Wedge Pond

"Hi Fantasy.  How are you today?" I'm in the forest again.  It's raining, but that's ok.  I'm dressed for it, and I need to give Fantasy a story.  She is bigger now, almost full size.  Clearly, there was a lot of meat in the last story.

"Not bad." She replied.  "I'm not one for the rain because it keeps me from flying well, but we need the rain.  Got a story for me?"

"You betcha." I smiled.  She sits on a stump in front of me and I read.

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 Wedge Pond

    "Where do you want to go today?" I asked the others.
    "I dunno." The shrug rippled around the room; everybody felt like relaxing just where they were.  I sighed, "Ok.  Just let me know when and if you want to go on a hike."
    An hour later, we were headed out to hike.  I wasn't a good hiker, but I had been put in charge of four teenagers who had special needs on a trip into the mountains.  We decided to picnic it, and found a good site near a pond.
    Each teenager had a special gift; most had one, but the odd one had two.  Greg could see auras, but I could sense there was another one budding and it had to deal with his electronic ability.  He was relaxing, taking in the feeling of the surroundings through his senses; he was curious about everything.  He looked tense.  I prayed everything was going all right at home.
    An hour later, we had lunch, and people seemed to be starting to relax.  Ariel was the eldest of the teens; she wouldn't be coming with us next year, so she was the most ambitious.  She put down her hotdog and glanced at each of us in turn.
    "Hey, do you guys want to just sit on your duff all day and do nothin'?  It's a beautiful day out there!" She said, "I want to get out there and hike, or do somethin'!  Maybe you're gonna be able to come here next year, but I'm not!"
    "We know Ariel." Mark speared another weener and put it on his bun, "You've told us about a zillion times."
    "So?' She asked, "What do you guys want to do?"
    "Why don't we dig out the maps after lunch and decide then?" I opened another bag of chips and poured it into a bowl.  "We can start out with whatever type of walk you like."
    "Yeah!" Ariel grinned and started wolfing down her food.
    "Ariel, slow down.  I don't want to have to treat you for choking." I chided gently.
    "Yeah, the rest of us want to enjoy our lunch, not get sick on it." Greg said.  Greg had always been a slow eater, but that was ok.  We all had our ways of doing things, and that was his way.  The others either grunted or nodded in agreement and lunch proceeded without event.
    Later, I brought out the maps, and there in the midst of birds, and nature, we debated on the place we could go.  We had decided that the trail that we were close to, Wedge Pond, would be the best  Then we could go on to a trail created by Alister Kaden - The Ankle Lake Trail.  Most people could walk it; only two couldn't because they were wheelchair bound.  They didn't mind though.  They told me that they could take a spin around the parking lot and then take pictures of the view.  I told them to keep in touch every once in a while; they all had smartphones, and an app called HeyTell, a walkie-talkie like app.
    The rest of us began the 1.5 kilometer loop, many of us with cameras in hand.  Even Greg had his own version, his digital recorder.  He wanted to record the sounds on the trail, if there were any.  We were in our element, enjoying the sights and sounds of the Rocky Mountains.

The Beach

I arrive at the forest to find that the seasons have come more into balance.  Spring has come, and flowers have begun to bloom.  Fantasy is two inches tall now, and her colors aren't as transparent.  I hold out my hand to her and she sits on it. 

"Hi Fantasy.  Feeling better?" I ask.

She nods, Much.  I don't ever want to be sick again.

"I will try to always honor that my friend.  I have a story for you.  Hopefully someday I will be able to bring art back into our discussions." I reply.

This is art too. She replies.

"I know, but I mean pictures, and the discussion of pictures and the meanings of colors like I did a while back.  I think that would be a good thing." I reply.  "Now, I have a story for you.  Ready?"

She bounces up and down on my hand, smiling.  You bet.

"Here we go then.  The story is called The Beach, at least for now."

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The Beach

                ”Look at that ant!” Abel’s eyes were close to the insect as it bore a seed toward its nest.  Abel had always been interested in ants, insects, and anything else that crawled or even slithered on the earth.  He was a typical boy.

                I smiled, remembering the day I became governess of the Bexby household.  I had been looking for employment one day when I noticed the advertisement.  “Wanted, a governess to look after three children from ages three to six.  I immediately answered the ad, with my resume and within a day was informed that I should come the next day for an interview.

                I did, and so I began my journey with these children that I began to feel that I shared with Mrs.  Bexby.  There were three children, and at the time, she was very pregnant with what turned out to be twins. 

                My thoughts shifted back to the present as I chided myself.  This isn’t the time to be reminiscing Maka.  These children need you.  If it weren’t for their parents hiring you three years ago, you wouldn’t have the job.  Yadia only knows where you’d be.”

                I smiled at the child as he followed the aunt around.  He was the six year old when I arrived at the sprawling Bexby estate.  He had been a handful then, but with the help of schoolwork, I had been able to challenge him and focus his passions.  He loved bugs of all shapes and sizes, so I made sure that our lessons were outdoors as much as possible.

                ”Watch me Maya Maka, watch me!” Seven year old Daya was swimming out in the lake, and she decided to do a hand-stand.  She was good at everything, especially water sports.  I cheered and clapped along with her brothers and sisters.  Being that she was the eldest girl, she was the favourite of the family.  In the three years that I had worked there, I couldn’t figure out why, but it was something that only niggled at the edges of my thoughts, so I only thought about it at night when I put my observations in my journal. 

                Suddenly her feet dropped out of sight and she didn’t come up again.  Daya was drowning!  I bolted off the chair where I had been sitting and raced to the water until a child’s firm hand stopped me.

                His eyes seemed to be glassy, yet he was coherent, “Stay back.  She is my protection.”

                ”But…” I stepped toward the water.  He blocked me.

                ”NO.” He had never been this way before. 

                ”All right.” He sprinted off into the water, but I continued to walk in.  Why am I not being permitted to do my job!  And  by a mere slip of a boy!  That is strange behaviour too!  I watched as Abel swam strongly to where his sister disappeared.  I watched, biting my nails in anticipation as he too vanished beneath the surface.  A minute or two later, he surfaced, bringing the girl with him.

                I met them where the water was up to my mid thigh, and between the two of us, we carried Daya to shore.  I observed the increase of musculature on the boy, and wondered not for the first time if this was a an old magical families.  There were a few around whose magic was inbred, not taught.  It seemed to be so from what I saw.  Abel wasn’t interested in developing his muscles, and he looked like he had been at the time.  We laid her on the shore, and I used a word of power to pump water from her lungs, or rather two words.

                ”Yadia broka.” immediately water started coming from her lungs; she coughed and sputtered.  I breathed a sigh of relief, for she had begun to turn blue.  She began to cry, and I hugged her to me, “It’s all right Daya.  You’re safe.”

                Daya clung to me as she cried out her feelings.  The others had gathered around, not knowing what to do.  “Put your things away in the boathouse.  We’re going inside,” I said.

                ”Aw, do we have to?” Saja asked.

                ”Yes Saja.  Your sister needs her bed,” I gazed at the sun, “and besides, the cook will have your snack ready.”

                ”Oh goody!” Kaya, the eldest of the twin girls began packing her things and putting them away.  She was the foodie of the family and always wanted to help out the cook, much to her parents’ chagrin. 

                I watched as the children picked up their toys.  I suggested to Abel that he help his siblings; he protested, but I told him that Daya was safe in my care.  Within minutes, we were on our way back to the nursery with Daya safe in my arms.  I couldn’t help wondering what type of magic was in Abel, and if it indeed was inbred.  It was almost as if he had been linked to another mind and been given someone else’s strength, but whose?

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 Fantasy has fallen asleep, but I know the magic of the wood has taken the story into her.  I laid her in the hollow of a nearby tree that she has made into a temporary home for herself and kissed my finger, placing it on her forehead.  "Sleep well, my friend and muse."

I'm back,

I know it's been another long time, but obviously Fantasy has been nibbling at the story I gave her.  She has grown about a half an inch, and I am thankful for that.  Her colors are still pale, but I think I can revive her with my visits, and with some short stories.  This is going to be a blog for some of the short stories which will end up as chapters (or just background) for my novels. 

Fantasy zooms to my palm, and signs to me, "You're back!  I thought you were going to leave me forever this time!"

I sigh in response, "No Fantasy.  You're a part of me, just as I am a part of you; I couldn't leave you even if I tried.  You have brought a deeper understanding of the five girls in the Elementals series, and eventually I'll be sharing their backgrounds with you."

"I can hardly wait!" I am amazed at how I can understand her signing.  My knowledge is so rudimentary, that I would think that I would have trouble, but not so.  Second, she is only an inch tall.  I am legally blind.  How was I able to understand?  Maybe it's because she is a part of me.

"Hopefully it will be soon Fantasy.  I will at least try to come talk with you this week." I look around me.  Green is starting to come to the forest, the same as in Edmonton.  "I WILL nurse you back to health!"

She smiles.

Gone a Long Time

I have been gone a long time from the glade, and I know it.  I trudge forward into the winter glade with a heavy heart.  I had always hoped that Fantasy and I would be weathering the ups and downs of the writing life, but much has happened since I was last there.

I was shocked at what I found.  The glade was supposed to be a place of green all year round with off-shoots of seasons, which would shift from place to place and grow larger throughout the years as stories came and went.  But I haven't been a good steward.  Was Fantasy beneath this rubble?  I glanced around me; she was nowhere to be found. 

I brushed off a log and waited.  I figured that if I hadn't been there for almost a year to feed her stories, that she would at the very least be weak.  I waited for 10 minutes, then a half an hour.  Then I felt a fly buzzing around my head.  A fly?  That doesn't make sense.  Flies don't live in winter unless they're fruit flies.  I shooed it away, but it zoomed back just as quickly.  Then it started tickling me on the nose.

"Get away!" I waved it away.  It danced away, and then tickled my neck.  Then it landed on the paper I brought with the story.  It had a faint blue tinge.

It's blue!  I watched as it hovered over the top of the page.  Fantasy knew I had a visual impairment.  She would make herself seen, if that's who it was.  I had brought a small set of acrylics as well as some paper in case I wanted to continue sketching her.  I opened the tube of blue paint and put some on the palette.  I then changed to a new piece of paper.  She wrote her name just as it shows below; I knew it was her.  She had been reduced to a spec - I had arrived just in time.  I had a mystery from Kent for her to gnaw on until the next time.  Hopefully it would be enough.  I reached out my hand, set aside the painted pages and read the next story called "A Mystery."

 

Art Therapy

Hi Fantasy.  How are you today.

Great Michelle.  It's good to see you.  She hugs me.  Her hugs are always like a warm fire enveloping me.  I love her for that.  And you?  You've been busy I see.

I have been, but I'm back with an article that I hope you and our followers will enjoy.  Want to see it?  It's about art therapy, and the color yellow.

Oooh, a change!  She claps her hands, usually it's about writing!  Sure, I'd like to see it.

Here you are.  I hand her the article.

Art Therapy and Yellow

In the next little while, I'm going to delve into art therapy. Although I'm not a qualified art therapist, I know that art can be used to heal. It has done so for me. So for the next few blog postings, I will be working on what colors mean as well as what they are in prayerful art, which is something I do on a regular basis.

We all respond to colors whether we realize it or not. They are a big part of our everyday life. For example, what do we wish for when it has been a long hard winter? We wish for green because we are tired of the browns, greys, and whites that we walk through every day.

For example, I found out today, that yellow stimulates your memory. How many times have we all forgotten things? Maybe that's why there are yellow pads of paper – to help secretaries remember what they're writing so as to make it easier to transfer to the printed medium. Yellow also stimulates the mental process, encourages communication, and stimulates the nervous system. Hmm, maybe we should all have lots of yellow on our computers? Just joking there. You have what you want on your computer. If it has a lot of yellow, that's your choice. Yellow also conveys optimism, being cheerful, and more.

For more information, you can go to http://sensationalcolor.com/color-messages-meanings/color-meaning-symbolism-psychology/all-about-the-color-yellow.html

Here's another site. http://ezinearticles.com/?The-Meaning-of-Color---Art-as-Therapy&id=708573

I myself also use yellow in my worship and prayer art. For me, a bright yellow indicates God's glory. Gold indicates his majesty and presence. Interference gold, which is a very pale Gold I use for Jesus' majesty. I haven't figured out for me what pale yellow or yellow ocre is for me, but you can decide for yourself.

Go to http://www.biblenews1.com/docs/colors.htm and http://www.raisedpraise.com/id19.html and this wouldn't hurt too! http://www.teachinghearts.org/dre17httcolor.html

I'll be going through more colors and adding what they mean to me in subsequent postings. My prayer is that you'll find out what the color yellow means to you personally. That's what matters.

So, today, when you go to your paper, or whatever you use, what will you create with yellow?

Good Friday

Last weekend was palm Sunday, where Jesus rode a donkey into Jerusalem.  The crowd was cheering, and he was well loved by all.  Things went downhill so dramatically, and until I viewed The Passion of the Christ, I didn't understand how much so.  He was abused to such a degree...

I'm having trouble conveying my words.  He endured this for me and you!  People probably wonder where the passion is in this movie; His passion was in the fact that He wants us all to come to Him when we die.  He has such deep compassion for us all no matter where we're at.  Fantasy and I learned a lot in our watching this movie; the depicting of Him on the cross will never be rendered the same. 

I encourage you to take a look at the movie, but do it with a friend or with a group so you have someone to talk with at the end.  it's very graphic.  I am hoping that some images or poems will come out of this in the weeks ahead.  I think this has changed us both. 

Until next time!  God bless you

Cockpit

I'm now in the position of Ann, the main character.  In front of her is a thirteen inch monitor with four buttons each side, each a yellowish white.  The screen is black.  There is a small red button above the buttons on the left side which say on/off.  I reach out and turn it on.  It turns blue.  Numbers and words appear in white with fluctuating graphs of different colors.  

"Wow Fantasy, this is amazing.  This is Ann's cockpit?"  I looked to my left, and spot her hovering in front of a door.  Upon doing so, I find out there is another bank of controls as well as small doors 

Yes Michelle.  This is the ship she crash lands in." Fantasy nods.

"Wow, there are a lot of buttons.  I don't know what a lot of them mean." I say.

"That's ok.  You'll learn."

"Learn?  You mean I'm going to fly this thing?"  My pulse begins to quicken.

Of course, how do you think you're going to learn how Ann feels when she does this?  You know that you're not going to hurt it.  

"I'm not sure of that Fantasy.  Remember, this is a different plane of existence.   It has a reality all its' own." I remark.

In a sense, yes, but this is in your head right now.  You can recreate it better if something happens.  

"Ok.  I'll give it a try." I look in front of me, below the screen.  There is a wheel that you can turn left or right or pull in or out as well as what looks like a throttle and a button.  To the right, are more buttons of different colors.  My seat is a leathery sort, it is smooth, and it is comfortable.

I turn around, discovering that the roof is low, and we have some cargo space behind me.  It is about four feet square.  It is dark there.

"I think that's enough for today." I turn back to the screen.  "We can learn about the workings of the craft next week."

Suit yourself.  We are immediately back at the glade.  I am sitting on a rock.

"Fantasy, I don't want to bore everyone.  I want this to be an exciting blog."

Whatever.  She's gone.  Her voice dripped disappointment.

What do you think?  Is this boring to you?  Please comment below.