Not very long ago, a woman came to live in this village. It is said she was a witch, a southern blue witch; but it might be she was a fairy, no one can really tell. She said she had come to heal herself, escaping from some dark pain. She was looking for a quiet place, far away from crowds and quite close to the highlands.
She met many people indeed, she had many jobs, and she loved quite a few men. She had no true lover in town but she always loved deeply giving the best out of herself. She did not like talking about herself, not even about her gifts or talents. She felt well just by making other people feel better but there was a deep sorrow down in her heart for she was always longing for someone to love with.
She followed the old woman's advice, she listened to the wolf running with her, she paid attention to her intuition, and she kept the message which her mind could not totally grasp. Writing a poem seemed the best way to tell him what she was seeing, to show him the movie which the universe was playing just in front of her eyes, the eyes of the soul.
He read it, he laughed, and he mocked. He might have thought she was nuts. He said that even if she was the last woman on earth she would not feel attracted to even touch her. He persuaded her that she was not able to seduce him, not even his wizard. He convinced her that, for him, she was untouchable.
How could she be so wrong? The inner witch had always been right. She could see the movies... She could see beyond his words and his disguise... But maybe not. May be, she was wrong. She felt embarrassed and ashamed. She wished she had never given him those poems. She buried the message. She destroyed the images. She became pretty sure that she had been mistaken and she forgot every word and step.
They became friends, a weird type of friends. Not that they saw each other often. Perhaps they had been friends before but that cannot be said for they could not even remember the moment they started believing they were good friends.
Far away she went. Exile and giving up life led her far from herself, far from this village, far from this man.
But there he was, always writing, always calling, always asking, always a good friend. And there he stayed by her side although he never believed that the wizard had been waving at her. From time to time she would write to him about his path of light, about some tiny fragments of his life. She could not help that much, he was not willing to be helped but he never left or never went away even if he could not go closer than an email.
After many years, she forgot about that message, that encrypted poem she had written, the images she had seen. She could not imagine how she could have considered even touching this man, who was not handsome neither ugly and was not able to dance or move around the grass. She was not attracted or seduced by him. There was nothing she could really like about him. He was a good friend, a good man, an intelligent brainy doc who had a wizard hidden inside.
Darkness almost won the battle, she was about to jump so many times but he held her in the distance. She realized he was a good person to talk to when you are about to die. He could sit in the border of the cliff and talk to her without feeling disturbed, sad or upset. He would never be afraid of losing her, he would never miss her, he would never cry for her. She could tell him about even the darkest thoughts or feelings and he would not run away.
And then, she was able to escape from that deadly cage where she had hidden her fears and she came back to the village. All over she started again with her life and there he was with his advice, his friendship and his care. The distance never changed, for they could have lived in China, Canada or Wales, he could not go further than an email.
His wizard kept struggling and from time to time he would wave at her, but she ignored him, because she would not make the same mistake again, and of course, she would not lose a true loyal friend because of a mistaken reading of the universe's encrypted codes.
And this intelligent, smart man started to wake up slowly to his inner life, he was able to be aware of what cannot be seen, he could listen to his wizard and he could talk to the southern blue witch living inside that woman. They helped each other, more than they could have ever imagined before. She was there for him. He was there for her. They could see in each other's dreams. They could read each other's thoughts and feelings. They could foretell the days to come. They could work with their gifts and talents. They were able to learn from each other while they kept living their own lives and they shared their secrets about lovers and romance. Little by little, he was able to build a bridge and they were able to see each other with the eyes which show us the trees and the clouds, the sun and the skin, the true face of soul here on earth.
Up he raised his shields. Far he sent his wizard. Cold his silence grew. And this man who was not afraid of dark thoughts, who could be strong enough to walk by her side when death was moving around, he was now just scared of her trying to reach him again.
Higher he raised his shields. Further he sent his wizard. Colder his silence grew. Iron coated his words. Once again, she thought she had been mistaken, even if the images would flood her eyes, even if the wizard could reach her in the distance, even if her river would melt with his wind during his dreams.
And there he spoke and asked her not to go. His words should not be listened to, his attitudes should be ignored, that's what he said and asked for.
She did not like him as a man, she only loved him as a friend. He did not like her as a woman, she only cared for her as a friend. She was untouchable for him and yet she felt she was able to find the way to his skin and show him what she had learnt, and tell him about the sacred fire and give him what she was told to. And maybe he could learn how to dance and how to move around the grass. She knew exactly how it could feel. She could feel the river turning into lava when reaching him in the distance. He was freaking out for he did not know what was going on and he could only think with his frozen thoughts of the brainy doc who had lost his heart such a long time ago. And yet, he would live and dance and feel in those scenes she was able to see, on that daydreaming movie which would never stop.
She could not tell him, he would not believe her, that she was not there to love him, not in the way people love on this earth. She was not there to grab him or make him the man of her life. They simply had the chance to let the wizard and the witch have fun together and play with the stars and let the planets collide and the cosmic showers pour on their lives. They could give each other a flame of sacred fire, a wave of endless ocean, an inch of unknown plasma.
She saw herself dancing around him, eyes closed, lights off, words unspoken, gently moving the air without even touching him. She felt the warmth crossing the borders, reaching the empty spaces, melting the shields, breaking the wizard free. She saw the man smiling and the wizard laughing. But he would not dare to stand so close to her, nearer than an email, closer than a handshake, she would always be untouchable for him for she had come dressed in a way he would never like.
So she spent a sleepless night writing this story which I am telling you. Many ends lived in her mind, just one end was the expected one by the universe.
Nobody ever saw her again. It is said that there is an old man, a smart man, a very intelligent man, who is neither handsome nor ugly and who lives in a cottage in the suburbs. He likes telling stories about wizards and blue witches. He likes helping people although he never learned to heal them using his hands for his skin turned so grey and so cold as it had never felt the warmth of the sacred fire. His eyes shine so brightly when the wind dances around him that no one can ever tell if it is because she was ever close to him or because he wished she had been.
With the help of the Southern Blue Witch, as most of the story comes from the scenes she could see on the screen of her soul’s eyes.
November 17th, 2011
Something like 4.00 a.m.
As the river gives into the ocean,
what is inside me moves inside you...
The Kabir Book
what is inside me moves inside you...
The Kabir Book