’s recall of ancient melody and lyrics were precise. Shelela of the Swallows felt her chest throb with the memory of this same song poured into her during the warming. Shelela knew the story and added the next stanza in con as Bernadette continued to share the details of Shelela’s coil. The story of horded reef croppings and treasured fish tended to by the loyal winds of the Cosmos, Ka Makani. Honu the ancient sea turtle’s plea to make things right was a plea yet to be satisfied. How many cycles had passed since the old one met Shemaladia the Great and her mate Freeill Noa of the Islands?

Shelela knew the song and knew the lives of Northern and Southern Hemisphere’s had changed long, long ago. Her own changed form to swallow rather than osprey was part of the song. Now the Queen of Gypsy Fairy Frogs promised even more. As if in answer to Shelela’s silent question, Shelela heard Bernadette sing, “And the plea remains without reckoning, the waters continue to warm, the fry are not only small in size they are smaller yet in numbers and mortals now carry the spell of collapsing dreams. In the beginning the spell was easily ignored, mortal will is powerful and tenacious and has birthed cycles of convenience that distant them from the responsibility of Remembering. Some of them no longer fight the spell and are among the humans with finely-coiled sensitivity. The Sensitives they are, like Anna Paint and Lokea the Bird, a covey of mortals becoming un-done. Anna and Lokea are spell-bound by the affects of an ill-placed belief that clinging to more is a grace. Here, on The Ledge and within The Mansion the two Sensitives and their mates call for the dreams of Reassembling. Long awaited seed stones have passed between the mortal woman Lokea and the fairies. Lokea the Bird, spell-carrier and migratory ancestor of the Golden Plover KO lea has brought twin stones hung on golden filigree, gifts of a promised new life, a promise to satisfy a plea made right.” Bernadette turned to T.F. who held up both shiny orange stones. Shelela and her mate Tusi rose from the limb, lifted the ring wrought of silver with the stone of pink with their claws and flew to the porch between Traveling Frog and Bernadette. The twin orange stones fit precisely within the circle created by the ring. Slowly the stones pulsed: orange, then yellow, green, blue, then blue-violet. The same violet color all twin eggs of the Wood Crafters had birthed throughout time, throughout Ever. The filigree fell away leaving instead a sprinkle of golden dust, an ancient gift of the stars patiently waiting the perfect moment, this moment.

In terms of time passed on The Great Planet, four moon risings had come and gone by the time Shelela and Tusi finally nestled the twin violet eggs into the curved wagon crafted for their warming. Paddleton and Long Eyes were swift in their work as Bernadette’s song was sure. Lengths of fallen and weathered pine needles collected and dried over the season were fashioned into tightly woven walls. Seamless and water-tight the crafters used the pitch oozing from the firs to coat the outer needles, making sure the inside was smooth and gentle on both eggs and swallows. Tusi and Shelela drew Pond mud to coat the outer walls ensuring warmth and the comfort of a proper swallows nest. Windows, new to the design of a Wood Crafters nest incorporated the ocean shells and coral bits left as gifts along the pathway of Lokea Bird and Pat Nicely’s vardo. A curved roof encircled the home with just enough space for Shelela and Tusi to enter and exit. With the hybrid lineage of the eggs Paddleton and Long Eyes knew to draw from fairy, bird and mortal coils. The design and function was a fitting prototype for the reassembling.

The ninety days and ninety nights of warming began with the full moon in the sign of the Archer, Sagittarius. Traveling Frog and his Queen Bernadette noted the extended period of rain that filled the Pond far beyond its normal season. “Seems we have work yet to be done before our migration,” Traveling Frog said as he pulled himself onto the firm comfort of his bed beside his Queen.

“The dreamers are ripe for the wakening.

We have the songs for their taking.

Long on the limb, not as bright of the eye.

Re-coil, re-store, re-fresh

Asleep on The Ledge deeply.

Spell cast, promise kept, secret shared.

The dreamers are ripe for the wakening.”

Froggie and his Queen closed their eyes and went immediately to their work.