Fairy Godmothers of The Four Directions

by Jennifer Morse

  The Fairy Godmother sat behind her, feet dangling in the water. She combed Cinderella’s hair with expert hands. She explained, “The land told me the Chimera tracked you.”

  Raking through a snarl, the Fairy Godmother viciously tugged.

  “Ow!” Cinderella protested.

  Ignoring Cinderella, the Fairy Godmother continued, “The Chimera’s resonance is discordant. It creates fissures in the atmosphere.” Using Cinderella’s chain as a headband she wound it in place. “Disruptions eventually will cause tornados and even earthquakes. You are a juicy morsel to the Chimera.” She sighed, “We sent Blackie to guide you out of the North.”

  “Is the Chimera dangerous?”

  “Very!”

  “Life threatening dangerous?” Cinderella started to rise. The Fairy Godmother pushed on both shoulders and she sank back into the steaming water. “How could this happen?” she screamed.

  The Fairy Godmother separated Cinderella’s dark brown hair into portions and began braiding. “Everything in life is the same substance vibrating at different rates, frequencies. Hmm… Oscillations. You are shedding detrimental frequencies and claiming harmonious resonances. You vibrate at a different oscillation than when you began your journey through the Four Directions. This is attractive to the Chimera.”

  “Isn’t that what I was supposed to do?” Cinderella cried out.

  The Fairy Godmother rinsed her hands in the water. “Learning to combine elements synergistically creates another kind of beauty. This is the basic teaching of the East. Do you understand?”

  Cinderella patted the top of the water at a staccato tempo. The steaming pool, just a moment ago a sanctuary, now felt dangerous. Shouldn’t her encounters with a Fairy Godmother be a reprieve? “Can’t you protect me from Chimeras?”

  With the serenity, the supreme stillness, of breaking dawn the Fairy Godmother said, “We Fairy Godmothers use the elements of life for creating beauty. To help people realize a version of their best-possible-self.”

  Cinderella pushed a stray hair off her face. She said, “Help me understand; what are the elements of beauty? How will they help me defeat a Chimera?”

  “Cinderella your questions have many parts. For example: Primordial beauty refers to the origins of time or origin of life. It references eternity and a comprehensive state contained within time but not bound by time.”

  Shaking her head Cinderella said, “I’m confused. What does beauty mean to Fairy Godmothers?”

  “I’ve already told you,” the Fairy Godmother snapped. “Beauty is your ability to create well-being for yourself and others across diversity as wide as your imagination. One face of beauty is your potential. To realize a version of your best-possible-self you practice your unique gifts and develop your strengths.”

  “Hmmm…When I stayed at the castle the Prince constantly talked about ‘engineering our best-possible-self.”’ Cinderella closed her eyes overwhelmed. She climbed out of the pool and sat.

  The Fairy Godmother sat next to her crossing her legs. Twining her silver streaked hair she set the knot at the top of her head with a single pin.

  Watching, Cinderella caught her breath. The Fairy Godmother wore a simple kimono dress, gold like the dawn of a new day, her delicate features lit from within. She was like watching…. sunlight.

  Waiting for Cinderella’s full attention before proceeding, the Fairy Godmother said, “In the West you awakened your dream body. In the North you accepted your tasks and your soul and spirit were reunited.” She tapped Cinderella’s knee, “In the East you will learn the synergistic power of the elements to create beauty.”

  Cinderella sighed. Crossing her arms, she closed her eyes and shut out the moment. The Fairy Godmother picked up a stick and rapped her on the head.

  Cinderella slipped off the ledge and came up coughing. “Ouch!” Glaring at the Fairy Godmother she flung herself out of the pool.

  Blackie stood up. He walked to Cinderella’s side and sniffed the air. Satisfied he stretched; forelegs long and bottom up, before he settled to cross his paws. He panted wearing what Cinderella thought of as ‘Blackie’s smile.’

  She frowned at him.

  He made a small noise sounding like “he, hee, he.”

  She frowned again.

  The Fairy Godmother’s face was stern. She stood up. “Do you think you have the luxury of ignoring your problems?” Her words sizzled. “You’ll meet your destiny in the East. You’ll learn destiny is a geography filled with right and wrong choices. The destiny you manifest is one of many possibilities. Will you choose well Cinderella?”

  Cinderella felt panic twisting her gut making it difficult to breathe or speak. She longed to run away, to be free of the Four Directions.

  Could anyone lead a life disconnected from the Four Directions? Were they all, knowingly or unknowingly a product of the cardinal points on the wheel of substantive reality? Was it possible to lead a simple life obscured by ignorance?

  The Fairy Godmother’s gaze turned inward. She spoke softly, “Where does a miracle begin?”

  Cinderella was drying off. Her face flushed. Even the tips of her ears were hot. Grumbling she sat on the boulder at the edge of the pool, “I have no idea where a miracle begins. Isn’t the nature of miracles unknowable?”

  The Fairy Godmother stood up. Her features were remote. A fizzle of electricity seared the air between them. “And beauty? Do you understand the anatomy of beauty?” She said, “Get dressed. My cabin is behind the boulders in the East. Follow the trail. Blackie knows the way.”

  Blackie stood at the sound of his name. Cinderella turned away. Her shoulders slumped. Teeth gritted. She put her pounding head in her hands. “Why do I continually argue with the Fairy Godmothers?”

  She dressed in the pale yellow, linen dress given to her by the Fairy Godmother. Despite her headache she felt renewed. She relocated her chain belt. She’d come to feel incomplete without the metal either in her hand or around her waist even around her head. The Fairy Godmother had left moccasins lined with wool. They felt like slippers. The ache in her tired feet unraveled.

  She shouldered her pack and staff, setting off after Blackie. The path was wide enough for several carts. The terrain was flat. Large boulders were the only obstacles to avoid. Inspired Cinderella pulled out her pencil. Holding her staff in front of her, with one eye on the trail and the other at her staff, she drew a picture of Moon woman. Then adding a drum depicting her symbols representing her realm of dreaming. She scratched the mountains of the north. She outlined the whoosh of life-force colliding, her soul and spirit reuniting. She sketched the wood burl containing the twists and torques mirroring the troll.

  Absorbed in drawing she was startled when Blackie stopped. They were in a clearing. A stone cottage, lilac bushes at each window, untrimmed, they partially obscured the view. There were vines of jasmine twining up the posts delineating the four corners of the porch. Wild Star-Gazer lilies lined the walkway of stones interspersed with moss. To Cinderella the house seemed only part in the physical world.

  Primordial, untamable yet delicate, the house existed outside time. Shimmering trees rustled in the late afternoon breeze. The angle of the sun casting shadows of gold. She drew the Fairy Godmother’s cottage curling around her staff.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Qualities of the East

  “How do I draw a prayer?” Shaking her head, looking up she found the Fairy Godmother standing on the porch extending a cup of tea. They sat in rocking chairs sipping a golden chamomile tea.

  Blackie barked happily and immersed himself in a bowl of chicken and rice. As was his habit, midway through his meal he made a circle of the area. He came over to Cinderella and put his head in her lap. She rubbed his ears. He retreated to the bottom of the porch to finish eating and began lapping water.

  Quiet settled into Cinderella. The trauma of swarming deer flies was behind them. Her shoulders dropped. Her neck lengthened. Her breathing deepened. Her tired eyes closed intentio
nally resting for a moment of grace.

  She said a prayer for Blackie. Her closest companion, Blackie walked her through every difficult moment, living with a wicked stepmother. Lost, Blackie brought the Fairy Godmother to her and saved her from the Chimera. She was grateful beyond words and poured those feelings into her prayer.

  “Your destiny calls out to you Cinderella.” The Fairy Godmother spoke quietly, “These are not just your dreams or the evolution of your dreams pulled into substance.”

  She reached over and patted Cinderella’s knee. “Everyone’s destiny is a specific location oriented in time and space, as well as a mystical location, where right or wrong decisions are made. To live your destiny you’ll draw on the qualities of the East.”

  The rocking chair squeaked. Opening her eyes Cinderella spotted an orange and gold cat peaking through the window eyeing Blackie, now asleep at Cinderella’s feet. The Fairy Godmother’s bowl of water and the bowl of chicken and rice were empty. Blackie rolled onto his back. His four feet swayed in the air. Cinderella smiled, a perfect moment. She was sitting with a Fairy Godmother, Blackie sleeping at her feet, sipping chamomile tea.

  Would she ever learn to relax like Blackie? What had the Fairy Godmother said about destiny? What was her destiny? To marry her childhood sweetheart?

  She was beginning to understand in order to create a successful life with him she had to embody the qualities of a Princess and eventually Queen. Cinderella looked over her tea cup to find the Fairy Godmother watching her.

  Cinderella said, “I’m an ordinary girl. I have to catch-up. I’m behind. All I would have learned about ordinary life if my parents had lived.”

  ‘What did your stepmother teach you about life?”

  “There are dangerous people. It’s important to recognize who people are beyond the surface. There are people to only risk loving at a distance. If you fall in love with a dysfunctional person you live in their messes. I learned this from watching my parents love my stepmother.”

  Setting her teacup down crossing her arms she wrapped up her tummy. “Meanwhile I didn’t learn ordinary things like social etiquette. What exactly are the responsibilities of a Princess?”

  Tapping a foot staccato tempo on the stone porch she paused, “Yes, my parents would have taught me how to fulfill adult responsibilities. They might have taught me what to avoid. What do you embrace? I have a seven year gap of normal living and normal learning to catch up on.” Her breath caught on a sob, “I don’t think I can catch-up.”

  Waving her arms expansively she added, “Is this Four Directions training on how to be a Princess?”

  The Fairy Godmother nodded.

  Exasperated Cinderella confessed, “I’ve heard my stepmother talking in her sleep. She ruminates on her failures. Conversations, choices, from years ago haunt her. Sometimes she wishes for a different life but she is locked into these behaviors. No one taught her the dangers and seductions of bad judgment. I don’t want those regrets.”

  The Fairy Godmother pulled a mirror out of her pocket. She reflected Cinderella’s features, “Cinderella what would it take for you to forgive your stepmother?”

  Cinderella popped to her feet. “Forgive her? Are you crazy?”

  The Fairy Godmother nodded, “When you can form an apology, a genuine apology. An apology so powerful it would compel you to forgive your stepmother then you’ll know how to be a Princess. It’s as crazy and simple as apology and forgiveness.”

  “No,” Cinderella shouted. “No! I’ll learn more about dreaming. I’ll buff-up on strength and wisdom. What more is there?”

  The Fairy Godmother reached out her hand. “May I read your staff?”

  Cinderella extended what was now a treasure. When it touched the Fairy Godmother’s palm a fierce light emanated, shaking the stick, encasing it in lightning. When it was over Cinderella rubbed salty eyes while the Fairy Godmother studied the drawings. Does my staff carry a golden hue?

  Handing Cinderella the staff she said, “Draw vines of flowers to connect your images. Don’t forget to include the sun and moon. Add the stars. Your staff is a living prayer. Draw while we sit.”

  Cinderella was grateful for the respite. She lost herself in vines and flowers. Laughing softly the Fairy Godmother said, “While your hands are busy, your mind is open. I will try and explain the qualities of the East.”

  A breeze rustled trees. Freesia’s bordering the cottage foundation released their fragrance. Cinderella’s skin tingled. Blackie sighed and rolled onto his side. His feet and legs twitched. Cinderella smiled. “He’s chasing rabbits in his sleep.”

  The Fairy Godmother returned her smile but continued the lesson. “The East is the domain of new beginnings. As you pointed out, beginnings like the dawn. This is a qualitative difference from the beginnings of the West which are an outcome of transformation, death and rebirth. In the North are the beginnings of new challenges and increased endurance to meet the challenges.

  “The East represents beginnings untainted by the past. A fresh start, like a fresh sheet of paper you draw on is free from the shadows of drawings in the past. As an artist you understand the beginnings of a blank canvas.”

  The Fairy Godmother watched Cinderella intently.

  Cinderella felt words by-passing her mind. She felt them entering her belly. What was this mystical phenomenon? How could words possible deliver this strange effect? They entered her belly, nourishing her and stabilizing her. Power enhancing a synergistic fusing enlivened within the miles of sensors lining her gut.

  The sun was setting long into the evening and the clearing was filled with hazy golden light and the pale green leaves shaped like coins. Their rustle was the soothing chatter of friends. Cinderella yawned. The Fairy Godmother laughed. “I have one more thing for you to consider before I feed you.”

  Cinderella nodded. Surprisingly she did not feel the least bit hungry. This strange conversation entering through her belly was filling. She looked at the Fairy Godmother with a dazed expression.

  Reaching over the Fairy Godmother patted Cinderella’s knee. Such a simple gesture, but for Cinderella who had spent the last seven years without a kind word, brought tears to her eyes. Tears pouring down her face, “I’m not crying! My eyes are leaking!”

  The Fairy Godmother laughed. The frozen musculature of seven years of pain and sorrow cracked and Cinderella grinned. Soon they were laughing as if they’d forgotten why. When they ran out of laughter, a quiet filled to overflowing with humor, broke the silence. One or the other would giggle and they’d be laughing again. Cinderella was holding her ribs, aching, from their marathon of laughter.

  Wiping her eyes with a handkerchief the Fairy Godmother said, “I’ve made spaghetti and meatballs. The Prince told me this is a favorite dinner.”

  “Yes,” Cinderella paused, “Yes, it was my favorite dinner; when we were seven years old!”

  She giggled. The Fairy Godmother giggled. And they were laughing again! Somewhere in the middle of their merriment they began to feel like old friends. They went into the cottage to make up a salad of vegetables picked from the Fairy Godmother’s garden.

  Cinderella set the table. Wood, dark and scared, was surrounded by four upholstered chairs. Thick, canvas material was painted with spring’s flowers. Looking over her shoulder she asked, “Did you paint these flowers?”

  Rinsing her hands at the sink the Fairy Godmother nodded, “Yes. I painted them many years ago. I like them as much faded as when they were bright and saturated with color.”

  Pristine white china, sterling silver flatware, cloth napkins, and silver salt and pepper shakers; Cinderella found all the items in the hutch along the wall. Once food was in front of her she was ravenous, eating two helpings of spaghetti and meatballs.

  While Cinderella cleared the table the Fairy Godmother leaned back in her chair and asked, “What is the purpose of an apology Cinderella?”

  Dropping into her chair, reaching for one last hot roll Cinderella paused, her hand i
n mid air, “Is this a trick question?” She put her head on her arms resting on the table and closed her eyes.

  The tapping of the Fairy Godmother’s silverware signaled her impatience. Resting her hand on Cinderella’s forearm she said, “Apology’s are an essential tool in a marriage.”

  She let the idea hang in the air.

  Cinderella raised her head, risking looking the Fairy Godmother in the eyes. She noticed the flecks of gold in the almond eyes. “Yeessss,” she blew the hair off of her face. “Are we talking about forgiveness again? Because I’ll tell you right now there is nothing in the world that will make me forgive my stepmother. Nothing. Ever.”

  Now the two helpings of noodles felt like a boulder in her gut.

  Standing the Fairy Godmother pushed aside the strands of hair in Cinderella’s eyes. She gently tucked the hair behind her ear. “Let’s just stay with apologies required in a marriage. An apology is a powerful way to reconcile and restore trust.” She smiled, looking directly at Cinderella, and nodding. “Alchemy is built into successful apologies Cinderella. When we speak of apologies we are also talking about alchemy.”

  Bewildered Cinderella looked at the Fairy Godmother and shook her head. “Let me guess, apologies are also related to a miracle.”

  Brushing the crumbs into a pile and sweeping them into her hand cupped beneath the table top the Fairy Godmother nodded. “Yes,” she said, “The successful apology is, in its way, a miracle. You’re a good student Cinderella, remembering our earlier discussion.”

  The Fairy Godmother walked, wooden clogs bumping against limestone floors, she returned with a plate of chocolate chip cookies setting them on the table. “Let’s sweeten a conversation distasteful to you.”

  Cinderella groaned but reached for a cookie. Sighing, she was more content than she had been since her tearful separation with the Prince. Yet she hungered to be in his presence in a way that no food could replace.

  The Fairy Godmother leaned her elbows on the table and smiled. Light, layers of light, buoyant, jubilant light surrounded her. Cinderella felt she was falling into the translucence. Was this a characteristic of the East?