A short story by Penny

It takes 33 years for some lessons to reach the soul...

Superfluous pain wracks the body, while the soul tries to accomplish its aim: to figure out what to aim AT. A mind, brilliant - not as in a steady brilliance that can be seen by all, but as in bursts of blinding light - cannot maintain a focus for long enough to reach a dream.

(they said it was a boy's problem)

There is a pattern to those flashes, to those streaks of knowing-in-the-belly,don't-ask-me-to-show-you-where-i-read-it-but-I-know-it's-right. And once the pattern is established, the pattern of darkness - of disillumination - is discernable, too.

(much to the relief of her teachers - including herSelf)

The belief in her own immortality, in her own resilience and validity - flying in the face of anyone who has ever known her in brief encounters - is an unperishable meat. Dreams she has not yet realized are inner truth perhaps the only one she has - or ever will have - known at the end of the journey.

Another joins her. Another who is tangible, fragile, and requires the illusions of the first. The ethereal begins to harden in the cool, dark, and flashless turn of Saturn.

These are two of a gender, two of a kind, two of a heritage, two of a heart. That which sustains one, sustains the other. Together, cycles are lived resources are shared, flesh is warmed, hearts are revived. What has been illusion/dream begins to solidify. The dreams provide substance for the reality.

(the psyche is a benevolent dictatorship, not a democracy)

Wise Crone & Holy Fool administer endurance and creative choice.
The Star and the Tower bless dark, bless containment, bless change.

Neither is what she once was, or what she will be.

Penny

This is a story from the yOni women's circle
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