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When I'm lost in life, I go back to Tori Amos. A Sorta Fairy Tale describes my life right about now. But now I've got my own Fairy Tale to share.
This has been a very difficult winter for me. I try to keep my blogs light and airy, though not without a little bit of deeper philosophical emphasis from time to time. This week has been tough for me. I'm getting through it day by day with faith, exercise, and deep breathing (I've forgotten to breathe countless times lately). Without giving away the intimate details of the drama and confusion of Erika Klus, I instead give to you the continuing storybook Fairy Tale of Grubby Bear (aka Grubster) and Mrs. Lingonberry.
(If you are lost on this one, refer back to the archived blog entitled "Bears gone wild").
Mrs. Lingonberry was becoming very unhappy going from the village into the forest and back into the village repeatedly. Grubster preferred to spend time in the woods. All the tall buildings where the trees were cut down in excess to meet human standards, the taxidermy, and bright lanterns of the village were too startling for a bear who was most serene in nature. Mrs. Lingonberry preferred life in the village. Wizards, witches, and common apothecaries awakened a passion within her that she could only seem to fulfill in the village. Where there were people, there was music, dancing, song. There was renaissance innovation. The forest seemed cold, dark, and scary to her. Since she didn't have all the hair that Bear did, she got a lot of bruises, cuts, and mosquito bites whenever she visited Grubby Bear in the forest. Her delicate Fairy-like skin is in need of much repair from the endless brush she experienced in her travels.
Sometimes the harsh brush she encountered was her own fault. She took wrong turns through the forest when she was trying to find her way to Bear, instead finding demons and dragons she should have left well enough alone but instead tried to chase, tried to fight. Bear began to lose faith in Mrs. Lingonberry's ability to find Bear at the top of the mountain. To him, the path was clear. "No need for maps," says bear. "Just follow your nose, your instincts."
Mrs. Lingonberry was not a bear. She was fae (touched by the fairies). Her sense of smell was not nearly as keen as that of a bear. For her, maps were all she knew as well as some strange powerful intuitive force she has yet to master within herself. Dragons and demons appeared when her curiosity got the best of her. She became impatient with the Bear and his life in the forest. She insisted repeatedly that the Bear give up his life in the forest and stay in the village with her. This made Bear very, very mopey. He felt as if Mrs. Lingonberry didn't love him and didn't appreciate the time they spent as Bear and Fae should spend together. And the Bear was very bad with the village street directions and could not tell time because he could not turn over the hand-crafted hourglass (Bears don't have opposing thumbs).
Mrs. Lingonberry realized that Grubby Bear (aka Grubster) was getting very growly out in the human world. It was time to set him free again into the woods where he belongs. Will he ever find a peaceful co-existence again in the village with Mrs. Lingonberry? Mrs. Lingonberry doesn't know. Only Grubster knows for sure. Setting him free back into the forest where he can roll around in the pine cones and steal honey from the bees, that's where he needs to be now.
In setting Grubster free, Mrs. Lingonberry has a sense of peace. If Grubster eventually finds his way out of the twisted forest (where the wolves and cats howl his name, taunting him and teasing him, and tempting him to eat the park ranger), back to the village where Mrs. Lingonberry practices her healing alchemic craft, they will re-unite and dance around the tree of life together.
If Grubster chooses to stay in the forest as a creature of solitude, she hopes he finds his salvation and happiness there. Perhaps it's a matter of compromise they have not yet discovered. Perhaps Grubster and Mrs. Lingonberry would be happy together in a log cabin cooperative retreat. The house-like structure of the building and the warm fire crackling by their feet would satisfy Mrs. Lingonberry's need for village-like comfort, while the solitude of the woodsy outdoorsy backyard in the back country full of small woodland creatures, bees, and berries would satisfy the Grubster's need for adventure and nature. Mrs. Lingonberry doesn't know the answer. Grubster doesn't know the answer. They must simply go ask the wise old owl.
The owl spirit speaks gently in a rhythm and language that Grubster and Mrs. Lingonberry have yet to decipher. The owl takes His time in revealing His prophecy to these creatures living in confusion and hurt. For now, Mrs. Lingonberry needs to spend time in the concrete human world, baking pies for the commoners, full of organic ingredients. She needs to get in touch with the witches and learn much more from the wizards as she continues to learn potions that millenia of wisdom provide. This is what is best for her right now. Right now, she is content in the village. Her alchemic gifts are precious to the fellow villagers who need healing. Every night before she goes to bed, she listens to the owl. Sometimes she cries to the owl and the owl listens, hooting her gently to sleep with owl lullabyes.
How else do fae like Mrs. Lingonberry possibly get through a time like this in the cloudy village of SLPM? She goes within herself and finds her center once again. She realizes that there are probably hundreds of other creatures and humans alike out there who would make a special trip to the big bold city just to try her famous organic pies. Being that she's in a village far, far up in the northern hemisphere where the winters are long and dark and gloomy, she turns on her Lite Therapy box every morning. And she takes a crapload of St. John's Wort.