A Mother's Words On Loss

I stood in the darkness of the new moon, in the middle of the cemetery. I saw many graves belonging to countless strangers from several centuries, but I could not see his. It wasn't that I didn't know where it was. I stood less than twenty feet away from it. I could pick up a pinecone and throw it, knowing it would land on his grave. Not that I could visually confirm it. It was as if a veil stood between my mind and that sight.

So I stood and stared at nothing, and tried to wrap my mind around it, around him. So many things went through my mind, but in my present melancholy, one thing stood out. It was the way he would rest a comforting hand on your shoulder, and with that wordless gesture tell you that he empathized. That he was there for you. That in any way he had control over he would make it better.

As had happened a number of times, I felt like I could almost feel his hand now. I realized that I could in fact feel a hand, but it wasn't his. It was heavier and more feminine than his.

I turned to see Her standing a few paces away. She was robed in black, Her face obscured by shadows of her own making. "And this, then, is your perception of me? That I am heavy handed?" She asked.

"At the moment, could you blame me?" I asked.

"Come." She commanded, turning and walking through the cemetery.

I followed Her and the scenery around me changed. I recognized the mausoleums at Holy Sepulchre, even as they faded out of existence, to be replaced by the hills of Mt. Hope cemetery. These gave way to Gettysburg, then Arlington and beyond.

The changing scenery made it difficult to keep my balance. The ground that I was walking on didn't shift, on the contrary, the scenery lined itself up around us. The constant changes were just so dizzying that walking in a straight line was nearly imposssible.

"Keep your focus on me." She said. "It will help keep you from being disoriented."

"Is that supposed to be a suggestion for right now or a life lesson?" I asked.

"Since you are alive now, why wouldn't it be both?" She asked. She had stopped and I was looking at field. "There are dead here as well." She answered the question before I asked.

"So why are we fixating on the dead?" I asked Her. "Can't we go somewhere where death is not the focus?"

"The focus is yours, not mine." She answered. "But close your eyes and I will offer an alternative."

I closed my eyes and felt the temperature and humidity change immediately. There was no breeze anymore, and even through closed eyes I noticed that the lighting had changed. Opening my eyes again I saw that we were in the grotto.

"One of the only places you have been that death has never touched." She explained.

She walked up to the altar that I had seen Her lie on in the past, then turned and sat on a throne of stone that hadn't been there when She began the motion.

"The loss troubles you." She said, the compassion evident on Her beautiful face as it came out of the shadows. "Much more than the last one we discussed."

"I was not prepared for this much pain." I admitted.

"Because one was an acquaintance. Someone close to a friend of yours. The other was a man whom you loved." She explained the obvious to me.

"How long will this pain last before it goes away?" I asked Her.

"Do you really want it to?" She asked in return.

"Of course. No. I don't know." I sat down on the ground and looked at Her. I was confused. She had the answers. I would wait for Her this time.

"This loss is painful. A type of pain that is not only great, but something to which you are completely unaccustomed." I simply nodded my agreement. She leaned forward and met my eyes with that piercing gaze of Hers. "The pain is so great that you would give anything to make it go away, but you fear that should the pain go, you would be insulting his memory or worse, would forget him entirely."

"That's about it in a nutshell." I replied. "So which is it to be?"

The image of a church superimposed itself over the grotto, so I could see hints of the latter under the former. The church layout was such that I sat in front of the steps leading to the altar, looking forward at the casket. She sat at the foot of the casket. We both stood, and I got the impression that the throne vanished, but it was hard to tell with this double exposure.

As She walked past the casket towards me, She said, "This is not the whole story." She pointed over my shoulder and I could see the casket disappearing in my peripheral vision even as I found myself staring at my own back. My other self was kneeling next to my wife. (Or to be accurate to the timing of the imagery, the woman who would be my wife when this ceremony ended.) She stepped up next to the priest and pointed toward the first pew.

There he stood, next to MC. Both appearing ditinctly uncomfortable from the tuxes and the length of the boring ceremony. (The video I have even catches Martha yawning.)

"You see, you've already imprinted him into your heart and your soul." She said. MC faded into the background with everyone else as dozens of scenes from the reception involving my lost friend played around the image of him from the church. "You could not forget him if you tried."

More scenes began adding themselves to those already playing in the grotto, as they began overlapping each other in a sort of ethereal "this is his life" episode.

"So will the pain go away, or at least fade?" I asked Her, overwhelmed by my memories being played out for me.

"I am afraid that is not likely." She responded. With a wave of Her hand, the scenes stopped, leaving us alone again. "But the frequency of it will go away. You will remember many of those stories fondly. The pain that will come and go with some of these memories will become a part of your life, like your knee pain, or the ache from your broken arm. It will just be what is."

"That doesn't sound like a very optimistic prediction." I pointed out.

"It is not a pessimistic, or dour one." She replied. "But this you will learn on your own in time."

I stared over at the water. "What do I do in the mean time?"

"Continue to love." She said, as several people appeared in front of me. "Continue to care." My family and close friend appeared with the others. "Continue to live." The images began pouring in now, one after another. Person after person, each one recognizable by face if the names didn't come to me. Thousands of people and scenes from my life pouring out so quickly that I only got glimpses.

"Take care of those important to you." She said, gesturing to the side where the first two groups were alone once more. "And take care of one whom you so often neglect who is important to me." Following Her pointing finger I saw my own reflection in the water.

Looking at myself in the water, I remembered the question I had been planning to ask Her. Turning I found Her standing directly in front of me. Her beauty glaring, nearly blinding me. I fumbled for the words. Then, with a smile, something seemed to fade, and She was merely gorgeous. "This is not the time, dear wolf." She said.

Brushing this comment aside, I asked. "Are we a failed experiment?"

"This is not the time." She repeated. She leaned in and took my head in Her hands. "Rest your mind for the moment." She whispered, laying Her lips to my forehead.

And for a moment, I did.

A Mother's Brief Words On Death

She lay there on the altar, hands folded and resting on Her waist. I couldn't look at Her and not flash back to earlier in the day when I looked upon him laying there in the casket. One major difference I noted immediately was that the cosmetics had given him some life-like coloring, where She was pale, nearly to a point of transparency. I felt a chill rising from the underground lake at my back and the air was damp and cold.

"I even effect the atmosphere in here." I commented out loud, as I noted that the normally bright and sparkling jewels were steady and muted, lending a soft and unintrusive light, again much like the funeral parlor I had been in. I looked again at Her folded hands and unchanging expression, and I could feel the pain again. I wondered if, with the effect I had on everything else I could effect the environment just a touch and the altar would turn into a casket.

"If you could, what purpose would that serve?" Her voice asked me as Her lips did not move. "I am not dead, am I?"

"That you are not." I responded. While I knew this to be an obvious truth, a part of me wanted to walk up and touch Her. As if that gesture could reassure me.

"I have never forbidden it." She replied. "In fact I would welcome it. You should know this."

"There are a lot of things I should know." I replied. Hesitantly I stepped forward. All of the way up to the altar. My breath quickened, and I didn't know whether it was because I had never come this close to this altar before, or because of the irrational connection to death that I couldn't shake. I held my hand out, hovering just above Her.

"Go ahead." Her voice said. With a laugh She added. "You will not wake me."

I lowered my hand and pressed it on the altar for a moment, reverently touching the corner, as I had done when I approached him the same evening. Then I stepped back to create space.

"You are troubled." She said.

"This is an example of you incredible powers of perception?" I quipped.

An enormous weight lifted for just a moment off of my chest as Her lips curved in just the slightest smile. "Of course." She replied. After a pause she continued. "Tell me what you were thinking when you were at the wake."

"You know what I was thinking."

"We've discussed the relevance of that comment in the past." She chided.

"I thought a number of things." I answered. "Which do you want me to discuss?"

"All of them."

"I thought that I didn't really belong there." I began. "That the odds of anyone being there to whom I could be a use would be small."

"You thought this even before you went." She pointed out. "So why did you go?"

"I went for Her, for the most part." I told Her. "I went because she couldn't. And because I had known him, and his family deserved to see that he did not move on with a passing that was unnoticed."

"At the very least, I think you helped contribute to the latter, don't you?"

"Perhaps."

"You told his sister when she introduced herself that the simple fact that so many people were there that she didn't know was a telling sign of the impact her brother had made. Do you think that helped at all?"

"I don't know." I admitted.

"I do." She replied. "Tell me what you said to him."

I relayed the words I had said referencing a moment he and I had shared. A moment he frequently spoke of afterwards. I waited as the last of my words hung in the air.

Finally Her voice softly broke the silence. "I think those words had a beneficial effect on the man you said them for, don't you?"

"No. I don't." I answered. "They had no impact whatsoever. He couldn't hear them."

"You knew that when you spoke." She pointed out. "You didn't say those words for his benefit. You said them for yours. You spoke them to ease your own pain, and for a moment, it worked. I would say your mission was accomplished."

"I would say it was much more accomplished if you gave him a grace period." I replied, annoyed.

"A grace period? To set his affairs in order?" She questioned. "You know it does not work that way. You also know why."

"I meant on the other side of the coin." I answered. "So he could benefit from the knowledge of how much impact he had, in what ways. Couldn't we be allowed to at least witness our own funerals? Kind of a final tally?"

"To what end? What use would this knowledge be immediately after when he was no more?" She asked. "Would it not be easier to be clean cut?"

"I guess." I replied.

"You are temporary creatures, as you well know. The end comes when the end comes. That is all there is to it."

"Will she make it?" I asked, finally.

"You know I won't answer that question." She answered me.

"If she does, she will wake with the knowledge that he is not only gone, but she has missed even the final goodbye of the wake and/or funeral. He will simply be gone. Add to that her medical issues stemming from this, and if she manages to pull out of this, she could very well just end up wishing she hadn't."

"True."

I paced. "I am not saying that I would wish it to be the case, certainly her children wouldn't, but I can't help but wondering if my prayers for her survival might be selfish."

"You know they aren't selfish reasons." She replied. "Your reasoning is true, as is your clear and whole hearted desire to have her back. Now rest. Leave it in my hands."

"Can I trust you?" I asked, pusing it a little in the sarcasm department.

"It isn't like you have a choice." She said with another smile. There was a pause. "Sunday mattered." She said.

"Did she have anything to with that?" I asked.

"Of course." She answered. "Come, take my hand."

I approached slowly, and finally reached out and took her hand in mine. With a rush of light, and a warming through my soul, my surroundings went black.

A Mother And A Cross

She stood on the hill and watched me approach. The moon was barely past new, so while She was clearly visible, Her surroundings were mostly hidden by the night. I stopped a couple of feet away from Her.

"Such respectful distance you alway keep." She said. "Accompanied by frequently disrespectful language. One might think it would work so much better if you would come closer and be a little more polite."

I shrugged, not really having thought of the issue of distance. I took a step forward, but found myself stopping again. Even as I was embarrassed, her face lit up in a smile.

"That is some significant progress." She said. "So tell me what it is you wish to speak of."

I looked around and then looked back to Her. "I had thought that when I sought you this time I would find you in the cave again."

"Liar." She chided.

Startled I started to tell Her that I had in fact expected we would be there. Her laughter cut me off. "I know you did. But that isn't what it was you wished to speak of."

I laughed. "Is the proposition, the subject, so silly that joking and laughing is the natural result?"

Her face turned serious. "Quite the contrary. Serious enough that a little levity might help."

"You know why I am here." I stated, rather than ask.

"Of course. Haven't you heard me calling you for several days?"

"I have." I admitted. "So lets discuss it."

She waved a hand over Her shoulder and the light extended from Her far enough to highlight the cross standing behind Her on the hill. Its presence startled me. "But why would it surprise you? It is what she wanted us to discuss, isn't it?"

"It is." I admitted, "But..."

She laughed again. "But what? Am I a vampire in your mind? Did you truly expect that being in its presence would have some destructive or diminishing effect?"

"Of course not. But it seems just a little wrong."

"Wrong? Why?" She turned as if studying it. "It is wood. A structure of sorts. It holds no power to banish me. Nor do I oppose its existence. It being here as an illustration has its purpose."

"Why would we have to observe a giant cross in order to discuss it? Why couldn't it just be a conversation?"

The lights dimmed on the cross. "Does its presence bother you?"

"Yes." I admitted.

"Insecurity?" She asked. "Does the symbol truly bother you so?"

"It isn't simply the symbol itself. It is specifically the large cross on the hill. It clearly points to the crucifixion issue." I pointed out.

The hill went dark and She wandered down and away from it. Passing close enough that the dress She wore brushed my ankle. I waited until She was several steps ahead of me.

"It doesn't really, you know." She called back. She stopped when I stopped following. A smile spread across Her face. "Now you understand." She said approvingly.

"Only partially." I pointed out. "I understand why we can't walk off this hill, not why we had to be here to begin with."

"The one who posed the question is not going to have a favorable opinion of me either way." She pointed out. "So your comfort is a valid issue."

"No, the hill it is." I answered.

The light was suddenly gone at the bottom of the hill and rose up behind me. I turned to see Her back at the cross. "So, we discuss. Where do we start?"

"Well it seems like you may have hit close to what her question was with your comment." I responded. "And frankly it dosn't exactly make sense to me. That symbol, particularly in such a setting evokes such thoughts of crucifixion in many."

"I didn't say it didn't." She replied seriously. "I said it does not clearly point to crucifixion. I am well aware of the perceptions out there, just making a point."

"Which was what?"

"That if you were on the hill at the time in history, this object would have been nowhere to be seen." She waved at it in dismissal. "It is a stylization. But that is only peripheral to what she wants of me. Are you going to approach the questions, or should I pick and choose?"

"She quoted verse that stated that the enemy could not bear the sight of the cross, couldn't lie in its presence, something like that. Maybe both. I don't recall the verse off the top of my head, but I do know that one of the thought processes seemed to be that you couldn't ensnare me in lies in the presence of that object."

She smiled. "I am not sure of the cross is responsible, but I wasn't planning on starting some tradition of lying to you now anyway." She walked over and I cringed as She put Her hand on the cross. Her eyebrow arched.

"I know you won't burst into flames, it is just the crossed symbolism." I said.

Now She laughed again. "It won't taint me either, silly boy. It is a blessed symbol. I am not this demon she claims me to be. Why would it hurt me?"

"A blessed symbol?" I asked, confused.

"Of course. Most of these symbols derive their power from the faith of those who have reason to give them value. Enough of those exist. Crosses have long been held up as artifacts of religious or political existence."

With a wave of Her hand the sky was filled with many different variants of the cross. All shapes and sizes. There were even the swastikas pointing in both directions. She let me look at that one for a moment before She blinked it out. "Not all of them have been used for the greatest purposes though."

"So you don't have a reason to take issue with the cross?" I asked.

"Of course not." She said as they began to fade in the sky. "Not to say that I approve of everything they are used for. But then you knew I wouldn't have an issue."

"I did. Although I expected you to be more dismissive of the symbol."

"Now that's silly." She said, gesturing to the sky again. A circle appeared with a cross in the middle of it. The four lesser sabatts' names appeared next to the points where the cross touched the circle. Then it turned slightly, putting the cross at a 45 degree angle and a new cross appeared in the circle the points naming the four greater sabatts.

Before I could respond the circle faded, and was immediately replaced by another one. This time the cross appeared beneath it in the symbol for woman. Turning to comment on that to Her I saw Her dressed as an ancient Egyptian queen, Her arms crossed holding matching Ankhs.

"How old is the Ankh?" I asked Her.

She smiled and shifted back to Her previous appearance. "Much longer than the Christian faith has." She pointed out. As my mind started to process this She held up a finger. "Don't go there. In this case there is nothing borrowed. The cross is one of the simplest structures, and was an effective way to torture someone to death." She said this casually even as Her face darkened for a moment. "But the point is that the cross has been used as one form of life symbol or other for a much longer time than the crucifixion has been associated with it. If you leave the crucifixion out of it, the cross is a simple symbol. What power it has doesn't disturb me, it doesn't compell me. It won't save you."

"What of the crucifixion being necessary thing they harp on. The cross being the answer. Can you explain that to me? Just so I can see how it is held as a valid theory?"

The hill grew dark again. "She told you the verse."

"The cross is foolish to those who are not saved?"

"Do you need to be saved?" The night was dark enough that I could only see Her sillhouette.

"No." I replied as if the answer is obvious.

She laughed. "Then give them the chances they want to try to explain it to you, and don't worry about it afterwards. If all sides state that you will think it is foolish, why would you try to make sense of it?"

I thought this over, as I stared at the spot where the cross had been standing. Then I shook my head and went home.

A Mother's Lesson

I stalked across the field to where She stood, one hand resting on a tree, but not leaning. More as if She was posing or showing Herself off. As I approached She lowered Her hand and stepped toward me, Her features changing as She did so.

"Where is my church?" I demanded of Her.

She laughed. "Shouldn't I be asking you that question?" She asked, turning and walking away.

I hurried over to catch up. Her features and physique were continuing to change, never staying the same for more than a couple of seconds. "Why do you change as soon as I can see who you are at the moment?" I asked.

She wiggled a finger at me. "My question again." She responded.

"Do you plan on just continuously frustrating me?" I demanded.

The shifting stopped. Her clothes were dark and Her face was stern. "That's the third question I could ask of you." She replied. "My patience with that tone does wear short on occasion as well. Ask what you want to know."

I took a deep breath. "I already asked what I wanted to know." I replied.

She smiled and turned, Her form still regal, Her clothes still dark, yet She did not seem as forboding anymore. The humor in Her voice helped to push away some of the chills I hadn't noticed as well. "Fair enough. Ask something I can answer, then."

"Why can't you answer the first question?" I asked as we walked and She began changing forms again.

"You've wondered that for some time." She replied. "But you know that is not a question I can answer for you."

"Is there no answer?" I asked.

"You know there is. You know who must answer." She gestured to Her right. Where the field had been open before, I now saw a clearing at the edge of a forest. Against a cliff. I could hear the surf below. "It is the same question."

I stood for a moment and stared at the scene, then I turned back to Her. Her face was warm, Her figure and attire designed to be comforting. They weren't.

"So if I can't answer that question, I am simply lost?" I asked Her.

"Of course not." She answered with a laugh. "You still know your way here."

"But this isn't enough." I replied heatedly. "This is just my own private war. Nobody stands with me. I don't have the comfort she spoke of when she simply walks into a church for the morning service. That is lost to me."

"You would prefer to be surrounded by people who went through the motions of something they didn't think through?" She asked of me.

"They aren't all like that."

"True. But can you point to which is which? And could you be comfortable there? It seems you walked away, not them."

I shook my head and sat down. "Is there no alternative? Is there nothing for me where I can not be the thinker? Where for just a moment I can just sit down and share?"

"You had that." She replied. I recognized the voice before I even looked up at the face that matched. It was a high priestess I had known. "You turned from that as well. In fact, you destroyed that."

"They were hypocrites." I pointed out in defense.

"They were. She replied, incongruently changing form to the one out of all of them I wouldn't have said that about. "Was knowledge of that alone enough to throw away the comfort you had? To destroy it for them?"

"I didn't do it alone." I continued on the defensive. "And they soon would have done it to themselves."

"You are right." She began changing again as She walked away, forcing me to stand and follow. "Was it inevitable, then, that you would never trust any others after that?"

"Perhaps it was."

"No perhaps." She replied. "It was. Because, for all of their faults, you never danced with them either."

"Maybe because of?" I offered.

"You know better." She stopped at the edge of the cliff, far enough away from the grove and pointed to the vista ahead of us. I just stared for a moment, until She spoke again. "Did no good come out of that grouping, then?"

I remembered that night. Angry. Surprising myself as I realized that it wasn't for the first time. "You came to them. They all saw you, and I didn't. Those hypocrites had a moment that insured them in their minds that they were right, and I had nothing."

"Nothing?" The face was younger now. I recognized it in an instant, and suspected She was playing with me. "Of course I am." She replied. "It is my perogative. But this is important, and she more than any other, is a calming influence."

I waited and stared for a moment on a face from my past. And somewhat my presence. My wife, in high school. I waited to hear what She would say that asked for this ploy.

"I ask you again. Did you get nothing from it?"

"I got a peripheral experience." I nearly pouted. "I knew you were there, but they saw you."

"And what did my presence bring them?"

"Confidence that they were right." I replied.

"What did it bring you?"

"Jealousy."

"Is that all? Did you not also feel reassured that I was there?" She gave me that look that my wife so often gives me. The pin-you-to-the-wall, you-can't-lie-to-me look. "Was there anything else beyond that?"

I thought for a moment, but She spoke before I could come up with an answer. A question that surprised me. "Was there not also anger? Did you not have a reason for your anger?"

"I was angry that they had such a gift before them and such opportunity and they threw it away and corrupted those who would learn from them." I answered.

"So you brought it all down." She began changing again as we stood there. "You freed those who desired to learn from the corruption they offered. You changed nothing for the others, they just moved on. You found a connection to me deeper than before in that moment. You served me. You did it without question and without hesitation."

She walked away and through all of Her changing forms the sadness stood out. I couldn't help but stare for a moment at the circle in the distance.

"Why can't you teach me?" I demanded. "Why must I figure this out on my own? Don't I need someone to dance with?"

The sky lightened for a moment and she looked at me with a smile that nearly melted my bones. "You do learn."

"I try." I replied, somewhat confused. "But I haven't answered anything."

"Can't you dance with me?" She asked.

I didn't have to say no. She didn't have to ask why, because She knew I couldn't answer.

"Do you suppose people file into an auditorium and wait patiently for someone to learn ballet and entertain them?" She asked.

"No."

"The dance comes first, you can't get a dance partner if you can't dance."

"So if I learn how to dance, the church will follow?" I asked.

"Learn. When you learn how to dance, the church will already be there."

A Mother's Life

For those of you who know her, and others who have a curiousity, my wife posted on her blog again. It is reachable through the link on my sidebar with the same name as this post. She recapped the months that she has been missing in a somewhat humorous fashion, and has assured me that she really means it when she says she plans on posting more regularly again.

So that is the update on a mother's life, or something close to it.

A Mother's Priorities

I walk slowly around the bases, kicking at the dirt and marveling, not so much at the dirt rising up into the air, but the fact that I haven't watched it do so in so long. I stand on first base and look at the empty plate, and the rusting backstop. I regret the fact that I don't have my glove. That I don't even know where it was anymore. Regretting it even as my mind registered that there were no players, no ball, no need for the glove. Then I wonder why I even came out here.

"It seems like a fitting place." She answers from the pitcher's mound.

I watch Her walk towards me, marveling at Her beauty and grace. I suspect that She would look stunning even dressed for the game that wasn't being played here. Not a huge leap, since Her clothes don't match the present time period, and still She is gorgeous.

"But why?" I ask. "Do my memories of this place mean that much?"

"Of course they do." She says with a laugh. "This is your place. More than the city you like to identify yourself with. More than most of your past. This is the place you always seem to return to."

"Always return to?" I ask, surprised. "I haven't been here in years."

"Haven't you?" She arches her eyebrow in that expression that always infuriates me, and excites me in that manner that any common expression of one you love will. "Shall we walk down memory lane?" She points to the raised field behind us. "Up there you tore your knee up in two consecutive years of playing soccer. 15 and 16 years ago, roughly."

She turns and walks slowly along the bases. "This field is the one that you played softball on during that time and beyond." She turns and points up the street. "You know who lives over there. You know what role he played for two years 5-6 years ago." She turns back to me. "And now you are back."

"This time doesn't count. I am not even really here." I point out.

"You will be back." She answers. "And even if you wouldn't, this would be an important place." She turns to look squarely at me again. "Now tell me why you are in this place now."

"It is because of him, isn't it?" I ask. I don't say who he is. She knows who I mean.

"It is." She confirms.

"Do you not want me to go ahead with the baptism?"

She laughs and turns to walk towards the soccer fields. She turns Her head slightly to call over Her shoulder. "You know I have no reason to have a problem with it. Do you?"

I trot to catch up with Her. "No, I don't have a problem with it."

"Then why are we here?" She pushes.

"Because he isn't going to do it." I admit my concerns.

"Then what will you do?"

"I am not sure." I admit.

"You are not sure, because you don't know who else you would be willing to have do it." She shows the decency of pointing out what I already know. I just nod. "What about Chris?"

"You know the answer to that." I point out, my temper demonstrating its greater power over me in this realm in which I address Her.

She laughs, and rather than angering me, it defuses my temper. "If I only asked questions that I didn't know the answers to, we would never get anywhere, and you would learn nothing." Her expression got more stern. "Now answer my question."

"I have no problem with Chris doing it."

"You lie." She states simply. "But that is okay. Because you lie to yourself, so I don't hold you responsible for being deceived."

"Great." I reply, annoyed. "So please, enlighten me."

She walks halfway up the hill and sits in the grass. Looking at me, She smiles. "You have a problem with Chris doing it, because that removes the ceremony. It is no longer a big deal. Since the baptism itself means nothing to you, the only refuge of importance that you have is the ritual."

"That's not completely it." I argue.

"No. Your choice in God-Parents was well thought out, and you fear the greater negative impact if they don't have the solemn ritual to observe as part of this, given the fact that they may already doubt your sincerity." She is giving me that "pin you to the wall" gaze again.

"I know my intentions, I am not sure that they do."

"Something that you should probably discuss at some point." She points out.

"I kind of hoped to do that over a couple of beers during the party after." I admit.

"I know."

I think this over, and my defiance rises once more. "So will he refuse?"

"You will know soon enough." She smiles.

"You can't tell me?" I demand.

"No, because that would counteract the opportunity."

"What opportunity?" I am approaching true anger now, as She once more seems to triviallize something so important to me.

"I don't trivialize it." She replies, a little short. "If I was willing to do so, I would answer your question and save you the time."

"And the expenditure of this time offers me what?" I demand.

"The opportunity to play the game as it should be played." I start to answer and She stands. She simply stands, yet I take it like an imperative and say nothing. "You have the opportunity to fight for what you want. You can succeed. I won't tell you the odds of this success, but I will say that if you don't fight, he will refuse you. Contrary to your opinion on history, he was never your friend, so you don't have that to rely on. Fight if that is what you want. Short of that, talk to your father before you decide for him."

She walks up the hill again. Unwilling to let it go, I follow her. "You know that is a taboo subject that neither of us can breach the wall of."

I expect anger. I don't expact the truly amused smile. "The war is fiction, darling." She replies. "And even if it wasn't you saw it work out. Not because that is what you wanted, but because that is what was. You can talk to him. I won't push though. Talk to him when you are ready."

She stops in the middle of the field. "You know how to instigate the conversation with your uncle. In fact you know many ways. You should really do so even as this advances. Blind-siding him is not the answer."

"It has never been my intention to blind side him." I defend myself.

"I know that." She answers. "You have your answers now. There is only one thing left for me to impart."

"What is that?"

"You didn't come here to talk about this. You came here to talk about your articles." She says. "Now you have two ways of looking at this. One, I just derailed your intentions. Two, perhaps I don't just answer your call and tell you what you want to hear, but have some control after all."

The thoughts flood back into my mind again. "But wait..."

She smiles. "Not this time. Come back soon and we will discuss it."

"Why not now?" I demand. "This is important."

"True." She acknowledges. "But what we just discussed gives you answers you need. This other subject you know the answers to."

"So you will just leave me floating because you are sure I know the answer?" I demand, hurt by this impending abandonment.

"Of course not." She says with a laugh. "You know all you need to do is ask, and I will go nowhere until you have the answers you need. Ask and I don't walk away now." She holds a finger up and taps it against Her temple. "But think first. Think about this: Did I tell you that we didn't discuss it because I assume you have the answers? Or did I tell you because I answered you already, and in your heart you know this?"

"Either way it sounds like you tell me to think about it and figure it out."

"You know the question. Switch roles, and what would your answer be to me?"

With that I realize that She is right, that I have Her answer already. I realize this, and the fact that She is gone. Finally, I realize why She didn't answer it in this discussion. I realize that this discussion would be written down, and Her answer was as to what was secret and what wasn't.

I realize that She was right.

On the wind is a voice. "Of course I am right, and I am never gone."

A Mother's Tears

Putting out my cigarette, I turn to the trash toter to toss the butt away. Across the top of it wanders a ladybug, and as I open the lid to toss the butt in it drops to the ground.

I stand in the middle of the grotto. The jewels wink all about me on the walls around me and over my head. The water laps behind me and the altar lays in front of me. Just like every other time I have been here. Except one thing is missing. She is not here.

Moving around the grotto, more than I ever have before, I seek Her out, and I don't see Her. What I do see is a winding passage off in the corner. A dark passage, unlit by the jewels as the main chamber is. I step into it and feel my way along. The wet walls are my guide as I travel for some time down this corridor. I travel in darkness for some time before the light from an opening ahead allows me to see my way.

I reach the opening and step out into the woods. There is a familiar smell of pine as I walk across the ground toward the light. It is a fire in a clearing below. A clearing that I recognize as I get closer. A fire that I recognize. The stones, the trees, the clearing and the fire are all familiar to me. I have seen them several times before. All is much the same as it has been every time I have ventured out here. All is the same except one thing. Across from me is a log, and it is empty. She is not here.

I begin to panic. Where is She? How could I come to these places and not find Her? How could I come here without intention and not find Her? Confused and concerned, I make my way through the woods once more. I make my way to the top of the rise and down the other side. I feel lost, as truly I am. I don't recognize this portion of the woods. This is not a place I know.

I have no idea how long I have been climbing, when suddenly I stop. Not because I recognize the area. Not because of any recognition of what is going on. The only thing I recognize is that ahead of me, the ground is no more. In the darkness I can't see anything beyond, and I imagine for a moment that there might truly be nothing around me. As if the world has abandoned me, along with Her.

"I abandoned you?" She asks, Her tone incredulous. "Are you sure that is the way that it went?"

"Of course not." I counter quickly, turning to face Her. I can't see her clearly in the night. The moon is nearly full, but her face seems obscured for some reason.

"For some reason." She laughs, though the emotion behind the laugh doesn't seem to be amusement. "I am the reason."

Of course that would be the case. She can manipulate her appearance so I can see her as She wishes.

"Not so much as you imply." She says shortly. "Now explain how it is that I have abandoned you."

"I didn't mean that I thought you literally had, just that it felt that way for a moment." I reply honestly.

"Good. So you understand that such is not a friendly thing to do? To make one feel abandoned?" There is heat in her voice now. My own matches it.

"Are you saying that you hid from me to prove some point, or just to make me feel bad?" I demand.

"Watch yourself." She warns. "I am not in a playful mood right now. You can try to be respectful for once."

A wise suggestion, obviously, but one that would take a little effort to apply right at this moment. "Why did you bring me out here and then hide from me?"

The emotion in Her voice is different as She speaks now. I can't quite place what it is. "You have your facts completely wrong. I didn't hide from you. I have been walking behind you since you came to visit. I didn't bring you here either. You sought me."

"I don't recall seeking you." I admit, not by way of denial. "Perhaps the ladybug led me to think of you."

"Perhaps."

"You were walking behind me the whole time?" I push.

"I was." She answers quietly. "All you had to do was turn around and you would have seen me." The emotion is stronger now, and it brings shivers as I can't put my finger on it.

"You could have let me know you were there at any point." I say, anger rising again. "Were you just toying with me to see what I would do?"

"I waited for you." She says by way of response. "You never came."

"What do you mean I never came?" I ask Her. "I was the one wandering around wondering where you were."

"Not tonight." She replies, anger mixing with that something else for just a moment. "I mean the Sunday before last."

I do a quick calculation in my mind. Sunday before last. Beltane. I shake my head. "I was tired."

"A simple excuse." Her voice is still quiet.

"I had to work. I have a family to take care of, a child to raise. I don't see you stepping in and making that any easier." I snap at Her angrily.

"I am always working." She fires back. "And what have you done lately to help me care for my children?"

I am slightly taken aback at that and just look at Her. "I do what I can do, and I try to balance my life and my spirituality. I may not hit all of the ceremonial points every time, I may not make a big deal out of every Sabbatt and Esbat, but I do my best. I acknowledged the day. I did my small part. I even posted on it for others to share. What else would you have had me do?" I become increasingly agitated as I go through all of this. As if I am missing something. Several somethings.

"I would have had you dance." She replies.

"I don't dance." I answer Her offhand, my voice rising with agitation. I lower it again. "We both know that."

"You dance with me on Beltane!" She yells back. The pack, whom I haven't noticed until now howls in fear and disapproval. A note of sadness hangs in the air as well. Her voice is much quieter as She says, "I waited for you to come and dance. You never showed. I understood the difficulties of that day, but you didn't come late either. You just never came. You didn't dance."

The emotion in Her voice hits me in the chest like a sledgehammer as I finally realize what it is. With that simple recognition, Her face comes into view, and I can see the tears running down Her face.

"It was beyond my control on that night. Things got out of hand in my life. I didn't turn my back on you, I was just trying to do what needs to be done." I try to explain in anyway possible to make sure She understands. Why on earth is She crying?

"What do you want me to say?" She asks quietly. "That you are right? That you aren't that important. You are right, and you couldn't be more wrong."

"I don't understand." I say truthfully. "I do what I can, but I am far from having the answers. I never realized that I danced on Beltane. Perhaps that scared me, although I don't think so. I think that mentally and physically I have just been too tired. " I shake my head. "I still don't understand why this is such an important issue though."

Her voice is still sad, but the tears are gone. "I know that you don't understand. The answer is in the question, and in keeping with the agreement you called upon a couple of weeks ago, one that we never actually made, I won't ask that question tonight. You have three days. Three days until I ask a question you neither understand, nor can answer. You will leave angry again, and I may wait another year to dance with you, unless you have given up even that day."

She turns to walk away, leaving the questions in my mind far from answered. "Where are you going?" I demand, willing Her to return and help me understand. She keeps walking.

"I have children to feed, watch over, and take care of." She replies sarcastically. "I don't see you doing anything to help me out."

A Mother's Forgiveness

I walked through the field, watching Her as She sat in the crook of the lone tree rising from the middle of the meadow. She watched me approach and when I got close enough to make out the expression on Her face, She smiled.

"You do get so worked up on individual subjects, don't you?" She asked conversationally.

I just shrugged, saying "Sorry."

"No you aren't." She said with a laugh. She dropped out of the tree and glanced over Her shoulder at me. "But I forgive you."

"Now that was just spiteful." I retorted.

She laughed again. "Perhaps you are not only a student, but a teacher as well." With an inclination of Her head, She began to walk, and I followed Her. "But I wasn't being spiteful. I have a point to make."

"Of course you do." I said. "And I suspect from your tone, that your point is that I am wrong."

"Now you are being petulant." She rebuked me. "Few are the times that I have come right out and said you were wrong about something. I would like to discuss it though."

"Okay, then let's discuss." I said shortly. "Where are the flaws in my argument?"

Her laughter seemed a musical echo, though there was nothing for the sound to bounce off of, out in the open as we were. She twirled around for a moment and sat down like a young girl at play, enjoying the sunshine. It struck me that She did look particularly young at the moment. "Of course I do, you silly boy." She replied to my thought. "And you know perfectly well why, so don't change the subject."

"Which is how my argument is flawed." I said, more annoyed. "So flawed that my mere suggestion that you point out how has you laughing at me."

"I am not laughing at you. Not in the sense of mockery. I do find it amusing, thought, that you have set yourself ready to include me into your debate. To defend your position about me against my own opinion on the matter." She ran Her hands over the grass, and a single flower rose up to meet Her hand. She picked it and slid it into Her hair. "Surely you see the humor in this."

"Yes. Hilarious." I sat across from Her. "So are you going to enlighten me?"

"Probably not. You are so bullheaded sometimes. I will try to let you enlighten yourself though."

"So you will leave me to talk this over amongst myself and get back to you with what I come up with?" The sarcasm crept in.

"Tell me why it is that you push so hard on this topic of forgiveness. Why you are so adamant against it that you get annoyed when I utter the words 'I forgive you'". She rose to Her feet again, and once more I followed Her.

As She walked along, I watched the various flowers and plants growing up in Her wake, wherever She had placed Her feet. It gave me time to consider. "I guess that I can't sum it up any better than to say that I find the teaching dangerous and irresponsible." I admitted. "I have many points that lead me to this conclusion, but you are already familiar with them all."

"Moreso than you." She said with a smile in Her voice. A hint of sadness crept in. "But you delude yourself."

"How so?" I demanded.

"Because you don't truly have an issue with the word, or even the concept." She turned to face me, a look of concern in Her eyes. "You use the examples of the dangerous routes the concept can take, and use them as your evidence that there is a problem with the concept of forgiveness. A problem with the teaching. But you know as well as I do that it isn't the concept or the teaching that is the problem. It is how some people will misinterpret it and or twist it when they teach. You can't fault the concept for this, because this can happen with any concept. You know this."

"I guess I do know that." I admitted. "But what good can the concept of forgiveness offer?"

"You know the answer to that question already." She replied, turning to walk along the meadow once more. "You have answered it in your rewriting of the concept in the arguments you have already made. This is why some of these arguments you get in bother me. You both argue the same point and wonder why you haven't convinced the other to see the logic of your statement."

I was startled to see that we had reached the edge of a cliff, far below which the ocean stretched out before us. Looking around, my mind made adjustments of the scenery, imagining it illuminated by the moon rather than the sun, and I panicked.

"Yes, we are here." She said with a wry smile. "You hadn't realized?"

"It isn't the full moon." I said in a rush. "It is barely past the new moon. You can't ask me that question now."

Her eyebrow raised, and She smirked. "Can't I? Why not?" As my heart raced, She smiled reassuringly. "I won't ask. Not that it would matter. You don't have the answer now or later, what difference does it make?"

I had to admit that She had a point. Yet a part of me kept trying to find the answer, and that part cried out for all of the time it could get before the next deadline. My quizzical mind kicked in. "Then why are we here?"

"I have my reasons." She said with a secretive smile, turning to walk along the cliff's edge.

I followed her, still slightly uncomfortably. She had said that She wouldn't ask, but soon we would be at that site, and the site itself wasn't even somewhere I would have wanted to go. Not without the answer.

She turned on me, the rare display of anger evident on Her young face for a moment. The steel evident in Her voice. "And why not? What difference does that place make in the grander scheme of the lesson? Is it the grove that asks the question of you, or is it me? You can face me, but not the sacred ground I frequent on those nights? You can visit me in my deepest sleep in the grotto, in the most sacred of places but this one frightens you away?"

I just stared at Her. This too I could not answer. "I know. It is part of what you fail to learn. Now walk with me, away from the grove."

Once again She turned. Back towards the tree, but walking parrallel to the trees that trailed away from the sacred circle. She was silent once more, and I had the feeling that I was supposed to ask Her a question.

"You are such a smart one." She said, in a friendly tone with only a hint of mockery.

"I don't know what I am supposed to ask you." I admitted.

"I know." She said sadly. "If you did, then I would be able to answer, and you could give that answer back to me when I ask you again."

I didn't know how to respond, so once more I watched the flowers spring up behind Her, and the butterflies flitting around Her. I was bespelled, broken out of it by Her pure, musical laughter. Looking back to Her I saw Her smiling at me. She gestured at the flowers and butterflies.

"You have no idea how happy you make me with these." She said with a loving smile.

"What do you mean?" I asked, puzzled. "You do that."

"No I don't." She replied. "You see them because that is what you would expect to see. What you want to see. You know every aspect of me, and the aspect that you notice depends on you. You could follow me and see the death and decomposition of the plants that we trample on. You could see storm clouds following me, or any other aspect of what I am capable of. They are all here." She gestured at the flowers and the butterflies. "And so you love me. You wouldn't know by listening to you. It makes my heart warm."

I knew not what to say, and I watched Her walk away back to the grove. As the distance increased between us, I called out. "So you are telling me that my personal opinions may be blinding me to the greater argument about forgiveness?"

"A little bit." She called out.

"So forgiveness is real? Is a moral expectation?" I called out.

"No!" She called back, laughing and beginning to dance again.

"So which is it? Am I right or wrong?" I persisted.

"No!" She cried out again, dancing faster and laughing.

There was no question She was in a good mood, and as puzzled as I was by the other conversation, I wondered why.

The dancing figure had vanished into the grove, but between the trees there was a glow, and the hint of filtered moonlight. In my mind I heard Her voice, more longing in it than laughter. "Because tomorrow night is the only night of the year that you will dance with me."

A Mother's Words

Here is an archive that I will work on continuously updating, with the links, in order, to the posts in the "Mother" Series. This is more for my benefit than anyone else's, as there is no set subject matter or continuation of any story in these various links.

A Dream - A Lesson - A Life
A Mother's Love
A Different POV
Lessons Unlearned <-- I spent a while trying to figure out if this qualified, finally decided to add it without having actually come to a conclusion one way or the other.
My Role In Your Life
Prologue To The White Wolf's Monologue
A Disappointed Mother
A Mother's Response
A Mother's Answer
A Mother's Forgiveness
A Mother's Tears
A Mother's Priorities
A Mother's Lesson
A Mother And A Cross

So there you have them thus far. I will be linking this on the sidebar permanently, as in time will be obvious as it is likely to be the only way you would have ended up here in the first place. I am not sure if an archive should end with "Life, or something close to it."

A Mother's Answer

I ran through the forest, sniffing the air as I went, and watching the trees dance around, in front, and behind me. The pack was with me, running, and enjoying the night as I was. The moon was becoming full and spring was coming. Everything was awakening once more, promising new life. I could feel the pack as they realized this also would temporarily mean an end to hunger. I slowed, because this feeling came from behind me. They had stopped.

It was at a walk that I entered the clearing in the trees. The nearly full moon shone right down into the center like a spotlight on the strange hammock before me. A hammock made by the living boughs of the two trees in the center. Woven together, they provided a bed that logic told me would be extremely uncomfortable, but something told me that it wasn't.

She was there, laying on the boughs. Her hands weren't folded on Her chest this time, nor by Her side. They were laced behind Her head, more in casual repose than slumber.

"What is it I want of you this time?" I asked.

She smiled, just a gentle curve of Her lips, but it threw me off. "Have you forgotten that I am waking?" She asked.

"No." I dared speak aloud, although in a whisper. "But you are not supposed to be awake yet."

"I am not supposed to be?" Her voice was amused. "By whose rules?"

I didn't respond, not even with a tangible thought, yet She smiled again. "I know, you are more comfortable when you approach me in my sleep. It scares you when you see me face to face and I am awake."

Her eyes opened and bore into me. They sparkled with an amused and gentle fire, yet they pierced me to my soul. Like in an instant, with that gaze, She would know everything about me. Be able to dissect it, take it apart and reassemble it.

Her eyes closed, but the smile stayed. "But surely you know I need not be awake to do that?"

I tried to formulate a response to this. Not a defense, just a demonstration of how much I understood this to be the case. She shook Her head slightly. Barely a motion.

"I know that." She said. "But that is not why you are here. Wasn't that the question you asked? Why you are here? You know, once you would have asked me why I had come to you."

"It seems you rarely do anymore." I said, before it occurred to me not to. It sounded petty and trite when I said it. I tried to explain. "It's not that I am complaining, or feeling neglected. It just seems that once you would stop by and talk to me, now it seems that we only talk when I seek you out."

Again a smile, and She turned her head, eyes still closed, to face up into the moonlight. "Did you seek me out this time? Do you remember doing so specifically?"

Thinking this over, I had to admit I had not. "See? So there is no real difference. I have always come because you sought me. The vehicle in which I do so has changed as your understanding of the circumstance has changed. Something important to reflect upon, but that is not why you are here either."

"If you are planning on forcing me to ask the question this time, you are out of luck." I told Her. "I don't even know what it is." The pack howled. They always became worried or chided me when I talked to Her like this.

"That indicates a certain level of wisdom you could aspire to." Her tone was more reprimanding for a moment, but then the smile returned. "No. I plan on telling you this time."

I waited patiently. So did She. "Should I say please?" I asked sarcastically.

"More often than you do." Was Her curt response.

For a moment I thought She was going to sit up and look at me, even though She hadn't moved. I felt a surge of panic race through me.

"Fine. Then I won't." She said, with another smile. The smile evaporated immediately. "Is that truly what you think? That I am somehow more dangerous or threatening if I fall outside of the mold? Beyond intimidation at looking upon me, you would panic because I was awake before I should? That this meant I was dangerous?"

The thought hadn't even really gotten processed for me yet, but she was right. "Isn't that the case though? If something dragged you out of your schedule, that would mean it was serious, and that something was wrong. You know, when mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy?"

Her laughter pealed through the forest, and it was a comforting sound, amplified by the fact that Her mouth only smiled slightly. Seeing Her laugh outright would be more of a sign of being fully awake. She had done that for me.

"No huge thing." She chided. "I am not quite awake yet, and that would have been obvious if I stood up. Yet you distract me again. After you said please and everything."

"Please, explain."

"You are never going to remember what I said to you. You rack your brains, waiting to display the right thing, but you are never going to remember it.

"I suspected that." I admitted, idly poking a stick into a fire that hadn't been there a moment ago. "But you do, don't you?"

"Of course I do." She responded, opening Her eyes again, pinning me to the spot. "No, you don't get off easy now. The burden you have chosen is great, and now you have to look me in the eye. Show me that you can teach the person you are most desperately trying to reach. Show me that, and I will allow you comfort."

"You know I can't dance." I replied breathlessly.

"On the contrary, I know you can." She answered. I started to reply, but She cut me off. "I can't tell you exactly what I said to you. Not because I don't remember, but because it didn't happen in one night. The night you first asked who I was, you weren't even listening to me. It was later that you paid attention. I talked throughout, and I repeated myself. So I will tell you what I said, and it is up to you to explain, or not, what the impact was, and how you put it all together.

"You ask me to give you a name and a picture. As if, much as the man who appeared in your window I could just pop before you and answer your questions. You are not ready. A roadmap to a name, or a church, or a picture will not help you. You do not desire to be a fanatic, consumed by my presence to the point of lunacy, forsaking the teachings and guidance of all others including me. I don't desire this either.

"You do not need me to tell you who I am, for at the core you know the answer. The important part of the answer. I am the one you talk to. I am the one you ask to prove my own existence, despite the logical mind screaming that if I do not exist, you are asking this favor of noone.

"You knew me when you were a child, before you allowed the world to break you. No, I do not mean in the churches you worshipped and prayed in. I was there, and you talked to me even then, but their books and their classes won't help you. You've already figured this out.

"As a child, you walked in a windstorm and laughed. You loved the wind whipping around you, and you cupped it in your hands. You stood and manipulated the motion through your hands, as the wind roared at your back, to give you the feeling that you were actually calling it up and sending it forth. You knew this was not true, yet you also knew in a small part, for the most seemingly unimportant fraction of that wind, you altered it's path through your actions. You manipulated your environment and you love it, and you laughed. I laughed with you, and together we enjoyed the storm.

"When the wind rises now* you are afraid. You cower inside as if there is something that is there that you are missing. I am telling you that what you are missing is me. In the faith of a child, you spoke to me there, and now you look at it and know that you have cut yourself off, and you don't even know why.

"Yet, even now you have opened the door a crack, and that is all I need. Open it more and you will find an even clearer understanding of who I am. Much as with the wind, I am what has been missing in the latter portions of your faith journey. I am the one who stood quietly and watched as your brain screamed, You are forgetting something!

"I am not going to tell you who I am, because the quest for that answer is the point. Walk towards me, and wait for the most unexpected of events. When you keep walking towards me, you will find me. Not at the end of the road, or the far reaches of the world, but right next to you. Right where I have been the entire time.

"Open your eyes and see me. Open your ears and hear me. Open your mind and know me. Then dance, and you will be free.

"You loved me when you didn't know me. You discarded me as foolish when you did know me, but had left your search behind. Seek me and you will know me. I have been waiting for you."

The last words seemed to resonate through the forest for a moment, and then the wolves took up the howl. Incongruent with the sudden noise, Her features became more relaxed and her eyes were closed once more.

"Hit the snooze button on your way out, timekeeper." She said with a wry smile. "Someone says I haven't gotten enough beauty sleep yet."

* Editor's note. The "now" referenced in regards to my feelings about the wind would be at the time in question, many years ago. Not "now" as in now. I am back to playing in the storms, although next time I play in the storms with her I might remind her that there wasn't necessarily any reason to include that short term phobia.

A Mother's Response

One of my children asked the following question, and I felt the need to give her an answer:

"If God knows a person will be murdered, that the plug will be pulled, that the bomb will fall…is anyone but God to blame? Did Jesus die on the cross because ultimately all Sin was God’s fault anyway…for coming up with a faulty plan. Of course not! That is just cynicism."
My initial question would simply be, what do you think the answer is? Don't worry, I am not leaving you in the dark on that simple response. I wouldn't have wasted my time talking to you otherwise.

Does what I know actually matter in your life? Do I not give you your choices? Would you prefer that I didn't?

Am I to blame for the loss of innocent life? Of course. Whom else would you blame? If you need to blame, and travel up the chain enough, I created the world in which it could happen. Thus, yes, I am to blame. You take yourself too far if you do this though. You can't remove yourselves. I am not the one who is murdering your brethren. I am not the one creating or dropping the bombs. You are.

Do not blame me for your failings. I gave you what you needed, and so many of you pervert it. Do you feel the need to kill? Then do it. Will I be saddened? Yes, but that doesn't change the rules. You will do as you wish.

Does this make me impotent? Frankly I don't care if you think that it does. You have ignored me all this time, or twisted me to your own rights, and still you do as you will. I am not weakened by my allowance of your self destruction. You are. You will never rise to rival me if you can't work with each other. Besides, you must remember that the rules were created by me. If you destroy yourselves within my rules, I still win. It is the game I created.

I know I come across by these statements as not caring, but you must remember who I am. I love you. Yet you cannot threaten me via your own self destruction. You cannot bargain with me, because you have nothing to offer me. I offer guidance, and care not whether you follow it. Why? Because eventually you will notice. I have forever. Literally.

If you want to know me, realize that cynicism shouldn't be why you argue against this thought process. Realize that it is a simple matter. I make the rules, and you play by them, whether you want to or not. I am your superior. You cannot draw a correlation. As such you must realize that these attacks you make on me by the actions of your fellows who also couldn't aspire to be me is foolish.

I have spent millenia instructing you on what I would have. Even those of you who recognize what I have done don't listen. I have millenia. You don't. Stop blaming and start listening. Ultimately your people will excel because of it. Therein is my promise. Heed and stop blaming me.

I help where I can. This alone should amaze you, since I have given you free will, and working around that fact to aid you and prevent your own self destruction should be enough to deserve your praise. Still, if you don't mean it, keep your mouth shut. I will be fine despite your reaction.

I will add that as my last. For those of you who feel I need more people to praise me, save your breath. If you mean it, call it to the heavens, and I will hear. I don't need it though. Worship and communion with me is for you, not for me. Work on helping the people, and if I play in then so be it. If not, let them do their best as a member of your race without acknowledging me, for it is better for all that way.

Care for each other, and heed what is important. Remember that what I want for you is effected little by who you think I am, and much by who you are yourselves. Finally, to acknowledge my own sense of humor, as per the standards of this mode of communication, I have one final piece of advice. Worry not about me, if that taxes you too much. First pay attention to your own life, or something close to it.

A Disappointed Mother

I appreciate the fact that you call it "Intelligent Design." However, the argument is pointless. Why do you worry so much about where you came from when you seem to struggle so much with what to do with where you are now? Some of you believe in your various creation stories. Some of you believe in evolution. Amongst the latter group some of you believe I did it on purpose, some of you believe it just happened. What difference does it make? Ultimately, if you trace it back far enough, your origins begin with an unexplainable event, no matter what you believe.

The next time you want to complain at someone for being unable to explain the original event, try explaining me. Does it not occur to you that there is only a minor difference between whether the universe just suddenly exploded into being or whether I crafted it? It only adds a single step. For if I am the source, where is mine? If there was none before me to engineer my existence, does it not then follow that I was an accident? That I just happened?

Again I tell you, though, that you shouldn't concern yourself with this. What you should concern yourself with is what I see happening in the world all around you. I don't like a lot of what I see here.

It has been said by some among you that I am dead. I am not. Some among you have written stories of worlds abandoned by the Gods. I have not abandoned you. Yet within this concept is a hint about what you should be considering. You should consider it because many of you would have done so if you were me. Many of you have in fact abandoned your fellow man.

Some of you look at horrific stories in the news and wonder where I have gone. What makes you think I wasn't there? Who do you think it is that cries while you change the channel to something less depressing? Before you point any fingers, though, you must remember that I am not the one who pulled the trigger. I am not the one who built the bombs. It is my children who are killing my children. Not me.

Some of you accuse me of engineering disasters that kill thousands. You even give reasons for why I would have done so. Did I kill those people in the gulf coast? Did I kill those people in Asia? I will tell you that you do not have the right to ask me that question. I will also tell you why.

The weather systems of this planet act just like all of the other systems. I created rules. I created how these things worked. You could have chosen over the thousands of years you have had to pursue the technology necessary to protect you from these disasters. You could have found ways to try and tame the planet. You chose instead to focus on things that entertain you and on things that kill other people. Many of your best minds decided to figure out how to obliterate a city rather than determine how to feed it. You kill each other by the thousands every day and you would question me if I actually tried to get your attention back to the things that matter in such a way. I will not tell you if it was a test. I will tell you that it would be better if it wasn't, because as a whole, you would have failed.

I gave you this world. I gave you the ability to subdue it. I gave you the ability to moderate or subjugate. I gave you the ability to help or destroy. You have made your decisions. I gave you the free will to do so. Why? Because you are supposed to be the caretakers of this world, and because you are supposed to evolve. You aren't doing either.

I didn't give you free will so that you could choose me freely, or love me freely. If you truly love me, I appreciate it. Yet if given the option, I would prefer you worked together without consideration of me than working against each other while spouting off my names.

Those names. Will you stop arguing with each other over what my name is? It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter because no matter how many times you declare it, it won't change whether you live as I would have you live or you don't. I don't care what you call me. I don't even care if you believe in me. I have known a number of atheists who have lived lives better than those of you who call to me every night.

Bear in mind the fact that the unicorn doesn't care if you believe in him any more than you care if he believes in you.

I am a little different in that if I believe in you I can offer you something. Still, I know you exist, and if I needed them to know I did, I would stop by. Many of those atheists are living better lives than the rest of you folks who pray to me in all of my names. They do so because they realize they are responsible for each other. If it takes a lack of belief in me to make you care for each other, or if belief in me means you just expect me to handle it, then I have something to tell you. It's very important: I don't exist.

I didn't create this world so that you could murder each other over items of clothing. I didn't create this world so that young children could compare notes on shootings that happened in their own houses. I didn't create you to abuse, torture and kill one another for your own personal gain. Those were all your ideas. Now you do what you need to do, but if you want me to return, if you want me to stop in and say, 'You're doing a good job, now let me help with some of the more complicated issues' then you have your work ahead of you. You have some cleaning up to do. Your house is a mess, and I am not walking in there.

You imagine a utopia where I return and walk amongst you and we all live in harmony. You have the wrong idea. You assume this means that one day I will clean house, fix everything up, and the trial will be over. There is no trial. This is the real thing. The "heaven" that you predict is not to be built by me. It is to be built by you. Build it, and I will come to you. In the mean time, if you want to trash every gift I gave you, then so be it. I will leave you to it. I will wait. I will watch. On occasion I will even interfere. I predict for the most part, however, what I will do is cry.

Lessons Unlearned

Here is the article I referenced below. This is also the article that inspired the artwork that went with it that is also now the tattoo I wear on my back:

Standing in the field, on the edge of the sea, she knows that she is alone. Except for the companion at her side, and the elements around her. These same elements that surround a million other people, each as certain that they are also alone.

She prepares once more for the dance, wondering if anyone will join her. It has been so long, that she wonders if she should just stop dancing altogether. She knows that she won’t, but even she is not immune to the effects of isolation.

The full moon rises and shines on her. It is her. Shining on herself and calling to the world once more. “I am here, and the dance is about to begin. Who will join me?”
The wind picks up around her, rustling the grass. It is as if the very air says, “We are alone again. Many watch, but none will come.”

Raising the bowl over her head, she stares up at the sky, at the moon reflecting her beauty. Flames stir and rise out of the vessel and arch to the sky. Her companion stirs and raises his head. Watching with interest, as he always does, as the flames reflect and dance across her face, highlighting the raven-tressed beauty that he has followed here countless times.
She looks down at the white wolf at her feet as he sits up to watch her. “Are you more loyal because you are here, friend?” She asked him. “Or more the fool because you follow so closely and will not dance with me?”

The wolf continued to stare as she returned her gaze to the sky. He didn’t know the answer. He hadn’t known it when they last met on a night like this, or the time before. The question was the same. The silence was the same.

On cue, the wind whipped up around them. He felt it ruffling his fur and watched the tall grass sway back and forth. He knew this was not a natural wind. Even if he had not known that she called it, he would have seen. The grass danced around her, as if to some unheard tune. It didn’t dance to a song unheard, though, it danced in anticipation of the song.
Her silver tunic whipped around her as well. At points, in such a frenzy that it seemed that it would tear right off of her body. Yet he knew it would not. The wind merely played with her, dancing with joy as the celebration was beginning.

The flames whipped and crackled. Reaching for the sky, they were prepared to consume the world. The first time, the wolf had been scared. Now he knew they would not. They also played. They teased and told her that they could destroy everything that she loved, yet they both knew that at least on this night, the flames would stay their hand.

The wolf could feel the excitement tugging at his bones. The waves joined in the chorus now, slapping against the earth in joyous anticipation of what was to come. The wolf, her companion, could not understand why none answered her call again this night. Many stood in solitude and stared, trying to get a glimpse inside a party to which they were invited, but would not come. He could not comprehend how any could stay away.

The fury of the elements reached a crescendo, and then began to calm. The wind now caressed her. The hem of her skirt swaying in the breeze, in time with the golden cord at her waist. He saw her toes caressing the bared earth at her feet, as the wind gently drifted across the breast that had escaped her tunic during its earlier exertions. She looked up as she tilted the bowl slightly. The water poured down over her body, as the flames framed her face and brought a glow to the pale features that defined beauty and grace.

This was the part that always bothered the wolf, and tonight was no exception. Nor was he surprised as she turned her gaze on him. He saw the flames reflecting off of her glistening countenance. He saw the triple moon on her forehead, and wondered why he hadn’t seen it earlier in the evening. He remembered thinking this last time.

“Are you jealous, my companion, that they pay their respects to me?” The wolf does not answer, but simply lowers his head. He knows what she will say next. “You have also been invited. You came, but you did not dance, yet still you are invited on this night. You need only step forward.”
Every cell in his body wants to do just that, but he doesn’t. He stands his ground. She laughs at him and places her hand on top of his head, lowering the bowl in her other arm.

“You know, now, what you know every time. Still I don’t understand you. You know me, and you loyally follow me, yet you will not dance. Should I rate you better because you come that far? Or should I rate you a fool because you won’t do any more?

“Out there, they offer their burden and their pain up to me, and expect me to take them. Yet I will not. I will share and nothing more. You want me to offer my burdens and pain up to you, and not share them. I will no more do this than the other.”

Her face grew dark and she stared down at him sternly. “You of all don’t cower under my darkest of gazes. Why don’t you dance?”

Knowing the point has come, the wolf fights against his own body as it turns and walks away, leaving her to finish her celebration alone. “Why do you come so close and then leave? You who understand what I want, when so few listen? Why do you abandon me now?”

He knows he has no answer to give her. He knows that with all of his desire, he can’t turn around. He wishes he knew why, and how he could fix it. He suspects she does. He knows she won’t share.

Her voice once more is a memory. “There is nothing without. Why don’t you come all the way in?”

Twenty eight days. Twenty eight to find the answer before he joins her again, and nothing changes. -- Steve

There you have it. A small glimpse into my life or something close to it.

A Mother's Love

You pray to me when you need help, and I grant it to you. You tell me that you love me and seek to give what I would have of you, and I believe you. Yet you take yourself too seriously.

You do not dance for me, for you fear looking foolish. You forget I have seen you in the shower. You will not sing to me, for your voice is not perfect. You forget that I hear you in your car. You do not offer me poetry and flowery speeches, dramas or entertainment, fearing your attempts would seem amateurish and ill-prepared. You forget that I witnessed your wedding proposal. I have seen the worst of you, and loved you still. Why would I scoff at your best?

Dance in the rain that I give you. That's what it is there for. You will dry.
Laugh with the wind that roars by you. You won't be laughing alone.
Sing to your babies in the evening. They are too young to know you're off key.
When you smile, don't check the shade of your teeth, or count how many are missing. Count the number of people who smile back.
If you plan something serious in my honor, know there will be mistakes. If those around you laugh, they have the right idea.

Bask in the sun, smile at the moon, and stop to smell the roses. The bills will still be there later. Remember when you tell me you love me to wait long enough for me to respond. Remember when you need help with your problems to ask. If my help is not apparent, it may not have been as needed as you thought. After all, if I do everything for you, what will you have to be proud of? How in turn will you make me proud?

Smile wide, laugh often, and if you are not singing, then listen. I will sing to you.

A Dream - A Lesson - A Life

I awoke to the sound of a baby screaming. I leapt up out of bed fearing what it could mean. She needed to be changed, she needed to be fed. These were the two likeliest possibilities, but my mind already raced with many more horrible scenarios, most of which were to implausible to take hold. It was then that she kicked me. Looking over in surprise, I just stared for a moment at the round belly that held within it my child, the one who had kicked me.

In the air I heard laughter. Not malicious or unfriendly. Honest, amused laughter. "No she hasn't been born yet. But it will be soon." The voice whispers on the breeze that floats through the window. "Come outside. It is time to talk."

I get up and throw on my robe, rolling a cigarette and stepping out onto the balcony. Even as I light it, the laughter comes again as the breeze dances around me. Again she is not mocking, she simply asked, "Why do you fear this so?"

This question forces me to laugh, but not with the same good humor. "What do I fear? Where to begin?"

I stare out at the parking lot and the thoughts come rolling out one on top of another. I don't bother speaking as these images flood out. All of the responsibilities, all of the teaching, all of the care that was necessary. I look up at the moon and shake my head.

"How could you let it come to pass that I be a parent. That I be responsible for the upbringing of a child. Does this make sense to you?"

"Of course it makes sense to me." The answer comes back. Less amused now, more motherly. "More importantly, I know what you fear most."

"What would that be?"

I can feel her smile, as if the air around her carries it. "You forget I was a mother long before you were born."

"Ahh, but you weren't a father." I argue.

Again she laughs, but she cuts it off abruptly, suddenly serious. "Lessons unlearned. That is what you called your story isn't it?" I just nodded. "You fear that if you can't join the dance, that you have no business molding someone else, trying to teach them to."

"I have hardly stood up as a shining example of how to do right with your life." I pointed out, annoyed again at her patronizing tone, as I too frequently have been in the past. "Lessons unlearned are lessons I can't pass on."

"You silly man." She said, the humor coming back into her voice. "You think I don't know that you haven't learned the important lessons yet? Why else would I send Emily to teach you?"