"Prize"

I thought I'd have my floor finished by now.  The only thing left was the center, and how hard could that be?  Of course it might be easier if I knew what's going in that center, but I've been enjoying the process of discovery.

It would also help if I didn't get very complicated ideas like an astrological wheel -- but a subtle wheel, because I didn't feel like making my floor all about that.  This turned into days of math and fussing, for what's basically a 1 3/8" wide ring that hugs the inside of the brick circle -- which still leaves me to ponder what goes inside of that.

This eternal calendar gave me the chance to write the names of important people's birthdays.  I won't say this will motivate me to actually give birthday gifts, or give them on time, but it improves the odds.

I noticed trends in the birthdays of people who've made a difference in my life, either for good or bad.  I'm going to look for more Virgos because they are consistently nice to me.  Grandma was a Virgo, and Grandma love is right up there with dog love in unconditional and forever.

Things would move along quicker on the center of the floor if I quit taking time out to add more animals to the outside leaves.  I keep telling myself that I'm done with that part, but then I think maybe another dragonfly?  Maybe more flowers?

My dog thinks that all of this has gone on long enough.  She paces back and forth in front of me and nags.  Soon.  We're almost there.  Really, how long can it take to paint the inside 4' center?

Then I sit on my stool and ponder, which really annoys my puppy.  Why can't we take a walk or curl up with a book?  I've been giving her dog cookies to shut her up.  She's standing in the way of my creativity and self-expression.

I won a gift certificate once for entering a story in a contest.  That $25 validation probably made it possible for me to blog because I was bunched up in a million different ways about writing.  Letting my words out into the world was hard, especially since the story was about grieving the death of someone who mattered to me.  I unexpectedly had to face another fear when I had to read the story out loud to a group.

I wrote about the same kinds of things that are now living on my floor because nature is my center.  When the snow falls, I'll have summer in my dining room.  I'll have visual cues to remind me of happy times and help chase away winter blues.  I'll see the names of important people in my life and remember that loving and being loved is the greatest prize of all.

"Disguise"

I read about American Indians scouting pioneers' camps.  They'd dress like animals and work themselves into some kind of different mentality and become the animals.  The pioneers saw the Indians as animals, the Indians learned about what the pioneers were doing, and the Indians won a lot of battles.

Reading this when I was a kid made me think.  I decided Indians didn't really turn into animals, they just became persuasive in some way to trick the pioneers' thinking.  I was pondering this hard in front of a brick wall at school and decided if Indians could be animals, I could be brick.

People walked past me without seeing me.  A couple of people kind of hitched their step near me and looked confused for a second, but nobody seemed to the skinny kid, even when they barely missed walking right into me.  I was pleased with my success.  I became a tree, greenly translucent as the river, and blended with flowers in the garden. 

I was hiding in the neighbor's blueberry bushes when I really thought I'd get caught by the old Nazi.  He could smell me or something, but he couldn't find me.  He kept pacing in front of me, trying to figure out what was out of place in his world, but he couldn't see me even though I had barely enough time to hide when he came to the blueberry patch.  One of my very white, bare legs was in plain sight, but he couldn't see it while I examined his big, cracked leather shoes which were inches from my face.

Breathe quiet... He did another round of the blueberry bushes and stood in front of me again.  I am grass... I am green leaves... I am an Indian in the enemy camp...  My magic is stronger than yours.

It was a powerful moment for me, and extremely liberating.  I practiced at home in the living room.  One night Dad asked, "Where's Linda?" and I raised my hand in front of him.  "She hasn't been home much lately."  Oh, I forgot to turn off my magic.  I made myself visible again and waved my hand in front of him again.  "Were you there all along?"  "Yes."  Dad kind of shook his head and pondered me for a while.  "I've been practicing being invisible like the Indians."  Dad looked kind of troubled, but he didn't make me explain too much.  "Fey."

Well, yeah, I've always been pretty fey.  Fairy-like and magical.  Sounds kind of cool, but it makes people uncomfortable.

I have to admit I still hide in view, sometimes willing people not to notice me when I'm working in my office because I need quiet time to work.  But really, I think we all do it in one way or another because everybody is putting on false faces to get the responses from people that they want.  We dress the part for work, or a date, or to hang with friends.  This is the face I want you to see, and then that's what people do see.  It's even what we start to see when we look at ourselves because we forgot we're all living in disguise.