once upon a time there was a princess....and her brain began to chit chat all day.....so much so, that she decided to write down all the little stories and tidbits that whirled about in her head....but there was so much to write about....so she sat down, and thought about it.
there are many stories to tell, and many characters to discuss....and she decided that this is more than brain chatter...
its the makings of the mind of a
whimsical princess.
so she built a new story castle....
you can find us there....
its still a princess, the third eye and talking pandas....
but our new address is :
The Whimsical Princess.
Friday, August 16, 2013
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
The Cinderella Virus
I was sitting on my veranda today, drinking my coffee, watching the neighborhood come and go...minding my own business...when the wizard dropped by for a quick chat. Merlin is like that...one never knows when he is in the neighborhood.He was on his way to rectify a situation or two that had cropped up regarding the Cinderella virus.
As usual, he was in a hurry and couldn't stay for a nice, long visit. I offered him a quick cup of coffee, but no. He insisted on telling me his latest news quickly, succintly. In as few words as possible.
"The Cinderella virus has broken out again. I need to set a few things straight."
With that intensely serious expression on his face that only wizards could muster, he looked at me straight in the eye as he explained the reason that brought him to my neck of the woods.
"Have you noticed any symptoms showing up around here?"
Well, that took me by surprise. I wasn't sure if I did or I didn't see any symptoms....
"I don't think that I know what a Cinderella virus is, first of all."
That frustrated Merlin no end. I wasn't much of a help if I had never heard of the virus before...He probably thinks I live in a cave.
So, I sat down, cup in hand, and he sat down across from me to relieve me of my ignorance. Even though Merlin was in a hurry, obviously he found it more pressing to explain the situation to me and risk running late rather than to strictly follow the timing that he had set out for himself today.
Apparently there is a virus that we all need to know about, he said. Not just one virus, actually we need to be on alert for different strains of viruses- all coming from the same source - from fairy tales.
Merlin explained that fairy tales live in the informational realm. They exist the way they were told, living in little bubbles that connected in creative ways making fairomolecules. These fairomolecules live in the informational realm which is in our atmosphere.... So as we speak now, Peter Pan is having his escapades with his London friends, Alice is having a rather trippy tea party and a princess somewhere is risking sciatica due to a pea under one of her mattresses.
Fairy tales are meant to be enjoyed in a particular way. Children need to experience them by being read to. They also need to be able to see them in books...with plenty of beautiful illustrations. When they pick up the books and begin to read, they can be transported to marvelous places.
But for that to happen, the air has to be clean, so the fairy tales can live on and on in their special bubbles...and float about our atmosphere in the fairomolecules.
Well, it appears that society has been infected with a sooty type of film...dark and dingy, yet fine as silk and sticky. Merlin explained to me that this film has been sticking to many parts of society like an intricately spun web. And you know who was responsible for that? The two famous sisters, Greedela and Meanette.
Yes, they spent a few hundred years spinning a finely spun fiber made of greed, hate, and envy particles. They had this fascination with the myth about Theseus and Ariadne. It wasn't Theseus, Ariadne or the labyrinth that struck their fancy.
It was the minotaur. They thought he was fascinating. Well, Greedela and Meanette weren't known for their good taste. They sought to do the fiber thing like Ariadne and Theseus, hoping that they could meet their minotaur. After all, if unwinding the ball of fibrous thread lead Theseus to the minotaur, wouldn't doing the same thing lead the uncouth sisters to the minotaur as well?
So they spun the fiber and wound it in a huge ball. But the fiber was dirty, sticky and sooty, embellished with carefully strung particles of bad taste, bad manners and a penchant for sugar laden food and drink.
Not having a labyrinth to go to, they decided to improvise in the air.
They took a ride on their broom, a labyrinthine ride...up, down, right, left, up, down, right, left....up, down, right, left...ad nauseam.
As they rode they unwound the fiber and let it fly and land wherever it would go. Here is the critical point. The fiber, being ever so fine, is hardly noticeable. And it was very, very sticky. So it was sticking all over everything....but the weakness for sugar in the fibers caused this fiber to seek out and stick to the fairomolecules.
Over time, this has caused the fairomolecules to become genetically modified. And we are breathing in many of these genetically modified fairomolecule particles....
So, it appears that lately, the Cinderella fairomolecule is showing some disturbing mutations. And these mutated fairomolecules are in the atmosphere, mingling with the gases in the air we breathe.
As Merlin explained to me all of this...I realized I was listening with my ears and mouth...I'm telling you, when it gets interesting, I just find myself with my mouth open....not too much...just enough, though....interesting conversations and/or stuffy noses do it all the time.
So if you see anyone looking around for their 'special someone', like the prince in the story....it could be genuine....or it could be an attack of the Cinderella virus.
...........................................................................
So, the conversation with Merlin took place today.. this morning.
Last I heard, tonight...just a little while ago, Merlin with help from teams of specialists, found the way to remedy the problem. The word is out that a cure has been found. If infected with the Cinderalla virus, the remedy is:
Two pieces of pumpkin pie served on a glass dish, to be eaten after sweeping and scrubbing the house. Repeat as often as necessary....
p.s.. ..... word is out that the worst manifestations of the Cinderella virus was kept hush - hush, as to not create fear and panic in the population. It seems that some people were breathing in the mutated fairomolecule and began to exhibit fairy godmother mutations. Illusions of being able to manifest things that they want, of knowing how to create their reality and other similar hallucinatory effects have been recorded. Authorities say that over time, the pumpkin pie cure works for the fairy godmother strain of the virus as well - but a few chia seeds sprinkled on top will help these more severe cases.
Monday, August 12, 2013
tea at the potion maker's
"Rose petals, jasmine petals, mix them all with peony.Chrysanthemum and vetiver, the petals sing in harmony."
Eartha was reciting her directions, out of habit, as she was gathering the petals from their respective bowls and gently combining them and spreading them out onto the large tray.
Okay. She finished the task at hand.
The layout of the petals mixed with the vetiver leaves and roots was as beautiful as a mosaic that graced Byzantium or Pompeii. But these were not there to create art. They were being assembled, first to be dried and then to be used in a wonderful potion.
Making this potion is quite time consuming, because she needs to also add the perfect combination of crushed gems from the earth along with a sprinkling of stardust - both nurturing nutrients from Gaia and from the sky. God's creation is overflowing with healing and soothing properties. This potion is used to cleanse the mind from toxic thoughts and toxic bits of energies strewn about and planted by others...
Eartha worked the backroom - the workroom- at the Potion Maker's. She was the assistant to the potion maker, a position that took years and years of study, and Eartha is now in charge of the process of formulation.
The potion maker herself, leaving the backroom in Eartha's capable hands, works the front room only now - conversing with her visitors, seeing what they needed and deciding what remedy needs to be formulated. The front room is where she received everyone - her personal guests as well as the visitors who were seeking potions. In her potions, she only used beautiful ingredients found in our galaxy that are meant to help us mend our mind, body and soul. This is her way of serving God.
I know that the Potion Maker's place is in a big city, but its slightly off world, if you know what I mean.
You can't locate it physically, but it is readily accessible for those who are "portal - ready" or "portal-savvy", - they can visit her any time. People, regular earth people, have been going there for ages....
Why am I writing about this? ...Ah,...I tend to ramble away wherever my thoughts take me...but, I remember....
It was a bit past three when I glanced at the clock this afternoon, and immediately I was reminded of tea being served at the potion maker's.... the afternoon tea time at the Potion maker's was never exact or punctual - it depended upon the workload and the visitors - but it was always, always served daily, sometime between three and four.
Today, Eartha took her afternoon break just after tending to the flowers and vetiver grass....because tea time was now upon them. It was Eartha's job to tend to the tea...
Tea at the Potion Makers was a guaranteed event - anyone who had the opportunity of being at Raja's in the afternoon loved tea time there.
The tea was made from freshly brewed tea leaves, strewn with beautiful flowers from their own garden.
Tea was always prepared in the workroom and served in the frontroom -
The frontroom of the place was gorgeous - prints, colors, jars brimming with color - just lovely.
But the star of the front room, to me, was the red sofa.
This red sofa has heard conversations which even the wildest imagination couldn't possibly dream up. Who has sat there, and what was discussed on that sofa with the potion maker herself, is simply fascinating....
It's this type of conversation that one listens to with their mouth.
Did you ever observe people when they are engaged in interesting conversation ?
They tend to leave their mouths open as they listen to the others speak.
It was said that this sofa has resided in many palaces on our planet, it has graced many a salon - and somehow it made its way to the off world potion maker's place.
I seem to remember something about that sofa being a gift to the potion maker from someone in the 1700's.
There was a very wealthy woman, a Countess, living in France at the time, and she was absolutely thrilled and satisfied with the work that was done for her at the potion maker's. So she gifted them with a few things as a token of appreciation.
You see, the potion maker doesn't accept currency - that is unacceptable - nor does she usually accept gifts. She likes to do her work for free. But she did accept the sofa, as to not offend the Countess.
There is another gift that Raja, the potion maker, had accepted - not from the Countess, but from someone else...It was a tea set.
The tea cups along with the tea pot were actually brought over from China by Marco Polo and were presented as a gift, by Marco Polo himself, to someone in Venice. The family that received this set treasured it. As a result, the set was handed down from generation to generation - until someone in the family decided to present this very set to Raja, the potion maker, to show their sincere gratitude for the assistance that she had given them.
So, this particular tea set was used for the front room tea. And tea was always served on the beautiful little table in front of the red sofa.
There were always visitors popping in and out of the front room - from anywhere you can imagine - from all different worlds, many from earth too...But today's guest was someone that Eartha was very excited about. Tea time at Raja's was one of her favorite moments of the day, and nothing could make it more special than to have tea with Raja and a beautiful angel named Azurene.
Keeper of the Old Ways
The old iron pot was simmering on the glowing ashes in the old stone kitchen...The old man, the master herbalist, was sitting on the old bench...thinking..
Too old and worn to go himself, his granddaughter had to go out in the early dawn and gather some roots and leaves he needed. Her grandfather raised her, from a baby. And now, she was his assistant, ready to take over the role of herbalist....that is, assuming that things stay quiet.
Having gathered what she needed, she made her way home. Through the muddy paths, she quickly walked beside the stone walls and past the embankment.
Quietly.
With her hair standing on the nape of her neck. In fear.
Not being able to trust anyone she sees. And for good reason.
Like her grandfather, she was being watched. At one point her parents would come out of hiding and attempt to see her or to send her word.
Along with a few others, her parents dared to rebel against the King and his governing lords. And now they are paying the price for daring to speak against injustice...on the run, as fugitives, for fear of their lives.
The local 'powers that be' felt that at one point a message from her parents would arrive and they would intercept it. Her parents couldn't remain in hiding forever without getting in touch with their only child....The time would come when they would seize them, and they were patient.
So they constantly watched where the girl went, as well as take notice of who would visit the old herbalist and his young assistant. The villagers needed the herbalist's help, but were afraid to be seen entering or leaving his house - for fear of being connected with those who plotted against the king. When they needed something from the herbalist, they would quietly send word...and, despite their constant scrutiny, those in authority - the priest, the lord of the manor and his men, were not able to figure out how the herbalist was in contact with the villagers .
As if that wasn't enough to worry the girl and her old grandfather, there was more trouble brewing.
A dark looming cloud had formed and was slowly making its way, covering the land. It was a cloud of fear.
The ruling class was trying to rid the land of the "old ways". The church was determined to wipe out anything or anyone that embraced or kept alive the ancient ways of the people.
Persecutions and accusations did not officially take place yet, but they were coming soon. The climate was ripe and trouble was brewing. A spiritual civil war would soon begin in the land.
And word was out that they would accuse the old herbalist and his granddaughter as keepers of the old ways, labeling the herbalism as sorcery.
So the girl made her way, through the village, to the edge, where they lived. Pulling her shawl up even higher against the chill, she turned around to see if anyone was following her.
She kept her hair tied and covered, and avoided anyone's stare.
Practicing and keeping a spiritual tradition alive, one that was firmly rooted for centuries in their culture, she was ever so close to being labeled as a sorceress by the church - persecuted and accused of sorcery because she was becoming a "wise woman"- one who knew how to help others by making good use of the amazing healing herbs, plants and flowers provided to us by the earth. She was unusually and dramatically beautiful- and that didn't help matters at all.
Her long red hair was fiery and her skin was snowy white. Her eyes were intense and brilliant green....nothing about her was average or common. Fire and ice. Blazing alabaster. No one in the area came close to comparing with her striking beauty.
However, unlike other women of great beauty who were vain and self centered, her soul was rich in humility and modesty, love and kindness.
The movement to wipe out the ancient ways couldn't see her kind heart and compassion. Riddled by hatred and superstition, they couldn't see past their own fear and ignorance.
What happened to her? Did they persecute her? Did they find and seize her parents? Did they throw the old master herbalist in prison?
Sunday, August 11, 2013
one man's madeleine is another man's valerian.
Ah, the way the valerian scent took over the room- that was enough to trigger my mind...
You know how Proust's mind,triggered by the wafting scent of madeleines, let
itself loose and instantaneously sent Proust out on a journey of gentle and continuous travel along a
long stream of childhood memories?He had madeleine induced brain chatter.
Well, thats why I say, one man's madeleine is another man's valerian.
Immediately my mind went to the old herbalist, and of course to his granddaughter, with that gorgeously intense expression on her face. What a striking girl...But the herbalist and his granddaughter are not from the treasure chest of my own childhood memories.
They come from another treasure chest, a rather strange one that many authors seem to have in their minds. It's filled with characters, events, scenes, dialogues and witty quotes all mixed together in a rather chaotic way - almost surreal the way they have all merged together- coexisting in that chest. The chest is actually a treasure trove of worlds seen blending together with those yet unseen, words that have been spoken dancing with the words that have yet to be uttered.
Yes, the scent of the valerian was able to unlock this chest, and out poured whirling images, scents, sounds and feelings from the chest, into my mind, as I reached to take out the tea.
Like a magnet...ZAP...my valerian attracted a particular scene to single itself out and detach itself from the plethora of sights and sounds that flew out of the freshly opened Pandora's box.
Creative brain chatter was about to begin.
The valerian scent from my cupboard must have met and mingled with the valerian aroma wafting out from the stone house of the herbalist....
and it brought me there, from my kitchen to his secluded country home, eons and miles away...and I felt his fear.
golden milk.
Getting ready for bed...
Golden Milk...goats milk, turmeric, honey.
Hot
Golden.
Comfort.
Flowing like a thread of rich golden silk throughout the tapestry of time...cups of golden milk warmed the hands and hearts of our kindred souls all over the world for over a thousand years,as they still do today...I want this thread to weave in and out of my corner of the tapestry, to connect me with all that happened and all that will transpire...through my cup, at night,...of
milk and honey....an ancient combination symbolic of health and wealth.
turmeric...cures everything, mends everything...a star player in God's pharmacy.
A warm lullaby for the soul.
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