4.28.16 Reflecting White Mirror Wavespell
“Move, to where and what for?” Asked Toad, from where he sat hidden by fuzzy burdock leaves; their giant heart shapes stood upright on sturdy stalks streaked with crimson forming a canopy of shade above him.
“Well, you’ve been sitting there for days now! Whatever are you doing?” She inquired.
“Breathing. I’m breathing.” Stated Toad blandly.
“Breathing!! Surely you can breathe while doing something? I thought perhaps you’re waiting to catch a meal, practicing patience, but breathing? Now really that’s too much!” came her agitated response.
“One has to breathe you know,” Toad said with a slow blink, “Do excuse me, I must get back to breathing now.”
She stomped off muttering, “Can you believe it, he’s ‘breathing’, what a lump!”
Her eye rested on deep yellow flowers by her feet. Their petals radiated out in a circle from within a green vase that held them. Some had dried to a withered brownish orange color; the green vase had closed around them and only a few strands dangled out. Around them were tall slender light green stalks with white heads. These globes were made up of dozens of stars, each sending out filaments that touched one another, creating a cosmic orb rising up from a circular bed of dark brown seeds attached by one long thread to the stars that made the world around them. Air and light filtered through and the globes had a creamy gold sheen to them where they bobbed gently in the slim stalks that held them aloft. At their base, rising out from red bricks were crimson-stemmed dark green jagged leaves; slightly curved where the teeth separated around the edges.
“I suppose you’re breathing too?” she questioned acidly.
“Actually I’m calling a breeze to come along. Rather a still day it’s been after all the rain we’ve had, nothing but clouds and water and now sun drying the damp up; so I’m gathered here with my companions and we’re chanting for a little wind . . . care to join us?”
“In chanting for wind? You must be mad!”
“What are you up to then?”
“Well, I’m looking for someone to talk with, maybe go out and pick up some things together, discuss a book or the news, do a little knitting . . . .”
“Sounds like you’re trying to escape,” came the observation.
“Escape? Not at all! These are things I enjoy doing and they benefit others, not like that silly old Toad who’s sitting there breathing he says, what good is that?!”
“For your purposes, none at all I’d say, though it’s likely he’s breathing for his purpose and not yours. I wonder what he’d do were you to sit and breathe with him?”
“What a waste of time, sitting and breathing when there’s much to be accomplished!”
“Yes, I see, now do excuse me, I’m returning to chanting for that wind with my fellows, it’s a sustained affair and asks for a great span of attention to be given the task, good luck to you!”
“How rude!” she exclaimed, “First that ugly old Toad and now this wooly fellow.”
She continued on her way passing by trees, stepping on sticks and stones, bumping into ants and gnats as she walked, muttering under her breath until she caught sight of a curved white bone with pointed tips lying amidst emerging ferns.
“What’s this? Oh my! An antler! How wonderful, how auspicious! A token for me, a sign from the heavens!”
She picked it up without a word of thanks and went rushing back inside her house, trampling the white orbs where they stood chanting; immediately photographing the object to share with her friends before putting it aside on a table where it sits, still and listens to her chatter about the marvels of deer medicine while she mumbles prayers she’s memorized, old prayers from the hearts and minds and dreams of people long dead, at top speed while she goes about her busy days giving shape to many things that all come unraveled and unstitched, unhitched from the meager attention she gives to all the business she’s engaged in. And the world orbits on while she breathes, reads, knits, talks, cooks, and mutters simultaneously with frustrating results.
The antler watches to see whether she’ll give herself a moment of introspection, find something instilled within stillness, or will she continue to cheat herself of any teaching? The antler has a lifetime to wait.
Outside a breeze breathes where she digs damp dirt. Thunder rolls. She inhales deeply and feels a sweetness tingling within, the fragrance of honey, followed by a stronger more cloying taste dancing on her tongue. She’s surprised. She hasn’t eaten anything, where are these flavors coming from, she wonders. She continues digging while clouds darken the skies above.
She begins planting beans while thunder continues rumbling and rolling. Another inhale and she realizes she’s breathing these tastes in through her nose, through the air she’s inhaling! She puts down her trowel and breathes. She breathes until she puts down her perception of time with the trowel and goes with her breath while the first drops of rain begin to pitter patter on the ground beneath and all around her. She doesn’t notice, she’s breathing now, breathing with Toad, chanting with Dandelion.
When she returns the skies have cleared though it rains on; sunny rain bringing a rainbow vibrant and bold above her. She releases her breath with laughter, and while she plants beans her tears drop with rain where they rest sown in the ditch she’s dug for them. She laughs while she covers them with earth, her exhalations perfume the air with the hint of lilies and lilacs.
Nearby Toad croaks, Dandelion sighs, and the antler continues its observations unobserved.
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