Bugs, beetles and gnats surrounded the house and the darkness was pitch coloured, like Baba’s hair. Belenus and I were peering through the glowing window, like we had when we were small. It was quiet, and she was stirring her cauldron, singing a melancholy tune about things that were falsely labelled. Her shelves were full of old jars and tins, and every now and then her wise eyes moved from her attention to the boiling cauldron, to the false labels on the shelf items. “It never works,” we heard her say under her breath, lamenting in a fine howl “…the parade never stops. The novelty never stops, the hurrying never stops. Did I breed a child to make it wild, a world child running amok.” And suddenly then, she cocked her head, instinct driven as she was, we knew she had sensed us at the window. “You better own up and say we’re back,” I said to Belenus. “Why me? And face her wrath? You do it, all your talk of circles and seeing things anew.” Piercing him with my eyes in the darkness, I said, “How would you feel if every word you ever said went unheeded? You don’t know about that because you are always at one with society. And people say yes to you, but no to her. If the situation were reversed, you would be feeling just like that.” Belenus looked shocked, and shuffled his small hoofs in the dirt.
Baba’s voice called to us, a low dissatisfied query, to show ourselves or risk being eaten by her ill mood, and the creatures in the shadows. Baba never liked folks messing around, you had to be to the point, and know why you were there. I felt a bit sad for Belenus, and his pain hurt me, so I decided to move into the house and declare our presence there. We sat in lame retreat on two wooden stools near a roaring fire. Baba’s eyes glowed and speared us, not unkindly. Belenus was shaking a little, and I sighed.
“We haven’t been able to do what you asked,” I said, making a gesture of impotence with my hands. “…er…and very little has come to pass.” Baba sighed, and said: “What do you mean? Since you last came you are grown, indeed, much has come to pass.” In her shelves there was a tiny globe of the world, lit up, suddenly growing larger, and she put down her stirring spoon and reached for the globe, placing it on the table before us. She eyed the string that accompanied us, wrapped around my hand securely and Belenus’ left hoof, and smiled: “I see also your navigating methods have changed, also, improved. But you are still impatient, which is your greatest fault.” “Blame him,” I said, in a knee jerk reaction, “He is the one who wants things done yesterday and wants to know everything without feeling it.” Belenus looked crushed. Baba ignored us, and bade us look at the globe, and spun it in her strong, earth/seed/root-like hands.
“So many rushing, so many lights burning, but not many in the bodies I see rushing to and fro, too fast to read my signposts, my labels, my directions. My jars and tins are labelled differently to those in the world, and I was gifted some, for research, as you can see. Last visitor brought them, there have been many come lately, to be certain.” I read them, and Belenus did so eagerly, saying the names aloud, “Win now,” “Grow thin”, “Eat this”, “Do this”, “Don’t think”, and “Do that without thinking, and you will be rich beyond your wildest dreams”. Baba made a face. That last one was a long one, but Belenus could see it was on dozens of cans. And as he read them out, his voice became quieter and quieter. Then he remembered reading something about the Grail, and how its wisdom was paraded before the seeking knight hundreds of times before he became wise. “So people are looking at the wrong labels after all. And they sound good, indeed, there is nothing unsound about the words, except a certain lack of something. A lack of substance.”
“Well done,” said Baba. “Will you both give me your labels of impatience and I will give you a little fire, to stir up your better memory?” The fire roared suddenly, and we realised compared to it, ours had been all stifled by rules and labels, sticky notes and being called wrong names. I looked at the shelf of earthly jars and tins, and noticed one labelled ubiquitously “Spam”. This has become one of the most widely known labels, and everyone knew what it meant, whether it was for their greater good or not, I could not say. And it actually really didn’t mean anything. “Yes, yes of course we will,” we both said, our eyes being mesmerised, made heavy by the spinning globe. She picked up our gifts and held them to the fire light, well pleased by those, but wasn’t very happy about how she had been drawn in the book of fairy tales, but said she would overlook it, as we weren’t the artists that drew them. Belenus looked relieved.
“Sleep now, but mind, surrender those labels to the fire. Both of you, curl up by the fire and sleep…just while I tend the cauldron of change, stir things up a little.” We hesitantly did as asked, and nodded into a strange, but restful sleep as the smoke drifted out of the chimney, and into the dark night.
(copyright Imogen Crest 2006.)
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