healing haven

June 18, 2008

Arriving at the Villa (6)

“Lemuria”     Thank goodness she saw that sign posted on the tree before shape shifting into a young girl and blundering into the circus world.  If she hadn’t, she might not have been so open to listening to the bearded lady when she relayed a story she once heard of a special city in Lemuria.

 

At first, everything was going well with her circus adventure.  Getting a job as a stand-in horseback rider, she was able to ride every day on different horses and ponies.  And she got to know many new people, finding them to be quite a diverse group, as one would expect. 

 

 

Ranging from the ringmaster, who thought himself ‘high class’ and ‘hot stuff,’ to the men setting up the tents and caring for the animals, to the performers who had the necessary skills of juggling, tight-rope walking, lion taming, etc.  And the lowest on the social order—the ‘freaks’ or ‘strange’ folk that the others looked down on and avoided.

 

 

But her time in hospice had further shown her the importance of accepting each person right where they are and who they are—accepting unconditionally—and being compassionate and supportive since they, too, are doing the best they could on their journey.  As her teacher said, “We are all struggling souls.”

 

Hospice also addressed the whole person, not just the physical.  So one went beyond appearance to the inner being.  To look at what was beyond a wasted body due to cancer eating it away; to a tube-filled body as muscles lose control of bladder and bowel; to a body with radiation burns or surgery scars or chemo baldness; to a body with no seeming memory so it wanders off and repeats stories incessantly; to a body literally rotting from wounds needing chlorophyll dressings to tamp down the odors?  She had found so much is underneath all that: a real life filled with joy and love, magic and disappointments, all the things that make up the lives of all seemingly healthy people.  A beautiful person within struggling to get through life and to do it well, to pass on to the children his or her values and legacies.  A beautiful soul…

 

There was no doubt the appearances of these circus folk could put one off… But what was underneath?  Nothing worth investigating, according to the general circus population.  But she had found much to admire: courage in the face of ridicule, honor even as they were treated dishonorably, and marvelous stories.    What a wealth of stories she heard. 

 

It was only after being backed into a corner by the so-called ‘high class’ ringmaster that she realized it was time to leave.  He threatened her against telling anyone and even that he would prevent her leaving.

 

It was only after he was distracted by an accident with the flame-thrower that she could grab her satchel, change into a black circus-show panther and escape.  As she slipped into the forest and wondered where to go, she thought back to the story told by Quinda, the bearded woman.

 

“Many years ago, when I was a child traveling with my mother and the circus, I remember being asleep and waking up to see a beautiful lady in our tent talking to my mother.  I moved close to lean into Mamam’s skirt, smelling the familiar lavender herbs she stored her clothes in.  The Lady took my hand and looked directly into my eyes, not at my chin.  She said she had seen me with my family and wanted me to know of possibilities other than being with the circus.  I was young enough then that my beard was just starting to show.  Mamam had always told me that one day I could be in the sideshow with her when my beard was full and thick like hers.  I couldn’t wait to earn my own money!  Now here was someone talking of how I could leave the circus and find the Lemurian City of Ladies where I wouldn’t have people staring at me and calling me ‘strange.’  I had heard folk say those things to my mother, but never, so far, to me.

 

“My mother put her arm around me and drew me away from the Lady as she said, ‘Family stays together—no matter what!  Thank you, kind Lady, but my daughter stays with me.’

 

“The Lady sighed.  ‘I understand,’ she said to Mamam.  Then she looked at me again—directly—and said, ‘’There is a home for anyone at the City of Ladies, where you will be respected and allowed to follow your creativity and educational dreams.  Don’t forget the Lemurian City of Ladies.  Go to le Enchanteur’s Villa where you will find refuge.’”     

 

She thought of those words of Quinda’s as the she-as-panther streaked through the forest with her satchel bouncing along her side.  After much traveling, she came to the crest of a cleared hill and could see into the distance.  A beautiful city shimmered in the mist.  Could that be the City of Ladies?  She headed in that direction.

 

When she finally came to a road, she changed into her normal body.  What is normal?  I guess most would consider me  one of the ‘strange’ folk.  She found a branched twig and sort-of combed her hair.  She got our her alcohol-gel from her satchel and cleansed her hands.  Feeling better, she stepped onto the road.

 

She approached the city and caught up to a group of women, and after asking if anyone knew where le Enchanteur’s villa was.  She was bombarded with an outburst of replies: “Oh, another one.”  “Yeh, you can’t miss it.”  Are you sure you really want to go there?”  There’s talk of odd things happening in that place.”  And each one quickly turned into one of the shops and disappeared before she could question them further.

 

Slinking into an alley, she hid her satchel behind some broken pottery.  Maybe she should see what was there first.  Who were these people at the Villa?  She shifted into a moth since dusk was approaching—no one noticed a moth—and flitted along looking for the Villa.  There was the sign.

 

She waited until another woman entered and flew in with her.  Quickly finding a spot with good vantage view on a wall shelf in the foyer, she landed and looked around.  She would stay like this until she knew more.  No one notices a moth.

(see also http://cityofladies.wordpress.com/2008/06/18/arriving-at-the-villa/#comments)

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1 Comment »

  1. Some great writing here Thalia (: keep it up

    Comment by pearlz — June 18, 2008 @ 10:07 pm |Reply


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