Sammo’s Mandala
Sammo arrived home that night all aglow with the Idea. For an hour on the subway she’d listened to her friends, gushing and waxing poetic over their new oracles, comparing them, doing subterranean readings for each other. Restless and a little wistful, she didn’t participate much in the conversation, though she managed an appropriately timed “ooh,” or “ah” at least once or twice. When the unit finally stopped in her neighborhood and the door sighed open, Sammo had long since quit listening to the external voices, for the one within was whispering something intriguing. She didn’t begrudge her friends their new toys, but Sammo didn’t have the money the other earth fey had for buying oracles and fortune telling gear. She wasn't overly disturbed by this on principle, seeing as she’d incarnated this time to learn about being without money, at least for the next phase of her life. But it certainly was trying at times to be so restricted, to not be able to run out and indulge every whim on the physical plane as it struck her. Over the years, however, Sammo saw how such restriction had helped her to grow. It forced her to be creative, to fulfill her whims in other ways. Creativity was a gift in her family. It was another, greater gift of the Lineage that she turned to during this latest craze of oracle acquisitions.
She might not have been blessed with money, but the gift of Art was hers at birth. She skipped up the station steps as the unit sped away, and exited the station into grey light and quiet streets. Most fey were home eating and socializing at this hour. She scuffed her feet over cobblestones, and raised her eyes to examine the sky when she felt a drop of water hit her wing. All the while, the internal dialogue continued, and her excitement grew. Sammo unlocked her front door, entered, and shrugged off her coat and bag. She hurriedly lit candles, saying a prayer to the Mother that the light would last long enough to allow her to birth the Idea, to give shape and physicality to an impulse. She kicked the pillows into a heap that invited her body, and flopped down, eyes roaming the small shelf that held what was left of her paints. True to the laws of abundance, Sammo was never without at least one or two colors. Drawing surfaces were easy to come by: Floors, walls, furniture, all were personalized and adorned with the Art, and most were even signed, in case she one day achieved fame, although Sammo didn't meet many fire fey, the self proclaimed art lovers of this world. The earth fey didn’t have as strong a yearning to fill their spirits in this way. Surely they adorned their walls and homes, but to the earth fey, it was a practical way to raise energy, and keep things light. Sammo sometimes wondered in which realm she truly belonged.
Reaching for her jars of paint, Sammo brought them onto the table and floor beside her, and popped the lids hopefully, although she knew to the ounce what she’d find. She had plenty of Sienna, and a good amount of Dark White, and just enough Tomato to make things interesting. Sammo squinted into the jar. She always had at least a little Tomato. She used this favorite sparingly, in spite of the fact that every cell in her being cried out to her to brush it lavishly over every surface in sight. Smiling ruefully, she left Tomato on the shelf where it would be safe until it was time to mix and outline. She glanced at the candles which still burned heartily. She picked up her brush and focused her gaze on the palm of her hand. Oracles relied on energy, after all, and her hands were the source of her energy, the font of her creativity. She gazed steadily, drawing deep breaths, willing her heart to slow, willing her right brain to give way to the left. She felt, rather than saw, Memo and Hoofer draw near. They weren’t usually interested in the Art. They must be lonely and bored, said her right brain, as the left brain noticed a pang of guilt flow through her solar plexus and float away as the two little ones chortled a rebuke for the way she chastised herself. A smile began on her lips and then was stillborn as in the palm of her hand, the Mandala slowly revealed its shape. Sammo drew a quick breath and stilled herself as the shapes began to form and meet in her hand, without even the benefit of paints. Sammo watched the shape and her painting hand itched to get to its task. She alternately clenched it into a fist and stretched her nimble fingers in order to harness the energy there while her third eye watched the Art do its magic. The time to birth the Art into the physical was when she knew where to begin. As Sammo gazed she felt the urge develop. She waited until the urge became the knowledge, and took up a ration of Sienna paint on the tip of her brush. The Mandala started with a sun. There were two in this realm, and Sammo knew it was the smaller, more intense sun, the male one, Khala. She touched the paint brush to her hand and, with almost no assistance, Khala took his shape against the lines of her palm. She spent a bit of Tomato giving form to his passion and to delineate him from his ring, Cephos. Tomato came forth again t o lend more fire. Sammo stopped to gaze again. She could see the star, waiting, but couldn’t birth it until she understood it in her heart.
Memo chattered and sunk his claws into her shoulder, drawing her jarringly back into her body. Laughter in Sammo’s belly quelled irritation as she realized the Knowledge had wended its way into her mind in its own way. She dipped her brush again into Sienna and began to birth the star, the eternal link to the heavens and divine knowledge. In drawing her Mandala, she was drawing an oracle, a way to bring wisdom into the physical. The star was of both worlds and provided the conduit, the pathway for Sammo to access the information. She chuckled and cooed to the little ones as a physical stirring in her stomach showed her where this link was located in her body. She realized belatedly that fey didn’t need physical oracles at all. She mixed Tomato and Sienna to fill in some of the open bits. She formed another Siena ring and stopped, watching the shape of the Earth take place on her hand, framing the rest. Many fey didn’t believe in the Earth, the fabled otherland, and many others spoke about it regularly, wistfully, although they hadn’t incarnated there in countless generations. Sammo was an earth fey, in tune with her planet and the lushly vibrating female sun, Khali. Sammo knew that the Earth was real, existed somewhere, in some time, and sealed this knowledge with a kiss of Tomato, a bold final outline, and her mandala was born.
Sammo was still peering into her hand, enthralled, and feeling maternal, when the bell above the door sounded. Berutha was always the first to arrive on Feast Nights. Sammo glanced quickly around the place, seeing her home as Berutha might, before opening the door to admit her friend. Berutha smiled and glided in, her dress immaculate, arms clad in gold, her eyes elegantly enhanced with a simple glamour (the like of which Sammo could never seem to hold), and every lilac hair artfully arranged into a state of playful disarray. She handed a platter of delicacies to Sammo with a flourish. Twitter perched on her head as usual, a living, feathered, expensive chapeau, and preened his feathers as he looked slyly around the room. He spied Memo and Hoofer lounging on the pillows Sammo had just vacated, and cawed at them belligerently as he dug his talons more securely into Berutha’s hair. Berutha, for her part, seemed not to notice as she sunk onto her favorite chair. Sammo knew without a doubt that the throne-like shape and design of the chair helped Berutha to imagine that she was royalty, or at least a member of the Earth Fey Court, and even noticed that Berutha seemed to act a bit regal when she was ensconced in the chair. Sammo had thus far in their acquaintance kindly refrained from pointing this out.
‘Are we expecting the others tonight?’ Berutha intoned from her throne.
Sammo smiled and nodded. ‘We are! It should be fun.’ Berutha nodded sedately and sighed, visibly relaxing her muscles. The bell sounded again and Sammo traipsed to the door.
She opened the door to Ver’ach, and her heart sped up accordingly as he smiled into her eyes and entered the room. Sammo accepted the bowl of libation from him, the beverage a fitting offering from a water fey. She had no doubt that his fluid vibration could be felt six stories into the earth, and she would pounce on the opportunity to make mud with him. The earth-shaped bowl was a fitting tribute to her own heritage, and she smiled up at him. Ver’ach fairly glowed, and was one of those who had no idea of his effect on others. For the most part at least. Sammo knew that he had to know of the effect he had on her. She herself glowed when he was around. She felt herself blushing a deep violet as she realized she’d been gazing into his eyes for quite a long time. Behind her, Berutha cleared her throat amusedly and Sammo attempted to turn casually to place the large bowl on the table near Berutha’s platter. Ver’ach’s family was very wealthy and royally connected. In fact, he was water fey royalty of some sort himself. It was evident in his bearing even when one didn’t know him personally. She didn’t care about his origins, herself, but wondered if his family would have a problem with hers. The idea didn’t seem fair; she was her own woman after all, dependent on no one. But she knew how these things went.
Sammo took the opportunity now to dart into the kitchen. She unwrapped the loaves of bread she’d baked in the early hours of the morning, and stifled a small yawn as she remembered kneading and flouring in the pre-dawn hours. She placed the loaves onto plates with hard and soft cheeses that melted on the tongue, made by the cheeseman down the road. He was her secret source, and flirted with her when she bought tubs and blocks of his wares. At the last Feast Night, Berutha had threatened to disguise herself and follow Sammo to market one day, if Sammo didn’t reveal the source of this delectable cheese soon. Sammo had grinned and invited her to try. Carrying the plates back into the living room, she glanced casually at Ver’ach who smiled at her again, in that way he had, before he turned back to hear Berutha’s endless story about the oracle she’d discovered last weekend in the market place, the one that gave readings so accurate that even fire fey were astounded and somewhat intimidated.
Sammo knew that her friends would like tonight’s Feast to be oracle themed, and that they would find something else to discuss for most of the evening, out of deference to her. Her lips twitched as she hid a secret smile. She would not only encourage them to indulge in their chosen topic of the moment, she would even start things off by reading for one of them with her Mandala. She put a neutral expression on her face as she went to answer the bell and opened the door to Mathos, Machos, and Seya. She greeted the twins by name, mostly to prove to herself that she could finally tell them apart. They were not only identical physically, but their energies were startlingly similar as well. It had taken acquaintance and study over several gatherings to begin to distinguish between them. Their younger sister, Seya, was a sweet and gentling influence on all Feast gatherings, and Sammo welcomed her with a hug.
Earth Feasts were the tastiest by far. Mathos and Machos headed directly to the table and placed down succulent bowls of root vegetables in herb sauces, and wasted no time in digging into everything on offer. Sammo rushed back to the kitchen, kicking herself, as she grabbed her best, mismatched (eclectically, she like to think) chalices for Ver’ach’s libation. She hoped he didn’t think her rude for not bringing them out sooner, and willed the knot in her stomach to smooth itself out.
The fey settled into their favorite nooks and crannies in the room and tucked into the feast, after watching Sammo light her Feast candles and thank the Mother and Khali for the food and celebration, and for the planet. Sammo could barely contain her eagerness to try out the gift waiting in her palm, but did her best to fill her belly and to converse with the others and to not laugh too loudly at Ver’ach’s jokes. She took a deep breath and listened to the talk about oracles and amazing readings the friends had given each other. Seya in particular seemed to have a singular talent for accuracy, perhaps because she listened more than she spoke.
The feasting slowed, and the fey licked their lips and fingers, with the exception of Mathos and Machos, ravenous earth fey, who headed to the Feast table for thirds. Berutha was coming to the end, thank the Goddess, of an in-depth description of the reading she had done for Machos. “It was scarily accurate, really. I amazed even myself, and I do highly accurate readings all the time!”
Sammo put down her plate and surveyed the others cagily. ‘I acquired an oracle today,’ she offered quietly, mopping up some sauce with her last piece of bread crust. Memo and Hoofer trudged over to lap the sauce from her plate. Twitter watched them distrustfully but whatever his opinion might be, he kept his counsel for the moment.
‘You did?’ said Mathos, surprise evident in his voice. He grunted when his sister elbowed him in the ribs. He shook out his wings self-consciously and tried again, in a more off-handed tone. ‘Oh, did you?’
‘I did!” grinned Sammo, and they leaned close to inspect her hand as she held out her palm. I birthed it this evening, just before you all arrived.’
‘Lovely!’ breathed Seya. ‘Oh, it’s lovely, Sammo. I can feel it speaking to me.’ Flushing violet with pride, Sammo continued to hold out her oracle, and allowed the others to peruse the symbols and praise her handiwork. Seya’s enthusiasm gushed freely.
‘Could we convince you to read for one of us?’
‘How about me?’ Ver’ach’s quiet voice floated to Sammo across the haze of fellowship in the room. She stared, not quite speechless, but trying to find a pleasant way to decline, perhaps blaming it on her inexperience. The words stuck in her throat however, because she couldn’t dishonor the flow of the Wisdom with half-hearted excuses. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to agree too readily. Who knew what the oracle would say? What it would reveal? About herself perhaps? In front of everyone? Seya’s sweet voice interrupted her though processes.
‘Oh, yes! Do, Sammo. I’m sure you’ll do fabulously,’ she trilled, with a twinkle in her eyes. Nervously, Sammo wondered if her feelings were a bit more obvious than she thought. Next, she cursed herself inwardly for not finding the right reply in time, one which would have spared her the experience she was about to undergo. She was an earth fey, and could create in a flash. She had none of the talents of the air fey, who had thoughts like wings, that moved and developed at the speed of light. Memo and Hoofer chimed in on cue, chattering their displeasure at her self-negating thoughts. Swallowing, she looked at Ver’ach and smiled through her jitters, and agreed, with a frog in her throat, to read for him.
Settling back on her pillows, Sammo breathed deeply, and instructed Ver’ach to do the same as he lowered himself onto the floor in front of her. Connecting their energies, she felt a bit of a thrill, and opened her eyes to see if he showed evidence of the same reaction. Her eyes opened to his smile, one he seemed to save for Sammo, intense and private, and feeling her breath catch in her throat, she shut her eyes again as quickly as she’d opened them. When all was right, and their energies were entwined, Sammo opened her palm and, keeping Ver’ach in her line of vision, she gazed into her Mandala, living Art painted onto her skin. She felt the attentions of the others draw close.
‘What have you been wondering about lately, Ver’ach?’ she asked. ‘There’s a great experience of mystery around you. Wondering, waiting, watching. You’ve been asking the moon, and she’s responding, yet you are not listening.” Ver’ach shifted his body where he sat on the floor in front of her, and made himself more comfortable. Sammo continued. ‘It’s a question I feel with you, and you are looking for answers and signs. And they are coming, and you are not seeing them, even though I feel they are giving you the answer you wish to hear. Which makes me sad.’ Ver’ach did not respond, but continued to gaze at her intently, as if he wished to see those signs in her face.
‘Your grandmother is here too, Ver’ach. She was half of the earth fey, and half of the water, an adventurer and traveler in both realms. She meets you in your dreams and draws maps and signs in the earth, things that you don’t understand with your mind, but your emotions are a bit more receptive to them. And yet you still don’t quite trust them.’ Sammo breathed deeply, once, twice, and went back in.
‘Your grandmother draws the sign of the crescent, the female, in the earth. Female of the earth? And she holds the crescent walking stick, a tool to get you to where you need to go. She kneels as she draws, and her eyes implore you to understand. She’s pretty frustrated, in fact. She thinks you are simply refusing to understand, out of fear. And she has little patience for fear.” Ver’ach had begun to flush a beautiful midnight blue that almost matched his tunic. He jumped up quickly to fill his chalice with libation from his earth bowl. ‘Look!’ exclaimed Sammo. ‘Your libation, born of the element water, is housed in a bowl like the earth. Interesting.’
‘Yes, interesting,’ Ver’ach responded in deep tones before he buried his face in his chalice, peeking over the rim to see if anyone noticed his discomfiture. Seya lowered her head and smiled into her own chalice, and Berutha simply smiled into his face. Sammo watched all of this with confusion, and wondered what she was missing, from her own reading. She continued, nonetheless.
‘You grandmother points to the moon now. She’s telling me that she was the black sheep herself, and it was the best thing she ever did for herself, to follow her heart, and shape her own life. She intends to incarnate again soon, and will insist on being earth and water fey again. She says she wants to be with those she loves again, and that you are making things exceedingly difficult, fighting nature the way you are.’ Sammo shrugged, and raised her head. ‘That’s all I’m getting.’
Berutha was leaned over in her chair, shaking with silent laughter that she didn’t attempt to conceal. Seya gazed at Sammo and Ver’ach with uanabashed glee and affection. Sammo wondered if she’d said something wrong, offended Ver’ach in some way. The thought made her mildly miserable, she noticed. Machos and Mathos gazed at each other, clueless, but aware that something big was going on. They broke the silence.
‘Well done, Sammo, and lovely Feast. We have to get to class early in the morning though, so we’ll have to say goodnight.’ They rose and brought some dishes into the kitchen, straightened some pillows and chairs they’d moved to suit themselves, and waited for their sister to make her good-byes.
‘Me, as well,’ added Ver’ach. ‘Early. Bright and Early. Before it gets bright even.’ Sammo saw Berutha’s face slide into a gentle smirk on the other side of the room, as Berutha straightened the space around her and hunted for her wrap. Twitter had perked up considerably, ostensibly happy to be on his way to somewhere where Memo and Hoofer were not. Seya frowned at Ver’ach and gazed at Sammo with disappointment on her face. Sammo thanked the crew for coming and walked them en masse to the door, Ver’ach first in line to depart, which he did rather speedily. As Sammo closed the door, Seya’s disappointment was echoed in her own heart, although she wasn’t quite sure why.
She meandered into the kitchen, where Memo and Hoofer scurried up the cabinets and hopped onto her shoulders. They knew she’d be wrapping the cheese now, and hoped for a morsel or two to fill their bellies while they slept. Sammo obliged them as she put the food away, and when she felt their bodies go slack, carefully placed the little ones onto their favorite pillows for the night. She blew out the feast candles, and noticed that the candles she’d lit to birth the Art, while low, were still burning. The bell over the door surprised her, and as she turned towards it, she noticed one of Berutha’s gold bracelets lying in the center of the seat of Berutha’s throne. Grabbing it up, she held it triumphantly with a bit of a smirk in the palm of her Mandala hand, and opening the door to Berutha, was instead forced to raise her eyes to meet those of Ver’ach, who stood there without his usual smile, and in fact looked a bit nauseous and perturbed. She’d never seen this confident fey look off balance before, and was struck. He gazed at the bracelet, and his eyes of course went through the center of the bracelet and locked on the Mandala. She watched him swallow with difficulty.
‘I’d like to come in,’ he said. ‘And I’d like to explain that reading to you.’ Finding she had no ready reply, she stepped aside and let him enter, grateful for the chance to apologize if she had indeed offended him as she’d suspected. They headed for the small table where the Art candles still burned, and each grabbed a little one to hold in their lap as they sank onto the pillows. Sammo rubbed Hoofer’s head, and looked up at Ver’ach, and waited, a little anxiously, for him to speak. He didn’t speak immediately, and her distress grew, but a glance at her Mandala told her perhaps good things were coming, and many questions would be answered in this night of the Earth Feast, so she settled in, and gladly allowed him to take his time, and hers.