The story she tells

Something takes form. Sails. She could feel the change streaming through her body. She was going to learn how to dance with her daemons. But first she will have to meet them. Greet and welcome them. Get to know them. Dine with them. Hear them. Hear their stories. Befriend them. She knows that it will take time. She will have to devote time to them. (And learning how to dance, mental note 1) (Wait, how do you dance with daemons? Mental note 2 end). But yea. Slowly. Patience! Daemons are as wearing and persistent, fumbling in the dark, as they are shy of the light. Right now, she does not even know how many guests she can expect to her dinner party.

She is hopeful though. Even excited. Nervous. But more excited than nervous. And this was real. There was no lying to herself any more. No more! Honest. Cross her heart and all that. Her heart was wide open. Creak. Creak. The gates had said. There was blood shed, but only very little.

But mainly she is hopeful because she is able to chart progress. Just a few days ago, she felt stuck. Stranded on that stupid sandbank. She was void of any joy. Unable to look forward to anything. Fogged up. Only able to look backwards. Condemned to look back. And she stared at the fog.

First finding Joy. And also Not, that old wise woman. These are very promising companions indeed, she mutters to herself. She realises that she must arrange a meet up (mental note to do so, note 3). She also discovered her inner garden and chirping blue bird. It was there that she heard about the monsters. And she inspected her source of energy. She changed her fuel. From fear to rainbow-spouting cauldron.

Sure as eggs is eggs, there was no stopping her now. She had delved deeper. Deeper into the past. She had met herself with compassion. – Surely a few monsters had already been hugged by now. Possibly dispersed even. What happens to monsters when you acknowledge them? – She saw her young and adolescent self. She saw the power of Zeus. She saw her pain which was inflicted on the threshold from innocence to initiative. She saw the fear, she saw the botched remedy. She saw it clearly. She could not love. She sees it clearly now. She cannot love another until she makes peace to the past.

There is work to do. A quest for monsters and daemons. To find them, to embrace them. Make them a peace offering. Take care of them. Take charge. Starting to write the story. Write her story. She understands. She alone is responsible for her story. She alone. Hers alone. The story is her responsibility. Sole responsibility.

That alone will gather her powers. Gather her companions. She feels alive. Blood coursing through her body. Veins pulsing. Heart pounding. She realises. She realises, she has begun to make plans. Ahead. Plans for the future. This meant she is looking forward! Looking ahead. And in her joy, she was looking forward to it. Joy is back. She is here, with her. A part of her.

Let’s contact her. But how? Look in the mirror, dear. Look onto a shiny surface. And she will surface. Sure! She looks in the water. There is her reflection. Her reflection begins to move. Just days. It feels like aeons ago. So much has happened since last time. Briefly, she recalls her utter fright. How she froze. None of that is necessary now. Joy steps out from the reflection. She steps out of the water. Like a Venus. Here she is. Full form. They look each other in the eyes. So familiar. Like is like. The same, yet two. Joy is immediately beginning her chatter. This feels so good. So warm. Joy takes Angela’s hand.

Yeah! This is great, the way we can do that now. You look and stare, and I will step out. Grand. What’s up with you? Up here. Ah. Monsters, right? We are looking for them. So much fun! Them little critters. Where do we start?

It is hard to get a word in edgeways. Joy is positively bubbling over. What do you expect from someone of that name? True to her form. Then Angela asks “What is the story between the sails and the daemons? Do you know it?”

Well, they cling to your sails. They make it heavy. Too heavy to blow and catch the wind. You lose your life energy. Sometimes the daemons take the sails down. They never destroy the sails. But they certainly disable them. Taking them in. Putting them in disarray.

She has the picture in front of her now. These little wiry creatures, awkward in their moves. Creeping around. Constantly checking over their pointy shoulders. Wary. Hastily. Unsteady. Cowering. Their long fingers clenching the cloth of the sail. Some skinny wings are flapping. Eyes glowing. Checking over their shoulders for their sustenance. Little morsels. Morsels of regret, guilt and shame. Fickleness. It’s fear that fuels them. Joy reads her mind.

Exactly. These little critters are of the shadows. Neglected. Revengeful. But give them compassion and they will change! They can be fun indeed!

How can I give them compassion? Angela tries to retrace her steps. She approached the younger self with understanding. Daemons, however, are another proposition altogether. They are made from your own fear. Woven from your innermost longings, told off because they did not pass the social muster. Daemons are the outcasts, the desires pushed underground, postponed, forgotten. Again, Joy is following the conversation and complementing:

Desires. This is key. Desires and daemons are neither good nor bad. They just are. Not can sing a siren’s song about this. Desires are just that, something you want. Understand your motivations, and you take a decisive step towards your desires. You step closer and you see your desires for what they are. Wishes of the soul. Desires can become wishes. Reflected when you shine a loving light on them.

Angela sinks down. All muscle tension is taken from her. Shine a loving light? What was that all about? When had she shone a loving light on anything? Was there a blueprint, something she could use? Examples please! But she does not know what this feels like. She cannot remember. Was she deserving? Was it not indulgent to bask in loving light? A loving light. Compassion. Forgiving. These are words that sound too wondrous, pathetisch, religious even. And she is not religious. Oh no! Joy continues:

You may always wish. But you may not expect all wishes to come true. This is important. No-one owes you but yourself. Sometimes a wish remains a desire. A little shadowy daemon pulling the heart strings. We must pay attention. This is the highest service a human can perform: understand your selves. There is a difference between a pulsating infection and a beating heart. This is a service to yourself and to others. This is the only thing you owe to life and all its extant realities.

Oh, sister. Oh, Joy. Stop, please. Angela suddenly feels faint. This is too much for her. She is not able to take in any more. Shine a loving light, pah. Her mind tumbles. Joy kneels beside her. Holds her hand. She is grateful. So grateful that Joy is here with her.