Entering Cinderella noted the Fairy Godmother had changed. She wore a silk robe. A pink so pale it was almost white. She smiled at Cinderella, who felt like the sun had just broken through a cloudy day in her presence.
The Fairy Godmother set down a tray of food on a desk built into a wall unit of book shelves. Books! Leather bound books! The tray of food on a desk amid books, it reminded Cinderella to read the book titles. The Fairy Godmother handed her a mug of peppermint tea, “Drink this before sleep.”
Looking at the two burritos Cinderella’s mouth began to water. The Fairy Godmother gave her a hug. Warmth lingering after she had turned away. Giving Cinderella a sassy wink she added, “Meet me in the garden at dawn.”
Hand on the door knob, she looked over her shoulder. She said, “Have a good night. Don’t sleep with the doors open. We have a mountain lion in the area. They love to climb.” With another wink she added, “Sweet dreams Charlotte.”
Cinderella grabbed a burrito. Rice and black beans, salsa and avocado, she stood with a napkin under her chin and reached for the first book title that caught her attention; Awaiting the Fairy Godmother. She sat in the chair next to the open doors and read late into the night, Blackie asleep at her feet.
The house clock chimed midnight. Cinderella closed the French doors and climbed into cool sheets toped with a light weight wool blanket. Blackie rolled onto his side with a sigh. It had been a long walk to the hacienda.
Exciting to meet the Fairy Godmother, and now her mind was overflowing with ideas and understandings. She was asleep before her head could sink into the pillow.
She slid out of bed just before dawn. She let Blackie out to wander in the garden. By now he was probably with the Fairy Godmother. A sky blue summer dress was on the bed as well as sandals. She slipped silky material over her head. Sliding into the sandals she wiggled her toes and laughed. A cloudless golden day dawned. She hurried to the garden.
The Fairy Godmother was waiting, Blackie lounging at her feet. He grinned wolfishly at Cinderella. She playfully swiped at his head. The three hiked past the garden into the Pinion Pine trees. Blackie bounded after a squirrel. Cinderella laughed. The squirrel chattered angrily at Blackie from the safety of the tree branch. He ran, nose to the ground, new smells abundant.
Cinderella pointed out the summer sage bordering the path. The Fairy Godmother said, “In the South we use herbs and even gems and minerals as tools to heal. You recognize sage. What are its healing properties?”
Cinderella smiled. “My mother and I collected sage. She used it in cooking. Dried and ground up it was an air freshener. She taught me a simple ceremony.”
Cinderella’s eyes gazed into the middle distance, remembering. “We burned the sage in a shell. Waving a feather she pushed the smoke then she cleared the smoke away, waving it down, into the ground.”
The Fairy Godmother nodded thoughtfully. “Good. Your mother taught you well. Why did she use sage? Why use a feather and shell?”
Cinderella shrugged, stung by the memory. The Fairy Godmother paused. Gathering Cinderella’s hand she said, “Your work with your mother was interrupted. The strands of knowledge woven into your daily life disappeared.” She paused. Lost for a moment; gazing into the far away.
“Together we must pick up those lines of information. Weave them into the context of your present life with the Prince. As a Princess and future Queen your understanding of herbs and gems, medicinal healing, can save lives. These are the tools of the South. Passed on to future generations the information will save more lives.”
She tilted Cinderella’s chin until their eyes met. “Take up the legacy your mother left you and finish weaving the knowledge into your daily practices. Then you will be Charlotte again.”
Cinderella squeezed her eyes shut. Lost, banished from her childhood home, she lived in it as a stranger. A hint of sage brushed her senses. Jarred she shook herself free. Life began again with a lurch.
The Fairy Godmother smiled at Cinderella, a smile filled with summer sunshine, bright and sparkling. She said, “When your mother used sage in ceremony, it was a tool to cleanse negativity. The smoke contains negative ions, similar to the air after a thunderstorm. Negative ions purify. Strange for some people,” she shrugged. “They find it difficult to understand how smoke can purify.”
She reached out, whispering thanks she picked a twig. “Sage is from the earth. The feather represents air. The shell came from water. Burning the sage is fire. The leaf is transformed from substance to smoke carrying the prayers tangibly into spirit.”
Circling to stand in front of Cinderella, the Fairy Godmother drew the top of her head toward her. Using her thumbs; separating, gently pulling apart the edges where a center point in Cinderella’s hair would be, the Fairy Godmother blew into the top of Cinderella’s head a subtle influx of spirit. Cinderella shivered. The Fairy Godmother stepped away. “In ceremony your mother used elements from life’s matrix: earth, air, water and fire. This was not accident but conscious choice. These elements come together and form life as we know it.”
Cinderella nodded slowly. The Fairy Godmother continued, “But there is much more beyond these basic understandings. Sage is a common herb found throughout the forest.” The Fairy Godmother continued, “You’ve heard the term ‘sage advice,’ referring to wisdom?” Cinderella nodded. “Something in the chemical components of the herb is a brain enhancer.”
Cinderella clapped her palms together. “This information is exciting.” She asked, “Sage used as a seasoning helps us stay mentally strong?” The Fairy Godmother smiled, the day brightened. She said, “Yes! Exactly.”
They continued walking. The forest hovered still drenched with nightly dew evaporating quickly as the sun crested the horizon. Breathing forest air Cinderella nodded her silent understanding. The Fairy Godmother continued. “Sage contains volatile oils. The anti-inflammatory functions of sage. Have you seen someone swell up, turning red with anger?”
Tersely Cinderella nodded, “Frequently. My stepmother.”
The Fairy Godmother shrugged. “Yes, well. This is inflammation, aging, in action. Sage is an antidote to inflammation. It’s also an antioxidant.”
The Fairy Godmother took a deep breath. “I’m taking you deep into the components of sage. So hang on. Let’s see if I can say this in a way that will make sense. Sage disrupts inflammation by altering the concentration of the inflammatory messaging molecules.”
Rubbing sage between her fingers then sniffing the Fairy Godmother continued. “The old wise ones say sage is the herb of immortality.” She brushed away hair falling in her face. “Do you understand the chemistry? This is the legacy of sage.”
Cinderella stammered, “I… I hope so. The troll gave me amber and taught me its properties. But I don’t know how to unlock my staff or the drops he gave me.”
The Fairy Godmother turned Cinderella deeper into the forest. Sun streamed through the brush igniting a firestorm of greens and gold. Colors folded, merging into one another. A flash of gold, muted by the depths, illuminated the forest. Cinderella inhaled with the forest, a jumbled constellation of science, mystery and mysticism. The vortex of greens and gold twisted around them in a dance captured by sunrise. Standing tall Cinderella envisioned taking up the strands of her personal history provided by her parents. Their legacy brought into the present to be woven into her future.
The Fairy Godmother picked a sprig of rosemary and broke it in half. Whispered a prayer of thanks, she asked “What do you know about rosemary?”
“It’s another cooking herb, but so much more?” Cinderella laughed.
The Fairy Godmother applauded. Her face awash with joy and abandon, she yelled, “Exactly!” Handing Cinderella the rosemary she continued. “Rosemary is rich in iron, calcium, and vitamin B6. It has antiseptic properties helpful in healing cuts.” Handing the twig to Cinderella she continued, “Rosemary is rich in antioxidants. What do you know about antioxidants?”
Cinderella shook her head.<
br />
The Fairy Godmother tapped her foot. “Hmmm….Antioxidants neutralizes free radicals.”
“Wait,” Cinderella put up her hand, bent at the wrist, to halt the flow of words. She said, “What is a free radical?”
“Here we go again,” the Fairy Godmother laughed. “We are diving deep. Are you sure?”
Cinderella nodded, “I’m sure. Free radicals?”
The Fairy Godmother twirled another stem of rosemary. “Free radicals are formed by weak molecules when their bonds break. The molecule becomes unstable. Craving stability the molecule tries to steal the electron, or health, from other molecules. This creates more broken bonds and more free radicals seeking stability by stealing it from neighbors.” She paused, “Similar to what your stepmother did. She tried to create stability for herself and her daughters by stealing the stability of your family. You have a real life understanding of free radicals.”
Cinderella was stricken. The Fairy Godmother stopped, frozen by the devastation on Cinderella’s face. She squeezed her palms together, “I’m sorry Cinderella. I tried to find an example that would make this knowledge come alive for you. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Dazed, Cinderella nodded, “Go on.”
The Fairy Godmother sighed, “A cascade of free radicals attacks health to find the balance, the stability they seek. Little by little free radicals can destroy health, in a process known as oxidation. Health arrives in the form of rosemary. Are you ready to dive deep?”
Cinderella smiled, nodding, “Yes, Fairy Godmother.”
Linking arms, walking on the forest’s soft carpet of pine needles, she continued. “In the rosemary herb we find carnosic acid. It destroys free radicals in general and particularly free radicals that attack the brain.”
Rubbing the rosemary between her hands, she opened her palms and held them out to Cinderella. Pungent rosemary floated toward Cinderella. The Fairy Godmother said, “In this acidic form rosemary protects memory and cognitive abilities. It is a restorative and friendly herb.”
She paused, “What is your favorite herb Cinderella?”
Sunrise complete the forest was alive with bird song and sunlight. They were circling back to the Fairy Godmother’s hacienda. Cinderella dodging rocks embedded in the trail. A silver rock worn smooth by time caught her attention. She picked it up. Confused she turned to the Fairy Godmother, “Is this flint?”
The Fairy Godmother grabbed Cinderella’s forearm and squeezed. “Very good. How is flint useful?”
“My father taught me. Striking flint with a knife will create the sparks to light a fire.”
“These are all tools of the South, Cinderella. In an emergency they could save your life or the lives of others dependent on you.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The Chimera
Cinderella bowed her head, heavy with the responsibility of the South. “How will I remember all of the skills? The knowledge is slippery. Unless I actually design the herbs into a potion or season food, or strike flint with a knife for fire in an emergency, these are just words.”
The Fairy Godmother interrupted her. “Skill is a word of the South. In the South you learn to be skillful with the practical tools of life. Build up your reservoir of practical skills.
“You follow in your parents footsteps as healers. Your tools are herbs and stones of the South, dreams and visions in the West, wisdom and perspectives of the North, and the energy healings, ‘the old wise ones’ of the East. Your lineage is infused with the tools of the Four Directions.”
Slowly Cinderella nodded her head. “I’ve never thought of healing like that before. Is the resonance of music an East healing?”
“Hmmm… Yes, well. Music could move us from one place to another. Music could inspire in the North, or move us into reverie and the Sacred Dream of the West or the driving beats, playing instruments, wakes the body in the South. You get the idea.”
Cinderella nodded, but she felt like she was a long way from understanding all the Fairy Godmothers taught her. She sank down onto a stone bench tucked in the trees on the edge of the Fairy Godmother’s garden and the forest. The quiet sounds of the woods and gardens filled them. Bees humming in nearby flowers, wind high in the trees swayed a soft rustle. Birdsong intermingled with the fragrance of roses. Sweet yet sturdy like the combination of tea and sugar.
“Your favorite herb Cinderella?”
“Hmm…Lavender.”
“What are the properties of Lavender?”
“It is a calming herb. A scent, hmmm, it beautifies.”
“Astute, Charlotte, a sophisticated observation.”
Cinderella didn’t know what to think when the Fairy Godmother slapped her hands over her ears. Then a howling shriek tore the air currents, a tsunami bomb of sound, devastating everything in its path.
The Fairy Godmother grabbed Cinderella’s arm. Pulling with a force threatening her arm socket she pushed Cinderella under the stone bench. Huddling together Cinderella was quaking like the leaves of the Aspen trees at the home of the Fairy Godmother of the East.
Trees screamed. Branches exploded like gun fire. The ground rippled, groaning in protest. Shrubs, plants and flowers fell, their moisture sucked into the void. Horrified Cinderella witnessed their desiccation.
The Fairy Godmother began shivering uncontrollably. Cinderella wrapped the woman of the South in her arms. Inwardly she worried. Was the Fairy Godmother so attuned to plants that she suffered their ill effects with them? If the plants were destroyed would the Fairy Godmother die too?
The forest tumbled into silence. Muffled air lay heavy on Cinderella’s skin. Every animal that could hide was hidden. Others froze in their tracks. Nothing moved. The fragrance of the forest shattered. Cinderella couldn’t breathe. The Fairy Godmother lay motionless across Cinderella’s lap. She was trapped in a crushing void: absence of life. And there was the disgusting odor laying across the land like frosting on a cake.
Cinderella realized with a pounding dread, if the moment didn’t pass, her life, the Fairy Godmother’s life, and every expression of sentient existence in the forest, and gardens surrounding the home of the Fairy Godmother, all would be destroyed in this relentless crushing void of nothingness.
The Fairy Godmother’s eyes closed. Her skin looked paper thin and pale. Her lips dry and splintered formed the words of soundless prayers. In this violent emptiness was sound even possible?
Panic skittered along Cinderella’s nerves, leaving her cold with shock. Pressure built in her lungs demanding the reciprocal inhale and exhale. Reciprocity? Was that the key? Had this immense force targeted reciprocity? Without reciprocity did life exist? This was not a philosophical debate. They were trapped in a crushing void unable to relate to the fundamental reciprocity of life.
Her head pounded. Darkening, diminishing her world to a pinprick of life. She would take the gamble. This abyss was happening in the South could the antidote be in the North? They were out of time.
Cinderella closed her eyes. She slipped off her belt. Twining her hands in chain rope she closed the circle. Following the Fairy Godmother’s lead, she soundlessly made her petition. “Great Spirit, Mother Earth, Father Sky we call on your Supernatural Best to come to our aide. Nullify this abyss. Restore us to harmony.”
With her eyes still closed Cinderella’s hands worked quickly. Pulling she began to shape a physical representation of the Sacred Tourbillion. Beginning with the tightest inward curl she shaped her chain into a carefully constructed spiral.
Gathering her intent a breath that did not and could not, happen in her body. Her breath, like all of life around her was frozen in this unnatural hole in time and space. No, this cleansing breath happened to her spirit outside of time and space, connected to a universal and eternal life beyond boundaries.
She put her hands over the spiral and continued her petition. “Our agreements are complete with this false void. In the name of the Infinite Origin of Life I call forth the Sacred Spiral, the Alpha and Omeg
a, the origin of all reciprocity and sentient life.”
Looking down her skin became stained with arcane, other-worldly symbols. Her spirit voice was resonant with mysteries. She was the Alpha and Omega. She was the Sacred Spiral glistening with the essence of life. Embodying this truth she took her first breath in how long?
Was the Fairy Godmother already dead? She was afraid to look. Maybe they were both dead. She shuddered and doubled the intensity of her prayers.
If she could not invoke a spiritual force greater than this soul crushing void death was a certainty. She mourned for the life she was meant to share with the Prince. She was hovering over the spiral she had built with the chain the Prince had given her. She poured the essence of life, a curling line of light evaporating into the spiral. She gave and gave until she was empty. She was as empty as the void consuming them. It was as simple as giving.
Hollow with love, a sacred emptiness and transcendent divinity encompassed them. The Sacred Tourbillion, the beginnings of life, scattered infinitesimal pieces of their spirit across the four directions. Then coalescing, imbuing each cell, stamped and engraved with the sacred whorl. The Fairy Godmother and Cinderella, Cinderella and the Prince, Blackie, all the Fairy Godmothers past, present and future were both At One and distinct within the helix.
Now she could feel the prayers of the Fairy Godmother twining with hers, pulsing with life. Cast within the animated spiral, the web and Sacred Geometry of Life. Surging within and around in a coil of unity and ascension. Now she could smell the wild sage crushed beneath them. In the distance a crow cawed displeasure. The leaves rustled. A faint scent of roses mingled in a twirl.
Gathering a vortex of power in her belly, tightening the braided chain, she envisioned a giant tourbillion. Until within the void the Sacred Tourbillion acknowledged her. Agonizingly slow, fueled by a shining cosmic force, a tornado expelled the false void. Caustic debris exploded in the fireworks of life.
Fairy Godmothers of The Four Directions Page 16
