thinking positively

which beast of burden calls my name?

Oh no, pretend I’m not here. Quick, the tree, hide behind it. Oh, it’s too late…..

“Ahem, ‘scuse me…. err, you over there behind the tree. I’d understand if you didn’t see me, if you choose not to take me with you, but the problem is that we’re the only two left and that’s very bad, it’s always very bad. Let me introduce myself….. My name is Eeyore”

through the gate

And into the box I pour all my “can’ts”, my “don’ts” and all my “never’s”
These things which hold me back.
I shed my summer skin, skin which has grown tight with wear, tight with the heat of the sun.

The winter of my muse, runs ice cold fingers on my skin,
refreshes and invigorates.
Feeds my fire,
puts words in my fingers
which tap lightly over the keyboard of my life.

I feel ready.
I feel inspired.
I feel calm.

I take on this journey with full commitment,
meet it head on
and as I pass through the gate,
I hear my old skin cheer and applaud.

Belenus the Donkey

Winged shoes racing through the air to White Owl, where I had been before,

I got there quick, but no time for sight seeing. Had to find my donkey.

There was a donkey for me as the kind Muse of the Donkeys, who goes by

the name of Fran among others, assured me. A donkey with long furry ears

and a dreamy kind of nature, that read books and wore glasses,

indicated it wanted to come along for an adventure.

“Call me Belenus” it said, “Like the Sun God”.

I laughed a bit.

“I hope you don’t mind me wearing glasses”,

said the newly christened “Belenus”.

“Of course not,” I said, “we will

be wanting to see things differently, — be wise eyed in fact. I have

glasses too in my bag of tricks.”

Belenus looked satisfied, and put down the

Classics he had been reading. There was a stack of them

leaned against an old oak.

“Leaving my books for a Grand Tour,” he said, “a grand adventure.

And this is right, you see. It’s how it’s meant to be.

And I hope you don’t mind if we fly

at times, me being a plodder and all.”

“Only too pleased you want to fly too,” I said.

“I have always wanted to fly, closer to the sun, the reason for my name,”

he said, “but not too close, mind, as I have just read about that poor

fellow, what’is name?”

I smiled because I remembered reading about the mythical figure, Icarus,

flying too close to the sun. This fact was pleasing, as I knew my donkey

had uncommon sense already. Just what I needed. Perfect.

“So you wish to fly,” I said, “above your daily cares, but not too

high? That suits me. We are off to find a treasure, and

be buccaneers. We have to find the dead man’s chest.

Come on, we don’t have lots of time to spare.”

Belenus and I had to fly, so we waved farewell to the

Muse of the Donkeys with her good wishes, and flew over land and

dale, looking for the shore of a mysterious lake where the

treasure was likely to be found. But I had to do some thinking along

the way, — this was not an easy task. Enchanteur always made things

sound easy at first, and then they always got tricky. But this was

her way, and it only made us more intrigued, liking a good mystery and

all, as both of us equally did. Belenus loved flying, and loved seeing

the sun at closer range. “Not too close,” he said, and I agreed.

“We might see the sunlight glinting on the lake,” he

said, looking down with his glasses on the end of his nose.

And sure enough, through a break in the trees we would

see the lake, and other things besides…

copyright Monika Roleff 2006.

donkeys and dragons

I hoped for a dragon to explore this new land
thought I saw a flash of wings, and high above
the gleam of fire………

We are travelling on donkeys
exploring intimately the curves of the country
its hidden valleys, its secret lakes.

The donkey to whom I am entrusted
stands like a statue in the twilight.
I name her Patience, fearing she will earn her name.

arriving at the door

It seems that to pass the door I have to leave something behind. I have left so much behind in my life………I have lost husband, friends, home, my children have grown and are making their own ways in the world. Many years ago, in getting married I lost my birth family who were unable to reconcile themselves to the man who was my husband for 29 years and who are still lost to me.

So what can I leave behind? What do I WANT to leave behind?

Thats easy. I have such a thin skin at the moment, which fears and therefore feels the pain of rejection as easily as the princess felt the pea under all those mattresses in the fairy tale. I want to shed that skin and grow a skin that can take all weathers, that will protect me and nurture me, in which I can feel safe.

So I will leave my thin skin at the door, along with its attendant neuroses and make my way into the new land to explore.

Becoming a Buccaneer

The call to become a Buccaneer and spend some time on a Pirate Ship has bought me to the shores of the lake where this James Coleman landscape is set. But first I have to find the Dead Man’s Chest if I want to clamber on board. Ah! Now I know why my map does not show the House of the Serpents and Blind Springs. le Enchanteur clearly knew that what I would need is a map showing the whereabouts of Dead Man’s Chest. Better not tell anyone I have it.

The Map

Per the Sibyl’s request, I am sharing The Map with you all. I am not a cartographer so there are many locations that may not be in the correct location……

Sweet Alice

Not having much time to get all the way down to White Owl Island (a fair distance according to my map of Lemuria) to buy a donkey, I was forced to find another purveyor of transportation. I happened upon a stable near the Hermitage. Big Mike, the stable owner, suggested this fine steed as a sure-footed and fine-spirited mount for the trek over the Serpentine Road (I noticed some muffled snickers coming from the stable hands). With a twinkle in his eye, Big Mike told me her name is Sweet Alice which evoked outright chortles and guffaws from the stable hands. Since the price was right and I was in a hurry, I struck a deal. Now, being a city-slicker, I will need some help in understanding Sweet Alice– um, for example, where does the ignition key go?

Photo-montage: Lori Gloyd (c) 2005, modified 2006.

Maybe — a donkey

It appears we should acquire a donkey,
and out of respect for Fran, I might –
but I had planned to walk the trail,
with naught much more than
Staff and Pouch and Scroll.

I don’t know if I can hear the flowers pray,
or teach the meadow lark to sing,
if I am chatting with a donkey,
no matter how brave or charming.

Perchance you have a hapless one
that otherwise might be left behind –
a bit lame perhaps,
or sloppy in flight or speaks with a lisp …
won’t matter – I need not ride,
nor require answers
to my running dialogue with life …

if you’ve a donkey
that needs a friend –
then I’ll tarry a bit by the meadow,
where that silly stream
keeps trying to run up hill …

Definitely my pessimism. I know it affects me, and I know it affects those around me. It seems that if I always think the worst can happen, then when better than the worst happens, it’s a wonderful joy for me. But it’s a hard way to live, and I’d surely like to have joy in my life without having to trick it into being there. So- thud! there it goes into the Surrender box. I only hope I can figure out a way to survive without it.