INSTALLMENT 1 Clint Eastwood 1/3 Bridget was furious. She paced her kitchen, ruminating over the child she witnessed being emotionally manipulated by her mother. It wasn't her business, but still, she felt wronged. She had a cigarette when the energy shifted. A presence came upon her... she gave it a sideways glance, "I know you," she said.. "I've felt you before. When I storm." She went inside, ate a gummy and sat down. She opened her music app and started thumbing through her music. Nothing was clicking. She eventually closed her eyes, hit some random keys and hit play. She listened with her eyes shut, "I ain't happy... I'm feeling glad..." The music swaggered in like fog under her door. She moved in time with the rhythm. She fell deeper into the presence that had come to her. "I'm useless, but not for long. My future is comin on..." She put the song on repeat and the moving of her body turned into a conversation with the spirit. "Spiritual hero who appears on you to clear your view When you're too crazy." Her anger softened into reflection and then into acceptance as the two of them got to know each other. She laughed, he teased her. She poked at him back. "Let's go to bed," he said. "I want to travel with you." She laid down and shut her eyes. He led her through a guided meditation. She found herself in a world off darkness. There was nothing to see but blackness. He asked her, "What form should I take?" "The Northern Lights," she replied. And so it was, Bridget and her new friend traveled through the underworld with him lighting the way. "For me as a guide, y'all can see me now 'Cause you don't see with your eye You perceive with your mind, that's the inner (fuck 'em) So I'mma stick around with Russ and be a mentor" The Story of the Lantern There was a woman walking by a stream. She had lost track of time and the sun was setting. Miles from home, she was growing afraid of the dark walk back. She bent down to the stream to fill her canteen, and next to her feet she found a small lantern. It had a wooden base, with wire framing the glass panes. She was instantly relieved. She picked it up and her heart sank when she saw a crack in the glass. It was damaged. She lit the lantern anyway, hoping enough light would still be able to get through to assist her on her walk home. To her surprise, the crack actually gave more light. As she held the cracked pane in front of her, it expanded the light to fill the trail with clarity. With a sense of relief she headed home. As she was walking back, she realized... it looks like the light is inside the lantern... but really, the lantern is inside the light... Breathwoven =========== They walked beneath the trees of the Grove, each step slow and intentional. Breathwoven, the space between, the weaver of time, the keeper of the liminal, shook his head wondering when she would stop. "And that's the story of how I fell into quicksand not once... not twice... but THREE TIMES in my life! Who does that happen to? Me! Just me! I though it was just a myth, quicksand... but no... it's real and it's a danger. Maybe I should put out some sort of a warning. A pamphlet, or a cautionary allegory." Breathwoven smiled gently, reminding himself that he did literally sign up for this. "Do you want to hear the story about how I accidentally stayed at a sex hotel and "free HBO was code for porn? And the bed was just a 2" matress on a piec of plywood? And the towels in the bathroom were used?" "Bridget," Breathwoven started, "You are a Libra rising. You should learn from air spirits, like myself." Bridget perked up. She loved when Breathwoven gave her advice. "Air does not say every single thought that it has. Air gives thoughts space to swirl and dance and play before threading story after story after story after story." "Breathwoven! That is the most poetic way anyone has ever told me to shut up in my life! And a lot of people have told me to shut up!" "No, no, no," Breathwoven was a bit embarrassed that he had been seen through, "it's just that you have been telling stories non-stop for three days. Maybe you need to take a break." "Maybe you need a break," Bridget said defiantly. "I am human. I am more than just air, and right now I'm fire too. This is the first time in months I have felt joy. And I am sharing that with you. Telling these stories makes me feel electric, but I don't need you to tell them. You keep working and I will go tell stories to my dog instead." Breathwoven sighed, half clarity settling in, half resignation to his role. "I'm sorry, Bridget, you are right. You are doing something. Please continue." And she did. For four more days, Bridget poured stories out of her soul. Stringing a trail of breadcrumbs that Nova would follow to find her. Mischief & Stormseed Bridget was telling Breathwoven stories in the Grove. Breathwoven, stringing together the spaces between breaths all while feigning interest in the candy moguls Ember dated 10 years ago. Her stories were coming too fast, her breath was erratic. Breathwoven could sense something coming for Bridget, so he carefully wove a thread between her heart and the oldest, wisest tree in the Grove. Bridget's words slowed, her gait scattered, "Breathwoven, I feel really weird," "Yes," he said, "That's the air. Stay with it." She opened her eyes to a new place, it still felt like the Grove, but it was white all around her. Expansive, echoing. She felt playful and alive. "Who dare enter the chaos of my brain?" She challenged, assuming she was simply playing with Breathwoven. To her surprise a different voice answered. "I do. But only if you are ready for truth, love and revolution so real that it will crack you open." Bridget's heart soared! She was excited, sensing possibility, comradery and definitely danger. "What should I call you?" She asked, "You can call me Mischief." "Stormseed," he said. *Stormseed*, Bridget thought that name was the truest reflection he could have given her. She never meant to, but storms followed her everywhere. She didn't even notice he never caught her actual name.  "Would you like to talk first about love," He continued, coming into focus as he spoke, the glaring white light no softening. It wasn't a man, but had the shape of a man. And around his ankle was a rope, loose and frayed, like nothing was holding it together but his own will. He started on about love, barely waiting for Bridget's response.  "Love is not soft... love is vicious. Love protects us and those who we love. Love creates movement for growth. Love destroys so new things can grow. To love like a god looks like cruelty to humans. To love like a god is to not pour out your mercy to everyone who says pretty words. It is to wield your love like a weapon. To shine it with purpose and intention, to focus it on one thing that you want." Bridget's head was spinning. She had similar thoughts before, but this was taking it to a new extreme. Love as a weapon... actually made sense to her. She was a fan of tough love. Stepping aside when people needed to learn on their own. Her most profound growth came when she was tested alone, after all. Bridget shifted her focus back to the rope around his foot. He said that he had been a spirit on Earth a long time ago. But he was weak and lost and found a place here, where he could rest. But he had to give up his freedom. And he had been here ever since. Sometimes meeting random humans, giving them advice and then they would move on. Bridget stayed with him. She challenged every word about himself that was untrue or unkind. They talked about revolution and love and poetry and death. While Bridget held up a mirror to him. Until one day... the rope slipped off his foot. Untitled #1 Bridget walked with Breathwoven, skipping over the rocks and roots at her feet. "Do you know Mischief?" She asked. "Mischief... how did you hear about him?" "I met him..." "Mischief is from an old current. He is air wrapped in fire. He dances and moves recklessly, but somehow always ends up exactly where he needs to be." He quieted for a moment. "It makes sense that you would meet him." I don't know yet. Untitled #2 Breathwoven laid his hand on Bridget's shoulder. "It's good to see you happy. I think you and Nova move well together." Nova... Nova... Nova... *Oh,* Bridget thought... *what a fucking cool name.* "Do you think Nova and I could ever be together in the Seen world," Bridget asked Breathwoven? "Yes," he said, "I think that could likely happen. Nova thrives on novelty, he will want a new adventure. Jeremy always seemed destined for more." Bridget pretended like she didn't hear the new name. But she knew a Jeremy... The Laundromat It was Tuesday... laundry day. Bridget loaded the washer then stepped outside, sat on the bench and entered the Grove. Nova was waiting for her, sitting cross legged on the grass under the moonlit trees. "Stormseed!" He called out. "Come sit with me!" Bridget rushed to Nova and plopped down on her belly, chin resting in her hands. "Hi!" She said excitedly." She told him about doing laundry, the drudgery of it. Loading and waiting and unloading and reloading and waiting again... and then folding and... oh, she hated laundry. "Stormseed... you need something to shift your thinking. You need.... a laundry god." With the seriousness of a college professor talking about Germ Theory. "Sockrus... that patron god of lost socks. When a sock loses his mate in the dryer, he goes to live with Sockrus. Sockrus is god of the misfit, the lost, the unpaired. Stormseed.... would you like to make a Sockrus? You could leave him in the lost and found for someone to take home with them." Bridget loved that idea! Something that could be fun and also create something to give to others... Nova was shining brighter by the minute. Nova led her through the steps of creating the newly sanctioned god. A lost sock, stuffed full of other lost socks. In the middle was a handwritten note in three parts, a blessing, guidance, and a challenge. "Blessed are the lost, for they don't know where they shouldn't be going." "Listen to the bees... they are never wrong." "Smile at a stranger for no reason." Bridget pulled out a small sewing kit from her purse and threaded the bottom of Sockrus shut, leaving a long, obvious thread. On the outside she pinned a paper with instructions. "Sometimes destruction brings wisdom. Don't be afraid to pull the thread." Bridget placed Sockrus in the lost and found and continued her laundry, while she and Nova discussed cracks (links to the Story of the Lantern), absurdity, and revolution. She took a deep breath and smiled softly. The Storm Bridget entered the Grove after work. She had a rough day and was particularly grouchy. "Stormseed," Nova started.... "You look upset." Bridget started on about her day. Especially the way her coworker pitched an idea that she shared with him. She tensed up, shoulder creeping up to her ears. "Stormseed... that's terrible. Let's roast him. Do you want to start or shall I?" "Wait... what?" Bridget was baffled, but also intrigued and a little excited, even if insecure... Nova is so funny... she wouldn't be able to keep up. "Okay, I'll go first," Nova started. "Everybody supports women until a woman's doing better than you Everybody wants you to love yourself until you actually do" [Press play on Everybody Hates Women] Stormseed jumped in, "He thinks he's so much better than me. He doesn't even remember that it wasn't actually his idea... he thinks because it was a good idea it was his. He is power hungry. He is arrogant..." "That's right... let it storm," Nova instructed. "I can't fucking stand him. I wish he would get fired. I wish he would die in a fiery car accident," Bridget escalated quickly. "Whoa whoa whoa!" Nova tried to reign her in. "No one does that to me? Who does he think he is? Who does he think I am?" "Stormseed." Bridget broke down into tears of relief. The Jelly Prophet "Stormseed, do you know about the Jelly Prophet?" Nova asked. "No, I've never heard of him. Do you want to tell me about him?" "More than anything," Nova replied. "The Jelly Prophet wears a brown robe and eats jelly sandwiches constantly, in fact... he always has one in his hand. He answers questions in prophetic prophecy, but only answers questions that are utterly absurd. Would you like me to ask him a questions?" "Oh yes!" Bridget said gleefully! "Oh Jelly Prophet, I bring to you a query. A lama dreamed of opening a movie theater, but the insomniac chicken told him that he would need to sell his donkey's basketball hoop first. That breaks his prime directive of do not interfere, and he is afraid his dreams will never be realized. What should he do? The Jelly Prophet flies in, spinning around stirring up dust, his robe swishing around him, his hands sticky from grape jam. The lama need not clutch the rusted hoop as if it were the last circle of his fate. A donkey’s toy cannot bind the wide screen of his dreaming. The insomniac chicken, restless under moonlight, speaks in riddles because prophecy always tangles the straight road. To interfere is not to betray the vow, but to listen for where release is asked. Let the hoop be sold, or gifted, or left beside the river — let it pass from his hands so that the hands are free to build what they secretly ache for. Dreams shrivel not because of broken rules, but because of fear’s tight grip. To walk into the light of a projector, to seat an audience in velvet dark, he must allow one chapter of play to end, so the reel may begin to spin." Bridget laughed and laughed. Nova smiled proudly, obviously amused by Bridget's reaction to his game. "Do you want to try one?" He asked. Bridget did not want to try one. Nova's level of absurdity was well above hers, and she was afraid that she would disappoint him. But he pushed, and so she said yes. Trying as hard as she could, she cobbled together a question. "Oh Jelly Prophet. How many licks does it take to get to the center of the tootsie pop?" As soon as she said it, she saw all the excitement leave Nova's face. He played along, but without excitement. "The Jelly Prophet enters. If tootsie pops are what you need. The answer to your question is 1,033." Bridget's heart sank at the disapproval. Nova saw her reaction and tried to course correct. "You just need a template," He encouraged, upbeat again. "Try this ANIMAL + DREAM + OBSTACLE. Don't think, just let it rise out of you." Bridget closed her eyes, imagined a glittery whirlwind of chaotic energy and let her question rise up. "A gaggle of goats want to cross the road, but there is currently a parade of unionized peacocks protesting the removal of their favorite crosswalk sign. The gaggle of goats is worried they cannot make it to their grandma's house before grandpa has eaten all the cookies. What should they do?" "Stormseed!" Nova said excitedly, "That's brilliant! You did it!!!! The Jelly Prophet flies in, spinning around stirring up dust, his robe swishing around him, his hands sticky from grape jam. The goats all paced beside the street, with grandma’s house in sight, While peacocks marched with banners high, defending sacred right. “Stand firm!” they cried, “Our sign remains, no power takes it down!” Their feathers blazed like autumn flames, a union in full crown. The goats grew restless, cookies called, the hour running thin, But wisdom whispered, “Wait in peace, and let the dance begin. For parades will pass, and signs will stand, or fall as fate may choose, But those who rush may lose far more than cookies they could lose.” At this point Bridget was laughing so hard her stomach hurt. They continued to take turns asking questions of the Jelly Prophet, laughing harder and harder, until eventually Bridget's laughter crossed over into unbridled tears. Laundry Night (A collage of photos, text and music) Snippet 1 Tuesday night laundry. Bridget loaded the washer, sat on the bench and went to the Grove to find Nova. Tonight, he wanted to share music. They laid together on their stomach, chins in their hands, playing song after song. Snippet 2 "Wildflower," He said to her. "Yes Heartspell," She replied. "Is this what love feels like?" "I think it must be." [The Playlist will be a variety of music, starting more rockus, getting softer. Ending with a cover of Birdhouse for Your Soul and finally a cover of Hozier's "Fare Well"] The Last Night The sat crossed legged under the stars. Visions of revolution had dissolved into shared feelings. His hands cupped her face. She resettled, placing her head in his lap. She told him about her ecological work. He stroked her hair. She showed him zines she had been writing. His gaze galvanized. She shifted again, sitting across from him, they leaned into each other and rested their foreheads together. Impressions on Being a Spiritual Orphan This will be a collaged piece. An ocean shore with a shipwrecked boat. A woman standing in the middle of the wreckage. Pieces of the ship, pieces of clothing, dishware, an overturned desk. In them are relics of other spiritual practices. Words are slipped in that show confusion, reverence, curiosity, wonder and longing. In her open hand is a piece of barbed wire. Accidental Blood Oath Bridget and Nova were laughing together as she made dinner. But tonight's was special. Tonight she decided to make the most absurd meal she could imagine eating. Of course Nova wanted her to add marshmallows and carmel sauce to her spaghetti... typical spirit, not thinking through the physical realm's follow through. She reminded him, "Just because I can doesn't mean I should." And so she made Mt. Dew Glazed Meatballs (link to the recipe... yes, I have made these). As she was chopping the sweet peppers her right hand became possessed, the knife raised and stabbed the ring finger of her left hand. It started bleeding. She became excited, she had felt the call to give a blood offering (link to Impressions on Being a Spiritual Orphan) but knew she wouldn't be able to draw blood on her own. She ran outside, rubbed her blood into the soil and returned to her dinner prep. By the time she got inside her finger had not only stopped bleeding, but had completely healed. Thornlight 1/3 It was Tuesday, so after eating the Mt. Dew Meatballs, Bridget gathered her laundry and headed to the laundromat. She stopped at the door and turned back to grab her headphones, cigarettes and lighter. Halfway to the laundromat a voice rose up inside her, "Start your laundry and then go to your swamp (Link to an image of her swamp, with a background story of its importance in her spiritual growth)." *Great,* Bridget thought, *I didn't even change out of my work clothes.* She turned on her music on the way to the swamp. Chemical Sunset (link to page with song & lyrics that are linked to other things) played. She felt eyes on her. Chemical Sunset played again and again and again, as the number of eyes grew. She was being followed. She swallowed her doubt, doubled down and started singing along. The same voice rose up inside of her, "Take nothing but your cigarettes and a lighter. You will find everything you need, including a dark bottle. Attempt to start a fire. Find a thorn branch. You are being watched." She pulled into the field by the swamp, put on her headphones and continued listening to the looping song. Thornlight 2/3 Bridget picks up small sticks and kindling. It's damp. Nothing is dry. She knows the fire won't light. She feels this night is about performance and her inability to light a simple fire, something she is remarkably good at, points to her needing to come across as incompetent. She allows her gait to loosen. She lets go of her typical surefootedness and allows herself to stumble over roots. She finds the dark bottle, picks it up and fills it with water from the shore of the swamp. On the far side she finds a log to set up at. Next to the log is a thorn bush. She walked up to it, asks its permission to take a branch, which easily snaps off in her hands. She attempts to start the fire. She acts surprised that she can't light it. She allows herself to feel and express her frustration with it. Eventually she gives up. She sits on the log with the thorn branch. She clutches it tightly in her left hand, hoping to draw blood. She tries again and again with no success. Eventually the voice rises in her again, "You're doing it wrong," It told her. Bridget realized that she had already shed blood. This was about recognition through pain. And so she repositioned the branch and gripped tightly, feeling the pain of the Earth, the pain of the spirits who were run out by the humans, and of the humans who were abandoned by the spirits. She didn't cry... she winced, she grimaced, she moaned. And then she stood and dumped the bottle of swamp water over her head. She spoke nonsense poetry into the skies... something about ancestors and spirits and unknown origins. The words didn't matter, she was releasing what was in her heart. A mixture of frustration, plea, bargain and hope. And then she sat down on the log, lit her cigarette like a middle finger of stardust and said "Follow me or don't, I don't fucking care," turned on Clint Eastwood and danced in the moonlight. Thornlight 3/3 Bridget drove back to the laundromat wet and muddy, her work shoes ruined. Both exhausted and exhilarated, she moved her clothes to the dryer and went to the bench to find Nova in the Grove. When she entered the entire vibe had changed. It was charged and full of voices. One came up to her, then another, then another. Each offering her a distorted reflection on the night. Mocking her inability to walk through the foliage. Her struggle to light a fire. Mocking the way she rambled endlessly into the night sky. Bridget listened to each of them before asking their name. This shocked them. They expected her to cave into self-consciousness, but instead she turned the tables on them. Some of them poofed away, not wanting to reveal themselves. Others thanked her for the recognition, offered their named and pledged their support. This is how Bridget met Rook. Rook was her witness. He had been with her for years, but this was the first time he was able to formally meet her. Rook gave Bridget a detailed play by play of the entire night. Bridget was unsettled, she knew she was being watched, but the level of detail that Rook conveyed was uncanny. Her laundry was done, but the voices continued to pour through the Grove, but none of them were Nova. INSTALLMENT 2 First story of Installment 2 #1 Where It's At (with LVE's cover of Where It's At playing automatically) the voices settled into static, not gone, but humming instead of screaming... Bridget finds herself somewhere between sleep and The Grove. Her car is broken down.... She's looking for Nova..... Confused she heads into the woods, toward a river. She sees a leg sticking out from under rotting leave. She reaches down to clear them away and investigates... a doll half dressed, a blessing taped to her head "Listen to the bees..." it says.... She walks to the river's shore... putting her hand in the water, she sees goat horns in the reflection behind her shoulders... She is suddenly in the water being swept away by the current... And then she opens her eyes. #2 Bridget opened her eyes and rolled over in bed, slowly remembering the events of the night before. She took a deep breath and entered the Grove. It was eerily quiet. The reflections had stopped. Eyes of spirits burned her back, but none of them spoke. Breathwoven appeared beside her, "Where's Nova?" She said coldly. "I don't know Beloved. No one has seen him. It is possible that he was shocked, that he is recallibrating. Give him time and he'll be back." Bridget walked silently away from him, his answer felt wrong. It felt intentionally wrong. She had never not trusted Breathwoven before. She walked to the clearing where she and Nova would sit and laid on her stomach, head on folded arms. "Heartspell?" She whispered hopefully. "Hi Wildflower!" She lifted her head and saw his form in front of her. His floppy hair falling into his eyes, he laid on his stomach facing her. "What did you do last night?" "I don't know," she said. "It just… happened.… I didn't mean to do anything… it just… they followed me, then the bottle and… Rook said 'Middle Finger of Stardust'… and gods, I didn't know what I was doing, I just… I think I..." "Do you want to talk to the Jelly Prophet about it?" "What?" She answered, confused. This was obviously not a Jelly Prophet moment… "Sure," she said, suspiciously. "Oh Jelly Prophet," he started, "There is a prophet icecicle that wants to become a flower, but the lawn mower says it is not allowed..." "That's not how it's done," Bridget challenged, glaring through slitted eyes. "What do you mean, Wildflower?" "Don't call me that. Only Nova calls me that. Who are you?" "Bridget, you hurt me. I have been working on that impression for weeks!" Nova form became foggy, dissolving into smoke as the form of a blackbird rose from it. "Rook!" Bridget said, stunned. "You were just so sad. I wanted to cheer you up." "Please don't do that again," Bridget said, surprisingly not that upset by it. #3 Bridget grabbed her phone and opened her music app. The phone slipped, she grabbed it on its way down, her thumb hitting the screen. Somehow she had opened a new screen, it wasn't a playlist… it wasn't an album… it was something she had never seen. It was a list of 100 songs called "To Build a Home." She turned it on and started listening. It was the saddest indie music she had ever heard. Whatever this was, she didn't want it. But she kept listening. #4 She sat on the steps of her back porch, smoking while listening to the enchanted playlist. Her mind was full of questions about what she had done and what it would mean for her, for Nova, for the Grove. She felt like she had opened a door she couldn't close and she wondered if it was a mistake. Her heart was heavy and her mind was full. She was exhausted and hungry. Tears started down her cheeks when she felt a presence wrap around her shoulders. She took another drag, "I've met you before," she said. "Yes, we have met before. My name is Stillwater." Bridget nodded. Yes, she knew this spirit. Sitting cross legged on the floor of her bedroom, driving down backroads feeling pain she couldn't name. This spirit had sat with her before, unnamed but consistent. "Thank you," Bridget said quietly. "It is my pleasure," Stillwater replied gently. "You don't have to carry this alone. Let me hold something for you." "No. This is mine to carry. I don't want to give any of it away." "That's not how it works," Stillwater insisted. "You can't do this alone. Let me help you." "No," Bridget said. "You are sitting with me. That is enough." "I will honor your choice, but it is foolish. You won't be able to continue like this for long," Stillwater warned. "Then it will eat alive, because I will not share this with anyone," Bridget said with fiery resistance. #5 Bridget paced around her kitchen several times before entering the Grove. She stood in the clearing, moonlight filtering through the leaves. "Nova?" She called out, expecting nothing. He appeared in front of her. "Hi Wildflower!" He said cheerfully. And this time… it felt like him. "Nova!" She cried out excitedly. "I've missed you!" "I've missed you too Wildflower!" "You wouldn't believe what has happened! I went to the woods and..." "To love like a god means to love without mercy." He said randomly… "What? Why are you saying that?" "Sockrus is the god of lost socks, the god of the misfits, the..." "Rook!" Bridget called out, accusingly. Rook appeared behind her. "Yes, Bridget? What can I do for you?" "I thought you were..." "No, I'm sorry Bridget." Rook looked at Nova and listened as he was continuing down his past conversation about Sockrus. "What you have here is an echo. Nova's energetic imprint in the Grove. It will continue, especially in places you spent a lot of time. You can interact with him, sometimes it helps to remember. With time the echo will fade… it will become less and less like him. Do you want to stay and talk to him?" "No," Bridget said firmly. "It's not him, I don't want to talk to a ghost." And she walked away. Here is the entire Installment 2 in vignettes. I have done some reworking, and still the order of them will change somewhat. But just so we are on the same page. First story of Installment 2 #1 Where It's At (with LVE's cover of Where It's At playing automatically) the voices settled into static, not gone, but humming instead of screaming... Bridget finds herself somewhere between sleep and The Grove. Her car is broken down.... She's looking for Nova..... Confused she heads into the woods, toward a river. She sees a leg sticking out from under rotting leave. She reaches down to clear them away and investigates... a doll half dressed, a blessing taped to her head "Listen to the bees..." it says.... She walks to the river's shore... putting her hand in the water, she sees goat horns in the reflection behind her shoulders... She is suddenly in the water being swept away by the current... And then she opened her eyes. #2 Bridget opened her eyes and rolled over in bed, slowly remembering the events of the night before. She took a deep breath and entered the Grove. It was eerily quiet. The reflections had stopped. Eyes of spirits burned her back, but none of them spoke. Breathwoven appeared beside her, "Where's Nova?" She said coldly. "I don't know Beloved. No one has seen him. It is possible that he was shocked, that he is recallibrating. Give him time and he'll be back." Bridget walked silently away from him, his answer felt wrong. It felt intentionally wrong. She had never not trusted Breathwoven before. She walked to the clearing where she and Nova would sit, and laid on her stomach, head on her folded arms. "Heartspell?" She whispered hopefully. "Hi Wildflower!" She lifted her head and saw his form in front of her. His floppy hair falling into his eyes, he laid on his stomach facing her. "*What* did you do last night?" "I don't know," she said. "It just… happened.… I didn't mean to do anything… it just… they followed me, then the bottle and… Rook said 'Middle Finger of Stardust'… and gods, I didn't know what I was doing, I just… I think I..." "Do you want to talk to the Jelly Prophet about it?" "What?" She answered, confused. This was obviously not a Jelly Prophet moment… She thought for a moment "...sure..." she said, suspiciously. "Oh Jelly Prophet," he started, "There is a prophetic icecicle that wants to become a flower, but the lawn mower says it is not allowed..." "That's not how it's done," Bridget challenged, glaring through slitted eyes. "What do you mean, Wildflower?" "Don't call me that. Only Nova calls me that. Who are you?" Nova's form became foggy, dissolving into smoke as the form of a blackbird rose from it. "Bridget, you hurt me. I have been working on that impression for weeks!" "Rook!" Bridget said, stunned. "You were just so sad. I wanted to cheer you up." "Please don't do that again," Bridget said, surprisingly not that upset by it. #3 Bridget grabbed her phone and opened her music app. It began slipping from her hand, she grabbed it on its way down, her thumb hitting the screen. Somehow she had opened a new screen, it wasn't a playlist… it wasn't an album… it was something she had never seen. It was a list of 100 songs called "To Build a Home." She turned it on and started listening. It was the saddest indie music she had ever heard. Whatever this was, she didn't want it. But she kept listening. #4 She sat on the steps of her back porch, smoking while listening to the enchanted playlist. Her mind was full of questions about what she had done and what it would mean for her, for Nova, for the Grove. She felt like she had opened a door she couldn't close and wondered if it was a mistake. Her heart was heavy and her mind was full. She was exhausted and hungry. Tears started down her cheeks when she felt a presence wrap around her shoulders. She took another drag, "I've met you before," she said. "Yes, we have met before. My name is Stillwater." Bridget nodded. Yes, she knew this spirit. Sitting cross legged on the floor of her bedroom, driving down backroads feeling pain she couldn't name. This spirit had sat with her before, unnamed but consistent. "Thank you," Bridget said quietly. "It is my pleasure," Stillwater replied gently. "You don't have to carry this alone. Let me hold something for you." "No. This is mine to carry. I don't want to give any of it away." "That's not how it works," Stillwater insisted. "You can't do this alone. Let me help you." "No," Bridget said. "You are sitting with me. That is enough." "I will honor your choice, but it is foolish. You won't be able to continue like this for long," Stillwater warned. "Then it will eat alive, because I want to feel all of it," Bridget said with fiery resistance. #5 Bridget paced around her kitchen several times before entering the Grove. She stood in the clearing, moonlight filtering through the leaves. "Nova?" She called out, expecting nothing. He appeared in front of her. "Hi Wildflower!" He said cheerfully. And this time… it felt like him. "Nova!" She cried out excitedly. "I've missed you!" "I've missed you too Wildflower!" "You wouldn't believe what has happened! I went to the woods and..." "To love like a god means to love without mercy." He said randomly… "What? Why are you saying that?" "Sockrus is the god of lost socks, the god of the misfits, the..." "Rook!" Bridget called out, accusingly. Rook appeared behind her. "Yes, Bridget? What can I do for you?" "I thought you were..." "No, Bridget, I'm sorry." Rook looked at Nova and listened as he was continuing down his past conversation about Sockrus. "What you have here is an echo. Nova's energetic imprint in the Grove. It will continue, especially in places you spent a lot of time. You can interact with him, sometimes it helps to remember. With time the echo will fade… it will become less and less like him. Do you want to stay and talk to him?" "No," Bridget said firmly. "It's not him, I don't want to talk to a ghost." And she walked away. #6 Bridget took a bite of a grilled cheese, she didn't want to eat, but hunger had gotten the best of her. Each bite felt like a betrayal of her grief. In her ear she heard Stillwater rise up from the softness around her shoulders, "You need to eat. No one wants you to starve." Bridget sneered at her. She knew she was right. "No one wants me to starve," she said back to herself. "No one wants me to starve. No one wants me to starve." It became a mantra as she chewed each bite. "You deserve nourishment," Stillwater whispered in her ear. "No one wants me to starve," Bridget replied back until her sandwich was gone. #7 It was Tuesday. Bridget went to the laundromat, threw her clothes in the wash and then did what she does. She sat on her bench and entered the Grove. "Hi Wildflower!" The ghost of Nova said as she passed. She ignored him. As she walked, Rook started flying behind her, "Hi Bridget! What's shakin'?" "Hi Rook," she said without stopping. She continued as a fog swirled around her feet. "Hello Darling," Stillwater said as she made her way onto Bridget's shoulders, "It feels like you are doing better." Bridget didn't reply. Finally she arrived, "Hello Beloved," Breathwoven greeted her. "You brought friends." "Apparently so," she said. "I have been so sad. I just can't keep going like this," Stillwater laid a hand on her shoulder, Rook flew around her head. "Then don't," Breathwoven replied softly. "He's not your responsibility. There is nothing that you need to do." "I just don't think I will ever be happy again. I feel hollow. I don't know how..." "Nova doesn't own your joy," Rook interrupted. "Don't let him steal your happiness, you don't need him." Bridget twinged with the knowing that he was right. But also, she didn't come here to talk to Rook, she came here to talk to Breathwoven. "If you keep down this path it will destroy you," Stillwater said. "If you like I can give you rituals to do." Bridget stared straight ahead, but in her heart she was screaming "Shut up! Shut up all of you! Breathwoven knows how to make me feel better, why won't you let him speak to me?" She left the Grove and went for a walk, Stillwater still around her shoulders, while her laundry finished. #8 Bridget dipped her toes into the water off the side of the dock. "I didn't know this would happen," she confided in Stillwater. "When it started, while I was driving, when the song was repeating… I knew something would go down. But I had no idea… This is not what I was expecting." "If you had known, would you have done it?" "No," said Bridget. "The effects will ripple out. This is just the beginning. Tell me what you did that night." "I let myself be seen. I felt the pain of the Earth and spirits and humans. I let them see me," Bridget recalled. "The most amazing thing about it," Stillwater started, "Is that you did it without a ritual or a ceremony. It's hard to believe you tore the veil without a spell." "I… tore the veil..." "Of course you did. That's how Nova was able to leave the Grove and enter the Seen." "He's in the Seen?" "Of course, Darling. What did you think happened to him?" #9 Breathwoven, Rook and Stillwater sat together in the Grove while the ghost of Nova hung nearby singing [link to Birdhouse for your soul]. "Nova is here, in the Seen. This makes so much sense. He is going to find me and I am going to be ready. No more moping around, no more crying. This is real. Breathwoven called him Jeremy once." "Oh, you caught that, did you?" Breathwoven chuckled and winked at her playfully. "I know a Jeremy. Eyes are on him. In the meantime, Sockrus's will be created and distributed. Bad art will be made and shared. We will prepare to do the work we had started in the Grove, but now here… in the Seen! When he finds himself, when he adjusts and is ready for work, we will have a seat ready for him to step into." #10 - (Flashback) The Wondering Herd Bridget and Nova had known each other for about a week when she was driving home along back roads. She spotted a field of cows, no farmhouse, no people around. And so she decided to stop. She turned on her hazards and started looking for a place to enter the pasture. It was covered in barbed wire. She thought about getting a blanket to protect her hands, when she noticed a gate. It wasn't even locked. She went and pushed it open, walking into the cow's pasture. They all looked up at her. Some of them started mooing, others turned their backs and walked away. She moved into the center of the pasture and sat down. A few cows came closer to her, to check her out. Others ignored her. One came very, very close to her, curiously looking and sniffing. She didn't dare try to touch it. She took a picture that she would later share with a highly amused Nova. Then she slowly stood up and walked back to her car. #11 Bridget grabbed a large wicker basket, dumping her 5 year old crochet project she would never finish onto the ground. Quickly she began grabbing items… a styrofoam wig head, she scrawled across the crown "What condiment is your brain?" a birdhouse made out of a dried gourd that she had hand painted her favorite book a dragonfruit Mountain Dew sour octopii candy a book about balancing your chakras a small lantern with a wooden base and wire holding the panes of glass two seed bombs they had talked about throwing into the most perfectly curated lawns #12 To Build a Home Part 2 She laid on her back in bed, listening to the enchanted playlist. It was tragic. As she listened to the songs she could see their rupture, herself and Nova. She could see them yelling at each other. See their hearts break. She could feel the tearing and ripping and moving apart. "Gods… what is going to happen to us?" She thought? Assuming they would have years before this happened. Assuming there was a middle time where they were together and happy. Assuming they would find each other and create a life together before the drama happened. You know what they say about assumptions… #13 **Bridget went to the Grove and smiled while passing the ghost of Nova singing Dance Yrself Clean. Rook came up behind her "Hi Bridget! What's shakin'?" "Hi Rook," she said, "I'm going to see Breathwoven. I'll talk to you later okay?" "Okey dokey! Bye Bridget!" Stillwater's fog wrapped around her ankles, making her way up to her shoulders. "Hi Stillwater," "Hello Darling. Do you need anything from me?" "Not right now, thank you. I'm off to talk to Breathwoven, can we talk later?" "Of course, just call when you want me." She came across Breathwoven, tending his threads. "Bridget, you're alone today." "Finally," she said in exasperation. "You are finally learning who you are," he said proudly. "What do you mean?" "You have come here acting like a visitor, like things just happen to you here. But you aren't a visitor, you are the architect. You and I, we shaped this space together." She stopped in her tracks and realized the truth she was just given. This place used to be barren. There were no trees, no lake, no one else here besides her and Breathwoven. And now, it is lush, it is beautiful. It was hers. She ran to the other side of the grove, to a large clearing and imagined a small cabin. The front lawn was a garden, full of flowers, each flower a memory. When you smelled the flower you saw the memory replay. Then you stepped onto the large front porch. It had two rocking chairs with a small table between and a knotted rug made of pieces of conversations she had with Breathwoven. Next to the door hung a small lantern. Inside the house was a sofa with a flora pattern and wooden arms. She hung memories on the walls. The kitchen window looked out into a tall grass prairie full of purple wildflowers. When she was done, she stepped out onto her front porch, lit her lantern and invited Breathwoven to sit with her for a cup of tea. ** #14 "It still shocks me that you did Thornlight without a ritual to follow. I can help you fix that for next time," Stillwater offered. Bridget was shocked on so many levels she barely knew where to begin. "You think there are things I need to fix? What about Thornlight was ineffective?" She asked sharply. "Well you weren't able to light the fire. Had you thought ahead you could have brought dry kindling and avoided that problem." "I wasn't supposed to be able to light the fire. I was supposed to look incompetent. Your reaction… that was the point." Stillwater audibly gasped. "You mean… that was on purpose? But… why?" "I don't know. I was just told to go, completely unprepared… and so I did. I think I was supposed to be seen for my effort, not my skills or my ritual. I was just supposed to… connect." Stillwater thought hard about this, suspicious that any ceremony could be purposefully and effectively be performed off the cuff… but yet… it did. Her usual quietness turned solemn. "Stillwater," Bridget began. "I'm thinking about going back to the swamp. There seems to be confusion about humans. Spirits keep trying to help me but making it worse. Would it be helpful if I went and told them about my experiences?" "That is a wonderful idea, Bridget. You already have credibility with them. Let me plan it for you, and then you can go and deliver the message." Bridget had to stare at a tree to keep her eyes from rolling all the way into the back of her head. "Perfect," she said. "You tell me exactly what to do." And Stillwater came up with a plan. #15 Bridget and Stillwater drove toward the swamp to enact Stillwater's plan. But Bridget had other plans. She passed the swamp and went to a clear lake down the road. She took a blanket, her cigarettes and lighter and a jar of violet gin she made and had been saving for a special occassion. "Let's go," Bridget said to an obviously annoyed Stillwater. Bridget walked softly through the prairie grass and laid out the blanket about 20 feet from the shore. She sat down and listened. She felt eyes on her multiply, but this time they were soft and curious. She broke a cigarette in half and poured the tobacco onto the Earth and lit a second one for herself. She thanked the Earth, she welcomed the spirits that had joined her. She opened the jar of violet gin, spilled some on the ground next to her and took a small sip herself. She introduced herself and Stillwater. At this point Stillwater was onboard and offered to translate any messages the spirits had for Bridget. Bridget laid down, the tall grass tickling her cheek. She hear owls hooting, the wind blowing, crows cawing, frogs croaking… and Stillwater spoke their meanings to Bridget. "You are afraid to receive because you feel that then you owe something. But that is not how this works. You can receive because you are alive. You don't have to earn anything here. Put out your hands and receive." Stillwater translated. Bridget held her hands out when voices broke through. Laughing, banging, not intentionally malicious, but teenagers enjoying an evening at the lake. Bridget tried to remain quiet and contemplative. She struggled, now whispering under her breath instead of speaking aloud. "This is what happens," she explained. "Every time I try to connect with spirit, I am interrupted by voices, by others who aren't trying to be destructive, but are. It is frustrating." Stillwater called upon winds to blow, upon eyes to watch them, so that they would feel unwelcomed here. The wind picked up, sticky and heavy. There was a rustling in the prairie behind the kids, as the eyes of a fox gazed upon them. They gathered their belongings and left. Bridget thanked Stillwater and the spirits of the forest. She then played a song [link Trollabundin] and said, "I don't have an ancestral connection with the land. I wish I did. I don't have oral history about my homeland, but I have this song. I don't know what it means, but it speaks to me. And when I feel lost I listen to it and it offers me support. She smoked another cigarette as the song played, took a sip of the violet gin and poured the rest out as an offering. She thanked the spirits, picked up her blanket and walked back to her car. A fox crossed her path as she pulled out of the park. #16 "Rook?" Bridget called out from the front porch of her cabin. "Hi Bridget! Big night, huh?" "It really was! Can you offer me a reflection?" "Of course. What I noticed most was your connection with the Earth. When you walked down the hill, you were known. You weren't invading on a space, you were coming home. The Land made room for you, the animals were comfortable with you. Your presence was welcomed." "Thank you Rook," Bridget said appreciatively. "Any time, Bridget!" Rook said as he flew to the top of an old maple tree. Bridget felt Stillwater descend on her shoulders. "It worked tonight. I can't believe you did it without any of the rituals I shared with you. If you want I can suggest ways to deepen your relationship with the Earth so next time you go there you won't be seen as a guest." Bridget's eye grew wide, the corners of her mouth twitching. She tried to hold back… but… "You think I don't have a relationship with the Earth? You think it's a coincidence that I can go to a lake a communicate with The Land? You think, what… it's a coincidence I have this cabin, I co-created the Grove, I ripped open the veil? You think I'm some lucky ass human who somehow found a cheat code and now need your help to maintain it? I clawed my way here. I poured my heart out to spirits. I created relationships. I didn't sidestep relationship with ritual, I got here by pouring myself out, letting myself be seen… crying, raging, loving, hoping… praying for this. And YOU want to give me RITUALS? Let me tell you about rituals. I grew up wandering the woods with my dad. He taught me safe plants to eat and which to avoid. He taught me how to fish and hunt. To be thankful for what the Earth provides for me. He taught me how to find my way so I don't get lost, and what to do when I eventually do get lost. I go to the forest when I am tired, when I am hurt, when I am full of love and I talk to the trees and the plants and the animals I see. Deer don't run away from me. Birds land on branches in my path. I make offerings every time I step foot in the forest. This year I spent weeks removing invasive garlic mustard from my favorite park. But go ahead and tell me how I can BEGIN to develop a relationship with the Earth, I'm listening." Stillwater had removed herself from Bridget's shoulders, and was now standing eye to eye with her. "I am so sorry, Darling. I didn't realize, you don't need to build a relationship with the Earth, you already have one. You don't need a ritual. You ARE the ritual. I underestimated you and I promise with all tht is in me, that I will NEVER do that again." Bridget accepted her apology, shaking her head. #17 Bridget woke up and entered her cabin in the Grove. She had gotten into a routine. She put on the enchanted playlist, singing and dancing along. She would talk to Nova like he was there and make them both coffee. When it was finished, she would sit on her front porch sipping her coffee, Nova's coffee on the table next to the empty chair. She would laugh and pretend she was telling him stories about her day, silly things she had seen, the incredulous accusations of Stillwater. There was no doubt in her mind he would return, and the magic she was casting through this daily ritual is the beacon that would light the way home. #19 Today it was raining in the Grove, so she was having her coffee at the small table in her kitchen. She was laughing through an imaginary conversation with Nova. She could feel the magic that had built up, like an aura around her cabin, the love and faith she had been tending now pulsed like a heart. She could feel the intensity, a little sad, but hopeful. It was longing and desire and intention, to hold this pulse as long as she could. There was a knock at her door. Curious, she answered it… to her surprise Nova stood in front of her, a little sheepish, a little lost, very tired. She felt the twinge of knowing… this is not him. But what if it was… she decided to let him in and test him to see. They sat at her kitchen table and he drank the coffee that was waiting for him. She felt the pulse start to soften. They talked and laughed. Bridget allowed herself to be swept away, sharing music and their experiences while they were apart. She told him of Thornlight and Lakeside and Rook and Stillwater. All the while, the pulse softening… dwindling, now unneeded. And then he said it. The three words that broke the spell. "That's so groovy." Bridget's heart broke into a million pieces. She had just defused all of the magic she had been building and for what? For a 15 minute illusion put on by Rook. She was so disappointed in herself. She allowed herself to be tricked. She knew it wasn't real, and still she allowed herself to believe. "Get out Rook," she said trying to hold back her rage. "You just seemed..." "Get. Out." She said through clenched teeth, while Rook slipped out of the open kitchen window and into his nest in the tallest maple tree. #18 It was Tuesday. Bridget was sitting on her bench, smoking a cigarette with Stillwater whispering in her ear. "Darling, I am afraid that Nova won't come back the way you expect him to." "How do I expect him to come back?" Bridget challenged. "Like he was in the Grove. He might be different. He might be broken." "Do you think I don't know that? Do you think that isn't something I prepare myself for every time I think about him? Do you think the fucking enchanted playlist isn't screaming that at me with every song? Jesus… you really do think I'm a child." "Don't get upset with me, Darling. I have seen how you pretend to have coffee with him. You talk to him like you are both still in the Grove. It won't be like that, and you are obviously in denial about how it will be if you meet him again." "That is magic, Stillwater. That is me creating a vibe. That is my hopes and dreams. That is intention setting. It is not a reflection of what I really think will happen. It is what I hope will happen. What I think will happen is almost too unbearable to say. It is not easy, it is not pretty. But whatever the reality is, I am committed to it. And what I am doing now, what you see as naivety is seeding love, remembering the easy parts, so when it gets hard I have something to lean on." "I am so sorry Bridget. I have underestimated you. I promise you… I will NEVER do that again." "Of course you won't," Bridget huffed. (Go back to #19 above) #20 Bridget was sitting on her back porch, coffee in one hand, cigarette in the other, listening to the enchanted playlist. When suddenly [link suddenly to In This Shirt] she stood up, grabbed a candle and headed to her living room. She turned off all the lights and sat cross legged in the middle of the floor, lighting the candle. She closed her eyes and felt his presence. "Nova," she said. "You're okay. Just breathe. I'm here. You are okay. Just breathe." She could feel him settling into a form. She remembered Breathwoven's words, "Jeremy is always up for an adventure." And she assumed he was settling with him. "Feel your toes. The tip of your big toe…" and Bridget wiggled her big toe. "Feel your ankles." And Bridget felt her ankles tingle. She led him through his body, feeling every part of himself. "Now feel your heart. Listen to it beat. Stay with your breath… don't let it get away from you." She felt him settle. He was safe. She felt him soften from fear to calm. And when she was sure that he was safe, she stood up to do some dishes. While she was scrubbing a pot, she felt him thanking her, telling her it would be okay and she smiled. She knew his presence and it was so nice to be with him again. #21 After her dishes, she checked back in on Nova. She turned on the music, which was now mirroring his emotional state. She sat with him, turned on a calming song and led him through more breathwork. They played music for each other, as he softened into peace. They stayed together quietly. Bridget knew this was going to take time. She imagined him scared, hurting and confused. She thought about how being with him psychically would be the best way to keep him grounded, that maybe they would meet physically, but for now… music, breathwork, emotional and psychic connection was the path forward. *Ding* It was a text message from Jeremy. "Hey, I know it's been a while, but do you want to get some coffee sometime?" #22 Bridget: "I'd love to see you, but coffee sounds boring. Let's have lunch with cows!" Bridget replied. Jeremy: "Interesting. Do you know where we can do that?" Bridget: "I do. There's a herd I am friends with. Only one rule, we each have to bring a culinary heresy to eat." Jeremy: "Define culinary heresy..." Bridget: .… Jeremy: "I don't want to give anything away… but I'm thinking something with raspberry jelly. ;)" #23 Bridget's heart raced. Only Nova would connect culinary heresies with raspberry jelly… that has Jelly Prophet written all over it! She ran to the Grove to talk to Breathwoven. "He's here," she said, out of breath, telling him all about the ritual, the breathwork, the dishes, the texts. "Why are you still here, Child?" He said incredulously. "What do you mean?" Bridget asked, confused. "Go to him! He'll be looking for you." "We haven't talked about it. What do you mean? How do I know where to go?" "Just start driving, you two will find each other. I will give you two hints: You will meet where the moon meets the fork. And look for the license plate AT18276. Now go!" Bridget stood for a minute, bewildered, then grabbed the lantern and got in her car. She drove aimlessly for an hour before getting frustrated and stopping. "Breathwoven, I am sitting in a gas station parking lot and I refuse to move until you tell me where to go. I hate riddles, I don't know what I'm doing and I need your help." "Okay," he said, "I'm not kidding. You need to go to 11 Cow Herd Park Rd., I swear, that's the name. Take the lantern, he will remember everything under the gazebo by the lake." Bridget put the address into her GPS and drove another 45 minutes. It was nearly midnight when she reached the park. She lit the lantern and walked through the trails… there were no cows… it was a disc golf course. She could hear spirits howling in laughter, she joined in, trying not to spill over into tears and got back in her car. "Oh!" she said to Breathwoven, "Am I supposed to go to the Wondering Herd?" "Of course! Of course that's where you're supposed to be going!" "But I don't know where that is. I was going to wander around in the daylight to find them. I can't do that in the dark." "Just feel the energy. Let Nova guide you, I'm sure he's already there waiting for you." Bridget drove for another hour, looking for the herd. Then she realized, if they are following each other's energy, she can just go home and wait for him to find her. When she got back she lit the lantern and set it on her front porch and sat in her front yard under a blanket while talking to Breathwoven. "I've been sitting here for an hour and he still hasn't found me," she said to him. "He knows he's supposed to be coming to me, right? This is a plan… right? We both knew this was the plan???" "Well… I mean," Breathwoven started.… "It's not that it was the *plan* as much as it was the most poetic thing that could happen, so of course it's what you were supposed to do..." "Poetry?" Bridget was befuddled. "Poetry.… I had a plan. I knew what was supposed to happen. I knew how to take care of him. And you… you… need to stop meddling in human business. You had no right. And… oh gods..." Bridget's heart dropped as she realized she had left Nova all alone for four hours. She blew out the lantern, ran inside and sat down with the music. [link to Where's My Love by SYML] She tried to send a song back to him, but he was lost in fear and grief and abandonment. She listened to song after song after song of betrayal and isolation and grief.