Follow the Fool

The Journey of Liberation

I think back to Lake Wood and that unusually late summer’s heat. My friend and I walk down the path and down over the bank to the lake, eager for relief. Yet regardless of how much I wanted to swim in that spring feed lake, I found myself tip toeing around waters edge, barely wetting my feet,stepping slowly, cautiously, timid to move forward.

The sun has begun its descent, falling behind the tree line. I want to jump of the cliffs today, I have to jump before the warmth disappears.

I stand on the edge and look over into the deep water. My red hair illuminated by the sun, I raise my arms to embrace my choice and push off into the air. A short free fall into the unknown, I rise and take a deep breath. I treed water while I wait for my friend to jump, but that’s just the thing, some of us do and some of us don’t.

This caused me to think of the Tarot and of “The Fool,” card 0 in the Major Arcana. It pictures a man on a journey, at the top of a cliff, with a walking stick, a satchel, carefree with one foot in front of the other, just about to walk off the edge. This card represents the pure, the eternal optimist, he who takes each adventure as it comes, he who looks before he leaps, he who impulsively sets off into the unknown. This card suggests new beginnings.

I climb back up to jump another round. I stand still once more with my arms raised to embrace my choice and push off. It is truly a liberating experience to do something without delay, to move forward in an active and assertive way.

*** *** ***
The engine cuts and the plane slows, feet together, I think to myself, Matt rocks forth, one, two, and Go! Free falling for forty seconds at ten-thousand feet above the land of Mother Earth, traveling through her bright blue sky at over one hundred miles per hour. Until the parachute deploys, we are quickly jolted backward and upward.

Held together by rope, nylon and some trust we float along descending. I pull my affirmations from my sleeve and read each one by one.

“In loving memory of C. Nadeau.” I jumped in his honor. (My friend who is no longer with us, he used to jump in Pittsfield.)

“I am free.”

“I face my fears.”

“I am a risk taker.”

“My life is my own.”

“I am good and good things will come to me.”

“Let go of the past and live in the moment.”

Then I release them one by one into the aerospace and into the cosmos as we glide along. We fly in by the seat of our pants and return to Mother Earth. I shed some nervousness up there in the big blue, my first taste of liberation. I was ready, and set to go.

The universe heard me.

“I am free.”

*** *** ***
Dressed in my finest Friday night attire I stand upon the veranda, the tunes thump from the speakers, the chatter boxes continue. In shock, pissed, and clouded in the stench of cologne and body odor, alcohol and cigarette smoke, still I found clarity.

I look down at the drink in hand, take a deep haul and remove its straw. I hesitate as my heart palpitates at what I was preparing myself to do in the next moment. He is spotted seated at the doorway and he mackin’ on his next victim.

I walk right up, announced only by my heels. I interrupt his conversation by pouring coffee brandy, milk, ice and all into his lap. I bark aggressively, demanding respect and confirming he will never grope me again.

He was stunned. He just looked at me all wide eyed, his jaw hanging, and his crotch soaked, as if he didn’t know what he had done wrong. It only takes one redheaded vixen to teach a little boy a man’s lesson.

I step swiftly out the door, round back down the stairs and seek refuge at Brit’s bar. I come in invigorated, and petrified, and exhilarated. Brit pours me another drink, for the one I’d just sacrificed for my self-respect.

“I face my fears.”

*** **** ***
My left hand firmly grasps the ivory grips of “Dirty Susan” Keith’s .38 special double-action revolver. I load her up with bullets, slip my finger over the trigger, and cock the hammer back. I stare down the sights till I find the bulls-eye. Ready, I breathe in, hold my breath, aim and fire. I cock the hammer and fire again. I repeat this action with deep breaths and tight grips till the five round revolver empties. For good measure, I fire one more shot.

The pistol warm in my hand, smokes a little as I release the cylinder and expel the shells. I go down the line taking turns with my group and trying each gun of collection before us. There’s nothing like the power of a pistol in the grip of your female hand.

“I am a risk taker.”

*** *** ***
Being that I am a woman, it is often assumed I will marry and have children. The subject comes up frequently working in the public, they are a nosey bunch; older ladies especially. I explain that I don’t want such things for my life.

Their usual responses assure me that I’ll change my mind later on.

Oh yea? You think I’ll just decided that I want to stuff a pricey dress into the back of my closet, answer to Mr.’s wife and watch my female figure widen, sag and stretch with marks?

Some of us know what we don’t want, as much as others know what they want. There is no shame in an independent woman, husbandless and without child.

“My life is my own.”

*** *** ***
I dreamt of my Grandmothers house, in the guest room I noticed a bookshelf, something about it made me curious, I crouched down to scan the titles and I saw one of my books there on that shelf. The title printed on the spine “Heart Throbs.” A book that my grandmother had given to me…well actually, I think that she leant it to me.

When I moved there are a lot of things that were left behind at the folks. My mother put them in boxes “up overhead” as we call it.

When I awoke, instantly I knew it must be there.

I took a trip up to the folks in search for that hundred and five year old book; and sure enough I found in packed away in a box up overhead.Even if my Grandmother leant me this book initially, the weeks following her death, she came to me in a dream and gave me this; the old gray binding, the four-hundred and sixty nine yellow pages of wholesome good cheer, humor, comfort, hope- for I needed it to make those dark days endurable and sunny days enduring, I needed those heart throbs that make us feel better.

“I am good and good things will come to me.”

*** *** ***
The room is dark as I stand at the end of the bed looking to the place I took sanctuary. I look to his pillow on his side of my bed, where he should be and where he is not, nothing is where it should be.

The bed must be striped and the sheets washed.

I stood there sopping tears from my face, the heavy kind, that roll uncontrollably from the eyes, the kind that require no blinking, the kind make your heart ache. I look to the past through those lilac sheets stained in our sleepiness and our lustfulness of seasons spent lying there. The comforter twisted and wrapped with the sheets, all of this bedrock smothered in his scent and in mine.

I climb onto the bed and bunch the blankets into a pile. I hug this bundle of fabric, bury my face into it, lay on to it and breathe in. How do I wash these lilac sheets? How do I rinse his scent from my king sized bedstead?

When the moment was right, the bed was striped and the sheets washed. Things are more or less where they should be now.

"I let go of the past and lived in the moment."

*** *** ***
I think back to that bright blue sky that beckoned that day, those affirmations: words on paper, a few things that I wanted to embrace in my life, and a few things that I wanted to let go of.The universe heard me.

It all began on the edge of Lake Wood, peering in over the water, my red hair illuminated by the sun, I raise my arms to embrace my choice and push off into the unknown.I rise and take a deep breath.

Some of us step swiftly into action, while some of us tip toe around it. I step swiftly on this path of new beginnings, on this journey of liberation, one foot in front of the other, looking and leaping, pure and optimistic, without delay, moving forward in an active and assertive way.