May. 5th, 2009

ravenari: (general - she is the raven)
My animal companion, or 'pet', Moet - a champagne tabby - has spent most of today lounging in the sunbeams by the blinds I left open specifically for him. Specifically so he could lounge in front of them.

Sometimes it's easy to forget that I live with a feline who has the leashed spirit of tigers and lions inside of him, until of course I see him playing, or his blown black pupils pop up over my bed, a second before he wraps himself around my foot, all claws and teeth.

We too, are humans with the leashed spirits of primates and goodness knows what else inside of us. We sit at our computers, we lie docile in our beds at night (or some of us do), we cook our meals and live our lives leashed by society, jobs, sometimes even our friends and families.

So when do our pupils dilate black with the sheer joy of the hunt? When do we unleash and play for the sake of playing? When do we climb, run, crawl, frolic and revel in our environments and surroundings? Do you know what furniture would carry your weight if you jumped on it? Have you ever hid, breathless, waiting for a friend to come round the door before shouting 'BOO!' and revelling in this jump of fear?

I unleash, sometimes, in the otherworlds. Specifically, in my 'starting place' (no really, one day I will give it a name), in the middle-realms. I am lucky to have a few spirit helpers who remind me that I am not just a leashed creature, someone's animal companion, but a fierce and at times ferocious spirit. Capable of holding great power, and - when necessary - letting it go. Play is serious business.

When do you unleash? And how?
ravenari: (art - lightning)




I was describing the story of the emugirls, as I had learnt them, to a fellow artist and user on DeviantArt, and it occurred to me that it wouldn't hurt to share them here too.

I first met a solo emugirl by a stand of sheoaks or casuarina trees. She was hiding in one of the lower branches, and materialised wild and shaggy. Her eyes were bright, large and lucid. Her mane of hair continued down her back and flared out at her hips, like that of the actual emu. And like the emu, her feathers were doubled onto one shaft.

She didn't say anything, but smiled with her impossibly wide mouth. The smile widened and I saw she had no teeth. I smiled back, and she nodded, and I nodded, and we went out separate ways. I felt warmed. I had never read about emugirls anywhere and to this day I don't know if they exist, and I don't claim that they are real to anyone but me. I often wonder what would happen if someone else tried to contact them in the otherworlds.

Recently, in the semi-rural suburb I find myself living in now, I travelled in a journey-state across the lands and came to a plain of kanya, balga, lechenaultia and grey sands. There, I saw 9/10 emugirls, slight and frail, but shaggy and wild all the same, come together in a circle under the stars, and begin singing to the stars. It was the strangest song I had ever heard, filled with the bass 'OOM' sounds that emus make, but also high-pitched girl's voices in unison and harmony. They didn't sing any song I knew, but the melody was simple and soaring. I wanted to know what they were doing, but out of respect I left them alone and cherished that I had witnessed this event.

I don't know if there are emuboys, I don't know if there are emuwomen and men. I don't know much at all. I only know that when I communed with the land-wights of Koondoola and they suggested I honour them through my gift of artwork, emugirl was the second spirit who immediately came to mind.

I hope to meet her, and others, again some day.

May 2010

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