Tag: imagination

A Tribute to My Soul Sister Darlene

“Hugs! Both sides!”
–Rocio Darlene Arriaga

Once in a great while, a person comes into your life with whom you have an instant rapport, someone who “gets” you in a way that no one else does, who adds to your joy and brings out the absolute best in you. For me, one such person was Rocio Darlene Arriaga. I met her 25 years ago, in late summer 1993. We were both graphic designers at the Chicago Tribune and she had been transferred from Chicago to the suburban office where I was working.

I was reeling from a summer of new adventures. I drove by myself to a few spiritual gatherings that were held far from where I lived. When I returned, I found no one nearby to discuss what I had experienced. I needed to share. For some odd reason, I opened up to Darlene, the new person in my department, who I really didn’t know much about. I immediately felt comfortable in her presence enough to pour out my soul. I started telling her about the drumming, dancing, and ceremonies that took place in nature where I felt connected to everyone and everything. She listened and remained silent as I went on and on about how the experience of a woman’s weekend and other spiritual gatherings had completely changed me. I  mean, here I was, an extreme introvert babbling on and on to someone I hardly knew about really deep matters.

We both came from Catholic upbringings and at first, she was skeptical. The Catholic Church maintains its control over members through guilt and generations of people immersed in their belief system, so it can be a long process to disconnect from indoctrinated programming. We shared our personal childhood experiences with nuns who brought up deep-seated notions within us.

A person’s belief system is likely to change as one is exposed to ideas that are more in tune with one’s soul. Spending a weeklong camping trip in nature with others who are also journeying along paths of inner discovery and awakening can bring about a transformation in consciousness. I took Darlene to her first spiritual gathering the following summer and saw first hand as the wall she had built around her heart began to soften. She started sharing her innermost feelings, which previously she had kept to herself.

We also explored Native American Sweatlodges and shamanic journeying together. (In the coming years, she would pour sweats, singing Lakota songs as well as songs from her ancestral heritage. She had such a beautiful voice.) That year we began meeting members of our soul family. Darlene was the first person I have ever heard say, “He’s my brother from another mother”. I always thought that she invented the phrase.

We continued to grow closer as friends and Darlene began to refer to us as Mario and Luigi. Her daughter was young at the time and enjoyed playing the Mario Bros. video game. As I had a fondness of speaking with silly accents, I good-naturedly accepted the name Mario. I wanted to be Luigi because it had that soothing “oo” sound that I loved so much, like in my nickname Goo. But no matter how often I tried to become Luigi, Darlene wouldn’t let me be Luigi. I continued as  Mario and ended up losing my meatballs. We brought more of our soul family into our little world and Italian names were given out like Antonio, Fabio (with the flowing hair), My Cousin Vinny, Fettucini Alfredo and Pepe di Pino.

We played whole-heartedly, not caring what others thought. Often she would call me and leave a message on my voice mail in an Italian accent that went something like this: “This-a message is for-a Mario. If this is not-a Mario, hang up right now. (pause) OK. This must-a be the real Mario. Mario! Give-a Luigi a call when yous can! Ciao!”

When we talked, we had a special secret code word like children do. No matter what the reason for the call, we began each conversation in silliness. Darlene was a great friend to me, as well as many other people. I am one of many who considered her a “best friend”.

She had a vast network of friends and loved ones. Wherever we went, people were captivated by her upbeat personality. She was loved by many and often received gifts from strangers that she had just met.

Darlene’s sense of humor was unique. On the day I thought of writing this tribute, a 7-year-old memory appeared on my Facebook page:

This is an example of the humor that we shared. Because our office building was close to O’Hare Airport, Darlene came up with the idea of giving out wedgies during lunchtime with our friend Robin. Darlene even named Robin’s car “The Nalgas Mobile”.  Nalgas is Spanish for buttocks.

We imagined that we would say, “Welcome to Chicago, here’s your wedgie!” Of course we never actually did it, but it was one of those fun ideas that we played around with.

Darlene showed love in a special way.
Even if she just met you,
she might give you a hug.
The unique thing about Darlene’s hugs
is that she had to hug you on both sides.

She learned that tradition from our mutual friend, Madonna, who, when she was alive, facilitated Dances for Universal Peace. Madonna had taught Darlene the Sufi way of hugging on both sides for the balance. Not being a big hugger myself, I would usually say I’m already unbalanced and one side is enough to balance me. Darlene would hear nothing of it. It was always “both sides”. She turned on so many people to the “hugs on both sides” custom. This was her trademark, so much part of her that she once received the nickname “Two Hugs”.

Darlene’s first name was Rocio. She sometimes referred to herself as Rocky who was always looking for her Bullwinkle. And just like Rocky the flying squirrel, she had an aviator hat and goggles. She told me that she wore them when she created art.

Pat Thielen, one of our brothers from another mother, took this picture of Darlene decked out in Rocky attire.

Darlene as Rocky with Teddy

Here are more pictures of Darlene with her daughter Jessika:

Darlene was an artist who had dreams of having her art shown around the world. She told me that if she could help one other person see something in her art to help that person heal, that was all she needed. I can relate to that. I also have an altruistic need to help at least one other person. Perhaps it’s a need that wounded healers have. Our personal issues may find healing through the act of reaching out to others.

As an artist, she captured the essence of the person in her portraits. Darlene loved to paint eyes, the windows of the soul.  It was her soulful insights that always helped me out. She always listened to my problems and often gave me inspiring advice. A great many times she talked me off the proverbial ledge. We had a special pact. As I suffered reoccurring bouts of suicidal depression, I asked her to help me through the rough patches. She was so intuitive. At random times when I was feeling terribly depressed and wanted to kill myself, she would call me with the simple message: It is not an option.

It is so ironic that she would be the one to help me through suicidal times because she cherished life so much, enjoying every moment as much as possible.

She called me to the emergency room over 4 years ago when she was having extreme abdominal pains. Because I am a Reiki Master, she asked me to do Reiki on her. I did. I scanned her body but didn’t tell her until later what I saw: cancer.

She ended up getting diagnosed with stage 3 colon cancer and having the tumor removed. In the early days of her illness, I stayed with her and watched her dog, Onyx, who was later joined by Orion, another German Shepherd. She said that she always wanted a black female and a white male, for the balance.

She loved animals, especially dogs. Darlene loved Star Wars and named her chickens after characters in the movies. She often commented that she got along with animals better than people.

As friends, we talked about important issues. She preferred this to mundane conversations. Among other spiritual topics, we talked about reincarnation. Darlene insisted that this was not her last lifetime on Earth. She knew she had at least one more. I hope to see her again when she comes back. As we are soul sisters connected through spirit, our bond is beyond dimensions, time and space. She will always be a part of me.

One of the last days that I visited her, I cried and cried before I went to her house. I had finally realized why she called me Mario and not Luigi. I asked her about that once, why couldn’t I be Luigi and she be Mario? “Because Mario goes first,” she said. Goes first, what does that mean?

That morning in my tear-laden state, sobbing on the bed in a fetal position as my beloved held me, I realized what it meant. I went to my first spiritual gathering by myself. I went first. That led me to bring her the following year. Because of that, we met members of our soul family and Darlene reconnected with her personal truth.

As I lie there, I had a mystical moment. I saw the world as I do when I am in touch with my higher self. At moments such as those, my mind goes to my light-filled Dreamscape series paintings. I thought of my shamanic training and when I helped both of my parents in their transition from this world to the next. I was there to help them into the light.

At that moment, I felt the love of the entire Universe. I saw everything so vividly in my mind’s eye what is truly real, the love and connection between everything and everyone; the reason I went to a spiritual gathering in the first place. I was in a space of pure love and I felt the presence of Darlene’s ancestors surrounding me in white golden light. They gave me a message to tell her. I understood my role in this whole scenario, to help others through the gateway into other worlds. Because of Darlene, I had entered new worlds of creativity and imagination.

My soul sister and I had both taken care of our ill mothers at the end of their Earthly journeys. We were there as much as possible for each other through those difficult times. We both said that we would do it again in a heartbeat.

Darlene had been struggling with intense pain through her fight with cancer. She often called me to do Reiki on her to ease the pain. Like so many people with that cruel disease, she desperately wanted to live. She thought she would. She knew she was a healer. That morning, possibly without knowing it, she helped heal a part of me. I saw how she led me further into the world of imagination through her own imagination. I saw our connection in the bigger picture.

When I saw her later that morning, I told her that she was a great shaman because she helped heal a part of me. I told her it was OK to go let go and be with her ancestors. I told her that she was a blessing to everyone that she encountered; each hug she gave was a gift, a little part of her that she shared with everyone. I told her that she restored the balance in others.

Darlene had been my best friend for 25 years. The gift she gave me was both sides of herself. The strong-willed, insightful, wise woman who could be stubborn and challenging at times. Then there was her other side, the gentle, loving, caring, creative, girly-girl who loved to dance, wear lots of bling and play.

In the years that I have known her, I watched her daughter, Jessika, grow and blossom into an accomplished woman.

And I also watched my best friend put up the hardest fight I have ever seen. She fought to the very end. A true testament to her warrior nature.

As part of her lineage, Darlene existed as a Mayan Timekeeper. She mentioned it to me on several occasions but she never described what it meant. She departed this world on July 25, the annual Mayan Day Out of Time. On this day, Sirius, the Dog Star, rises with the sun in the morning.

    The Day Out of Time is the last day of the Mayan 13 Moon calendar. It realigns humanity into a renewed appreciation for our inherent divinity and connection to nature. It’s a day to live time as art; a day for universal forgiveness. Her soul chose the energy of forgiveness and art to cross over into the light. I am certain that there is much more to it, with a deeper reason that she now completely understands.

Everyone who knew Darlene probably has a personal story to tell. She was the kind of person who treated people with love and compassion. No doubt she left a special “hugs on both sides” memory in many of the lives she touched.

It is hard to say good-bye. She wanted so much to live. I kept praying for a miracle. Maybe the miracle was there the whole time. Maybe the miracle was connecting with “my sister from another mister” and the time we shared together.

May the Force Be With You Always, My SiStar!

Love,
Ginny
aka Mario

My Spiritual Awakening: It All Started With A Mouse

Back in May 1991, I was on vacation with my sister and a friend. My sister had just received her master’s degree and wanted to celebrate by going to someplace special. So we went to what some consider the most magical place in the world: Walt Disney World in Orlando, Florida.

I had been there twice before the trip, so I knew how wonderful it could be. This time was no different and every moment of the vacation was fun, even when it rained. On a rainy afternoon, we saw many people wearing slick rain ponchos with a Disney emblem on them. One of us (maybe me because I have a propensity for naming things) made up the term “Poncho Villa people”. You have to understand those transparent rain ponchos were a new concept back then and to us, they looked incredibly silly as a cultural phenomenon. We did not become assimilated into their cult and did our best to navigate umbrella-less throughout the Land of Mickey.

I have to pause from my story and say that I love Mickey Mouse, I have my entire life. One of my favorite t-shirts is an all-over print of various Mickey Mouse heads that I bought on this particular trip. At times, I call my boyfriend “Mickey” and sometimes sing parts of the catchy Toni Basil song Hey Mickey to him.

We stayed at the Caribbean Beach Resort, which is on the grounds of Walt Disney World so that we could go to all the theme parks by boat, shuttle or monorail, and never-ever step one foot off of Disney property. I feel that staying within the complex is the most magical way to visit this enchanted realm. When I’m there, I never want to leave. If you feel the same way about any Disney park, it’s partly because of the pixie dust that Tinker Bell and her friends sprinkle on you when you’re not looking.

On the last day of our trip, we checked out of the hotel and had several hours to spend until our afternoon flight. We found some lounge chairs along the beach and I quickly fell asleep.

I don’t know how much time had passed when a voice woke me up with the words: Write the book. Write the book that you always came here to write.

My epiphany was part of my spiritual awakening, A voice that did not sound like my own thoughts, was telling me something that was in my own heart. (Read more about my ideas of spiritual awakening here.)

I got home and started writing a fantasy novel. I adored the writings of J.R.R. Tolkien and always thought that I would write something along the sword and sorcery vein. The date was May 23rd; I remember it because it was my friend’s birthday.

Over time, the book I wrote morphed into another one and I sent the manuscripts off to publishers. They were rejected each time. Because I was one of those people who could not handle rejection well, years passed in between submissions to publishers. At one point, I stopped submitting altogether.

Meanwhile, I started writing the third book in the trilogy, completing several chapters and the ending. Most of the middle is not yet written, though the final chapter is. And that is the important part because it ends on a high note.

Writing a novel is a journey in itself. For me, it was an exploration of my own psyche, a map of my subconsciousness that took me years to understand. My fantasy novels are not structured writings with carefully outlined details but rather an unfolding of the story that occurs only when I’m ready. My books write themselves, or rather, they write me, revealing wisdom that I had forgotten. I had many serendipitous moments when I stumbled across another author’s work whose use of magic resembled my own. Perhaps we are all drawing from the same well.

23 years after my magical nap, it is May 2014 and I go on a trip with my boyfriend to celebrate his birthday. Just as Walt Disney World is my special place, the mountains are his, so we went to the Rockies.

It was there that I began to awaken to the realization that the book that I was meant to write wasn’t just another fantasy novel.

The puzzle pieces that had been scattered throughout my life began to fit together. I have always been fascinated with Alice in Wonderland, especially Disney’s cartoon movie. I love the 2010 version with Johnny Depp as the Mad Hatter, who also plays Captain Jack Sparrow in Pirates of the Caribbean. Do you know what my favorite ride is at Walt Disney World’s Magic Kingdom? Yep! You guessed it! Pirates of the Caribbean.

In college in the 80’s, I did a pointillism project for an Illustration class. It was a picture of Alice falling down a rabbit hole and it took me over 40 hours to complete. (I will share that another time.)

In the 90’s, I had a shaman call me Alice and took me on a journey of shapeshifting. I also trained in shamanism and began the healing of my inner child, the Alice within me.

For many years, my beloved has owned a white rabbit statue. As a Christmas present in 2009, he gave me a drawing of a rabbit that he had created. Another time, he gave me a rabbit statue. I never told him of my Alice fascination but seeing each one leads me deeper down the rabbit hole of my own imagination.

I credit Walt Disney for waking me up. As I awaken to remembering more parts of my cosmic puzzle-self, I am seeing with renewed clarity how everything is connected through consciousness As I expand in my awareness, insights come to me which feel that they were always there. I just never looked at them.

It’s all about perception. While you may not share my love of the magic of Walt Disney,  you may have a curiouser idea that you don’t share with others because of an underlying fear, like rejection. Or you do share it and people act like you are entirely bonkers.

I’m completely bonkers and I’m happy to admit it.
I have ideas that are out of this world.
Maybe you do too.

My last post was about waking up as a Jedi. As audacious and maybe even childish as it sounds, I’ve always felt that I am a Jedi Knight ever since seeing the first Star Wars movie in a theatre in 1977. Now that Star Wars is part of Disney, it confirms my long-held belief that George Lucas didn’t invent Star Wars, he was merely awakening us to the wonders of the Force that we had forgotten.

It is my hope to someday contribute to Disney in a creative manner. All possibilities exist in multidimensionality, so that might still happen in this Universe.

I am certain that humanity will eventually see how multi-faceted, interconnected, and real the world of imagination actually is.

I believe that voice that woke me up in 1991 was Walt Disney. And just as he said, it all started with a mouse.

Always,
Alice Always

P.S. I would like to hear about your personal experience with spiritual awakening or your curiouser beliefs. Please share in the comments.

Why I Believe in Faeries (or Fairies, if You Prefer)

I do believe in faeries! I do! I do!

When I was a young child I saw small spirits among the plants. They resembled people with exaggerated facial features. I didn’t always see them clearly, but I felt them. Often in the summer, I spent time at the corner of my parents’ backyard where a patch of wild buttercups grew. I sat there alone and gazed at the tiny shiny yellow flowers. Sometimes I picked one, held it upside down, thinking that it would make a nice skirt for a little doll. Twirling it, I envisioned myself dancing in a yellow dress.

There was heightened happiness I experienced in the buttercup patch that I didn’t feel anywhere else. It was an inner joy, a bubbliness that I felt inside that made me laugh.

One day, I was outside with my mom as she trimmed hedges. I watched as little spirits that resembled butterflies flew around the tips of the branches. I called them butterflies because I didn’t know about faeries when I was young. I didn’t read any books or see movies about them. It was the pre-internet age and resources were scarce.

I mentioned seeing butterflies to my mom and she gave me a look of complete disbelief and motherly concern. “There are no butterflies,” she said. The faeries immediately disappeared. Vanished. I never saw them again at my childhood home. That very moment a part of my consciousness closed up and I took on the dense prevailing conviction of the society that I lived in: the belief that faeries did not exist.

Now I must say that I prefer the spelling of faerie to fairy. This a personal preference, nothing more. Faerie is the archaic spelling of the word. It contains the word fae, which is used to describe otherworldly magical beings and the world they inhabit. I’ll have to elaborate on them in another blog post.

In my late 20s, I began to question everything that I was taught to believe. Sometime in the early 90s, I attended a lecture at the Theosophical Society. The lecture itself was dull, a topic that really didn’t interest me but I went there to try to make friends. I was looking for like-minded people. But my introverted personality stopped me from talking to anyone.

After the lecture, I went into the woods beyond the parking lot. The headquarters of the Theosophical Society in America is located in a vast park-like setting in Wheaton, Illinois. I went walking on the grounds at dusk and felt contentment and inner peace. Then I saw the first faerie I had seen in years. She was hiding behind a tree, poking her head out and looking at me in the way that shy toddlers do among strangers.

What astonished me was that she was not like the small butterfly-like spirits that I had seen when I was younger. Her height was about knee level and she looked like a young girl with slanted eyes and pointed ears. The most curious thing about her was that she was pink! All pink, from head to toe! I didn’t know if it was a pink glow that she was emitting or something else. My interaction with her lasted a few minutes.

Over the years, I have had other experiences with the Fae. I will write about them more in future posts. But right now, I’m focusing on the one I encountered in 1992.

Let’s fast-forward in time.

About five years ago, my beloved boyfriend gave me two garden statues for my birthday. They came in cardboard boxes that had their names printed on them. One was a gargoyle named Trixie and the other was a faerie named Fern. Fern reminded me of the spirit I saw in the woods over 20 years earlier.

When the idea of writing a story about Alice in Wonderland came to me, Fern began to talk to me in my thoughts. I found out that she is my guide to the world of Faerie. She is much like the shy child I was but wise beyond belief. Trixie is more of a silent master who engages with me in conversations occasionally.

You may say that this is just my imagination. That’s OK. But I know that we exist in a multi-dimensional reality. Only when we let go of our learned limiting beliefs can we touch them.

Why do I believe in faeries? Because a part of me is fae, a magical being that is learning to remember who I am on all levels. I believe in faeries because to believe in them is to believe in myself.

Always,
Alice Always

Signs to Show Us the Way on Our Life’s Journey

In the everyday world of 3D, we see the signs clearly: STOP, WALK, DON’T WALK and the curiouser BRIDGE MAY BE ICY that remain visible even in the Dog Days of Summer because they are never taken down.

These signs are designed to aid us, though sometimes waiting at a 2 minute stop light when there is no traffic, seems to be more of a hindrance. Some of us hate waiting; the word patience is not in our vocabulary.

What if we changed the perspective? Looked at everything in a different light? Did a complete 180? Imagine sitting at that stop light and thinking, Wow! Another opportunity to do some deep breathing! or Wow! Another moment to think what I’m grateful for!

Signs are not limited to what we can see. They may come to us through songs that may have an answer to a problem in their lyrics. For instance, the message relayed by the immortal Bob Marley in his uplifting song Three Little Birds:

Don’t worry about a thing
‘Cause every little thing gonna be alright

We are faced with challenges every day. Getting upset isn’t going to make the situation better. In fact, it may spiral down and create even more challenges. Negative breeds more negativity.

What if we decided to focus on the positive, move forward with the understanding that everything that happens to us is here to aid us on our life journey. Signs show us what our soul needs.

Many of us miss the signs along the way. Or deliberately ignore them.

Signs can come from anywhere, especially animals. I learned about animals being messengers to our soul as totems and spirit guides when I was studying shamanism back in the 1990s.

In 2002, author Ted Andrews published Animal Speak, the premier book on totems and animal medicine. Of course, now it’s easier to Google information then carrying around an oversized book.

Throughout the years, I would encounter animals at odd times. The day I started writing this, I was glum and wanted to give up this whole Alice Always blog and shut it down. Just then I glanced out the window and saw a goose standing on one leg, seemingly staring at me.

In animal medicine, goose represents imaginary realms. I got the immediate feeling like Mother Goose was chastising me for wanting to abandon her.

The message was received. I will continue to write about imagination and other assorted what-nots.

Are there signs that you noticed but never gave a second thought? The Universe is always giving up clues if we open up to them. Everything is there to help you.

Are you paying attention? What sign did you notice recently? Maybe you read an uplifting message that was meant just for you.

Always,
Alice Always

P.S. Here’s a cute video of Bob Marley’s Three Little Birds by Noggin. and another by Playing for Change. Enjoy the song of the day!

Diary of an Elf – Reading the Books of J.R.R. Tolkien

Diary of an Elf is a reoccurring feature here on AliceAlways.com. Alice shares her story as her elf-self.

Since I knew that I might be in the closet of Elf Cabin Number 9 indefinitely, I looked around for ways to entertain myself. On a shelf high above my head, I found my personal Holy Grail: the fantasy novels of J.R.R. Tolkien.

The Hobbit

We call him Master Tolkien, as he is known here to us elves at the North Pole. His writings inspire us greatly. They remind us that in our imaginations, we are not just short peeps with generally pleasant dispositions, but also tall, fierce warrior types as depicted in The Lord of the Rings trilogy.

As I said before, in your imagination, you can be whatever magical being you choose to be.

In the closet, I moved the rolling shelf ladder along the wall to the place where I could climb it and get the books. When I got to the top, I grabbed them. The books felt like magic in my hands.

My memory flew back many years to the first time that I held The Hobbit in my hands.

It happened in September 1973. I was 11 years old in the 6th grade and picked to be in a special reading group of students. Back in the day, teachers had to order books and wait weeks for their arrival to come in a big cardboard box.

I remember it like it was yesterday. Mrs. B had gathered us around the box and was handing out the paperbacks. On the cover was a top white area with the title, subhead, and the author’s name. Under that was an illustration of peeps (my word for people) riding on barrels down a winding river with trees on the riverbank.

Before she handed us our books, Mrs. B told us that this was an extraordinary book and that it came to us in a momentous time. The author had just passed away, she said and so reading it now would be extra special.

Wow, I thought, really not understanding the specialness on a conscious level. I knew somehow deep inside myself that this author J.R.R. Tolkien and I were connected.

After I was given the book, I turned it over to see a picture of the author, a profile image of a smiling grey-haired gentleman holding a pipe. An old building was in the background.

I opened the book and smelled it. I fell in love with the scent of words on paper. If you have never smelled a freshly printed book, you might want to try it. It is like nothing else in this world.

Throughout the school year, we read The Hobbit and the three The Lord of the Rings books in class.

I was thoroughly enchanted by Tolkien’s world of Middle Earth. I would think about it all the time. In my imagination, I envisioned myself as several of the characters.

I was a full-blown geek. I still am. I embrace my geekiness wholeheartedly.

After school had ended, I spent the summer rereading the trilogy. Then I started looking for more information about Tolkien and his work.

Back in the early seventies, resources for a preteen were far and in between.

At some point, I came across a writing of Tolkien’s in which he said wrote that he never felt that he had created Middle Earth, he was merely recording the events as they were happening somewhere else.

When I read that, I knew that to be true deep down in my soul. I also knew I had to do something in regards to this. I didn’t know what.

Now I do.

To be continued…

Always,
Alice Always the Elf

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Diary of an Elf – Day 3: Greetings from the Closet at Cabin Number 9

I’m still in the closet at Cabin Number 9 or Number 9, Number 9, Number 9 as innumerable Beatles fans here call it.

For the record, Elves love music, especially Classic Rock.

It appears that since I did not announce my arrival at Santa’s Magical Realm at the North Pole, no one knows that I’m here.

I came here in the middle of the night and made myself comfy in the only spot available. Because no one knew I was coming, someone or some peeps put a large barrier across the door and I’m stuck in the closet.

I have been since the night of December 26.

Imagine the wonderful feeling of being in one of the most magical places but having no one to share it with. It would be like you are living in a world that no one else is aware of.

It gets lonely in the dark.

 

So I’ll have to wait until the party music simmers down and/or someone hears my knocking.

The thing is, Elves really know how to party with loud music and pointy party favor hats, so I might be here awhile.

Always,
Alice Always the Elf

Diary of an Elf – Day 1: The Day After Christmas

What better day to start a diary than the day after Christmas?

I can use a fresh journal to journal my journey.

Why wait until New Year’s Day when you can begin today or even yesterday?

If I could, yes, I would. . .   If I could, I would. . . 

Sorry about that. I drifted off on a tangent of reverie.

Back to reality.

I’m at the North Pole.

At the North Pole, we call today Ruby Tuesday, named such because this year Christmas fell on a Monday.

Why Ruby Tuesday? you may ask.

I’m sure someone somewhere will figure out the answer.

Santa’s sleigh ride stirs up powerful Magic of Wonder Energy the week following Christmas. If you allow yourself to go deep into the depths of our collective imagination, you can feel it. If you sit with it, you with feel it stirring within you. If you go deep enough, you can create wonderful ideas that you thought you would never think of before that moment.

But you did.

Did I confuse you? Because I didn’t want to confuse you, just wake you up to that Magic of Wonder Energy that is flowing right now.

About me… I am sitting in the dark while I write this in Cabin Number 9.

Seeing an Elf in a mall a few days ago sparked memories that I had long forgotten. The need to be among my Elven kin grew strong in me, so I went to Santa’s Magical Realm at the North Pole, where you can always find Elves.

When I got back here all the beds in the dorms and deluxe suites were taken so I ended up in a closet with U-Haul boxes and clothing from previous occupants.

I was lucky enough to get a bed with a mattress. You know, some people living outside on the streets don’t have that luxury. I could sympathize with them just a little, the temperature in my closet was freezing. I am grateful I have a parka to keep me warm under the covers.

As anyone who has been here can tell you, it gets cold in the North Pole. Long Johns are a necessity and sometimes you have to even wear your parka to sleep.

So I’m up in the middle of a cold winter’s night writing this.

I don’t know how long I’m going to stay here. We’ll just see how it goes.

Always,
Alice Always the Elf

Why I Will Always Believe in Santa: He Personifies Magic and Wonder

I believe in Santa Claus. I always have, I always will.

You can debate that he doesn’t exist until you are blue in the face like a Smurf, I won’t believe you.

I believe in endless vistas of imagination. I live there.

I believe in the magic that lives in hearts of children. It lives within me too.

I live in a world of Wonder.

 

I often think of six impossible things before breakfast. That merry Elf, being an enigma himself, is an inspiration to me.

Here’s a few that Santa Claus does:

  1. Knows if everyone has been naughty or nice.
  2. Flies through the air on a giant sleigh, heavily laden with toys and other gifts.
  3. His aforementioned sleigh is powered by eight reindeer, nine in inclement weather when a light is needed.
  4. Goes up and down chimneys, seemingly propelled by magic.
  5. Somehow he transports himself and any oversized gifts down all those chimneys without getting stuck.
  6. Delivers gifts all over the world on one night of the year.

Santa accomplishes things that no one else in the world can do. His joyful Ho-Ho-Hos create energy bubbles of laughter throughout the world. That jolly dude is the personification of magic and wonder. He is the Spirit of Christmas.

He’s Gold.

I do believe in Santa, I do, I do!

I do believe in Santa, I do, I do!

I do believe in Santa, I do, I do!

 

Always,
Alice Always the Elf

 

The Elf I Met at the Shopping Mall

This time of year, you see all kinds of people holiday shopping including Elves.

Shhhhh! Don’t tell Santa that some Elves are ditching work in the Gift Wrap Room at the Big House. With only a few days until Santa’s annual sleigh ride, it’s crunch time! All hands are needed to write names on those little itty-bitty teeny-weeny tiny tags. Not to mention, forefingers are required to hold down the intersecting ribbon on gifts so that other, more nimble, fingers can make knots and tie everything all together.

In terms of Elven jobs, this part of the gift process is crucial, because, without enough workers, chaos ensues at the North Pole and Elves can get a little grumpy.

Believe me, you don’t want to be neat a grumpy Elf. More about that in Diary of an Elf (coming to a theatre near you, in the near or not so near future, depending on when you are reading this).

I kinda have to write the book first. So I’m starting with blog posts.

This time of year, it’s important that all North Pole Elves are present and accounted for. Like many humans, some Elves feel like they have to give presents during the last few weeks of the year instead of celebrating the joy of rebirth each and every day.

Is it end of the year gift-giving or just gift-giving procrastination?

Even Elves forget, but that’s a story for another day.

Back to this one.

A few days ago, I was at a store in my local strip mall when I saw a person shopping in the ladies clothing section, her back turned to me.

She was wearing a Santa-style hat. I was incognito, looking like your average Suzie Shopper, not at all like Suzie Snowflake with a snow-white gown.

Being in a super-silly mood, I just had to talk to her.

I walked up to her and she turned to look at me.

“Aren’t you one of those Elves from the North Pole?” I asked.

She looked surprised and hesitated for the briefest of moments. Then she lit up like a star atop a Christmas tree.

“Yes!” she exclaimed.

“I thought so,” I said. “Elf Cabin Number 9, right?”

I didn’t give her time to answer. I turned and disappeared into the endless racks of clothing.

I recognize my own. Elves and Faeries, that is.

Now you’re thinking: I thought she was supposed to be Alice in Wonderland.

Yep. Alice is about wonder and imagination. So are Elves and Faeries.

Just like a child, I can be any magical being that I choose to be.

So can you.

Always,
Alice Always the Elf

P.S. The t-shirts in the picture are available in assorted colors and sizes on Amazon! Let It Shine Sun Rays and Let It Shine with Lyrics.

All the World’s Indeed a Stage and We are Merely Players

All the world’s indeed a stage
And we are merely players
Performers and portrayers
Each another’s audience
Outside the gilded cage

Those are lyrics from the song “Limelight” by the Canadian rock band, Rush. This adaptation of Shakespeare was written by drummer Neil Peart and sung by bassist/keyboardist/vocalist Geddy Lee.

The origin of the song is a speech from William Shakespeare’s play, As You Like It. Act II, Scene VII, features one of Shakespeare’s most famous monologues which begins:

All the world’s a stage
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts …

Though I love many of Shakespeare’s monologues, this one is best depicted as a song running through my head throughout my life since I first heard it on the Rush Moving Pictures album in 1981 when I was a teenage fan.

Theater as a metaphor for life is a concept I entertained when I was still in the single digits of life. I was one of those philosophical, geeky, 4-eyed kids who just couldn’t get into sports because my hands, eyes, arms, and legs didn’t know how to work in conjunction. I couldn’t do cartwheels, skip rope with others holding the end of the jump rope, or run fast. I barely scraped by in gym class.

I couldn’t sing on-key but that never stopped me from singing to myself. It still doesn’t.

I found myself on a stage in Theatre class in college where we did a session on Improv acting. A student director approached me afterward and told me I had a stage presence. He asked me to be in his play but I was too nervous to say yes.

I was afraid of making a mistake in delivering scripted lines. Imagine what might have become if I had gone beyond my fear.

I may have ended up on the right path a lot sooner.

I had jobs at the local Renaissance Faire where I could create a character and play act but that ended a while back. The last dozen or so years I’ve portrayed other facets of myself: a pirate chic named Red-Handed Ginny and a faerie queen called Queen Goo who doesn’t always show her wings.

I’m a silly person who enjoys playing different roles with friends. I often play Mario to my best friend’s Luigi where-a I talk with-a lousy Italian accent. In real life, I have a distinctive Sout’side (the “h” is silent) Chicago dialect that will not go away.

We all play various characters in the theatre of life: child, sibling, friend, parent, lover, student, teacher, employee, coworker, boss or fill-in-the-blank.

A lot of times we juggle roles.

In the 1965 animated Peanuts Christmas special, A Charlie Brown Christmas, Linus,  with his security blanket and profound philosophical nature, gives a narrative of the Christmas story from the Gospel of Luke which ends with:

And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,
Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace and goodwill towards men.

In the theatre of life, there are times when we are in the spotlight of center stage, on the side, backstage or in the audience.

There are people who always want to be the center of attention and demand that we give our attention to them. In our society, we make celebrities out of them, obsessing to no end about what they did or what they said. Some of them can be so ego-driven that they upstage everyone in their lives and may attack those who have a different perspective.

We call them drama queens in everyday life and tyrants in positions of power. They care more about themselves and their own interests than everyone else. In their world, everyone is the audience praising them or antagonists who vilify them. Their reality is warped because their ego is out of control.

We get sucked into their world. When we give them our attention, it feeds their egos. When we give them our attention, it takes away from us doing something wonderful for ourselves.

Getting hooked on their little reality show often makes us forget that we have the right to be center stage as well.

All of us have the right to tell our version of the story, to think for ourselves. We don’t have to believe what another says just because they said it.

When Linus got onstage, he spoke words of love, to which I say:

The ability to shine in the light
is available to all.
Spreading a message of peace
and goodwill uplifts everyone.

Imagine the world if we all actually lived the lessons of kindergarten: sharing, caring, kindness and respect.

Imagine the world if we all gave attention to our joy instead of our misery. Imagine if we stopped attacking those who are different from us. Imagine if our choices were made from a warm loving heart instead of a reactive hot head. Imagine if we listened more than we talked.

Do you ever wonder how our world change if we changed the play?

Always,
Alice Always