1. Total number of books I own: Considering I did a major culling of books and I am still in process, I would say I own about 3,000 books.
2. Last book I bought: No true book lover can buy just one! I bought, “Maharanis: The Extraordinary Tale of Four Indian Queens and Their Journey from Purdah to Parliament” by Lucy Moore, and “Alchemy & Mysticism”by Alexander Roob, in conjunction with the Hermetic Museum.
3. Last book I read: Cover to cover? “Dragon Spirit: How to Self-Market Your Dream–A Zentrepreneur’s Guide” by Ron Rubin, and “The Far Pavillions”by M.M. Kaye
4. 5 books that mean a lot to me:
1. “The 48 Laws of Power” by Robert Greene
2. “Realms of Ayurveda” by Pundit Sharma
3. “Pharmako/ Poeia: Plants Powers, Poisons, and Herbcraft” by Dale Pendell
4. “Witchcraft Medicine: Shamanic Practices & Forbidden Plants” by Claudia Müller-Ebeling, Christian Rätsch, Ph.D., & Wolf-Dieter Storl
5. “Mrs. Twiggley’s Tree” by Dorothea Warren Fox – I grew up with this book and it is as amazing now in its message as it was back in 1966. Unfortunately, this book is long out of print, and the only copy I found on abebooks.com is going for a whopping $225. Astounding, but the book is THAT beloved! That makes me want to contemplate doing terrible things to the person who ripped off my copy!
5. Tag five people to take up the meme and answer in their own journals:
Hmmm….atia, drmaturintm, adira_tyree, all_forme, and copper_rose
Given my true age, and how long I’ve lived, I had plenty of time and plenty of persons to choose from. After much consideration, I have come to the conclusion the one person I would like to bludgeon with a trout above all, even more than George III, would be Wyatt Earp.
The problem is, I do happen to like his brothers, Morgan and Virgil. I even somewhat like his ‘best friend’, Doc Holliday, in that each of them has manners where Wyatt completely lacks them. Neither Virgil, nor Morgan has e’er failed to tip their hat to me in acknowlegement, nor failed to rise from their seats when I, or any other lady enters a room. My being a Wytch, ne’er mattered to either of them. But to Wyatt, since he was a ‘deacan of his church’, thought that the same rules did not apply. I have eén known him to mutter under his breath, yet loud enough so that I could hear, “Thou shalt not suffer a Witch to live…..”
I have known that son-of-a-bitch, Wyatt, since I visited my uncle Angus in Arizona when I was fairly young. Wyatt was always a blustering, arrogant ass. He was a bully then and he is a bully now. He thinks nothing of buffaloing someone with the butt of his pistol, if he thinks that is the fastest way to get his point across. He is an alley cat, a philandering popinjay, a two-faced, lying, tight-lipped, stick up his arse pompous pimp. Slapping him with a dead fish, preferably one that has been left off ice for about two or three days so as it can stink him up just as much as his holier-than-thou stench stinks to high heaven would be the mildest of punishments that I could think of for him. Come to think of it, even keelhauling him across the barnacle covered belly of a ship would be merciful compared to what I want to do to him.
I donna suppose you can tell I intensely dislike the man can you?
Muse: Fanny Fae
Fandom: Original Fiction / Folklore & Mythology
Word Count: 345
Isn’t this a question that is best posed at the end of someone’s life, rather than when they are right smack dab in the middle of living it? How can you reduce your lifetime to the value of one single memory to carry with you into the afterlife? Is life not a ‘moment’ in and of itself in the grande scheme of things? That being said, I’d prefer to think of it metaphorically. My lifetime is one long moment in the passage of time. Alright…. so that approach might be cheating, but the question that you ask isn’t exactly fair either. I am not finished living it yet, and my moments within it are far from done.
Yes, I know. One of my close confidants would scoff at my resorting to saying something was ‘not fair’.
The one memory that I hold dearest so far is when I confessed to the man I loved that indeed I did love and care for him. The night had just begun to fall, and we walked out of the French doors in the library of my home out into the gardens. I can still remember the scent of night blooming jasmine and Moroccan cedars that filled the air and the frantic cry of the peacock that had found his way onto the adobe tiled roof. He was ever-so-quiet for he had just lost a friend who had died far too young – she was but a child. Knowing the true nature of life, and by the events, I knew that this existence it is quite oft too short. I felt the burning need to tell him. What if I neér got my chance again? But what if he laughed at me? All of these niggling thoughts plagued me and I finally got up the courage.
At first he stared at me in disbelief, his momentary silence was frightening to me. But in time he recovered and he confessed to having felt the same toward me. My fears were unfounded, I lost no power by my confession and more importantly, the world did not fall.
Of course, my life is far from over, and so any talk of the afterlife is more than somewhat premature.
Muse: Fanny Fae
Fandom: Original Fiction / Folklore & Mythology
Word Count: 378
Which are you more afraid of: Being too gullible and believing things that aren’t true, or being too skeptical and missing out on something important?
I am not afraid of either. There are those who have no idea how to “fly” at all by their own intuition. Either dilema, whether you are being made foolish through gullibility, or are too much a skeptic that you are unable to believe, could be solved by listening to that still small voice inside. The problem is, most don’t trust themselves enough in order to hear that voice. More is the pity.
If you are too gullible, the world takes advantage of you. Those who are untrustworthy see you as an easy mark coming down the road. It’s easy enough to spot these, just a bit too much flattery, a well placed smile can disguise even the most insidious and malicious nature. As the saying goes – fool me once, shame on you, fool me again, shame on me.
If you are too skeptical, there is nothing anyone can say or do to reassure you. Your heart is closed, your intuition shut off, and there is naught anything that anyone can do to get through until the walls are let down, or by chance there is a crack in the facade. Nevermind how carefully it is constructed.
I once knew a man, a very important one at that, in fact. No matter how I would throw open my thoughts to him, nor give he, whom I considered my friend, the most honest and heartfelt answers to his questions, he would never quite believe me. Perhaps, in his life of being a very important man, he was so used to others taking advantage of him. In the end, though I still cared for him very much, I had to realize that nothing I could do or say would ever change his being skeptical around me. I understood that it was not personal – it was simply the way he was. I always would say a silent prayer to myself that I would never become so closed as he had become. I never wanted to miss the chance of experiencing any kind of wonder in life because my heart had become so hardened.
Fandom: Original Fiction / Folklore, Legend & Mythology
Word Count: 365
Trust is something that must be learned. To negotiate safely through the treacherous terrain of who and what to trust and who and what not to trust, it takes skill and a clear sense of knowing. Some call it intuition, I call it listening to that awareness that you already inherrently have residing deep within you.
There was no reason for Morgienne to trust me, for we neither of us ever reached a place of trust between us. She knew precisely what I was, she probably knew what I wanted as well as I did, and yet she did not trust her own inherrent knowing of the me or the situation. She could not bring herself to believe – could not bring herself to trust what it was that put her off. Morgienne knew – as surely as I that our animosities were genuine. Surely she had to be intimately aware at least in some part that I meant to destroy her. But in the end, she misplaced her trust. She could not believe that I meant to best her. After all, she was my teacher, my mentor, my Elder on the Fortunate Isle in all things. Surely as I bowed my head before her, I was also bowing to her Will.
Nothing could have been further from the Truth.
To quote the ancient admonishment, which Morgienne should have remembered:
Little girl, this seems to say
Never stop along your way.
Never trust a stranger or friend
No one knows how it will end
As you are pretty, so be wise
Wolves may lurk in every guise.
Then, as now, tis simple Truth…
Sweetest tongue bears sharpest tooth.
I’faith, it was all the better to eat her… truly.
Muse: Fanny Fae
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology /Legend
Word Count: 288
1. If you had to describe me in three words, what would they be?
2. What would you do if you saw me on the other side of the street?
3. How do I effect your life?
4. What do I mean to you?
5. If there is one thing you would love to do to/with me, what would it be?
6. What would you write on my tombstone?
7. What would you class as my best feature?
Answer these questions and see what people think of you.
8. What part of me annoys you the most?