Volume 8, issue number 50 ~ January 2008
With heart and soul
Reason can tell us what we have to leave out. But the heart can tell us what we have to do.
Joseph Joubert, French writer
It is gorgeous weather. Not too hot, not too cold and practically no wind. I am sitting on a bench in the park. This is not just a bench. It is located on my favourite spot, under a beautiful aged oak tree. A lark shrills his joy about the summer. The trees around me radiate and tell me that they are healthy and are being taken care of very well by the rain that is falling regularly and by the plentiful sunshine. Sun and rain are indispensable for all of us, and indeed especially for these apparently motionless beings.
The old watermill ~ Mara Oldenburg
A few years ago, after a tough period in my life, I travelled on my own to the winter sports in Austria. I had hired a room in the family hotel ‘Zur Alten Mühle’ (ye olde mill) in Reichenfels, a small town faraway in Carinthia. However, it happened that there were to be no winter sports for me that year. I´ll tell you why.
It is a long drive to Carinthia, almost 700 miles, but in high spirits I took off via the German Motorways, on my way to fresh adventures. I can guarantee you that the adventure I experienced is well worth the telling.
At a certain point I was dead tired and stopped in the vicinity of Salzburg on a parking lot alongside the Tauern motorway in order to stretch my legs. There was a small path which led into the mountains, and I decided to follow it a few miles to give my cramped body the opportunity to recover. It was not long before I was out of sight of the racing cars, and found myself alongside a small river in the midst of a conifer forest.
Entwined ~ Jill Kramer
The snow is falling again, the sky is misty grey and as the flakes fall onto the white ground, my thoughts are carried far away, as if each thought that enters my mind is carried along softly on each flake. It has been a long journey. The snow is twirling and curling as the wind carries it away and the time is going backwards, back to that cold autumn evening when we first met, 4th October 2002.
It had been a strange evening and as the last customers were leaving the restaurant to make their way home. Our conversation changed from day to day things to something far more important. Let me introduce myself, my name is Victoria. I did not really know why the subject of spiritualism had come up. I had known Elizabeth for quite a while and since I had bought a small seaside cottage in the village, I had eaten regularly at Elizabeth and Tony’s. It was true to say that this was certainly a restaurant, which was a little bit different. Rumour had it in the village that Elizabeth was not like the farming village folk. Some said she was a witch. In a funny sort of way she reminded me of one, her plump figure, which shook with mirth when she laughed and her small bright eyes which lit up like fairy lights when she talked about subjects she was interested in. And that is exactly what happened on that cold autumn evening. I can almost see us sitting there now, pouring over the oracle cards. I remember I chose a card ‘letting go’ and the picture it depicted showed a road with a dead end. I did not understand what it meant at the time although it’s all too obvious now.
This here I give to you ~ Marja Tames
This here I give to you
for the coming year
The angel ~ Moira Marigold
Le depart/the start
Sabin sat cross-legged on his floor, a young man barely 18. His gangly legs awkwardly fit together as he concentrated on the book in his lap. Its cover and pages were so worn, that the title was barely legible, but if one looked closely enough, they’d notice the word "Magique". He bit his lip and stared intensely forward, unblinkingly looking into a void. A thin black hand emerged. It was dense. He stood immediately and strode forward, edging toward the tiny mound. He bent to touch it and smiled.
"Plein," [solid] he whispered thoughtfully. "Ainsi, Je suis heureux réussir ensuite trois heures," [well, I am happy to succeed after three hours] he mocked himself slightly. It had been a long night. Only hours before he had learned something about himself. For years he had been completely obsessed with the dark… with shadows, secrets, magic. All of these things implied ‘The Unknown’ to him; the vast, bottomless chasm in existence that had always enticed him. Tonight, he took his first step into the shadow and learned that it could be controlled. In a world that he despised, a place of society, class distinction, and proper etiquette, he found something of his own. The black hand slowly pulled itself back into the shadow as he grinned, tossing his brown hair out of his eyes.