Stepping back

Dear Reader, as the rain visits most of the day and night I lie under the covers and considered the flow of this tale. In particular I imagined the character Larkin as she prepared for her journey to Paris. What DOES she look like? And most valuable to the telling, I wondered what it was like to discover the gifts of being 'one eared' rather than two. What sort of adventures with her specialness has prepared her? The daydreaming of a writer of myth can go in many directions, for now, it seems stepping back is the way to go and perhaps you know this about 'going backward', one can never predict what was unnoticed in time seemingly done with...

In this form of storytelling, Readers, this stepping backward includes a plethora of clues for the adept. Ferret them out if you can, and make a kind of collection you view again as the story unfurls, that is moves forward and then sometimes backward.  

Her birth was a most welcomed event. Larkin was dreamt of, and her name given as an agreement. She would be a brave and adventurous one. Both Calypso, her Gram, and Maydene her Great-Aunt were present for her birth. Both women were trained in the arts of birthing and though they were not biological sisters their connections literally threw them together in 1968.

"There'd been a mix-up with booking too many people for the number of seats on this aeroplane," Maydene explained. "I volunteered to be 'bumped off' ... it sounds such a gangsterous condition. But harmless really. I am as loose as a goose you see. No tight shedules for me. A day late will make no never mind to me, nor my hosts awaiting me."

The stranger on the receiving end of this long ramble nodded and beamed at the tumble of words from this obviously British speech. It was that 'make no never mind' bit that tweaked Calypso's interest. "Anyway, I have been upgraded to First-Class. I think it was my charming demeanor that did it. At any rate, for whatever reason ... I am Maydene Short," she extended her many-ringed hands to her travel mate. "Calypso. Just Calypso." Unlike the blonde bomb shell, Calypso was not then, and would remain so until her final days, a person of many words. What Calypso was very good at was listening. She was observant. Though this talkative woman would learn the many details of Calypso's life in the years to come, it was important to remain in the dark (in a manner of speaking) about the fullness, the birth name that included Lena M. on legal documents. Some secrets aren't really, but, that's a story for another time.

The Hawaiian Airlines DC-10 was headed for Seattle. Calypso freshly graduated from high school, was enrolled at Cornish College of the Arts. Back then, it was called the Cornish School of Allied Arts. Music was a family tradition. Traditional Hawaiian music and, classical piano. There was plenty of financial support to groom the young Calypso, and as history would have its way with her Cornish provided a ground level from which she would become something all together new. The first-class seat B2 was a graduation gift from her grandmother.

Maydene Short, London born, was freshly tanned after a three-week holiday on the Island of O'ahu. She'd gotten to know the Northshore of the island very well. She swam, snorkeled and ate papaya and apple bananas drizzled freshly speared and grilled fish with fresh limes; or ate the fish raw with roasted kukui nuts chopped and fragrant with red salt from the island of Kaui. The locals embraced her, and welcomed her into their homes. It was that accent, and her unpretentious warmth. Plus, she could take care of herself. No push over or easy meat, Maydene was not after sex, though she enjoyed the company of men. There was a brain under those blonde waves, and a healthy understanding about childbirth, and all the reasons for having and raising children.

She was the youngest of six children. Both her parents were doctors, her father in General Practice, her mother a pioneer as Professor of Nursing. Deanna Short, R.N. and Ph.D of Nursing had five difficult hospital births. It was Maydene who was the only Short to be delivered by a midwife. Seated next to Calypso Maydene Short was on her way to a small town just north of Seattle to live with Stella Goldman and her husband Mathew Goldman M.D. Maydene was beginning her training as a midwife. It was her choice to study with the Childbirth Pioneers and founders of the La Lache League.

While the jet burned diesel fuel over the Pacific Calypso and Maydene Short learned a lot about one another. Rum and pineapple juice cocktails loosened the normally quiet part-Hawaiian maiden, and the unexpected lightning storm ignited the imagination of both these women. Some things would embroider themselves with familiar patterns, other art was just beginning to have a name. Between then and now, some memories would need to be forgotten to make space for different futures. Have you ever wondered where a forgotten memory goes?

Proper conditions

Larkin watched from the window as she finished washing and rinsing the tea cups. The warm air was mixing with the cold, the first flash lit the forest. She waited for the thunder, counting aloud. Nothing. The dish water had fogged the window, she wiped it clear with the sleeve of her sweat shirt. "Darn her!" There was no use trying to get Caitlin inside, the storm was her element and Olympia? Well, that truck was more a storm cloud than an old Dodge. The sound of the truck starting up meant Caitlin was moving. The Golden Retriever scratched at the door, whimpered to go out. "Are you her Rabbit?" Larkin knew the answer to that, and opened the front door.

Caitlin stopped long enough to open the passenger side door to let the Golden dog into the truck. She waved and blew a kiss through the steamy truck cab windows. "Be careful," Larkin said knowing her friend would be what she always was. Risks were fuel for Caitlin O'Neil. Lightning didn't crackle often in Salish, but never went untended for a Keeper like she was. She would draw it down. For the power that surrounds the everyday in the twenty-first century, the first experiments with electricity were the most interesting to Caitlin. Books about Benjamin Franklin, in large copy, were on bookshelves in her tidy but eclectic studio apartment. Originally an old potting shed the eight foot wide by twenty foot long space was easily moved off its foundation, onto a sturdy double axle trailer. It remained on wheels, could be transported whenever the need arose (often) and had the essential ingredient of being grounded by rubber wheels.

"There's no time to move Baba now," she spoke to the Golden making sure the plan was clear to each of them. "We'll set up the kite just outside town." A clearing, one of the few good things about the monstrous practice of clear cutting trees for profit, would allow her to get the Rainbow Works Kite into the sky. A modern day lightning rod in the hands of a Keeping Witch kept life interesting in this part of Salish Country. Somehow the politically correct and ecologically right-minded had forgotten how power was brought down.

The carboys always rode in their carriers in the bed of Olympia. Harnessed to the insulated steel and wood boxes, four glass carboys used most often for brewing wine or beer served Caitlin O'Neil differently. Caitlin's carboys were filled with spring water and capped with a special receptor to welcome the fresh lightning. It was the carboy that made for a common link between Jacob the Surveyor and this young witch. They shared supplies, exchanged recipes, and made magic to benefit many. It was no secret this magic, but, they did not advertise their process. Or maybe it was the small amount of electricity harvested from lightning that left Keepers like Caitlin to tinker.

Larkin wiped the table to clear the remnant crumbs. The center piece that stayed on her kitchen table season in and season out were a collection of eleven White Pine figures, Pine Needle Dancers decorated in colorful embroider floss. "I remember you fondly, and take you never for granted. Dancers, dancers of Pine. Move with the wind. Sing with the tales that wind through the tree tops. Remember me to the people who have gone before me. Praise their memories. Dance Pine Needle Dancers. Dance." 

This was the part Caitlin O'Neil could not do for herself. Larkin's chants, and her sharp memory would call the Lightning down. The Keeper could not do all of it herself. The Elements were the only ones who could live with that. There are few rules, but there are at least two: Be prepared for company was Number One. Always give thanks was the second rule. At the edge of the clearing Caitlin stopped, pulled the handbrake stoutly. "Ready Golden?" The dog barked. "You will have to run very fast and listen for my whistle when it's time to stop." The dog barked twice.

The kite and carboys were unhitched quickly. She was expert at the movements. Even in the downpour Caitlin heard Larkin's chanting in her head. "Dance Pine Needle Dancers. Dance..." Thunder roared above her. She counted. One, two, three. Lightning struck at the far end of the clearing. She pulled her rubber gloves up and over her fingers and wrists. Thank you, she said as she pulled the carboys off the back of the truck and onto the soggy ground. The kite snapped into place creating a stiff, but flexible 'T.' A lightning rod with the colors of the rainbow made of nylon, a double specially spun copper wire was the conduit.

The golden dog had a specially designed collar and harness with rubber ring. The kite's string would attach there. "Now Golden!" Without a second thought the dog sprinted. Thunder. One, two. The lightning was fully formed and brilliant. As silent as the dead, it makes no sound the yin to the yang or yang to the yin lightning and thunder were two ends of the story.

Life's costumes

Rabbit nibbled gratefully from the napkin wrapped packet while Jacob went in to buy a set of new windshield wrapper blades. Night comes early during the Kaloa Moon of December. There'd be no sight of her light tonight, but it was surely the beginning of sacred times, and the Watchful One was glad he and his friend sat for tea with the young.

"I could use a hand with this," Jacob had the replacement blades out of the box. "If you reach for the umbrella and hold it over us I can get these changed-out without drowning." The cell of south eastern wind was blowing the rain into the truck. A small piece of magic would be necessary to allow Rabbit to be in public. It was near dark, but two other customers were in the lot. Rabbit and Jacob started to hum. Low and steady the two created a cell of their own. Long enough to encase the simple transaction, the wizard and his assistant made sure the van would be safe to drive in the downpours.

It was December, but winter had barely begun and rain would be more than not.

Jacob the Surveyor thanked his friend for this part in the ordinary necessity that bordered their world of magic. "I was wondering about Calypso's grandchild," Rabbit had the umbrella tucked behind the seat. With some quick shakes and a little muttering the rain catcher was dry enough. "She was born with just the one ear, but the slits. Are they as useful to her if she were still water worthy?"

Jacob started up the van, tried the blades. Assured they were properly fit he checked his mirrors and backed out of the parking lot concentrated on maneuvering. Parking lots are notoriously dangerous places. Once on the road Jacob answered, "Larkin was born with ear slits that would have closed completely by the time she began to walk. It was Calypso who knew how to raise the child and teach her to keep the openings from closing up. The costumes and caps the girl and her grandmother have worn all these years ... they are part of the whole process of upbringing."

Rabbit the Watchful was never invasive with curiosity. His concern for humans stemmed from his own physicality. Hares were gifted with exceptionally grand hearing, but, it was their sense of smell that saved their lives in times of greatest danger. "This girl has a very well developed nose. Those slits she keeps concealed with headgear, do they present an especially ... hmm, what's the word I'm after Jacob?"

"Is travel a thing that will draw more attention to an already brightly lit being as herself?" Jacob offered that as an answer. The rain was a torrent by this time. The two questions sparkled the inside of the cab. Silence rather than more talk accompanied them. It wasn't far to the water's edge and there was still more sandwich. Rabbit nibbled. Yes, Larkin was a brightly lit young woman preparing for the Long Journey. The first of many.

Jacob parked. The smell of the wetlands calmed them both. The Surveyor said, "There's more than the heart of lion in those bottles of amber glass. With her directions, Larkin's guardian has helped concoct a series of remedies. If the girl drinks them all with company, the remedy will position her with good balance. She and I need to share the final bottle. Stories that need telling will give us both what calls. 2016 is a year of endings."

Without speaking Rabbit finished the cheese sandwich. And something new begins.

Catch the lightning

The rain had started to thicken up. "My windshield wipers should have been replaced before today. If I leave now, I can pick up some new blades before dark. Time to go." Even a wizard had to be practical about maintenance. Magic had its place and Jacob was always careful to use the power respectfully. Others, especially the young ones, noticed.

"They're predicting big winds later," Kaitlin was particularly observant of winds, and lightning. She stood to give Jacob a strong hug at the door, waited while Larkin did her thank you and kissed the special man on both cheeks. "Practicing to be French!" She giggled. Jacob nodded at the pleasure of the sound. Kaitlin pulled a raincoat off the hook, and walked with Jacob to his van. "She'll be alright won't she?" Asking the question wasn't so much a doubtful inquiry as much as connecting with an uncle you trust. Remember, this was a girl raised without a father. There is Daniel and he is a good man. But Jacob? Jacob counted among the Uncles with a capital for many young people in Salish Country.

"She has a good mind, and a keen ear. It matters that she practice using it. That one ear. Teaching and learning language will give her confidence." From his truck's seat Jacob was looking eye-to-eye with the young blonde witch. She was a thoughtful alchemist with buoyancy for life and questions fed her curiosity."Does it matter that she will be so close to so much ... war?" The wizard thought about this and considered how much war was woven into history of humankind. "It matters greatly that Larkin finds the meanings, the many meanings, of her name. It comes from that land. Her Gran knows that. Worry will water down her resolve." He paused at this point. The rain was heavier. "Direct it somewhere else. If you must, catch the lightning. Ground it where it will do some good."

"Thank you Jacob." She squeezed Jacob's hand before he shut the van door, and stood in the rain till his van was out of sight then she opened Olympia's passenger side door, opened the glove box, checked to see if her flashlight worked. Yes, the batteries were fresh. Behind the seat the small woman looked for the other supplies: jumper cable, rain gear, rubber boots and rubber lined gloves; a spare wool blanket. If she was going to catch lightning it would be good to be wearing rubber boots.

Shuffling the deck

"I've accepted my first teaching job, over seas. Teaching English in Paris. It's weird timing, the violence, the politics, immigrants, war. Something Gram would ... I don't know exactly what Gram would say. Dad's freak'n out about it. Won't hardly talk to me." Larkin looked at Kaitlin. Since Kaitlin was technically her half-sister now, their already tight bond was tighter yet.

"When I leave, this cottage will be empty, unless Dad decides to move back. He won't though." The sugar and salt overdose was showing up. Her pivot was slipping, somewhere between depression and anxiety Larkin wished someone would just point her in the right direction. Like proper tea, she was hoping life would just stay still for awhile longer. Calypso's cottage would always be Calypso's cottage, then Larkin's cottage when she turned twenty-one. "I'll be gone a year, three months in Paris then I have to leave and re-enter the country."

Jacob's world as keeper of the water's edge was not without a keen awareness of the way boundaries were kept in other places on the Planet. "My sister has two children. Both of them live in Europe, one of them lives just outside of Paris. I remember how she zigzagged back and forth between Belgium and France for a couple years before she met her partner." The tea pot was empty, the sandwiches were eaten and the rest of the cookies would go home with Jacob. "I'll split a beer with you if you'd like, Jacob. I've never tasted your famous brew and seems a shame to leave for France and never taste  it." Caitlin didn't drink alcohol.

The drink was powerful, bitter with a warm linger to it. "Did you stir a glamour into it Jacob? A bit of magic with the hops." The man with the deeply angled gait would never lie when asked a question straight on the way Larkin put it to him. Shy again, Jacob the Surveyor simply nodded. "Nothing to hurt you in the slightest. This batch has a small memory of summer yellow. A crush of the heart of the lion mixed into the bubbling."

Larkin understood his riddle to mean a little bit of Dandelion was making its way into her. She liked the image. "A small batch of the heart of the lion is just what I need. I'll be leaving after the first of the year, before my birthday."

"There are four more bottles in there. Share them with good company, and it won't hurt to make a platter of them cheese sandwiches while you're at it." The pivot to the young woman's life would be re-positioned without a doubt. Rebellion is what keeps the human race honest. Youthful rebellion would open doors where elders might not go. Jacob approved of revolution, even as he maintained the protocol of ancient ways. "If you think of it during the drinking of those brews in the amber bottles, call me before you open that last one. Join me down at the water's edge we could share it, tell a few lies over a toast for your good voyage, call on some stories that want telling."

"That's a promise. Expect my call." Rabbit's long ears twitched for wanting to sip a little of summer's yellow. Short of that wish he repeated his request for the snip of sandwich still on the plates, and noticed an old woman watching. Tears strained to keep from falling from the woman's eyes. Rabbit offered the tips of his ears to catch the stream that would not wait. Like long thin cups ... her tears flowed into them. Thank you Rabbit the Watchful. You are very kind.

"Uranus square Uranus: On a pivot Beginning of June 2015 until mid-February 2017: The first time this influence occurs it signifies that you are no longer an adolescent and must take your position as an adult. It signifies rebellion against established standards, which is the reason so many young people go through a period of rejecting everything that they have been taught. It is necessary for you to experience your own individuality by asserting it against someone else's. There is nothing wrong in this, and the constant challenges of youth help keep society alive. It also helps you, because you need to be on your own and find your own ways of doing things, unhampered by the ways of the past, which may no longer be appropriate.Even if you do not go through an especially rebellious phase, this will still be a time of intense and rapid change, when you go out into the world and pursue your own goals without the comfort and security of doing what your elders tell you. Doing what you are told may not always have been pleasant, but it did allow you to avoid responsibility, which you will have to take on now." - A bit of horoscope for Larkin to inspire the flow of this tale 

Not necessarily

"The cheese is melted to a degree of perfection not common in ordinary times," Jacob was still appreciating the way the salt from the cheeses and butter combined with the crunch of the toast. He took a good sip from the amber bottle only after the last bite of sandwich made its way to his belly. "You make a great tea party, Larkin." Rabbit clambered from his side of reality knowing it was not a time to become solid ... the Golden Retriever could not be expected to be civil. Instead the hare simply kept his thoughts to himself, and hoped his friend would consider saving some of that crispy toast for later. When was it Jacob had been for tea before this present moment?

"I had a dream about you Jacob. But I was still surprised to see you and your van. That's kinda crazy. Why wouldn't you come for tea if we've just been together in dreams." Larkin was pouring a stream of coconut milk into her tea, leaving room for a drizzle of maple syrup. "My Gram and Aunt May used to begin every day with sorting out dreams. Over tea the night times and day would come together. I miss that, and it seems kinda backward to be sitting here just before dark to talk dreams."

"Oh I don't know that there's an only one good time for sorting dreams. There's not much difference between what we do in dreams and do in our daytime clothes." Jacob set his bottle down. Took another bite of his sandwich.

"That's funny how you put it "in our daytime clothes." Kaitlin nibbled at the almond cookie in her hand skillful at the dunk and nibble. "A lot of time my dreams are about the clothes I'm choosing. Moving an outfit over the racks, looking for the one I'm after. The right one. Trying one and then another on. Looking in the tall mirrors at what I'm like ..."

The Salmon Candy was a surprising combination with Wild Forest Black Tea. "I love this Jacob!" The sweet-salty brine sparked the sides of her mouth. Caffeine and sugar, probably more than she needed would have its effects later. But then a proper tea has never been a source of moderation. It can be addicting. Rabbit was talking to the dog again, knowing full well dogs have no built-in meters for moderation.

"In my dream last night I was painting. Painting the side of a paint can. I was taking a very long time with it making sure the coats were even. The paint kept sliding down not covering the sides. It was like I didn't realize I was painting a can! But then it dawned on me ... 'I don't paint. Can't be around paint.' In the dream I felt the headache. You watched me Jacob. You took the can and the paint from me. When I woke up I had to get outside to clear my head. It had rained all night. The wet dark air felt good. I asked myself, "Why would I do something like that in my dreams when I definitely DON'T do it for real."

"What did you come up with for an answer to your question?" Jacob took another sip from the amber bottle, reached for a chunk of Salmon Candy and took a bite.

"I'm thinking that dream was practice. Practice with trying things out. Like Caitlin's dream about trying clothes on. I never had dreams about trying clothes on ... But that paint dream was so real. My sensing brain was trying something out. Pushing the limits to see how far I could go."

"When I was ... about your age I dreamed a dream about being perfect. This is a dream I don't share with many people. In fact, it was your Gram that is the only other person whose heard this. You know I was born this way." Jacob swayed to define his meaning. "I was born with one leg shorter than the other. My left leg. Now there were many solutions to that even for a man as old as me." The Surveyor's uncommon smile filled the cottage with a feeling not necessarily magic but of course ... magic it was. "But I was born to a family that looked at oddity as a gift. Some of us were 'odd' on the outside: birthmarks and missing parts are common in our lineage. It's the inside oddities that are a little more difficult to spot though and that includes the special sensitivities that made many of us Surveyors most sought after."

Larkin was wishing her Gram was still here, in the flesh. She was twenty-two and nearing the time of the Long Travel. She would need to be comfortable with the discomfort of dreams that tested her. Instead of her grandmother, the Gatekeeper of the Water's Edge was here.  Drinking home brew and chewing on grilled cheese and Salmon Candy, Jacob the Surveyor was reminding her of the many ways to define life. "In this dream," Jacob continued "I had two legs exactly the same length. First thing I did when my legs were perfect was to run, run, run as fast as those two perfect legs could manage. And. In the dream time fast is very very fast. I ended up making myself sick to my stomach. Retched and puked myself, so's I could smell the awful stuff on me when I woke up."

Kaitlin handed Jacob another half of grilled cheese sandwich. The lesson of dreams is not necessarily magic, but it could be.

Giving life

There were two trucks pulled into the front of the garage. A large golden dog sat next to Kaitlin. Polly was always with Kaitlin. The truck next to Olympia was really a panel truck, faded gray with red lettering. It was familiar, but the details of who it belonged to would not come until the man climbed from behind the wheel. His side-winding gait leaned him at a forty-five degree angle. His broad smile reached through the window at her. Jacob. He'd forgotten something, signaled with his pointing finger and reached for a carrier of dark amber glass bottles, and then continued toward the house.

Kaitlin pulled the emergency brake taunt, and climbed down. She checked the brake a second time just to be reassured. "We've been to the water's edge. Polly wouldn't let Jacob go, but of course, she wouldn't leave my side. So ... Jacob brought himself." That wasn't entirely true Jacob was not completely alone. The slight ripple of Being collected on the space outside his van. Rabbit had come as well, and for the next little while the tea ceremony was to include parts of a story that was thought complete but isn't. Jacob the Surveyor and Rabbit the Watchful had something to offer and even I, the storyteller couldn't have known. Till now.

So often people who say they know a lot about books, and stories will say the most unkind things about a simple tale. I was there just the other day. Flipping through the wobbly reality of the cybernetic library, I was on the sniff. There was a story I longed for, and my local library would not allow me access. In fact, their search engine did not recognize the title. Should have been a clue to how favorites become such. But it made no never mind. I found something about the story, and came to the doorstep of this idea: Anthropomorphism, giving life to inanimate objects. The book expert, the reviewer, was addled by the annoying habit of an author who was giving life to wine bottles. The very thing that had endeared me to the story was an annoyance to an expert. Just so you know I am partial to anthropomorphism and in practice it's what I love most about this brand of storytelling.

"Never arrive empty-handed!" Jacob said shyly. "Kaitlin said you'd be pouring tea. Hope you don't mind. Not much of a tea-drinker, but I've not seen you all summer. Freshly tapped."

"Come in. There's room for a mixed treat of brews. My Gran would be proud of me for taking the broad view of things, and if Aunt May decides to show up ... well. You know she'd approve of some of your beer." Larkin shook her head, hugged the leaning man and rolled her eyes at her friend who was smothering a laugh with little success.

The table was laid with a proper 5 o'clock tea. China tea cups and saucers. A platter of still-warm almond cookies, and plates waiting for the grilled cheese sandwiches still sizzling on the not griddle. A combination of thinly sliced old cheddar and Swiss melted on the olive oil and butter-smeared homemade white. A small clear jug of half-and-half. Lumps of sugar cubes. And the oddly quirky second jug of golden liquid that was Larkin's personal sweetener of choice. Maple syrup.

"I brought along a packet of my own personal tea-time favorite. Salmon Candy. Goes well with beer, and who could tell? Maybe your tea will enjoy a little brown-sugar and salt brine on Brother Salmon." Jacob had never been to Calypso's cottage. He still called it that, though Calypso had not lived in it for a half dozen years now. That, the time, he was sure of and as he sniffed the air in the cottage he was reminded of the approaching Winter's Solstice. By one calendar this was December 1st. Normally, it was Calypso would come for a Solstice drink at the Muli Wai.

"Here's a bowl for the Salmon Candy. Smells great!" Polly willed a piece from the package, waited for it to hit the smooth worn floor and snapped it up with appreciation. Rabbit spoke clearly into the Retriever's ear. "No more than two!"