Good fortune follows Part II

Very often navigating my way through a difficult stretch of internal angst comes via the voice of an imaged character and creation of a mythic scene. Cross-pollination.

1. cross-pollination. The transfer of pollen from the male reproductive organ (an anther or a male cone) of one plant to the female reproductive organ (a stigma or a female cone) of another plant. Insects and wind are the main agents of cross-pollination.

Cross-pollination | Define Cross-pollination at Dictionary.com

The medicine story "The Three Sisters" grows from the anger, the dis-heartened self who sees slow, or non-existent 'success' as failure. As I write the story, the medicine comes for me. I reread the poem Times Alone by Antonio Machado. 

"Last night, as I was sleeping.

I dreamt--marvellous error!--

that I had a beehive here inside my heart.

And the golden bees 

were making white combs

and sweet honey

from my old failures."

Machado's poem introduced to me in Angeles Arrien's book the Four-fold Way has healed me of my dis-heartened errors more than once; I fold the poem and the imagery of the bees doing their healing work. I fold the medicine in. Pelu ke aloha. Nature -- Bee and Wind -- are my teachers, I become Bee. I become Wind. I become a cross-pollinator and use words to make honey from my distress, my failures. 

wind

The latest installment of "The Three Sisters" is called Cross-pollination. Dumpling is on the phone. 

"Hi, Anna this is Dumpling." The woman on the other end of the cellphone sounded sleepy.
"Dumpling, hello. Oh god, I've overslept. Can I call you back?"
"No, this won't take long. Anna, I'm calling to say I won't be taking that order for medicine pouches."
There was a long silence on the other end. Dumpling continued, "I'm not the one to do what you've asked. I don't do those kinds of things anymore. So, no need to call me back." Dumpling hung up the phone.
For too long the expectations of others diluted her real love. Stitching and cutting shapes that held meaning for her was the only reason for doing her work any more. The phone call was not her favorite sort of thing, but, it was the practice she needed and there it was. The medicine was not something to buy or shovel into a showcase, which was what Anna Shields would do with Dumpling's stitchery. The pin money had always come in handy, but now? Now the money felt more like pins sticking into her. She had no room nor desire for the bloodletting. (Read more ...)