I know, late again!

Surrender…. Surrender….. Surrender???  Well, actually, I’d really like to make a vow instead.  Is that okay?  I am famous for making promises to myself and not keeping them - lose weight, do this, do that, blah blah….boring!  So today, Surrender Box, as I stand before you, I solemnley vow to make art, to take this journey along the Serpentine Road, to write

1. daily
2. using only materials and objects that I already have in my possession
3. using techniques that I have wanted to try for a long time.

We should be in for an adventure!

Sammiam

Break Free

To journey with Enchanteur is an opportunity to surrender and break free from the control of the puppeteer.
by Heather Blakey

A New Journey

 I was lying in my hammock strung between the crabapple trees, listening to the mourning doves in the fir tree and thinking peaceful summer thought when I noticed a new noise. It started out like a mosquito, a kind of whining humming noise. Then it got louder and I though that maybe it was a humming bird finally finding the feeder I put up the day before. Then it got louder still. I opened my eyes and looked around. I couldn’t see anything. I turned and sat up on the edge of the hammock. Still I couldn’t see anything. I stood up and looked around. There, underneath the hammock, was - well, it was something. I wasn’t sure just what it was, but it was humming and looked like a hole of some kind. It had swirls of color in it, and as I watched it with my mouth hanging open, a huge cloud of butterflies burst out of it. They fluttered up and through the holes in the rope hammock, filling the air with color. Then they swirled around me, landing on me and tickling me with tiny legs and wings. The air filled with sparkles and color, and I heard a voice talking to me.

“She Wolf, would you like to come on an adventure, down the Serpentine Road and to destinations unknown? Summer’s a good time for adventures, you know…”

I laughed delightedly and replied, “Enchanteur! I should have known! Of course I want to come!”
“Then grab your back pack, but hurry! I’ll hold the portal open for you!” came the reply.

I changed into traveling clothes and grabbed my backpack full of paper and pens and my camera and some socks to knit, and then I added some basic gear like matches and a pocket knife and a water bottle. Finally I put in spare clothes and a jacket and rain poncho. I knew I didn’t have all I needed, but this was a start. I needed to hurry - Enchanteur was waiting. I ran back to the hammock and the butterflies. They swirled around me again and then landed on me once more. I heard Enchanteur’s voice again. She said to take a deep breath and let the butterflies take me.

The world exploded in all the colors of the butterflies’ wings. It was magnificent. The scents of the summer flowers in the garden flowed past me and then I plunged into a darkness punctuated by pricks of starlight. The butterflies were still all over me, all around me. The colors swirled again and then suddenly I was standing on a grassy bank by a stream. The butterflies flew up and filled the air in a huge cloud of color and wings before they disappeared. I smiled and called out, “Thanks!” as they left.

Over the rushing of the little stream, I could hear the sounds of people talking and donkeys braying. I followed the stream through a small grove of trees and saw a huge wrought iron gate with a big wooden chest beside it. The donkeys were on the other side, along with quite a few people.  

I walked up to the gate and tried to go through. Somehow, something stopped me. It was like walking into a clear wall made of rubber. I just bounced right back.

“Surrender,” a voice said.

“Huh?”

“Surrender.”

“I give up?” I said.

“Surrender.”

“What do you mean, surrender?” I was thoroughly confused now.

“Surrender.”

One of the donkeys spoke up. “I believe it wants you to leave something you need to get rid of  in the box by the gate. Not the sort of something in your pack, just something you don’t need anymore.”

I remembered that Enchanteur had done this sort of thing before. “Oh, okay, I get it now,” I said. I rummaged around inside myself. It didn’t take long to find a lot of things I would be better off without. It was kind of discouraging, really, because I distinctly remembered getting rid of these things more than one time in the past. Still, I pull out fears and self doubt and procrastination and dumped them all in the box. I held them down while someone else put a few things on top of them and then slammed the lid shut. That should hold them - for a while, anyway. I stepped through the gate with a lighter heart.

She Wolf (c) 2007

The Surrender Box

Not being a rider, I was quite concerned when I was informed that I would need to acquire a mount for my adventure along the Serpentine Road. Since all the best donkeys had already be claimed by other travelers, I was forced to find another purveyor of transportation. I happened upon a stable near the Hermitage. Big Mike, the stable owner, said he had “just the right animal” for my trip. I thought I heard some snickering from the stable hands standing nearby.

“A fine, sure-footed beast,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. Since the price was right and I was in a hurry, I struck a deal. I walked away, leading a tall, heavy-maned white horse, complete with saddle and tack.  He heard the stable hands burst out in snorts and guffaws.

“Well,” I said, when I had worked up enough courage, “I guess it’s time to be off.” I was quite pleased with myself when I mounted and did not fall off the other side.

I settled my in the saddle. “Giddyapp!”

The horse stood there, unmoving.

“C’Mon, girl, let’s move!” I gave the animal a goad with my heels.

“Ouch! What idiot gave you a pair of spurs?” rumbled a deep voice.

I froze in my saddle.

“And who are you calling ‘girl’?”

“Excuse me, but did you just say something?” I asked as I leaned forward. The horse’s massive head swung around and he glared at me.

“Yes, I did. Do you see anyone else around?”

“Um, no, but, gee, well……”

“Well, what?”

“You’re a horse.”

He shook his mane and snorted. “Great. They’ve given me a real smart one.”

“But…. you talk…..”

“Stop, you’re overwhelming me with you mighty powers of observation! Of course, I can talk. All animals can talk if you just stop and listen to them. Except mice…. wretched little beasts……always underfoot….”

“Um, okay. You can talk. I apologize for being a dolt. Someone should have warned me I was getting Mr. Ed as a partner on this trip.”

“Uncle Ed? You know my Uncle Ed? “

“Nevermind. We need to get going.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. You aren’t ready to leave yet. You need to leave it.”

“Leave what?” I asked nervously, shifting in my saddle.

“You know what.”

“Um, I beg to differ.”

Suddenly, the horse gave a soft buck with his hind quarters and I went sprawling on the ground. My saddle bag flopped open and the contents went flying as well.

A small box landed in front of me.

“That. Leave it.”

“Oh…. ha…. yes, how could I forget to leave that.” I slowly picked up the Surrender Box.

“You thought you could take that with you? All the bad memories– the memories you keep replaying in you mind– those vile conversations that you rehearse over and over– all those angry thoughts you keep mulling over in your heart. Too heavy. Not even I can carry those on this trip.”

I felt my face blush with shame.

He turned his head towards me and softly said, “No need for that, sweet cheeks…. you need to cut yourself some slack. Now get up and put that box away….. that’s it. Just leave it. No one will want it. One of the ravens will be by to take it and fly it far, far away. You won’t be seeing it anymore”

I placed the box as he directed and brushed a tear from my face.

“Now, now, let’s get away from here.” He nuzzled me gently with his soft nose. “The sun is rising high and those flies are such a bother when it gets along in the day. Up you go.”

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“They call me ‘Sweet Albert’”.

I mounted Sweet Albert and with a gentle trot, we were our way down the Serpentine Road.

Image and text: Lori Gloyd (c) May 15, 2006; Revised, July 7, 2007.

Surrender to the Wind

Lately, in the Murmuring Woods, there’s many a fierce wind raking through the wintry branches and boughs of the trees. Twigs, boughs and branches, leaves and dry grass lay strewn in disarray over the earthy paths. What was she doing, I wondered, ‘She of the Winter Wind’? Preparing to go on the journey on the Serpentine Road, I took her portrait on a late afternoon ramble through the Woods from Riversleigh, and she was unapologetic: “I am the bringer of sweeping moods and changes,” she said, efficiently tidying up a stack of leaves that were dead. “I take away what’s dead, the official sweeper of old things, you might say,” she explained… “then my Sister Rain washes it all away. Then, of course, the others come to do their work…” I understood, that without all this work, there would be no shifting seasons. “Hope they like the portrait,” she said, before busily rushing away, taking the twigs and leaves with her.

“She of the Winter Wind” at Work.

Portrait of “She of the Winter Wind”.

Addendum: Though it was more uncomfortable than I thought it would be, I surrendered my old excess baggage, my old skin, to ‘She of the Winter Wind’. It was a cold and harrowing process, for ‘She’ does not seem to think these things are necessary any longer. And of course, ‘She’ is right…because these were not my things, but blow-ins I thought were mine. Letting it go to the Winter winds on the Serpentine Road.

(copyright Imogen Crest 2007.)

I Ssssurender…

any temptation to act as a ventriloquist doll
who is little more than a mouth piece for society
I insist I shall be ME.