The seeress part 2

He knew now that something was going to happen. Only now could he understand the message from the wind. It was all very strange. He sensed that it was not for him to decide or even to think, time didn't belong to him anymore, things just showed in his mind, like when you're watching a movie.She was coming and he had to be direct in his questions. Dani was not afraid of her, but he was afraid of not getting the results. The master had warned about her; "If she shows up, she will look in your eyes and decide if she's going to answer or not.You never know what she's going to do. And then my friend, you'll have to understand her words, but it's worthwhile."

Suddenly, the sound of horses galloping. Dani could see the cart through the dust, coming near him. The cart halted noisily, the two horses raising their paws in the air. The woman had a purple cloak and her eyes penetrated Dani's as she approached him.Dani asked his questions and after a brief hesitation she said:

My first story

THE SHAMAN

Chapter 1- The Seeress

Dani opened his eyes, as if awakening from a dream. But he had not been sleeping, not at all.He could remember having been concentrated to listen to the wind. The afternoon had brought with it a soft breese that was caressing his quietness. It was good to be like that, not thinking.
The Master had been specific: "It's important to listen to the wind, it will bring you precious messages." Dani had started listening to the sound of the afternoon wind, a mixture of sounds made by leaves and branches on the trees but he couldn't remember very well. He thought he didn't understand the messages, he couldn't be sure of anything. He thought that nothing had hapened. And they needed it so !
Sami and Halana had been gone early in the morning. Dani knew they were also searching for something, and they might be lost or even in danger. Where could they be ? He had no idea, He looked around and noticed some change in the atmosphere. He was still where he was before, but there were slight changes in the landscape.It was still the same dirt road, but it was different. The trees were bigger, spreading big branches all over the way.

shamanism

I had already read some books on shamanism, and I was familiar with Castañeda's explanations on ordinary and non-ordinary reality. I already found that the old beliefs of ancient peoples were the most plausible for my understanding. And then, one day, the universe brought me a book by John Matthews, which tells about the Celtic tradition on shamanism.
It was a turning point in my life. Getting to know the Celtic tradition was like uncovering the book of my own origin, or the origin of humankind. I instantly fell in love with the characters presented, as if they belonged to an old age of myself that had been stolen from me.
First thing I had to do was painting them. "The bride of the Waters", "The seeress" The Lady of the Cauldron", the Lord of the Seas, and others became my favorite inspirations.
After reading Michael Harner's The way of the Shaman, I went to Buenos Aires for a workshop on the subject. I knew that I needed a real experience on journeying and that M. Harner was right person to provide it. Of course it was not Harner himself but one of the members of his faculty.
But that will be another story .I'll tell about it, next time.

A comeback

I don't expect anybody to read this; it would be almost impossible, after stopping writing for so long. I feel like a person visiting an old house where nobody lives anymore.
I feel like rising curtains for the sun to come in and dissipate the darkness . I can see the old furniture, I can hear the voices of old friends of past times ... Where are they? It's just my imagination, trying to make them alive.
Everything that I once dreamed and said is lost in the past, but today is today. I'll have new things to say and new dreams to dream. You bet it. I'm back.

What Nanny says

Well, as you should know, she's five years old. One of her most interesting contributions is exactly what she says. Besides dancing beautifully all round the house and finding butterflies to add to my collection, she makes comments that make me wonder what exactly she means. There's always a feeling of not understanding completely on my side. She uses words that simply stay, they don't just vanish like ordinary words. Like the other day when she suddenly came to me (I was at the computer) and said: "I know you will always love me."
Yesterday she was about going to bed when her mother reminded her of feeding the fishes of the aquarium. Öh. mum," she burst out crying. Her mother said: "No problem, you can feed them now, there's no need to cry."I know,"she said, but I also know that they will never forgive me."

HERE AND THERE

I decided I'm not going to make any desicions for some time. I'll just breathe and eat and sleep and ...

There's a lot of guavas spread on the ground of my backyard. The hens will probably eat them.

My hair is horrible. It will have to wait, too

Ronaldo scored an unforgetable goal. Lucky guy! God bless him.

No more sugar, the doctor said to me. How can I live without sugar? No way! I'll try to eat less, which means about half of a lot of it. I hope it will be enough.

I dreamed I was moving house. I was very busy, but happy.

I saw the number two Pink Panther. The movie theater was so empty, (three people in all) that I could hear my laughing alone. It sounded so awkward, so different from the way I used to laugh. I almost cried.

Why not a second one?

Nanny is the cutest thing on earth, but she can make faces like no one else.

why not a picture?

Everybody knows that a picture is worth more than a thousand words.

Back to reality

I'm back to the things we just have to do because they're what everybody does. Back to our civized prison with our customary schedules ...
After watching the sea for a long time, after playing on the beach as if I myself were a kid, after feeling so connected to nature...
Which one is reality? And what is it that prevents us from living the best reality?
MONEY!

Hi, everybody! Hi, my prison fellows!

Nanny is five now.She's so smart and gorgeous you wouldn't believe. She had a lovely birthday party as usual.

I'm thinking of going back to Rio, my home town. I just feel more alive there. The trouble is I can't have Nanny with me. As you can see, you can't have it all.

It's Christmas again

And I'm still busy with gifts and recipes for the night when many people will meet and eat together. Things haven't changed much, have they? Babies have grown up a bit, that's true, my garden has new flowers and many of the old ones have died ...What else has changed? Oh, yes, there are new wrinkles on my face, more than I should expect to see.

Next week I'll travel to good old Rio and have a good time. A time for going to the beach, to see old friends, drink the iced beer that I miss so much and, most of all, just sit at a cafe on the boardwalk and watch the world go by.I'll do the things I like to do while they still exist.

Nobody is asking me for advice, but I'll do it, as a Christmas gift:
Do the things you like to do, eat in your favorite restaurants, kiss the people that you feel like kissing, dance the music that touches you... Everything has an end. They just vanish before your startled eyes one day, just like that.Believe me. And have a Merry Christmas.

THE SEERESS

According to the Celtic tradition on shamanism, she is a powerful being, gifted with the skills of prophecy. The tradition also says that she is a mistress of spinning (see the gold weaving rod in her hands) and that "all who practice this art are ably gifted to perceive the patterns in the great web of creation".
For meditation:
Visualize a road which winds between level green land. Then you can see a cloud of dust, and after some time, a chariot drawn by two black horses. There she is, and she stops the chariot to stare at you. you may now ask her the questions you have about your future ...

Nanny is four!

She had a big party as usual. I´m the blond happy grandmother next to her. The others are my son and his wife.

Where I live

this is my favorite tree, and of course my favorite fruit.

A tablecloth

I just love handicraft!

Yes, I love keeping busy doing something that I think will be gorgeous as a result of my work. My son says I'm compulsive, I don't know, maybe he's right. Well, I hope I can find people who enjoy doing beautiful things and exchange experiences.

Very soon I'll be showing pics of my work. For now let's just keep in mind that beauty can be found anywhere.

SMOKING QUIT ME!

I had never seen it happen to anybody, I didn’t even know it COULD happen. I enjoyed smoking, although I knew it could do me some harm. Like all smokers in general I tried not to give it much thought. It was one of my pleasures and I tried to be happy as much as possible.
Suddenly, with no previous notice, I felt nauseated after a cigarette. A terrible sensation followed by cold sweat and cramps. Just terrible. The next day I waited for some hours to have a cigarette, afraid it might happen again. It did.
I thought it over and over, looking for an explanation. A week later I only knew I was afraid of smoking.
This is been nearly one year now, so I think its going to stay for good. I know Ill be much better off not smoking, but what about my breakfast followed by a cigarette? The nights at cafes lighting cigarettes and sipping beer? A drink is much more of a drink if you can smoke too. I miss the feeling of having to light a new cigarette in between a conversation ... I may sound crazy, but I miss my smoking ... What else will I have to lose?

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AFTER SO MANY YEARS

AFTER SO MANY YEARS


I didn´t expect it to happen. Why not? Of course it might happen. We could have met at a bus stop or at a party, a birthday party, for example, as I don´t go to parties anymore. I could have seen him on the street, or browsing at the window of a shop, looking for a book or a video.

He was suddenly there. In my living room. He had come with other people, people who were busy in their conversation, laughing from their own jokes, so far from my life. We didn´t say much, as we had nothing to say or do. We were like statues of a past time, strange characters of a story that had stopped without a proper end. I asked about his daughter and he was surprised that I still remembered her name. Foolish things that didn´t mean a thing, mere words to disguise the weird feeling of looking at his eyes and being seen by them.

We probably thought of how stupid we were, or how coward. We didn´t say much, as I said, but we looked at each other and, in the middle of all the fuss that was going on around us, we tried to forgive each other for everything we didn´t live.

SPEAKING TO NO ONE

SPEAKING TO NO ONE

The first time I saw him I found it difficult to hide my laughing; it turned into a nervous laughing, because I knew I was being even more ridiculous than the man beside me. We used to take the bus at the bus terminal near where I lived, so the following times I was careful enough not to sit near him. He wore suit and tie like a normal person going to his office downtown, clean and shaved, but he spoke aloud all the time, as if an invisible listener could attentively listen to him. I was a bit afraid of him, as we´re never comfortable with things we can´t explain.

The first time I saw a man speaking aloud while walking on the street, by himself, I turned my head and watched, curious at what might be happening. Soon after a second one did the same and I could see he was using a cell phone. For a minute I remembered the strange person who made speeches on the bus. Mobile phones can make people look a bit odd, at least for me.

This time the man was not carrying a cell phone. He just walked from one side to the other, gesturing and speaking as an actor rehearsing for a play. I was sitting at a table and watched him during his continuous trip. He spoke and spoke, his arms helping him demonstrate his claims and this friend of yours just staring and thinking about the percentage of insane people who don´t live in clinics … At last I saw the tiny black thing in his ear, but it took me quite some time to understand (…) the impossibility of seeing things as we used to see in the past. I guess there´ll be a moment in the future when we won´t be able to laugh at anything or anybody.

WHO?

It was not just because of the pictures I saw in an old family álbum. I do think about changes very often; the album was only a good reason for keeping these thoughts in my mind for hours. Whose were those smiling faces, showing in so many different ways, as if living several stories? I knew it was me, I could recognize those existing moments, just as an actress can remember unforgetable roles. But where was I, as I feel myself now? Not in those faces and smiles. Now wait a minute: I still smile a lot; I´m not a sad person, if that´s maybe what you might have understood, but, I simply cannot see myself in those pictures. What I see in fact is a parade of times gone by, with their typical characters and clothes.
Some of them remind me of the post-war, for the ample skirts, others have the scent of the golden years and many others bring up the memories of Mary Quant and Dior. Holy Goodness, how many lives will I still have to live? How much will I still have to learn (and forget) in my time? How many faces will I have to show a world that demands so many changes … I remember when I learned to use a computer, how much joy and relief to think that I could do it like everybody else! Now I hear the news about technology that will enable us to have so many things and I feel afraid.
Being old is no problem for me. Old age is lighter, more childish and less responsible. What scares me is the fear of being outdated and having to go on, just like an insane actor who keeps on looking for a character that doesn´t exist …

WHY?

WHY?


The hot sun enhanced the shining golden bodies, the sea water was like a balsam that softened the heat stored in the skin and the sky, ah, the sky was so blue that it kept your eyes spellbound and made the beach a moment of collective joy. I didn´t have to look around to see the scenery and the people. I just thought to myself how the beach had become a noisy, hectic place, a meeting point for talkative and, most of the time, drunken friends. Looking at the sea in front of her and, towards the horizon, the greatness of the sky and the mountains that outlined the bay with their sense of eternity, I considered the apparent inadequacy. So what? This is Copacabana, I thought, and this is the moment we´re living in now...

Most of the noise comes from the vendors, I thought. Iced tea, soft drinks, sandwiches, everything was being sold with bluster and repetition, as if people would not notice them. The yelling and the continuous walking of the vendors is part of the daily seaside routine. They sell everything : pizza, icecream, grilled cheese and clothes - there´s a kind of local fashion that you can only find on the beach. Only there can you find those fluttering articles of exotic colors that arouse your senses, not to mention the jewelry, delicate works of art displayed on the hands of beautiful girls. I sometimes allow myself to say that there were more salespeople than buyers.

Looking to my left in search of a girl who sold "pasteis", (I love to eat the ones they sell on the beach) I saw something that was not at all ordinary - a woman who sold (believe it or not!) "parakeets". No, they were not real ones, nobody would want to imagine the cruelty of subjecting such delicate little birds to the horror of the hot January sun. They were little things made God knows how, of various colors and in great number. The woman used the frame of an umbrella as a carrier – with the cover taken off, her own head popped up among the colorful parakeets. It was not so near, but a cardboard sign could be read that said : 1 real.

I couldn´t help thinking about the 1 real parakeets. Only a domestic production line could explain the low price. I imagined the humble house, away from the urban center and the whole family engaged in the manufacture of the parakeets. They had a base of very thin wire which was probably the task of a grandfather, for whom that was certainly easy to do. The body of the little bird was made of styrofoam, I guessed, and would have been made with the skills of a dressmaker, used to cutting and moulding so many other things. The painting required delicate , gifted hands – every family has a young girl with a taste for arts. The children would be in charge of taking away the waste generated by the speedy production.

Why did they think of selling the parakeets on the beach? I decided the enterprise was absurd and fruitless. People buy icecream, sandwiches,suntan oil or similar things; they can buy handbags or clothes, but they don´t buy parakeets, not even for 1 real. I imagined, realistically, the poor woman going back home with all those little birds. Just then I saw the creature detatch one of them from the others and hand it to a woman. Why, didn´t she manage to sell one? Why did that person make such a bizarre acquisition? I then followed the steps of the parakeet saleswoman, moving to a spot closer by and I verified, rather stunned, that the saleswoman was very busy selling parakeets to several other women buyers who, in most cases, even came back for more than one. This was too much. I got up from my comfortable chair and went closer to have a good look at the little birds. They were simple, yes, but beautiful all the same, so light and colorful. I noticed their tiny eyes, so small that I couldn´t imagine who in the family would have been able to stick them on with such delicacy. The woman sold them with authority. “ Take the yellow one,” she said. “It´s the most attractive color.” I reacted :” By no means. Blue is my favorite color,” and went for the 1 real coin.

I went back home holding the parakeet, uneasily, for I couldn´t place it in my bag. It would probably be crumpled amongst the other things and might lose its little eye. Getting home, I looked round several times before I found a place for the parakeet. The simple truth was that there was nowhere to hang it properly – the blue parakeet just joined some other objects that I simply didn´t have any space or purpose for.

Believe me, I often find myself thinking of why somebody buys a plastic parakeet when she doesn´t even have room for it. I had already read about the power of advertising, about the choice of brands, and the fact that we always select what is in our conscious mind. I didn´t understand it. No, I didn´t regret it – I could identify with the blue parakeet, so inadequate and lacking a place to be put. It was now part of my scenery. But what about all those women who bought yellow, green, blue and red parakeets, where are they putting their parakeets now? And why?

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