Monthly Archives: December 2013
“Talk about a cliffhanger!” My husband stood by the arcadia door to the back deck looking out on the night.
I was in the kitchen washing the dinner dishes and glancing out my window. A late-Spring rainstorm in the Sierra Nevada was bending the tall trees with its fierce wind and sending volleys of raindrops to hammer the glass panes. “What do you mean, ‘cliffhanger’?” I dried my hands on a towel and walked over to see.
“Poor little guy…doomed to die…look…there, see him?”
“Oh, no!” Near the top the screen door, clinging to the wire mesh, was a gold and black butterfly. Its wings were clasped together like hands in prayer and trying hard to resist the capricious wind that pushed the wings one way then the other as if a cruel invisible hand was trying to force the butterfly to release its hold and fall. I could see the water dripping off his wings. “He’s soaked!”
“Gotta admire his strength–holding on all this time with the added weight of the water. But, he’s doomed. The wind, rain, and gravity will eventually win. He’ll fall on the wet deck and get pounded to death by the raindrops.”
“I’m going to save it!” I started to open the glass door.
He put his hand on mine to stop me. “Butterflies are so fragile and delicate. You will probably injure it severely just trying to pull it off the screen. You’ll just bring it inside and prolong its agony and death.”
“Maybe, maybe not.” I looked around the room and spied the box of kindling. I took a twig out and shook it at my husband. “I’m going to try anyway.”
“Good luck,” he scoffed then looked outside. “The wind’s calmed down for the moment. Now’s your chance. But remember, when the little guy dies that I warned you. I don’t want to listen to you sobbing for the poor thing.”
I opened the glass door, slowly slid open the screen and stepped on to the deck. The wind and rain had indeed calmed for a moment, as if daring me to try and save the doomed creature. I took the dry twig that was no bigger than a pencil, and gently brought it up underneath the butterfly until it touched the body. I waited a few seconds then nudged it up a little more. “Hold to life, little guy, hold to life…come on, climb on the stick…that’s it…show grandpa that you want to live…hold to life.”
Sure enough, it took a patient moment and gentle nudging, but the butterfly climbed onto the twig. I slowly walked back inside and showed my husband.
He chuckled and shook his head. “I don’t believe it. Okay, Dr. Doolittle, now what?”
I spied a flowerpot of soil that I had planted a few seeds in. I stuck the twig in the soil like a little flagpole with the butterfly clinging to the top, its wet wings still clasped together and looking like a tiny golden flag.
“Now, just let him be, and he can spend the night inside.” I went back to finish the dishes.
The butterfly never moved.
Before heading to bed, I asked my husband go out on the deck and bring in the hummingbird feeder.
He complained. “You have got to be kidding! It’s still raining!” But, he did it for me anyway.
I took a capful of the sweet red liquid and offered it to my tiny patient. After a few seconds, the long tongue came out and dipped into the cap a few times.
“No one’s ever going to believe you hand-fed a butterfly!”
The next morning was sunny. The storm had passed and left the forest cool and wet. The sunlight streaming through the window made the butterfly scoot around the twig to better expose his wings to the warmth. Oddly, it still held the wings tightly clasped together. I thought it would spread them wide to absorb more sunlight. I offered the capful of food, and once again, it lapped it a few times.
“You bring the cups and coffeecake, I’m taking him outside.” Carrying the flowerpot to the bistro table, I sat down and patiently waited. While we drank our coffee and ate the cake, the little guy never moved, never opened its wings to the sunlight. “It’s just sitting there, holding tight.”
“Maybe, the beating from wind injured it. Maybe, it can’t move its wings. I’m getting more coffee. Want some more cake?”
“Just coffee. I guess you were right. If he can’t fly, he’s doomed to die, and I just prolonged his death. Poor little guy.”
“At least you saved him from the storm.” He went inside and returned with the coffee then tried to cheer me up. “Don’t look so sad. If he’s to die now, at least he lived to see this beautiful morning. Gotta be a better way to go.”
“Well, it doesn’t make me feel better.”
We were halfway through the second cup of coffee when the butterfly finally spread its wings wide to absorb the sunlight. A moment later, it closed and opened them a few times. Another moment passed then it began fluttering and lifted off the twig. It hovered in front of my face for just a second then flew up and over the roof of the house.
“It’s a miracle!” Hubby exclaimed so sharply that it startled me.
“Go ahead and make fun of it, but at least I saved him!”
“No, I really mean it! It’s a miracle. Granted, it’s just a teeny tiny miracle for a teeny tiny bug, but you did it! By all natural rights, that little guy should be lying dead on the deck. But, YOU saved him and changed the Universe forever.” He stuck his finger in the air, pointing in the direction the butterfly flew. “As a matter of fact from this day forward, I will always believe in magic for I just witnessed one true pure act of magic.”
“All right! Now, you’re making too much of it.”
“No, I’m not, and Dear, please don’t belittle your own magic.”
A few weeks later, we drove down to the river for a picnic. I walked to the bank and saw a flock of twenty or more lavender butterflies no bigger than postage stamps flying and dancing in a little cloud above a blackberry bush. I smiled at their playfulness then sat down on a nice round boulder and stuck my feet in the water to soak the white canvas deck shoes I was wearing. Sierra water is cold, and soon, I had to take my feet out. I sat there with my eyes closed listening to the soothing sound of the river and enjoying all the fragrances that filled the summer air. Suddenly, I felt something tickling my toes. I opened my eyes to see one of the little butterflies on my wet shoe. Its tongue was stuck through the wet canvas. It must have been going for the salty flavor of my feet. Then another one landed, and another and another, until the whole fluttering flock covered the tops and sides of my shoes. I could feel every tickling tongue, as they tasted my feet. Laughing, I wiggled my toes and most of them flew up, hovered then went right back to the shoes.
Just then my husband walked up. “Thinking about taking a dip?” he asked.
“Behold! My magic slippers!”
He saw my feet covered with little fluttering lavender wings. “What the…”
“Behold!” I moved my feet, and they all flew up, hovered then landed again. “How’s that for magic?”
“Now that’s pure magic! They’re probably thanking you for saving their cousin from the storm.”
“They’re probably sucking the salt and oil out of my shoes, and their tongues tickle my toes.”
“There you go, putting down your own magic again. Do you think if I got my shoes wet they would land on them?”
“No, Honey, your feet would make them leave the county.”
Anyway, the whole point to my little story was that the phrase, “hold to life,” stuck with me. A few years later, I began writing my novel, Lantamyra: A Tapestry of Fantasy and used that phrase in it to confirm the Akoshic belief that all life is sacred, and we should hold onto it tenaciously.
Dear reader, I promise that this story is true and as accurate as we (Hubby and I) can recall the details of it. And, he really does claim to believe in magic now.
Hold to life, dear reader. Hold to life.
Omens, signs, portents and dreams provide the prophet with justification to make a prophecy. The future is forming now and prophets can only imagine and predict what will come to pass. In spite of the skeptics, who refuse to believe in prophecies, there are always a few people who manage to predict certain events that they see coming, for example: a king dying in a jousting match (Nostradamus), a president being assassinated in Texas (J. Dixon). Skeptics claim that with all the pessimistic prophecies being predicted these days a few longshots will statistically occur. That claim is essentially correct, but skeptics deny prophets while they tenaciously defend scientists who accumulate data and make predictons based on probability, after all, probability guarantees a 50% chance of being right.
Thousands of people make a living by predicting the future, not just Madame Susan and her myra crystals, there are also data analysts that predict the weather, the stock market, crop prices, sport games, clothing styles, music, book and movie trends, etc. Scientists even predict global warming for the next hundred years. “If the current trends continue, by the end of 21st century the average global temperature will increase by two degrees Celsius.” Okay…that’s a Hell of a prediction, Einstein, but you hedge it with the big IF. If current trends are interrupted or replaced with new trends then your prediction is shot to Hell. Analysts want people to believe in their “forward looking statements” first then remember the escape clause if they are wrong. When analysts predict the odds of a team winning a game, they expect the majority of sport gamblers to follow the herd and bet with their prediction. In other words: BELIEVE THE PREDICTION (but remember the big IF).
In May of this year, I was blown away by a series of omens, signs, portents and dreams. So I was compelled to predict that a California volcano would erupt in the near future. Here it is the end of the year and Mt. Lassen still hasn’t popped. That’s good! We pessimists would rather be wrong–it usually means we survived. However, due to the fact Earth lives and moves in slow-time, I semi-scientifically hedged my prophecy and said the “near future” would be to the end of the year 2017. Therefore, I still have four more years to be proven right.
However, I was so swept away by all the omens that I began looking at earthquake and volcanic trend patterns. Actually, my hubby was looking at them occasionally, but he got me interested. As a result, I decided to put a few of my predictions in my book, A TALE of TWO WORLDS (published in October). I predicted that numerous large earthquakes in the South Pacific would push the tectonic plate into the North American plate and trigger many serious volcanic eruptions. including Mt Lassen (had to put that one in there). One prediction came from a dream I had where we were in Japan and a large quake caused the ground in front of us to split open. We were trying to help people that were in danger of falling into the fissure. Consequently, the book’s prediction is that a huge quake will cause a peninsula in Japan to split away from the mainland. I also predicted major seismic events near the island of Puerto Rico, but only because so much of my story takes place there. In other words, I didn’t have a clue at the time of the prediction that Puerto Rico was seismically active. I remembered reading about an earthquake in Haiti and figured that was close enough, so the Puerto Rico prediction was made without prior scientific data. Ironically, I have noticed that for the past three weeks the area surrounding Pueto Rico is experiencing multiple quakes daily. Yes, day after day, multiple quakes occur near the island. Granted most are small, some are moderate, but I now believe and predict that it is leading up to a big seismic event there (in the near future).
After publishing my book, I have a little more free time, so I check the USGS Earthquake Map daily now. I also check volcanic activity but not as regular because no good reliable site is available. The USGS site for volcanoes is woefully inadequate. The best site for volcanic activity is a cheap commercial ad-infested site where much effort is put in the bombardment of ads, and less effort put forth presenting the scientific data. I won’t even mention the site because I refuse to send traffic their way. Nevertheless, there is a noticable increase in serious volcanic eruptions in the last two months. To me a serious eruption is one that sends smoke and ash high into the stratosphere. A lot of serious eruptions can block sunlight and cause global temperatures to drop. This could trigger crop failures and food shortages. There was a news article posted in late November about an alarming number of serious volcanic eruptions taking place in just four days. Two days after that article, Mt. Etna in Sicily erupted seriously. A new volcanic island rose from the sea near Japan. Mt. Sinabung in the South Pacific has upstaged all others with continuous eruptions.
So, I now predict, that IF current trends continue, there will be a series of large quakes on the eastern side of the Pacific Ring of Fire (especially Dragon’s Triangle area) and they will trigger serious volcanic eruptions in Alaska (especially), Northeastern Russia, Western Canada and United States. AND, with all the smoke and ash shot into the stratosphere recently we could be in for a long cold (record setting) winter. I won’t worry though, unless Phoenix, Arizona gets a white Christmas. 😉
Blessings of life to all, may your holiday season be warm, joyous, and full of love. As I say at the end of A TALE of TWO WORLDS: “There is no night when love is shared for love lives in light.”
“Every forest is a kingdom of shadows,” said Keeper Jasriel, “they should be respected but not feared.” But, I need to inform Jasriel that there is one time when the forest magically opens up and all the shadows diminish in a glorious spectral light display. That magic time occurred two days ago here in the Sierra Nevada. A white robe of snow draped every tree then the clouds hurried away so the sun could light up the landscape in a holiday display that rivals the man-made decorations we put up each year. The bright sunlight reflecting off the the snow clustering on the branches seems to drive away most of the darkness. As if thousands of magic mirrors reflecting the light to diminish the power of the shadows and show the world that even the darkest times of the year can be illuminated in glory.
So stunning was the beauty that I had to click a picture and share with you. You have to look closely to see my favorite path into the woods. Normally, the tall Ponderosa and Sugarpine trees create a deep passageway of dark shadows that tempts me to venture and has inspired magic poetry and paintings with fairy folk and mushrooms.
I trudged through the snow and filled up the birdfeeder with seed. The poor little ones have a hard time finding food when the world is cloaked in snow. Two flocks of the tiniest little birds coverged on the feeder and for the most part they displayed good manners as one would feed on one side and another would feed on the opposite side. Every minute they would be chased off by the next hungry peep in line. I tried to take their picture but startled them and they flew up into the snow-flocked trees, hopping from branch to branch like little living Christmas ornaments. I didn’t wait too long, it was too bone-chilling cold for this old granny. I went back into the house, put the camera away, and stood by the woodstove. After I had thawed out, I walked over to the window and saw the little ones partying at the feeder again.
Blessings of life.