Archtypes at Work

image with thanks to omegaman

The last two days have been full of synchronicity: chance meetings and apparently random co-incidences. The Magician is at work, as he often is in this last phase of a Lunar cycle.

The Balsamic Moon naturally shifts our focus to future possibilities. The seeds of that future have been planted and now it is time to abandon control - to surrender and wait for the new theme to sprout with a New moon, due in two days.

I admire the work of Jana Riley. She describes the Magician archtype as"continuous creation and perpetual motion." All things are contained within all things.

In my tradition this is a time to be particularly alert to these subtle signs because there is always guidance hidden within them. The Magician is the messenger of the Gods and the ulterior motive behind his apparantly random arrangement of the Seen world is to show us a fresh point of view of the Unseen. 

In my case the wand of the Magus points to a completely new direction in my creative life. 

The tricky part comes next: letting go of doubt and preoccupation with the small details. Only then can inspiration flow through us to birth something new. I am working on that part.

What are the "coincidences" in life showing you?

Drawing from Life Chapter 17 begins:

The tide was out on Oneroa Beach. Rhona padded down the firm sand in her ankle boots to stand near the line of slack water. Taking in the wide view of blue on blue she was reminded of Eric Bates. This morning’s shock at seeing Bill again had ebbed a little, leaving a dirty brown line of anger behind - a kelp twisted accumulation. She had heard them discussing her as if she was some set of case notes.

She began pacing slowly and deliberately along the firm clean sand, following the arc where the water traced a flat curve against the land. It was calm down here though the town-side breeze from behind her was steady in open places. The shore was almost deserted. As she turned, she saw a dog rush onto the sand at the far end of the beach, clearly in pursuit of a stick . She was heading in that direction now and recognised the fully extended gait of border collie in the return run. The owner was identifiable by his shape before she could distinguish any features. It was Casey pacing along with a hiker’s cane, tossing for the dog and striding out with bow legs and barrel tummy. He saw her and gestured with his cane.

Rhona made her way up to join him in the middle of the beach. As he threw the stick again  he asked if she had managed to get a rest.

She nodded. “Yes.  I appreciated your help this morning.”

“Ah no worries. Does Herself know where you are?”

Rhona told him Grace and Bill were busy tete a tete when she had seen them last.

“That right? Take a turn down the beach with me eh?”

Casey got along with his rolling stride interspersed with prods in the sand from his cane. He seemed to carry it more for effect than support, swinging it forward in rhythm with his step. The dog trotted calmly at his heel now and appeared to be listening to the conversation with her head slightly angled to see his expression.

“So you’re not in a hurry to get back then?”

“No.” Rhona managed a wan smile “No I’m enjoying the space. I love the sunlight on the low water.”

“You talk like a painter as well. My brother used to talk like that. He was one of Grace’s crowd. I was only a nipper then but I would trail around after him. He’s dead now of course.”

They paced on in silence. After they had turned again and were making their way back Casey suddenly gestured forward with his stick. “Look here”, he said loudly. She thought he wanted to point something out to her but he was stabbing at the sand now to emphasise his words “My Lou would like to meet you. Come up with me to the house.” He gestured again at the beach front properties, seeming anxious she might refuse. 

“I’d love to,” she agreed. “That is if you’re sure your wife wouldn’t mind me coming.”

“Oh, no worries there. Besides she’d be spitting tacks if she thought you’d gone off without popping in. She keeps her eye on the beach from the kitchen you know. She’s probably up there this minute trying to figure out who this lovely girl is I’ve got in tow.”

Rhona laughed. “Well I’d better come up and explain. We don’t want any domestics on my account.”

“Good girl. Well come on, latch onto my arm there and we’ll trot home in style. Mollie get along home.” He hadn’t altered the pitch of his voice but the dog was off immediately, making a line to a weatherboard house near the beach access track.

Casey leaned in conversationally, “Mollie always goes first so Lou knows to put the tea in the pot.”

Rhona had been expecting Casey’s wife to be a birdlike, fragile looking person. She realised her mistake as soon as they stepped on to the porch. A commanding voice carried down the hall to the open door. “Is that you Casey?”

Casey was pulling his boots off and stacking them neatly on the boot rack, gesturing to Rhona to do the same. “Just leave them here if you would”, he whispered. “She’s particular about her floors Lou is, very particular.” He raised his voice to hail back through the door “All right Lou it’s only me.” He muttered under his breath “Who else would it be, bloody Omar Sharif?”

Once she was done with the boots he took Rhona by the elbow and ushered her in. “Come on in girl. Come down to the kitchen, she’ll be there. Ah, here she is”, he remarked as his wife came into the passage.

Louise was a strong seeming woman, at least 5’8” in her mauve velvet house shoes. She was a big boned upright person, wearing a lavender long sleeved wool dress buttoned at the collar. The sleeves were rolled up over sturdy forearms and large, capable hands. She had the high cheek bones and colouring of Highland Scots ancestry, which contrasted with her hair, rinsed blue-grey and permed into a tight coiled helmet. She had a cotton tea towel in one hand. The other hand was smoothing her bib front floral apron where it tied about her ample figure. Rhona noticed the sash was knotted precisely at the centre front.

“Here’s Rhona Lou.” Casey propelled his guest forward up the hall. Rhona held out her hand. “Hello Mrs Millar.” Her hand was engulfed in a warm dry clasp, surprisingly gentle. She realised that some part of her remembered that hand, and a reassuring voice talking to her as she lay in the dark-years ago.

“Louise will do me dear.”

Casey piped up again. “Grace’s niece- on the run from her Auntie. Have mercy and give her a cuppa eh -one for me while you’re about it.”

Louise smiled serenely at Rhona. “Come into the kitchen dear”, she said, leading the way. “You take this seat here. That’s Casey’s down the fire end by Mollie.”

The table was set on the far side with an embroidered linen cloth and a place setting for one. Mollie already lay relaxed in a cane basket near the chair. The other end of the long wooden table was clearly the site of large scale food preparation. Caterers’ trays were stacked on one side. Two huge mixing bowls held the makings of a green salad and a rice dish respectively.

Louise was talking. “Grace’s niece you say. Now there’s a funny thing.” Rhona watched her moving about at the sink bench, collecting a silver teapot covered with a pink and blue crocheted cosy. The tea cosy formed a skirt for a painted porcelain figure of a Georgian lady.

“I was helping up at the camp this morning”, Louise continued, “Susan need a hand with the lunches you see and…”

Casey butted in from his end of the table where he had established himself. “Young Susan is the wife of Lou’s nephew. She took over the catering aft…”

Louise continued her sentence without appearing to notice the interruption. “Susan was telling me one of the young girls staying was a niece of Grace’s and I was saying to Susan well she couldn’t be a niece because Grace only had the one brother and he’s gone over a good many years now of course…”

Casey piped up again, reaching for the teapot. “A grand niece Lou. Rhona here’s her Mum.”

Lou went on as before. “Of course Susan meant to say a grand-niece didn’t she?” She smiled kindly at her visitor but was evidently not expecting a reply.

Louise handed Rhona a china tea cup, saucer and plate. The set had gilded edges with large pink cabbage roses spread liberally over their generous proportions. Casey had removed his plate cover and was tucking into bacon, scrambled eggs and sausages with single minded concentration.

“Take some tea there Rhona, you know how you like it. We’ll have a slice of this Madeira,” She brought a faded square cake tin to the table and began slicing the contents with a large bone handled cake knife. She gestured to the food on the table near Rhona. “This lot is for the girl’s dinner tonight. There are two vegetarians and one girl with allergies to more things than I can count. So I told Susan I would do their food here and bring it up to her. It’s safer that way. I suppose you know them all?” She took a seat opposite Rhona, moving a mixing bowl a little to the left for a clearer view of the guest.

“Yes I do.” Rhona was watching the huge slices of cake arrange themselves on a cake plate that matched the tea service.

They chatted on a while longer about the camp and the netball and the health of the local Association until Casey had finished his lunch and was folding away his embroidered serviette. Rhona was saying “You have a busy weekend ahead Louise.”

Casey pushed back his chair and stood up. “She’s always busy aren’t you Lou? Always up to something. Excuse me girls. I’ll just be out the back.” He kissed his wife on the cheek as he went past. “Beautiful.” Rhona wasn’t sure if he meant his wife or his late lunch. Probably both, she thought, as she watched them exchange a loving glance and a light touch.

Louise leaned forward to say in an undertone “He’s just off to his bit of tobacco dear, but we won’t mention it.” She cleared away the tea things and brought a huge bowl of recently picked peas to the table. “So you’ve met Grace’s new neighbour?”

“Yes,” Rhona took the empty pottery bowl that was handed to her, thinking: Early peas. Lovely.

Louise set a larger bowl on the table for herself and sat down across from her guest. They began the shelling as they talked. Rhona’s thumb found the right spot on her first pod and it split open neatly but she had crushed the first pea in the row. It irritated her. Louise said nothing more for the moment and the only sound was the gentle popping of pods and the rattle of peas into bowls.

At last Louise said gently, without looking up “He’s a fine man I think. Mr Egan.”

Rhona concentrated on feeling the crisp pods under her hand. “I knew him before.” Louise nodded silently and, shelling efficiently, sat regarding her calmly. Rhona went on “I thought…well anyway it didn’t work out.” She shrugged, gave Louise a crooked smile and returned to her task.

The peas fell rhythmically into the bowls for a space. “When things are meant to be” Louise said, “they fall into place like these peas are now. It comes without undue effort.”

Rhona had filled her bowl.  She got up to take them to the colander that was standing in the sink and stood at the bench looking out, wondering where Casey had disappeared to, how Gracie was, what she would say to her aunt. Behind her Louise had finished her bowlful too.

She joined her at the bench. Rhona saw the tide had turned and the arc of the beach was flattening. Louise began to rinse the peas.  “That friend of his is another fine man, that Mr Kerby. You would know him too I expect.”

Rhona took up the tea towel from its hook and began to dry the dishes standing in the rack. She found she was colouring a little under Louise’s observation. “Yes. I know Philip better than I know Bill I suppose.”

Louise reached for the fresh mint standing in a glass beside her and stood ripping the leaves from the stalks with capable fingers. She smiled, more to herself than to Rhona. “He enjoyed his stay here at Christmas time I think.” She laughed quietly “He’s locked himself in a very civilised tower that one.” Abruptly she laid a strong hand on Rhona’s arm. “Look out when lightning strikes it.” She rinsed her fingers under the tap, her soft laugh coming again. “But you understand that don’t you dear. You’d be much the same.”