I wake to the rustle of leaves brushing lightly against the late evening breeze, the stars shining gallantly in the sky. I sit up, jostling a moment in my bed trying to clear the sleep from my eyes. Moving to the rhythm of this surreptitious night, my intuitive side tells me I’m in for something unusual as a small voice nestled in the back of my psyche tells me I best be prepared.
Like other evening tides at the House of Serpents, I expect calm and quiet but not so this night. I contemplate for a moment with earnest of what’s to come, though the feeling lends itself to an array of events I know I’ve not planned for. It’s just a feeling deep in my gut, an innate indication that something unique is about to surface. But almost instantly the feeling’s gone, though in retrospect I know now that was all according to plan.
Something’s afoot, I can feel it as I slip on my robe while a force unbeknown calls me to wander out in the garden and sit on the ornate wrought iron settee bedecked with a silk lavender cushion. For some reason the evening, dark as midnight, and quiet as a baby’s sigh, allows me to admire the beautiful festoon of gala colored flowers and foliage. Fireflies brightly lit, prance around ornate butterflies, as Praying Mantis kneel in allegiance to the night. Quickly my attention changes and I cannot help but notice something going on at the foot of the old Oak tree sitting majestically to my left.
Drawn to it I make my way in its direction where something tells me to sit down. I crouch down to brush away some moss with my hand, smooth the back of my robe and sit down on the cool earth. Almost immediately the aroma of myrrh fills the air and before I realize it a magnificent bird is sitting at my side. She is the illusive Phoenix, ready to rise again anew. She mimics a peacock with red and gold plumage so bright that it almost takes my breath away and she begins to sing whilst the most beautiful sounds exudes from her soul. I am captivated. We sit for what seems forever, but perhaps passing by as in a glance, as the world around give birth to new colors and sounds never seen nor heard before. It’s as though a paint brush magically made everything Technicolor new.
Then out of nowhere in a burst of light, she catches fire and burns, the flames consuming nothing but her. When the flames die down, all that is left is a pile of gray ashes, from which another phoenix will grow up to shine with the brilliance of its predecessor.
A strange, but pleasant feeling comes over me, though I cannot explain. I awaken to a new me, a new world and a new perspective. Something nudges me to look to the side where I find a purple velvet bag sitting lazily close by. Too tempting to ignore, I pick it up, undo the silk drawstrings and see that it is heavy with all of my dreams, hopes, expectations, and longings. Looking further I found it also filled with humility, gratitude and love. Yes, I know what all of this is, a gift of seeds from the ripe fruit of my muse bestowed to me by the magnificent rising Phoenix, the symbol of life and rebirth. My soul has been touched and I know I will never be the same.
Gretchen L. ©