Blackie stood up and stretched. He walked over to the door and sat at the threshold. Did he bump the staff leaning against the wall? Did the Fairy Godmother catch it as it arced in the trajectory of its fall? Handing Cinderella the staff she said, “Here. This will help you focus. Continue drawing.”
She washed dishes while Cinderella lost herself in sketching. Cool evening air rushed in when she retrieved Blackie’s bowls. She washed and refilled Blackie’s water setting the bowl on the stone floor. Blackie walked over to the bowl and sniffed.
He sat looking intently at the Fairy Godmother with golden brown eyes. Laughing the Fairy Godmother rubbed his chest. She pulled out ‘doggie cookies’ and handed him the treat. He barked, joyfully.
Looking up, Cinderella said, “He inhaled those cookies.”
Blackie barked again. The Fairy Godmother held up two fingers and said, “Two more, just two more cookies.” Blackie finished the treats, dipping his head in the water bowl, drinking noisily. He walked over to Cinderella and set his dripping face in her lap.
Cinderella laughed and rubbed his ears.
The Fairy Godmother handed Cinderella the palest green wool shawl. Its soft texture made Cinderella sigh. This was a world away from living with her stepmother’s harsh rules filled with deprivations. Using her napkin to dab at her nose, her eyes were in danger of leaking again.
The Fairy Godmother said, “The shawl is yours to keep along with the clothes. When you wear it perhaps you’ll remember our laughter.
“Let me speak to you briefly about the elements required to build an apology. Uneducated people think saying the words ‘I’m sorry’ constitutes an apology.
“When it falls short of the requirements of a genuine apology they retreat into anger. I’m sure you’ve heard and maybe even said the words ‘I apologized. What more do you want?’
“What more do we want in an apology Cinderella?” Light was rolling off the Fairy Godmother in waves.
Cinderella looked up interrupting deepening the outline of the drawings on her staff. “Well,” she said, “an understanding of the hurt or the negative effect their behavior would be nice!”
Nodding, the Fairy Godmother said, “Good. Acknowledgement, accountability, empathy, is their more?”
Cinderella stopped drawing. She said, “I remember my mother once telling me sometimes saying sorry is not enough. We might need some kind of amends, a compensation for the problem that triggered a need for an apology.”
Looking back at her staff, rolling it between her palms, she said, “At a birthday party, I think I was six.”
Drifting into the past Cinderella had the far away look, lost in middle space, the location and containment of her family memories, she said, “I purposefully cut up a mean girl’s sweater.
“When we arrived home my mother explained to me, the mean girl’s family had just lost their home. The girl was mean because she had lost so much. The party was a reminder of all her family had lost. Mother explained it wouldn’t be enough to say I was sorry for ruining her sweater. I had to give her another sweater.”
Cinderella smiled at the memory.
“I replaced the sweater and included a letter apologizing. I told her I understood ruining her sweater was the loss of the sweater and also the pain of a vengeful act I designed to hurt her. I told her I was sorry for her family’s loss. I extended my friendship to her and asked for forgiveness.”
She sighed and stole a glance at the Fairy Godmother who nodded thoughtfully. “After my parent’s death this girl’s family offered me a home. But I had to stay. I had to protect what I could of my parent’s home.” Tears slipped down her checks.
The Fairy Godmother nodded, “Yes, I think you understand the ingredients of an apology.”
Wrapped in her shawl the Fairy Godmother opened the door and the three went out into the star filled night. She linked arms with Cinderella, “What are the elements of a miracle?”
Her head bowed Cinderella paused. She looked up. “Fairy Godmother, I mean in this in the nicest way, I really have no idea.”
Grinning, the Fairy Godmother said, “A miracle grows out of the way you utilize time. It develops or disappears within your right and wrong choices.”
Leaning over she gave Blackie part-pat-part-pounding along his ribs. Blackie leaned into the Fairy Godmother’s legs. She said, “A miracle is nourished by distilling your dreams into their essence, by releasing the superfluous or contaminating negativity and crafting behaviors that match the essence of your dreams. Creativity supplies miracles with momentum. Miracles seek the release of your ambitions into the world.”
Taking Cinderella’s hand she said, “You cannot demand a miracle. You can only prepare for a miracle. It comes to you on its own terms. Drawn to you like a bee to the pollen of a flower. If you manifest your destiny, you will live in the light of eternity.” She peered at Cinderella, “Do you understand?”
Stunned Cinderella was stumped. “Am I supposed to remember this? Will my life depend on it? Will other people’s happiness be at stake?” Eyes round with wonder Cinderella gazed at the Fairy Godmother and silently shook her head.
The Fairy Godmother’s features were deeply etched in starlight. She pursed her lips and murmured. “If you cannot live your destiny, not only will you be unfulfilled, life around you will falter.”
She stomped into the cabin. Cinderella sighed. Blackie moaned.
Chapter Nineteen
The Tibetan Mountain Dog
By the time Cinderella returned to the cottage she was not feeling well. She wondered if the Fairy Godmother’s deer fly medication had run its course. Muscle aches, down to the bone, returned along with a pounding headache. A swift longing for the Prince raced through her. She worried, “Who will I be at the conclusion of my initiation into the Four Directions?”
Inky darkness sharpened the perfume of night blooming flowers scenting the air and floating through the open window. The Fairy Godmother’s cottage lulled Cinderella toward sleep with a creak in the walls, the rustle of trees. Sensation floated below Cinderella’s awareness at the border of sleep. Escaping the confines of a body suffering with Deer Fly Fever was a gift. Cinderella soared in her dream body and relished her freedom.
Spontaneously, dreaming the dream awake, she followed the East’s trumpeting call. Riding a golden horse she crossed eons of time. Leaning into the silky mane, she rode through the primal landscapes, racing toward the beginning of life. With a staggering leap they were beyond the primordial. Beyond language, fueled with pure intent, emboldened by a dreamer’s inspiration, she tumbled through the soul of humanity until Cinderella engineered the original matrix.
As a field of alchemical power; she was a dragon soaring. Roaring freedom’s transformative fire she dove into a mountain. She was a Snow Leopard running through the forest. She was prayers floating on air.
Crashing back, her body on fire, as dawn cracked its brilliance, voices murmured. Tone and textures running shivers and chills across the unbreakable heat, she surrendered again into the living dream. The dense smoke of juniper branches had coalesced into baby dragons. Dragons morphed into Tibetan Mountain dogs. She was a brown jackrabbit chased across the plains by a coyote. She was the coyote. She was the sun scorching the earth. She was the dirt absorbing star light on a moonless night.
Coughing jarred her back. The Fairy Godmother’s house; thrashing her way out of sheets and blankets she rolled to her side. She heard the cadence of a drum. She was the drum. She was the mallet striking stretched hide. She was the gourd rattle filled with crystal chips. The roar of the void consumed her. Lost in the echo when Cinderella woke she was no longer in the Fairy Godmother’s cottage. Cinderella coughed. Her head hurt. She did not want to throw-up again.
Next to her sat an immense golden dog. His fur burnished across the spectrum of red and gold. Sitting next to her, he was sixty inches at the shoulder supporting a giant head, and a golden mane. He yawned. Incisor, carnassials were startling white. He s
niffed the air. A beautiful tail curved above his head an expression of his power.
Violet light wavered surrounding them. She tried again to clear her throat. It was so dry she could not swallow. A simple chalice, a milky substance lifted to her lips. A voice said, “Drink.”
Reflexively she drank the creamy elixir. Had she ever tasted anything this nourishing body and soul? A smooth, creamy; distillation of life it surged with the violet flame. Unable to hold up her head Cinderella fell into semi-consciousness. When the voice spoke she heard, “I’m the keeper of the violet ray. Together we’ll walk the Ceremony of Grace.”
Adrenalin shot through her. She sat up. “Where am I?”
The light wavered, intensity surged. She heard not with her ears, understanding only fragments. “Cave of symbols….Ceremony of grace…Follow.”
Leaning into the dog for strength, Cinderella was stung with the ethereal currents of life leaping off him. Surely he was supernatural. “Did I transcend the mortal world?” she asked.
In a supersonic rush they stood at the entrance to an elongated tunnel. Wondering if all the molecules that make up Cinderella had been re-arranged in transit she peered into the tunnel. “Endless.”
The Tibetan dog growled, “The passage of life.”
Juniper smoke burnt her eyes. Cinderella coughed again. She thought she heard the Fairy Godmother of the West. Her prayers fed Cinderella’s will. She fell backwards.
The massive animal snapped, “Listen! A system of living ethics….Travel the tunnel…Awaken to your totality.” He added, “I am your guide. Here is survival.”
A dirty red swirling vortex surrounded them. “Choose. Add to or take away health.”
Lost in the crimson flow, immersed in the primal force of life, Cinderella gathered courage. A gigantic welling of despair, often her companion these last years, disease, neglect; all popped like firecrackers. She spun the vortex faster and faster. Every color of light popping, she struggled to hold her intent. Igniting her will, focused on the task, until the vortex swirling around her was ruby red. Boneless she slid to the floor unconscious.
The Tibetan dog glowed. A bell rang. She and the Tibetan Mountain dog landed in a milky orange vortex. He offered her a gigantic paw. With his help, groaning, she climbed to her feet. Turning to her guide she said, “Who are you?”
Golden eyes flashed. He dipped his head. “I am your guardian.”
His light grew until she was surrounded by love. Lines of attachment, woven like a beautiful carpet of light, glowed. For an instant Cinderella could perceive every emotional interaction of her lifetime. The guardian’s power enveloped her. Tibetan bowls hummed. Juniper smoke trailed streaks; sizzling, purifying, until an orange sapphire glow filled the tunnel surroundings. Another bell rang. They ascended.
Cinderella’s life force dimmed. She tumbled to the ground lifeless. Doubt, grainy and dark; threw shards slicing the air. Criticisms, judgments, disdain and contempt crushed Cinderella with debris. Doom suffocating, a pressure so great she stopped breathing. A light extinguishing crisis reflected Cinderella’s years with her stepmother.
Violet light wavered. The chalice and milky elixir were raised to her lips. The golden dog growled its primal authority piercing the debris, “Cinderella! Release your failures. Let go of the shame trying to please those who can never be satisfied.”
His ruff of fur stood out electric and menacing, his rumble penetrating. “Cinderella,” he said, “Step out of subservience. Accept losses beyond your control.”
Gathering the dream in her belly she visualized pulsing violet light shattering the mass of unbearable grief. Harsh judgments and failures exploded. Her world tilted and rocked. From within the violet light pulsing, expanding; the guardian spoke, “Stand Cinderella. Take a stand.”
She staggered to her feet. Standing transformed her from a child into a woman. She embraced the personal authority essential in the act of standing. Wobbling, she teetered along the edges of strength, until she embraced the truth. She bowed to the indivisible truth of her undiluted personal potency.
Air tasted like burnt corn. She grabbed her head. A scream echoed, born from injustice, the betrayals and deceits suffered, she screamed until she was at one with the primal scream of power and silence descended. The tunnel filled with light. Her words twining with supernatural force, “I will never be a prisoner of doubt and subservience, fear or loss again!”
Yellow sapphire burst with an explosion that coursed through every cell, right down to her mitochondrial DNA, inscribing power and beneficence throughout her genetic transmissions. The guardian roared and she answered, “I claim the truth of my personal strengths and talents.”
Violet light wavered. “You’re taking too long Cinderella. Too much time separated from your mortal body. The fulfillment of the Ceremony of Grace awaits you. Hurry!”
She opened her eyes to every shade of green. “The green of growing things,” she whispered.
The Tibetan Mountain dog shifted uneasily, “What will you grow Cinderella? Loss? Grief? Injustice?”
Grief of a lifetime flooded her. She sank to her knees. Face in hands, bent over her forehead touched the ground. A classic supplication of grief, sobs shook her body. She was inconsolable. The juniper smoke drifted by. A musical voice, was it the Fairy Godmother of the East? Her call floating: “Cinderella? Cinderella? Where are you?”
She slammed into the memories. Riding horses with her mother. Visions of her father teaching her to tend farm animals. Cooking, conversations at the dining table, eating, laughing, playing, reading and music filled their days.
Her family was destroyed. She could not recreate it. She was the only living member of her family. She didn’t want to go on without them. Life was desolate. Grief haunted every effort. Her attempts to create beauty, to care for Blackie, the other animals, conversations; everything was tinged with her sorrow.
The golden dog shifted restlessly. “You would not listen when the Fairy Godmother of the East tried to tell you.” He said, “If you cannot give up grief, you cannot enter wholeheartedly into marriage with the Prince. Your parent’s dreams and wishes for you, your relationship with a husband and children; all these will be destroyed in the atmosphere of grief you create. Each effort tainted by heartache. Is this your choice?”
“No!” She screamed, “No! I’m shattered. I’ll never be able to put the pieces of myself back together!” Sobbing she bent her head to the floor.
The ground trembled. The air thundered. The golden dog barked, “Enough! Choose. Your past was fractured. Your future awaits your decision. You are needed. You are loved. Will you reject your future, the people who love and depend on you, for the pains of your past?”
Dark clouds clashed. The golden dog grew to huge proportions. Thunder and lightning hit the ground simultaneously, shards flew, ground split. “Decide now! Destroy or love! We are on the verge of extinction,” he whispered.
It was these simple words that pulled Cinderella back from the edges of annihilation. With every drop and essence of love she had collected in her life she released all which was not love. Hummingbirds, their blurring forms filled the air. Flowers bloomed. Bumble bees drinking the nectar. Cinderella thought she saw her parents standing at the edge of a meadow in the distance. They raised their hands in greeting. Or was it farewell? She saw her future unfold in fleeting glimpses too quick to understand.
Yes, she chose love. She would fight for the love her parents instilled in her. Leaves rustled the scent of growing. The sky cleared. Violet light shimmered…. “There’s more Cinderella. You’re late…..”
Brilliant nourishing green spun emerald. Were these the jewels of selfhood? They stood on a mountain and looked out one granite mountain after another folding into eternity against the forever blue sky. “Hurry, Cinderella. Don’t get caught in the spectacle. Can you discern right from wrong, good from bad? Can you walk the razor’s edge of selfhood? Can you initiate good judgment?”
Cinderella shouted
, “Yes! And my name is Charlotte!”
Laughter wavered in the violet light. “It’s as simple as knowing your name!” A horn blew and they were gone.
She was lost in a rainbow of color. Violet light streamed through her. “This is the Eye of Providence, the all seeing. Will you let Providence’s Eye guide you? Will you cultivate and respect Providence’s wisdom?”
Intuitively Cinderella put her hands together at her heart. “I make a sacred vow.”
The world spun. A white light containing all colors filled her six senses to the edges of consciousness and beyond extending into the unknowable. The crown of authority, the seal of the infinite, grounded in love. Charlotte felt the spinning cyclone settle at her head.
When she opened her eyes the Fairy Godmother of the East, West and North stood beside her bed. One said, “You really like drama!”
The Fairy Godmother of the North helped Cinderella sit-up. She added a pillow. The Fairy Godmother of the East handed her a cup of chamomile tea. The Fairy Godmother of the West said, “You encountered the violet flame of transmutation.”
Cinderella nodded. The Fairy Godmother of the North gazed into spirit, “You walked the Ceremony of Grace. You carry the colors of the rainbow free of distortion.”
The Fairy Godmother of the West squeezed her feet, “You are initiated into the dimensions of selfhood.”
The Fairy Godmother of the East added, “You walked the razor’s edge. You ignited personal power and love. You learned discernment when you encountered the Eye of Providence. You have taken up your personal authority. Sealed, crowned, with your commitments to love, beauty and beneficence. You have completed the Ceremony of Grace.”
Cinderella sipped her tea. “I have Fairy Godmothers. I know I’m at the beginning. I choose love without the stain of grief. I choose strengths without eroding doubt. I’ll grow to understand the razor’s edge. Sometimes doubt is necessary to cultivate wisdom. Sometimes sadness makes love sweeter. I will dance the razor’s edge where opposites meet and become one and teach my children to do the same.”
Fairy Godmothers of The Four Directions Page 14