In the Victorian era, Gypsies began to travel glorious ornate horse drawn wagons or caravans known as Vardos, which captured the publics imaginations, inspiring countless paintings, poems, novels, and children’s stories.. The gypsies have always been mistrusted and persecuted for their ways. Where they really healers and clairvoyants? Or where they really charlatans and parasites? The Gypsies hang on to age old customs, courtship rites and dialect. Romany communities are still to be found all over Europe, and deep inside the former Soviet Union. In Britain today, barely a dozen families are to be found wandering the country in horse drawn wagons. In a decade or so, their may be none at all.
Listen to the Gypsy’s word,
Calling the All, a gulf to ford.
Bridge the fast realities,
An harm it none do what ye please.
‘O’ elements watch and guard this book,
From wandering eyes and prying looks.
In this night and ready hour,
Fill it with thine ancient power.
Powers of the North, Earth below,
Show us to live, to learn and grow.
Lend us your strength and stability,
To practice our craft and find ourselves free.
Powers of the East, Wind and Sky,
Watch O’er these pages with thine eye.
Your wisdom and knowledge for these we do ask,
That this book be worthy – the craft and its task.
Powers of the West, Waters and Sea,
Transformation and growth are granted by thee.
Bless these Pages with all that you know,
That all righteous readers may learn and may grow.
In winter, in spring, in summer and fall,
In our Shadows and Dreams, ask the aid of the All.
To practice the craft of the wise as we must,
With truth, and love, respect and trust.
We ask for the blessings of the Lady and Lord,
As we hold up her chalice and brandish his sword.
All that we know is infused by his power,
From sun and from moon, from rock and from flower.
Guard us Earth Mother and teach us your lore,
From silvery moon, to the earth’s inner core.
When working our magic, please help us not fear it,
We know you will guide us and strengthen our spirits.
Grant us Sky father, your wisdom and strength,
To complete all our workings to go the full length.
You smile down upon us, the light of the sun,
Rejoicing in life, with you we are one.
Guardians from the four direction,
Lady and lord, we ask your protection.
And you love for which we look,
To inspire and lead us as we write this book.
Yet to the unschooled eye let see,
Confusing words and sophistry.
Lead them from these sacred pages, On blessed ways throughout the ages.
Yet to the Gypsy this book shall stay,
Plain and truthful, clear as day.
Direct and show, guide and teach,
Their dreams and goals, please help them reach.
Free will for all, And harm to none,
As I have willed it, so it shall be done.
Sun shone through the stained glass windows of Quinn’s room, bathing it in a soft pink light. In the centre of the light stood an enormous bed, and curled up among the covers was Quinn, still fast asleep.
It was a beautiful day outside, and the residents of the Sangreal Towers had started their day many hours before. Unlike Quinn, and many others her age who had attended the celebrations and rituals of the previous eve. It had been a celebration of Mid-summers eve, as well as a testing of power. Quinn had performed well showing skill and precision with all she attempted. She had retired to bed around dawn with pride and joy in her heart.
The Towers hand Maidens had been ordered to allow the young Acolytes to sleep longer than usual due to the previous night’s events. Each of them was exhausted both mentally and physically. This was not at all pleasing to them, and many were in an impatient fluster come mid-morning. Now their duties would continue long into the evening, when they could be at home.
Sadly for Quinn, as well as a handful of other Acolytes, was woken abruptly shortly after noon. Disgruntled servants helping them to bathe and dress before ushering them out of their chamber doors.
Quinn turned to say something to the woman who had just served her, but she had already disappeared back inside the chamber doors, muttering under her breath before she had the chance. Yawning, and somewhat bewildered, she turned towards the corridor, and wandered absently towards the spiral staircase at the end.
Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she was met b a cool breeze blowing in from outside. She breathed in deep, enjoying the smell of the sea. Quinn loved the sea, swimming in its waves and surf, its cool depths and velvet touch on her skin. Even the colors fascinated her, with many shades of blue, grey and green. She paused a moment to gaze from the upstairs window. She stood in awe of the sight. No matter how many billion times she had gazed out the window, it always managed to appear different each time.
The all-seeing Eye – a single human eye found in many eras and cultures. It is generally found in many eras and cultures. It is generally a symbol of the watchful and protective power of the watchful and protective power of the Supreme Being, watchful and protective power of the Supreme Being, especially when that entity is considered in a solar or heavenly context. It appears on the great seal of the United States, and is among the many beautiful symbols of Freemasonry, where it represents the Great architect of the universe.
In regions where the evil eye belief occurs, the all-seeing eye charm is used as apostrophized talismans against danger. In its specifically protective role, “the all-seeing-eye”, appears on at least one North American Good luck coin to ‘guard’ the bearer ‘from evil’. A similar talismanic function was assigned to the protective widget eye or ‘Eye of Horus’ of ancient Egypt and the third eye of Buddha in India. Even the Mexican ojo devenado charm, an ancient Shamanic amulet made from a psychedelic legume seed is given an eye related name: ojo de venado means “deer eye”.
The tune he whistled reminded Miranda of an old nursery rhyme that the children of the caravan used to sing. She felt an instant pang of sorrow at remembering all those she had left behind. Unsure what had happened to them after she had fled.
Gazing at her surroundings, Miranda found herself in a clearing, amongst a forest of thick trees. She vaguely remembered she had been running away, and had run all the way here.
“Will not be much longer now Girl. A feast for you all nice and classy!” said Jasper, who gazed back at her over his shoulder. She was pale and frightened, her eyes wide with terror.
Miranda turned her head slowly towards him, for the pain her head was severe and persistent. Images and memories of the previous nights events were still foggy, though she remembered most of it. The fire, the forest, the book. “Oh no!” she thought, her face becoming impossibly paler.
“Don’t fret now Girl,” said Jasper kindly. He was again at her side, but this time, he held a plate of steaming hot food.
Miranda ignored the plate, attempting to protest and demand to know the were-abouts of the Grimoire, which she knew she had received from her mother before running into the forest. But before she could, the Clurician was shaking his finger at her making a ‘tsk, tsk’ sound, just as a mother would when scolding a naughty child.
“Rest young Girl,” said Jasper. His expression genuinely concerned and somewhat gentle. “You have a long journey ahead of you. Yes, yes you do. Your destiny awaits and you are the key, while that book of yours is the clue.”
Miranda’s eyes flew open wide at the mention of the book. But before she could ask anything more, the Clurician made it clear she was to take the plate of food from him before he would participate any further with her questioning. His small fur covered face firm, and furry foot tapping with slight impatience.
Hesitantly she took the plate, which admittedly smelt wondrous. Bacon, eggs and toast, were piled high on the plate. She took a piece of toast and began to eat, looking up at the Clurician hoping for approval. She was rewarded with a brad grin.
“The sacred tomb which you carried,” he continued, “is safe, a safer place they cannot make. Than in this chest which will not break.” His voice was almost musical as he spoke the strange cryptic phrase. “A guard is Jasper, who I am by name, and with my life I have sworn to proclaim, that I shall protect ya’ll and the treasure ya hold till I deliver ya safely to the Shamany herself.”
“I really don’t know how you aren’t the size of a Hippopotoptimice!” Jasper continued, making himself comfortable at the edge of Miranda’s make shift bed. “The way you all keep your gobs open like that. Why its hardly a good diet for someone so young.” The Clurician looked at her solemnly, as though he was genuinely concerned for her hearth. His large brown eyes kind and gentle.
Miranda, still unsure what Jasper had said, was sure interested in the book and the plate of food than this creatures strange curiosity with eating insects. Every movement she made was agony, but her hunger stronger than her pain. She gulped hungrily at the meal as she listened.
This Creature had obviously been sent to retrieve her and found her as she had been sent to keep her safe the question was, who was it had sent him and for what reason? She continued eating hungrily, waiting for him to continue speaking. But he did not.
Instead the creature had himself snugly in front of her. His cloak, had been neatly spread out around him and he now sat fully concealed by it.
Puzzled, Miranda chewed her mouthful of bacon and eggs slowly, watching the Clurician. He sat quietly returning the gaze.
When she was done, Miranda spoke. “Who sent you?”
The Eucalyptus leaves crunched beneath her feet and darkness grows with a quietness and serenity. Tonight she steps out of the mundane world and enters the unknown Underworld on her own. When she returns it will be with insight.
She arrives at the ritual site, an old disused mine in South Australia. The darkness envelops her as the clan brings in the quarters. They circle and sing and watch as she approaches the Underworld. This she must do alone.
She throws a coin down the mine shaft and slowly descends the ladder. She had no sooner put one foot on the ground when Kali springs to life asking her the purpose of her intrusion of her domain. Her heart pounds. She responds and then is directed on her journey.
The darkness is so black; she must feel her way along the shaft, touching the sides. There is only just enough head room to stand. She can only continue to move forward. Turning back would loose her way.
The chants of the rest of the group are barely audible now. She is there. She is on her own in the womb of the mother there is no fear. She feels safe. She feels beautiful. Minutes pass. She keeps on going.
She sees a change in the blackness, first to brown, then to lemon. She has done it. She is overwhelmed with pride. Ecstatic! Wonderful! On her arrival she receives a gift, a reading from the High Priestess, before taking her place in the circle with the rest of the group. Tears of joy streamed down her face. No one spoke, everyone knew. Although it is different for everyone, it is an experience they will cherish always.
Miranda obediently allowed the amused Clurician to close her mouth, with a soft furry finger. This creature was most definitely peculiar, but she sensed he meant her no harm. Another moment of déjàvu.
“Your name is Jasper isn’t it?” she asked, her voice sounding strangled and unusual.
“The Girl remembers my name,” sang Jasper is the name I was given by my mother at birth, and so it will remain till I return to mother earth.”
With another lively jig, Jasper made his way behind the young girl. “Let us raise you up to sit, and maybe you can eat even just a little bit.”
Miranda let the Clurician gently raise her to a sitting position. Her head throbbed harder with the effort. She groaned pitifully clutching her hands to her head.
“Easy does it now Girl,” Jasper said kindly. “You sure did give your noggin a flogging!”
The Clurician let go of Miranda and with a short skipping jig crossed the area between were he had been, and the smoldering coals of a cooking fire encircled with stone. As quick as he had left, the nimble creature had returned to her side, with a large green sleeping swag. Neatly rolled and tied with thick leather straps.
“Here,” said Jasper in a quiet tone. “Rest against old Jaspers swag. Your bobbley head and skinny neck will need rest before it will sit right again.”
Unsure of the correct response to such an insulting and odd statement, Miranda chose to say nothing. Instead she attempted to smile as best she could, and nod her head, which she regretted immediately.
Jasper saw her grimace in pain. “Now, now,” said the Clurician in a more formal tone. He pointed his short stubby finger at her, imitating a figure of authority. “We can’t have any of that either. How your kind manage to balance those giant noggins is beyond me!” His other hand now resting on his hip.
Again, Miranda wasn’t sure of the correct response. Jaspers cryptic phrases were so confusing, and with the pain in her head she was having trouble keeping up. This time she made no effort to respond, and continued to stare at Jasper in his odd stance.
The Clurician remained unmoving for a moment gently shaking one fury finger at her with one hand and his other resting on his hip. It was an amusing pose, and Miranda would have laughed, had Jasper not been looking at her with such and intense stare. For a moment, she thought her lack of response may have offended him. But before she could attempt to say something, the Clurician had nimbly jigged his way back to the cooking coals, and set to work. Then he began to whistle.
The marathon continues!
I am begining to become adicted to this show. Airing today on fox on the sci-fi channel is the second half of the first series of Heros. It’s a continuation of last Saturdays marathon. Peter and his brother Nathan have given themselves to save New York City. Claire is back with her adopted family. Mohinda has a new charge in his life and perhaps now a new destiny. Jessica/Niki her guy and her son, most likely after a trip to the hospital to continue their lives. Hiro and Ando stopped the bomb, and the rogue cop can now retun to his pregnant wife.
Sylar, the bad guy, of course got away in an all familiar scenario by slithering down into the merky depths of the sewer. Well that was no suprise he is the bad guy afterall and we killed him once! Plenty of villan finess leftover for series 2!
They are all heros. But will they fight for the greater good forever?
She remembered running, and the effort of a long journey. She carried something with her. Something heavy, and important. Miranda was sure she was supposed to protect it. But from what? She couldn’t remember. The fire perhaps?
All around her were trees. Tall thick trunks with clawing branches, which tore at her clothes and scratched at her skin.
Pain filled her head suddenly, and she remembered falling. She had hit her head on something solid, and hard. Her head hurt badly. She raised her arm slowly to her head, inspecting the area with her hand.
A large bump had raised from her skin, and very painful to touch. Luckily when she inspected her hand, she found no evidence of blood, or an open wound. Though someone was banging on metal gongs on her head. Bang, bang, Band!
She tried to turn over to relieve the pressure in her throbbing head. But no matter which way she turned, the noise in her head only got louder.
The louder the sound became, the more real the pain in her eyes, and was rewarded by the greeting of a beautiful blue sky, and what appeared to be a warm summers day.
The bright sun temporarily blinded her, though the pounding in her head did not cease. In fact it seemed to get even louder.
“Awake, awake, its about time. The fireball wandered up high a long time ago. It will soon be all out of shine.” Said a familiar voice. Miranda was puzzled, she couldn’t tell where the voice had originated and she wasn’t sure she was capable of sitting up just yet.
“Beginning to worry I was. Thought you must have hit that bobbly head of yours harder than what it actually did seem,” said the Clurician. His furry yellow face appearing directly above her own.
Stunned, Miranda could not do anything but blink and stare with her mouth gaped wide open.