Black Book and Figs

I laid still caught in between the space of night and day. I turned my head to the window inhaling deeply and released a rich sigh as peach light slowly began to filter through the nearly translucent veil covering the window. The soft light engaged the dust in the air as the two carelessly swirled and danced like a prelude of stories yet to be told.

The window faced the west where the sea cliffs met the ocean. I found magic and wonder in the fragility and dramatic engagement of one world ending and another beginning. It’s a place of freedom where one can walk and swim between the two worlds. On a warm summer morning, much like this morning, a fisherman stepping out of the water casually mentioned this was a place where one can hear the songs of the mermaids as the sea foam rolls away from the sand. I always believed this to be true and often wondered on full moon nights when the pull of the tide was stronger and the moonlight brighter, if the mermaids sang just a little louder while basking in the silver light. In fond memory, I touched the amulet of raw aquamarine I wore around my neck. I felt a deep connection to the gemstone of the ocean, in part because it was my birthstone but also because it is said to be a gift from the scales of a mermaid’s tail offered to the sailors for protection from the turbulent seas. A bridge between the two worlds.

Calm waters is what I thought of as I pulled a loose sundress overhead. It was all I ever wished for you, calm waters. And you were the reason why I was leaving the coast and traveling through the mountains to the desert. I was drawn to you, like the river to the sea.

As I drove through the mountains I looked at the trees, ’The Standing People’ firmly planted into the earth, finding all they need with out moving, yet always providing for other’s needs. I always saw trees as the Storytellers of history, drought, black bear paws and time. Which lead me to contemplate my story. Was I just flipping through the pages of time in my book of life? What tree would be best pressed into paper containing the power of my words for my life, bound and protected in leather? I thought for a moment. It would be the Goddess tree, Birch. She aligns with Venus, containing the element of water, the sun and with promise of a returning summer. I breathed in the idea of this as I made my descent down the mountains as the landscape began to change to the desert and the palms began to rise.

When I arrived to the Oasis, the hot wind blew up my dress drying the drops of moisture on my skin. In the raw desert sun you stood still at the entrance by fishhook cactus awaiting my arrival. You lead me to the back garden where the desert bloomed with life and the seeds brought from the old country had now fully matured and developed into trees. The figs hung heavy, sweet and cool before the sun had warmed their core. I ran my fingers along the bark of the fig trees enamored how they became amate paper having said to contain magical properties, used in rituals and record keeping. It seemed fitting considering the word amate means ‘love yourself’. While the entirety of the tree represents unity, universal knowledge, all the while bearing the rich fruit of abundance.

Your father sat still gazing through the window at us like we were the original Adam and Eve. You held your hand out for me to hold and you led me inside where we joined your father. “Dad, this my friend. The one who brings the Elixir.” You said. “Ahh, the Alchemist.” Your father smiled between his words. I grinned and shyly lowered my head. “I’m not the Honey Hunter, I’m just here to deliver the gift.” I said in a coy fashion handing him a glass bottle containing a slow nectar which truly did look like liquid gold. “To your health.” I said. With one hand on your knee, your father set the bottle down with care and said, “And to yours.” As he offered me a black leather bound journal. “Find your truth, write your words, journal and dream your way through this life.” He winked with eyes full of wisdom and excused himself.

We didn’t drive to the springs to cool ourselves in the running waters rich with minerals from the mountains in order to break the desert heat. Rather, we found ourselves at the Salton Sea. The air was still and the water nearly motionless. The beach isn’t sand, its pulverized fishbones and the only sound as we walked was the final scream from thousands of fish who suffocated in the water as their salty bones crunched into dust beneath every step. I thought how could a body of water be dead. I touched the aquamarine, to self soothe. “It’s not dead you know... the water. The water is life and the salt is purity and permanence. They are Healers.” I tuned to you as if you had read my mind. You touched my face and kissed a droplet of sweat from my forehead. “Much like kisses.” You said.

I glanced down at the journal in my hands. Engraved in the leather was a fish. “It’s a fish.” I said with intrigue. You responded while looking at me intently. “It’s not just any fish, it’s a Desert Pupfish. They are the rarest of the fish. Living in the Devils Hole, Death Valley and residing in the Salt Creek surviving temperatures of 110 degrees, with low oxygen content and salinity levels twice that of the ocean. They are the thrivers where others perish. The leather of your journal, is fish skin. The skin of the faithful submerged in the waters of life.” “Hmmm” vibrated in my throat. I had no words while taking it all in. “Write something!” You encouraged while presenting a peacock feather pen. “That’s elaborate and beautiful.” I slowly whispered while gazing upon the iridescent colors of sky and water. As you placed the pen in the palm of my hand, you said, “The feather itself represents beauty, luxury and royalty. As you write it serves as a reminder of your rare beauty and through your written expression, your words should only be those of self-love and desire.” “What should I write?” I inquired. You shrugged. “It’s your journal, your words, your dream, your life, remember?” You said winking nearly the same as your father.

I closed my eyes for a moment, inhaled deeply and when I opened them gazing upon the water, “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea” is what came to mind. I thought of Captain Nemo - Captain Nobody and his fearlessness and 20,000 leagues, the distance traveled six times the diameter of the earth, the number of abundance, money, wealth. “Why did I think of that?” I thought to myself.

Staying with the flow, I opened the journal to the sixth page and I simply wrote $20,000. I closed the journal turned to you and said, “Let’s go.”

When the morning came, it was calm. I couldn’t hear the energy of the ocean calling me. It was more like an echo as the desert slowly awoke. I could hear the soft mumbles of voices vibrating through the door. I eased into the morning following your voice where I found you with your father engaged in each others company. Your father’s eyes lit up and he embraced me with a hug. He poured three cups of cinnamon tea then asked me to gather nine figs so we may start our day with the abundance of cinnamon, cacao, nectar of honey, figs and goat cheese.

I walked to the tree with my dress held out serving as a basket to gather the gems and noticed my journal under the tree. Confused, I picked it up wondering how it came to be out here. Beneath it, I discovered peaking from the earth something in a gold, bronze appearance. I pulled away the soil and unearthed a copper box. Overtaken with curiosity I opened the box and within was amate paper tied in red silk string. I gently pulled the string and the amate began to unfold reveling twenty yellow straps of new $100 bills. I brought the treasure chest into the dining room. “I found this under the fig tree.” I said as I gently placed the box on the heavy Oak table. Your father sipped his tea looking through the steam and said, “Indeed, you are the Alchemist!” You then turned to look in my eyes weaving your fingers through mine and said, “You see my Dear, you are the Magic. You always have been. You are the Desert Fish. You brought with you the Elixir, the drink of the Gods, and we provided you with knowledge and the tools so you may open your Gift. You, expressed your thoughts and turned them it into wisdom and creation. However my Love, you forgot the forbidden fruit. Yet, you weren't tempted by them because you are the Devine wisdom of Self. Its your book. It’s your life fill the pages with self-love, beauty, expression and your heart’s desire. Now, shall we feast on the figs to your hearts desire?”