WOOD CRAFTING Part 2 The Ledge continues ... Installment #4 Lokea Bird

I have saved the sharing of Part 2 "The Ledge" until now. Soon, the Ledge will become a history that will be recalled with selective tinkerings. The vessel of authorship is a collaboration between the sources of knowing and the the dense network that might be called perceiving reality. The fairy tale of Wood Crafting wrote itself while the life we had known up till that Spring became part of Nature's cycles. Neither Pete nor I had ever experienced the deep quiet, deep dark and starry skies or the richness of life that teems in the woods.

My spiritual life has always been rich, and my imagination broad. Life on the Ledge took hold of me and truly began to reassemble my hold on what is important. This next installment describe the character Lokea Bird come to rest on the ledge in the woods.

WOOD CRAFTING

Written by Mokihana Calizar
Copyright, 2009

Please enjoy the tale for your own pleasure,
but do not reprint it or copy it for any other purpose without permission from the author.

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Lokea Bird

Weariness wore her like wet wool, shoulders rounded into her full chest, Lokea was tired. The years of wandering had filled her with sights and sounds from dozens of places on the Great Planet. It was her destiny to seek and find the many ways in which mortal kind had used, or abused the treasures of Grace. The slightly sadistic humor of The Creators, as I view mortal destiny, lies in the erasures to coil memory The Creators leave when humans are born. Unlike the eggs and hatchlings of covey and warren where newly birthed Wood Crafters arrive fully aware and with total memory of their warming and their grace, human coil is braided with a miniscule space … a missing link. I have been taught to remember the space as an erasure and a place where mortal will resides. Remember Geoff the Grand? He was a Grey, a blend of mortal and more. His story of reassembling hints at the adventures to come for Lokea Bird during her days and nights on The Ledge.

A great sigh of relief dropped from Lokea’s heart. “Made it.”Lokea exclaimed. She held tight to her friend Briscoe and both did a jig of celebration on the hard driveway between The Ledge and The Family’s mansion. Briscoe and her mate Baines were part of the mini-caravan following the dandelion wagon from the city to the woods. Briscoe and Baines, like Anna and Joshua were friends of a life-time. These were loyal and unwavering friends who took Lokea and Pat into their homes when no safe harbor existed. Without question and with open-hearts Briscoe, Baines, Anna and Joshua embraced without judgment. The Creators and the Fairy Folk watch episodes such as this. Lokea hung back on The Ledge after Baines and Pat had secured the vardo into place. Tears filled her old eyes, still vibrant though less brilliant. “Thank you Ke Akua and all the residents of this place,” her prayers were silent, conned as she had been taught she filled the space with her acknowledgment.

Tutu and Traveling Frog listened. Traveling Frog turned to look into the sky, searching for Tutu’s face. He saw in the lines of the ancient fir a smile of recollection. He saw the prayers enter the deep crevices of the ancient fir’s thick skin as she absorbed the appreciation. “Ah,” T.F. sighed to himself. “Family.” A round brocade purse with a zipper for an enclosure held the small collection of jewels Lokea still called her own. A heavy circle of yellow metal, a bracelet, lengths of colored beads and several shiny stones hung from golden filigree. The narrow pathway cleared around the vardo did not disturb the seedlings that sprouted below Tutu. From the brocade purse Lokea drew four pieces. Two shiny orange stones dangling from gold filigree were hung from the tiny limbs of a seedling hemlock. Along with the stones Lokea hung a silver ring with an oval of pink quartz. “Hope you like them!” She said, this time using voice. Two other jewels, these long thin ovals made of mother of pearl were hung on the branches of a small pine. Other treasures, sea shells from her ocean home were offered as indicators of the places from which she had lived before. “To let you know my lineage,” she said continuing her ceremony. That done, Lokea Bird raised her arms with conscious memory of her linkage to All, flapped her outstretched arms and spun in circles before nearly losing her balance. “Almost too old and worn to do that,” she said to no one in particular, felt a grin bubble across her face and satisfied with her offering went to the celebration beginning inside the mansion.