The Celestial Sea

by Marina de Nadous

  Early p.m. Mouse: Go gently, Dear Friend and Lover of mine. Come home to me as my centred, strong Prince. So pleased you had success with Pat. I’m sure that you handled it beautifully. Hope she saw the new you shining through? Am just on my way back home after induction to being an exam invigilator at College——eight exams——$50 a go——not too bad——starting on the 21st until the 28th Nov. Loving you——my hand on your heart. Don’t spin out——M——X

  Adrian: My Darling, the blue stead is galloping home——just left the stable——saddlebags filled with wares. The rider rubs his full belly contentedly, his child swaddled against his chest. Warm tendrils of family warmth and companionship linger. He is a little edgy travelling at night after such a busy visit. Can make a traveller sleepy; both physically and emotionally. A traveller needs to keep an edge. Thoughts of the coming days move to the front of his mind——indeed a busy time.

  Mouse: My Darling——ride safely home to me on your blue stead. Maybe do some processing or learn Joseph’s lines to keep awake. I shall text you to keep you going. Sounds like a wonderfully rich weekend. I look forward to hearing more soon. Am in the process of never-ending housework, as well as the important text logging. The daily chapters are reading smooth and interesting——remarkable really, seeing as they are totally unplanned. I shall read you some when next we lie, entwined. Love you. X

  Adrian: He hopes to see his Lady tomorrow. There is plan hatching to do. Our Hero needs some assistance with holding and weaving the threads of activity onto the warp of time. What is he to do with 12 children for the morning? Time to tell a story——a forester story——any ideas? Songs for Advent Festival need writing this week as well. Mmm——Love needs its time and attention too. Fair Entertainment schedule——phone calls.

  Mouse: Let’s get the big weekly planners for tomorrow. Let’s make some more festival music if we have time. For the forester’s story——what about incorporating these high winds? Widow-Maker plants and danger. Wake them up for the beginning of the week. I’ll be in Class in the morning, then relatively free——X

  Adrian: Thanks for the idea. How about telling me something a little bit saucy to liven up the journey? It’s a bit windy and bendy to keep stopping for texting——

  Mouse: Don’t text in this wild weather, My Love. I need you in one piece tomorrow. I intend running my hands up your long thighs——fingers lingering on your male seduction——teasing and coaxing until the enticing wetness excites my fingertips-—and then? Well, that is when the stars burst in the sky, as they always do——

  Adrian: “Mattie Groves, oh Mattie Groves—how do you like my feather bed and how do you like my sheets?”——“Very well”——

  Mouse: Dear Mattie Groves——Lord Donald’s wife has left his bedside. The rain splashes against the windowpanes, matching her growing desire for your tantalizing caress, setting her womanly juices running. She is dressed in the white cotton she knows you like. She feels your hand slide between her full breasts—and—

  Adrian: He leads them into temptation——quite willfully. She responds with such imagery that his arousal is instantaneous. These lovers walk a fine line. Is this merely lust, he wonders? Breathing——Laird——Baby Boy—We have the anchors on hand to stop us being swept away on waves of lust and self-indulgence. Approaching Matamata——nearly home.

  Mouse: My Love——hope the seduction has kept you awake? Don’t feel guilty at lustful sensations——they have their place——all in a good cause! This Lady needs her Man awake on the wild, night roads. Hope you are nearly home? Sleep well, my Darling. I love you-—X

  Adrian: Goodness me, My Lady! I am safely home——yogaed, eurythmied, disavowed and tucked up. Thinking of your womanly juices gently running——taste——feel——mmm. But, be careful——this unbridled lust awakens forces——awakens psychically connected Lairds too——true and beautiful though it is. I shall take you to bed with The Small One and me. Thank-you for accompanying me on my journey. How was your home day and conversation? ——X-x——

  Adrian often asks about my conversations with The Laird. I sense his underlying need to move our situation on——to move beyond deception and secrecy. He yearns for our Love to bask in the sunlight rather than hide in the quiet moon shadows, although he doesn’t verbally acknowledge a desire for recognition. At times he hints at a possible future. Despite his understandable confusion, I sense clarity at the truest level. We cannot turn our backs on what we share. Like a blossoming flower, the process will follow through naturally——unless premature plucking destroys its potential. Perhaps this is why I am never fazed by an ambiguous future; why I don’t hesitate over questions concerning our love.

  .

  Monday 13th November 2006

  A.m. Mouse: Art thou awake, Lord Swallow? I imagine you slumber still. I am opening your door——I love to see you and Little Arthur tucked up together. I shall climb in beside you both and stroke your cheeks with fairy wings——love settling on the brow of the day ahead. Hope the naughty Little Mouse has been forgiven for leading her Lover astray last night? She has to admit to a playful enjoyment in touching him while he drove home——drastic measures were called for. I know that horrible feeling of drowsiness behind the wheel. Anyway, I managed to overflow my bath in the process of getting carried away——cross shouts from The Laird cooled my ardour and brought me back to The Mountain. So I have had my comeuppance!

  We had the Estate Agents up here yesterday. I was out, so The Laird dealt with them. He was all fired up by the clever use of money etc. Good that he could take ownership of the process. Will tell you more when we are snuggled up together, although we didn’t discuss in any great detail. Well, My Sleepy Lover, your Lady had better ‘snap to’——desk is still a mess and lunchbox inventions need addressing. Thoughts of passion must wait until later——mmm. Big kiss——M——X

  Adrian sends me a poem this morning. I am touched. It is beautiful:

  EBB AND FLOW

  Sunlight——healthy——

  Healing sunlight streaming in my window,

  Open wide my curtains,

  Rouse me from my limbo.

  A peace, a calm

  Spreads slowly from heart to head and toe,

  Sleepy tendrils of warmth,

  The sprouts of trust——

  Ebb and flow, grow and grow,

  In sunlight shining clear

  I think of you.

  Come stand with me

  Welcoming our Little One together,

  Reaching out to life,

  Cherishing the moments,

  Each and every connected one,

  Savouring the taste of blessing,

  Destiny unfolding——

  Ebbing, flowing.

  Adrian: The Earth has Forests; she will always grow them——why? They clothe her——they defeat the parched and arid deserts——they soothe her by laying down their thick blanket. In the canopies above, and in the fringe plants and Bush around the edges, live the birds. High up, the flowers make their nectar and swell to berries——eaten by the birds and spread out in droppings as they fly. The Forest grows——monkeys, squirrels and chipmunks have happy homes. And below on the carpet, the under story——Earth’s duvet——home for many——the seeds——

  Mouse: Beautiful, oh writer of fine lyric. The class will love it——and I love you——X

  My lack of a specific daily job gives me time to myself and today is especially calm as The Laird took the children to school this morning. These relaxed hours are becoming a regular treat, although my role in the classroom has given me a temporary job. I mustn’t forget I am due in class at ten o’clock. A hot bath followed by text logging fills the early hours. Then I hang two full loads of washing out to dry; an enjoyable chore. The pillowcases and shirts flap like swans’ wings in the fresh breeze. A heavy washing line always gives a sense of achievement. Our whirly drying contraption stands in a prime location at the back of the cabins; the three-hundred-and-sixty-degr
ee, panoramic view would rival any scenic highlight in Europe. From the Kuwharu hills in the northwest to the rolling green pasture and volcanic undulation on all sides, I am in a washerwoman’s paradise.

  A hawk passes close above my head before dipping below The Mountain ridge; on the lookout for our bantam chicks no doubt. The local farmer is rounding up his flock of sheep today. He sits astride a quad-bike; his dogs at his side he drives the flock at speed over the adjoining land. He is a fair distance away but I can see him well from our raised position. The wind is blowing in our direction and I can hear every whistle and vocal command.

  Arriving at School, I saunter along the grassy paths gathering greenery and flowers for the School’s seasonal table, bumping into Adrian doing the same thing for his classroom. “Well, good morning, Fine Sir”——“My Lady”——With soft eyes we greet each other cordially under the spring boughs, and then again in class. The lesson begins and I take the other end of the skipping rope for my handsome Friend. The children are reciting their times-tables as they jump. The classroom dynamic works well. Sienna is organized and pragmatic. She keeps order over the twenty-eight strong group and efficiently directs the day’s routine. My Lord Swallow, on the other hand, is more inclined toward spontaneity for his teaching methods, bringing a dash of wonder to the curriculum. His creative and musical talents add magic to the class. The arrangement works well and suits both teachers, allowing Adrian time to instil a vibrant spirit in the school, for which he is highly prized. Solo class teaching is not his forte.

  Adrian is wearing a new patchwork hat today; {sunhats are obligatory in all Kiwi schools}. I think he must have bought it at the weekend market. I smile at his playful antics with the children. They all adore him, as you can imagine. Leaving class after the lunchtime break a friendly parent from the Go-Getter’s class walks past. She teases me; mimicking my English accent when I call ‘Adrian’. Flo makes me laugh. She would probably be very shocked if she knew the full extent of our friendship, accent and all.

  Early p.m. Adrian: Little Mouse, Little Mouse, come to my house——

  And I am there, waiting outside as he drives up in the trusty ‘Toolbox’; his estate car that runs on propane gas and resembles the inside of a woodsman’s shed, complete with old saws, lengths of rope and a new crop of branches. I spy a machete and several pairs of loppers hiding under the dog food and familiar guitar case. “That’s my man,” I laugh. “Yes, that is definitely my man.”

  How lovely to be together again. Grabbing the obligatory notebook and shared cup of tea we sink into the folds of The Leafy Glade. Today there are issues around the broken piano keys on Martha’s personal instrument that she keeps in a spare classroom. The children enjoy supervised play in this older building, which is also used as a gym. “I should have been watching the children more carefully; it was during my session on duty——all my fault; stupid, stupid.” We duly process the problem and move on to sharing news of Adrian’s family weekend.

  It is a hot, hot day; lovely——far too nice to be stuck inside a shady basement. “Let’s sit on the steps in the sun. Come on, My Lady”. Adrian takes off his shirt and I follow him outside. We picnic on salad and hummus and start planning the Advent Festival song. Adrian tinkers on the penny whistle while I log our endless text messages, giving my limited musical opinion every now and then. We find the beginnings of a tune——at last. We really must get a move on. With the Staff Nativity Play and a new Advent Festival this year, {written by our group}, we have bitten off rather too large a mouthful. Adrian also has reports to address. I love making music with my Swallow Man. He has the playing skills and I have an ear for a melody. I listen to his instrument; to the notes he picks out, and a tune usually comes to me. We should record them though, as we often forget what I sing and have to reinvent all the time. It is enormous fun. I am using my singing voice again after many years.

  After a while Adrian puts down his penny whistle and disappears around the corner of the house, reappearing a few minutes later with a posy of pretty flowers. I take them with unhidden love and adoration. “Thank-you, Lord Swallow. They are beautiful.” We chat as we work. Adrian’s weekend away has awoken several unresolved, childhood issues. He talks about his constant guilt as a child; of his sneaky tendencies that still surface today. “I remember creeping into my stepmother’s pantry and stealing muffins off the shelf. There were other, planned escapades too. I had no sense of self-worth.” Together we talk to the small boy and give him permission to let all that go; to run outside and catch moths with a butterfly net instead of smashing them with the badminton racket he got into trouble over. As an adult he allows the child his self-esteem; his right to ask for what he wants. Now the grown man needs to dismiss these old, old habits of guilt. I lead him back inside, encouraging him to take me, just for himself without any guilt. As an acknowledged, self-serving act he enters me and comes so fast, releasing pent-up self-lies that have long needed their liberty. And then we lie still together; blissfully close. A journey has been accomplished and the weary travellers take their rest.

  “I love you so much,” he smiles at me. “I want you by my side——always.” “I love you too, My Friend. This is an old, old friendship,” we both agree. It feels so right, so safe to be enfolded by Adrian that my true situation takes a back seat. My ever-generous and constant Laird is being called upon to share his most treasured possession; his wife. Dear Angels in Heaven, please show us the way.

  P.m. Mouse: He picked her flowers today——a single white rose for the purity of their bond——delicate, red leaves for the sensuality in their chemistry——bright pink petals for the joy that they share——gentle, blue forget-me-nots for the integrity and honesty they strive for——unashamed, scarlet display for the daring of their coupling, and green, green leaves for Leafy Glades and Forest homecoming. She loves him. She loves his romantic gift. The flowers stand in the middle of her kitchen table in the Castle for all to admire——proud to be a part of the family——ashamed no longer. A small boy helped choose and pick them, free at last to play in his garden, jumping for joy in his leather boots and catching moths in a net his Father had just given him.

  Goodnight, My Darling——hope you have had an achieving afternoon and evening? A very special lunchtime we shared today——thank-you. I have had my snooze and am now faced with a gigantic pile of laundry to fold. I shall chat to you as I work. Hope The Small One is tucked up in bed? Sleep well, My Lover. Hold me close when you close your eyes. You will know I am in your arms when you hear gentle sighing and feel me stretching with the glorious Rainbows——X

  Adrian: Thanks, My Love. I am working on budget——music——emails. No reports yet. I love you. Busy. Tomorrow?

  Tuesday 14th November 2006

  A.m. Mouse: She is blissfully warm when she wakes. She reaches for him in her mind. They enfold each other instantly; a fluent response. Imagination clears all barriers. She kisses the soft skin behind his ear——he runs his hands calmly up her back and breathes gently into her neck. They are ready for a new day. Busy tasks lie ahead; they will tackle them with a firm grasp. She expects he has already started. Leafy Glade at 11.30? Will bring large paper--X

  Adrian: Too much——befuddled, tired, computered. He looks for the truth. There is surely a mind-talk attack taking place——“how will you hold this stroppy class today? You’ve overdone it——you’re stupid——have to get yourself together.” True? Yes, these are lies that must be verified——he can feel more space immediately. An opening——maybe it is possible to be how he is——to accept that this is how things are, although not what he prefers. Freedom lies in here. More mind-talk about Frances, {Big J’s daughter}. “She is annoyed with me because I don’t do any shopping or cooking——just laze around with that Scarlet Woman while she does all the chores”——Cinderella. Could be some truth there. I have asked for a meeting to discuss money and load share; so will speak to her today. Could be my interpretation——it is of course, but——I choos
e to check out how my ‘sister’ is feeling because I care for her, appreciate her work and choose to contribute more to the household.

  Mind you, if she is annoyed she could speak to me about it rather than going cold. I’ll push in nonetheless——being a friend is my edge——staying close when I am scared and resentful——guilty. So nice to have this understanding of a young boy playing——wanting to do his own thing——his actions annoying others but able to keep his playful, sunny nature and simply course-correct. “Oh sorry, what would work better?” Not having to mind-read. He rolls out of bed——a morning run on his mind.

  Mouse: My Darling, it might be that Frances is tired or is thinking about something else. Good to ask lightly——good to have task-sharing chat when it suits them——but remember; it might annoy her more if you go in with an unnecessary analysis of how you thought she was feeling. Tread gently; too much heaviness can be a burden in itself. Loving you. Hope you didn’t bash yourself when you rolled out of bed just now——M——X

  Adrian: Sage advice my Love——heeded. Catching up on Supergreens before run. Loving you——waiting for our connection——waiting for your gentle, clear gaze to fall on my life——waiting for your supple warmth to fill my arms and press against my side——waiting to feel your breath——taste your lips——spill out my stories——dig out yours——laugh with the Castle antics——be massaged by the anecdotes of the Mountain Eyrie with its Laird and Lady; the unfolding tale with its ups and downs. Drama before I start my day——