For the first time she looked directly in each Fairy Godmother’s eyes, “Thank you Fairy Godmothers. I don’t know how I ended up where I did, but…”
“It’s simple Charlotte. You volitionally entered the matrix of life. In the Ceremony of Grace you ascended the ladder we all climb. The demands of mortality; survival, attachment, personal power, love and discernment is the ladder you climbed. Now your authentic self dances the razor’s edge free of pollution and distortions. You completed your journey in the East. You are free to love the Prince cleanly. Did you bring back the chant?”
Three Fairy Godmothers stepped into the Eye of Providence. Violet light wavered. The seal of authority shone in a circle of light around the crown of each head. Cinderella chanted the Ceremony of Grace: Bless me in the South that I will live within trust and innocence to know well-being of the body, mind and spirit. Bless me in the West that I live the Sacred Dream awake and know perfection. Bless me in the North that I will live strength and wisdom filled with Living Spirit. Bless me in the East that I will fulfill new beginnings dancing the razors edge where opposites meet and are At One.
Chapter Twenty
The Fairy Godmother of the South
Cinderella stood at the edge of the path leading into the Fairy Godmother’s estate. The crunch of decomposed granite squeaked under her boots. Sage scruffy yet fragrant drifted on the early summer air. Yellow flowers she didn’t recognize, wilted on long stems, still attracted butterflies in the heat of the day.
A soft breeze floated. The warmth of the sun on her skin, she walked, feeling the strength, the power of summer alive beneath her feet. She shifted the weight of her back pack. She carried the treasures collected on her journey of the Four Directions. Her dreaming shawl, midnight blue its warmth was a cocoon. The canvas container of cookies she’d shared with Blackie and the troll.
The Fairy Godmother of the North gave her a walking stick filled with powers Cinderella had no idea how to use. On the evening they spent together in her cottage with the blue door she gave Cinderella a haircut. The years of childhood length cut away Cinderella could now be identified in the world as an adult.
The Fairy Godmother of the East gave Cinderella her linen dress and pale green shawl. “A shawl,” the Fairy Godmother explained, “is a symbol of shelter and kinship.”
She said, “Throughout time shawls have provided warmth, a shield to the elements. Shawls can be a veil to shut out the ordinary world and deepen into prayer.”
Her shawl comforted Cinderella. It was a barrier against an unfriendly world. Wearing it she felt protected. More importantly Cinderella walked the Ceremony of Grace while staying with the Fairy Godmother. A synthesis of elements including the Violet Flame of Transmutation and the elixir of life, a journey she couldn’t put words to yet, Cinderella was free of the pains of the past. She could marry the Prince without the stain of grief she’d carried for so long.
An anonymous gift she’d found at the bottom of her pack, was a thinly braided white gold rope. She suspected it was a gift from the Prince. Ah, her Prince. How could she explain how she felt in his company? “Weak in the knees; yet stronger.”
“I feel like a better person around him. What impresses me most is his strength and confidence.” Cinderella felt her heart speed-up just thinking about their future. She was on a journey to learn the skills required to match his skills, “A journey, where nothing is as it seems.”
The path to the house of the Fairy Godmother was longer than she thought. “Yes. I’m certain the Prince added this mystical tool to my pack.” The chain had a wicked snap unleashed in the air. She’d used it thrown over a sturdy branch to swing across the river. From a distance it looked insubstantial, delicate even. Wearing the glittering chain rope, wrapped around her waist as a belt, everyday it seemed more sentient. As if it was attuning specifically to her. A magical tool with its own powers, the belt was awakening just as she was awakening to her strengths. She had only begun to understand its uses.
It could lash out in her defense. It could fasten, join together; items, body parts. She had a vivid memory of the Prince tying her stepmother’s hands behind her back. The binding of her hands had visibly drained the fight out of her stepmother. Cinderella shivered.
The strap of her pack digging into her shoulder, she was ready for the long day of walking to be over. These few more steps would bring her to the wooden door encased by the adobe wall. She could glimpse parts of the house beyond the wall surrounding the hacienda. “I count three chimneys. The Fairy Godmother’s house must be enormous.”
She was talking to Blackie but he trotted behind her, deeply immersed, investigating the smells of the South. Cinderella had hoped by now, having met three of the four Fairy Godmothers, she would feel calm, self-possessed. She was uncertain of South’s requirements and her ability to succeed. “I doubt I’ll ever feel comfortable in the presence of these powerful women.”
Sometimes achingly compassionate and other times pinching or criticizing it was impossible to understand Fairy Godmothers. Her palms were sweaty. There was a familiar tightening in her chest. Her heart rate accelerated from its normal thump to skittering with anxiety. She was stepping into the field of energy known as the South and found it heavy with the weight of long summer days. The sky gathered clouds building in the afternoon heat.
Her yellow dress stuck to her like glue. She walked with the staff looped in the back pack across her shoulders. A tremor ran through the wood. Engraved with symbols, they reflected the purity of her walk through power. Something happened when she picked out her staff and when the Fairy Godmother of the East read the symbols Cinderella had drawn and etched. A blast of power, the stick flashing incandescent gold, “My staff feels heavier, invested with light, yet lighter to carry.”
A kind of awe filled her when she thought about it.
“What lays ahead of me now?” Gravel crunched beneath her boots. “Am I transformed into a Fairy Godmother?” A giggle escaped followed by a solemn frown. “The Prince said something about finding the Center. What did he mean?”
Her journey through the Four Directions was undertaken to become a better wife, a better partner and someday a better mother to a future Prince or Princess. Dreaming, accepting the challenges of the North, encountering the Ceremony of Grace, she’d been forced to come to terms with the past to release or resolve. “But how will studying the Four Directions help me create well-being?”
Cinderella couldn’t imagine ever being that powerful. Instead she felt shaky, confused. She was trying desperately to catch-up on what her parents might have taught her, had they lived. Before the first Fairy Godmother she’d barely had the strength to envision a life with the Prince. Now she couldn’t imagine a future without him. “Yes, he is handsome,” she announced to life surrounding her.
She walked past a gnarly juniper and the occasional Pinon tree on the edge of the walkway. The Fairy Godmother’s home was surrounded by an adobe white wall. Stepping onto the clay tile leading to the gate flanked by the green trunked Palo Verde trees shading the path. Now she was close enough to see the wood grain on the door of the hacienda gate. A sturdy bell hung in a built-in alcove next to the wooden door. She heard the gurgle of a fountain.
Hesitating, gathering courage to face this new beginning, she pulled on the rope. The bell clanged. She heard footsteps of a light walk, tap, tap, tap on the on tile. The wooden door swung open.
Under Cinderella’s scrutiny the Fairy Godmother stood quietly, her stillness a vivid contrast to her kinetic energy. She had wide hands meant for the potter’s wheel. Her round face held the joys of fun and play. Her greeting was as bright and warm as the summer day. Tugging Cinderella’s back pack off the Fairy Godmother pushed her into the courtyard.
Shy Cinderella was at a loss for words. She stammered, “Hello. My name is Cinder…. Charlotte. It’s nice to meet you.”
She’d gathered her courage to say ‘the name,’ her name; Charlotte. She defiantly raised her face
to meet the Fairy Godmother’s eyes.
Sunlight reflected the shiny black of the Fairy Godmother’s hair. Cinderella had no problem visioning her digging and pulling weeds in the garden. Her eyes were brown and laughing. Yet the Fairy Godmother wasn’t simply artistic or earthy, she was also sophisticated. Her colorful dress was impeccably cut.
She was laughing at Cinderella standing in front of her shuffling her feet. She reached out, grabbed Cinderella’s arm and pulled her toward a table under the shade of a mammoth oak tree.
Pushing Cinderella toward a chair she said, “Come on. You’re late for tea. I’ve set us up here under my favorite tree.”
The tree was enormous. Cinderella gasped, “Its trunk is bigger than the two of us put together.”
Roots, thick as tree trunks, mirrored branches. In between the roots the ‘swirly’ wrought iron table stood with matching chairs.
Cinderella went to the tree and made her introductions. Blackie who had trailed behind her was now barking at the wooden gate. The Fairy Godmother waved at Cinderella, “get acquainted. I’ll let Blackie in.”
Cinderella dipped her forehead and rested it on the tree trunk. She felt like crying. An oak leaf drifted down landed on her shoulder. She took it as an invitation and swung up the nearest branch. She sat in the curve of the trunk and branch. From here she could see bowls of water and food the Fairy Godmother set out for Blackie.
When she saw Cinderella the Fairy Godmother laughed. Blackie barked, insistently. He seemed to be saying, “Get down. Get down.”
Cinderella slid off the branch and landed in the soft dirt. Blackie was lapping water greedily. It had been a long walk. Panting he settled on the cool tile. Before long he closed his eyes with a contented sigh.
The sweetness of honeysuckle caught Cinderella’s attention. She turned to find large ceramic pots glazed ocean blue spilling over with honeysuckle vines held up with wrought iron lattice. Closing her eyes, with a sigh matching Blackie’s, she said, “Wonderful.”
The Fairy Godmother poured tea over ice into large glasses tinted green. Cinderella sat up with a start. “Wait! I have cookies! The Fairy Godmother of the West gave me…”
“Mexican Wedding cookies,” the Fairy Godmother chimed in. She clapped her hands, “My favorite. I taught her how to bake them!”
Cinderella noticed an extra plate and arranged the cookies. Canvas bag mysteriously filled Cinderella couldn’t help but wonder. ‘Am I the butt of a joke?’
Or was the canvas bag really generating cookies? Picking up a cookie and examining it she huffed. A cloud of powdered sugar coated her face. The Fairy Godmother laughed. Cinderella laughed too. Biting into the cookie it melted. Sugar, butter, flour and bits of walnuts filled her mouth. “Ummm..”
The Fairy Godmother laughed again. Picking up her own cookie asking, “What do you know of the South, Charlotte?”
Cinderella swallowed her cookie and sipped cold tea. She said, “Fairy Godmother, you have a beautiful home.”
Gazing at Cinderella, eye to eye, this woman of the South said, “Thank you.” Sitting up straight, she asked, “What does my home tell you about me and the South?”
A curtain went down over Cinderella’s thoughts. She could only access chaos born of confusion. She felt young. She had a sudden memory of the times in childhood when her mother had given her directions and Cinderella could not translate them into behaviors and corresponding action.
She said, “I’m sorry Fairy Godmother.” She swallowed, “It’s childish but I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“Good.” The Fairy Godmother laughed and clapped her hands. “What do your feelings tell you about the South?”
Was this turning into a game? “I feel young. Is the feeling part of the South?”
Clapping her hands the Fairy Godmother said, “Very good. Yes, the South is the home of the child. I call it the ‘Land of Giants.”’ She leaned forward, “Do you know what’s required in order to build a strong spiritual life?”
Cinderella was becoming more confused. She made a guess, “Meditation? Prayer?”
“What do you bring to prayer?”
When Cinderella shook her head the Fairy Godmother said, “Innocence, Cinderella. We are born wild and innocent. This connection lives within us always in the land of the child.” Her eyes twinkled.
Afternoon shadows deepened as the Fairy Godmother continued. “The South is the home of the material world. My home is a tangible representation.” Waving an arm extended toward the house, she said, “Its design and grace are the tools of the South.” Picking up the chilled glass of tea, ice cubes tinkling, she paused, sipping tea. Putting down her glass she added, “The answer to my earlier question? A strong spiritual life is built on a material foundation in the physical world.”
Cinderella’s eyes grew heavy. Twilight crept into the courtyard. Her head nodding, she slumped in her chair. All she had learned, the long walk to the Fairy Godmother’s hacienda. She caught a glimpse of the Prince in a fragment of dream, but he wore the unfamiliar face. She jerked awake. A noxious odor made her gag.
In the approaching twilight the Fairy Godmother stood. Suddenly Cinderella realized she was weak with fatigue. Her legs shook when she stood. The Fairy Godmother said, “I’ll show you to your room. Tonight I’ll send up a tray of food. The Prince tells me you like rice and bean burritos with salsa and avocado, yes?”
Cinderella giggled. “Yes. During Bridge tournaments the Prince and I would steal food from trays in the kitchen and take them to the attic to eat on stormy nights.” Her heart felt happy and light. She said, “He remembered!”
The Fairy Godmother nodded and smiled. It was then Cinderella noticed the diamonds sparking at her ears. Thin bracelets studded with gems created a delicate music as the Fairy Godmother walked. Now they were moving Cinderella saw the colorful dress was of a fine textured fabric, woven with threads summer green, shimmering as the Fairy Godmother moved.
Chapter Twenty-One
The Tools of the South
Inside Cinderella saw the Fairy Godmother’s house in a flash of polished wood, creamy walls, high ceilings coffered with wooden beams, and wrought iron stair rails. Dark wood floors yielded to her tired feet. To the left she saw a living room. A circular table held a flower arrangement of multi-colored, long stemmed roses two feel high, spilling over a crystal vase. At the far end of the room Cinderella saw a glassy reflection in floor to ceiling windows. In daylight she imagined they were over looking the garden. Tufted moss-green velvet chairs circled a coffee table. “A perfect spot for coffee,” she said. Everywhere Cinderella’s eye fell was quiet elegance.
The fireplace was tall enough for Cinderella to stand in it. A beige sofa sat in front of the fireplace. Behind the sofa was a heavy credenza littered with books. Deep wing back chairs were placed at right angles to the sofa. Was she imagining? Could she feel the resonance of late night conversations that had taken place in the living room?
To the right of the foyer was a shiny, regency dining table. In a flash she saw a sideboard and two sparkling chandeliers hovered over the massive table. It stood on a cream colored rug extending into the four corners. Turning to the Fairy Godmother she said, “You are a courageous woman setting up a dining room with a cream colored rug!”
The Fairy Godmother’s answering laugh was rich and melodious. “I enjoy my pleasures. Comfort is a lesson of the South. When you enjoy the comforts of the physical world you avoid becoming consumed by them. An important lesson for a Princess.”
Cinderella noticed the upholstered rounded back chairs were designed for long dinners filled with conversation. “I can feel laughter, arguments, and loud opinions!” She wanted to take in, savor, the beauty of the house but she was so tired it was a blur.
When the Fairy Godmother opened the door to her room she sighed. The room was spacious covered with a thick carpet. The walls were primrose yellow. A delicately flowered silk bedspread accompanied rough-hewn four poster bed. On the bedsid
e table were round cut crystal bowls holding gardenias. The Fairy Godmother said, “I hope you’ll be comfortable here.”
Cinderella sighed, her appreciation. She opened French doors onto a small patio over looking the garden. Air sweet with the bouquet of summer drifted into the room.
She clapped her hands delighted when she found a deep soaking tub. Rose petals floated on the steamy surface. The Fairy Godmother said, “I thought you’d enjoy a good soak.”
A hand painted dresser next to the tub held towels and Cinderella couldn’t believe it when her eye fell on a brown wooden bowl filled in a jumble with aquamarines as thick as her fingers, watermelon tourmaline chunks and emeralds polished and faceted. “Surprised?”
Nodding Cinderella had no words. The Fairy Godmother patted her shoulder. “Pick out several of the stones for your personal use and keep them wrapped in red silk. They will remind you of your visit to my home and the lessons of the South.”
Cinderella was pealing off her dress as the Fairy Godmother softly closed the door behind her. When was the last time she had the luxury of a soaking tub, with shampoo and hand-made soap?
She thought of the castle. The Prince walking away, leaving her with the Woman of the West, remembering, she immediately felt teary. It was tough to admit but she felt incomplete and a little lost without him. She was learning and growing. Developing skills that would help her, to help him, run the Kingdom.
Standing naked by the tub, pausing, lost in thought, frustration simmered off Cinderella. “I understand only a fraction of the wisdom of the Four Directions. The Fairy Godmother of the East said, ‘to resolve your ignorance you must become complete.”’ How do I become complete?”
Later she pulled on a night gown of the finest cotton the Fairy Godmother left at the foot of her bed. There was a knock at her door.
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