Forget the fairy tale, there’s more magic in the truth than there ever was in the old story books anyway. The beast came before the man and the man was worse, at first. The curse wasn’t of beauty or beast it was of blindness and desire. I spent my days fighting for fantasies. It’s all I’ve known. I don’t know if I’m the trickster and fool, or the product of witch craft and alchemy. I merely know, that I am here.
For a girl, a beautiful girl, he desired so much to be a man,
Such a silly thing, such a wonderful thing.
Shed the skin, shave the fur, and starve.
Dressed up in the finest collars,
Trapped and bound in buttons and ties,
Taught himself to walk upright.
A clown and spectacle to the other animals.
Holding his teeth and tucking his tongue
Neatly in his closed mouth required constant attention.
Utter a word and his teeth would gleem and all fall out,
Words too would deliver their quality,
revealing intelligence, leading to provocation.
And it would be up with the torch pitch forks.
As quietly as he could, he listened and smirked,
Obsessing over every petal and subtlety of her way.
Her shadow and friend, watched as she’d fling ,
What a beautiful flower, and with that notion,
He coveted.
Such a silly thing, such a little silly thing.
Fell all the more and wanted so much
To be a man.
Bearing it no more, he wished to tell,
His story and all that he had done
Just to walk next to her.
What a foolish thing, letting lips unfurl,
Giving himself away, a beast among men,
The growl in his voice unmistakable.
Sending all away, to fetch the town crier,
and rally the mob.
Last words and dying wish fell like a thunder,
She was frightened, and rightfully so,
Knowing for the first time his nature.
Let them in after him with a scream that cracked the heart.
In came the cynics and nay-sayers, all to poke and prod,
to maim and kill him if they could.
Chased him to the ends of town and treeline.
He escaped and lived, taking with him but a flower,
a coveted memory and mad hope.
Outside the next town over, a cracked heart,
A foolish longing and undying ambition got the better of him.
To be a man, such a silly notion.
Refined his facade, learned to speak with tact and mechanism,
Meaningless words he found, made people more comfortable,
So he used those the most,
Burying his true voice and heart in his stomach,
Forgot how to growl at all.
Petals fell. Time passed.
The disguises improved,
And he was a passable and even likable gent.
Found himself another treasure-
Reciprocated love- I know of nothing greater.
But he forgot his heart, his growl, and nature,
For the ambitions of men, and she too left.
And this time, it was not but a cracking blow,
But the utter destruction of the heart,
That at once, reminded him of his nature,
The true nature of love and life,
And in this little death, he learned mortality.
Like Lazarus – brought back to learn more of life and humanity.
By some compassionate force,
Some god that took pity on his ignorance,
Admired his ambition, passion,
and saw a capacity for more than he knew.
He felt cursed; thought the world of witches and mayhem.
The world of men was a cruel place, and he was stuck,
He forgot his home and the path to get back,
not himself, not of nature, of nowhere,
he had become of his own creation and folly.
Cursed, and without a mirror to point to and lay blame,
Only books and songs of men to keep him company,
and picked up the pen and took to paper in the language of man,
and wrote with twisted heart, to process his frustration,
What would later become legend.
But his story stretches beyond those books.
The petals poured like heart beats, and the flower shriveled to a pitiful relic.
In loneliness and solitude, he was confused by the reasoning of man
When they invented time, as if to punish themselves,
Masochistically counting every second of their lives as it slipped away,
As the lonely, heart-broken, lost and idle are prone to do.
He learned the cruelty of man, and promptly stopped staring at clocks.
He passed the time with studies of the world; philosophy and riddles to keep his brain from hearing his heart, but even that betrayed him. It tricked him to reconnect with his natural talents, meddling in magic and alchemy;
Scorching his hands and heart on more than a few times in grand taste and fine calamity. His desire for love and reckless pursuits tainted his efforts. In his frustration, he abandoned prose for paragraphs, hoping to discover in volume what eluded him in the brevity of prose and poetry.
He remembered the importance of nature, and surrendered again to the seeming chaos of it all. He Retreated to the familiar bends, hills and woods of his childhood, and deep into himself. He reflected on all that was and all he had become.
Unlocking a bit each time, he made lists, notes, and scribbled a mess of revelations sensical and important perhaps only to him:
In knowing nature, and compassion, you know yourself, and you know God.
What was thought a curse, was a cure; a complex formula, a winding, perilous tangle of roads, trails, oceans and country side, a path leading me to exactly I need to be, here, in this moment. If pursued with integrity and authenticity, what were once thought cruel, were but important lessons of life.
Misadventures too are grand and to be met with smiles and laughter.
What were once thought witches, were blessed teachers and mentors. No ill ought to be wished upon them, only praise and affection. All that came before offered opportunity for wisdom. In failure and pain, struggle, frustration and reflection, seek wisdom. Wisdom brings us closer to happiness.
A life spent in disguises of other men is an unsatisfying one, yielding little fruit and creating an unquenchable thirst through expectation. What is true for others must not be blindly accepted by me. Authenticity, integrity, consistency in word and deed are worthy pursuits even if in perfect form are unsustainable.
Expect nothing, but do all that can be done in the moment. Let not a petal fall wasted in hope, when the hands can help deliver in the moment.
Love of life I know well. Of intimate and romantic love, I know little, save for 673 ways to fail with spectacular form- via intensity, passion, fear, shame, and lust. Of what little truth I know, is that all matters of the heart must be pursued with the full self, virtuous and well intentioned. It is a maddening formula that escapes me; something of timing, something of mindfulness, something of magic & alchemy, something of vulnerability, something of distance, something of tension, something intimate, something attractive, all heated to different degrees, in different amounts at various times, depending on the intended recipient; a maddening pursuit but worth while from what little I’ve tasted of it.
Meddle with magic and alchemy often. These were meant to help keep life interesting. Of love and alchemy however, be careful when mixing the two.The results can do more than merely singe the brow.
Only meddle with love when opportunity comes to you through natural course. Do not force it, do not chase it intensely.
It is more elusive than any other force and far faster than a jack rabbit.
You must be cunning, quick, aware, and know when to leap after it.
Love always involves risk. If you are not afraid for your life during the pursuit, you’ll never surrender enough to let it into your life in its ripest form.
Never cage love. It doesn’t keep well in a pen, and can’t be tamed.
Don’t dwell long in the pain of a broken heart. Learn as much as you can, do what you must to heal and keep at it.
Not every chase must be a pursuit of love, but all should be treated with respect and compassion. The doe may feed your hunger and leave heart wanting, but do not dishonor any pursuit. Give thanks and humble prayer, even if only kept in the slight glisten of a single, sacred and hidden tear.
Cultivating compassion & mindfulness are the constant lessons for those in pursuit of a happy life. I may never know their full depth or scope, but the pursuit serves me well.
A beast, a man, both reconciled their nature. My story is not over-
‘-Now just a furry man in a collared shirt.
