At The Edge Of The World Pt. 2

For the first part of the series, click here!

Since no one had responded to me, I started to analyze the possibilities of what was actually happening to me. I wasn’t ready to accept the truth, so I stalled by sipping on my lukewarm coffee.

After 15 minutes of jittery anxiety, I decided I needed to go outside. I went out to the Hot Rock, a big ole slab of stone by the fountain where I like to channel lizard and warm myself in the hot, Texas sun. I’d brought out my Tarot deck, and casually started flipping through the familiar cards. I poured myself into them, asking, pleading, “What is going on?”

My eyes closed, I pulled three cards in a simple spread, and turned them over.

The read was straightforward. Each of card had an image of a tree – one burned down, one standing tall, and one gazing at the moon. It was clear I was going to have to reach out to a power beyond the Tarot, a more local spirit, and began preparing to ask the Deva of the greenspace sprawling before me.

Regretting that I hadn’t brought my stones or bell, I raced to the car to see if any remnants of my “other life” might linger there. I found my old Malachite meditation stone, shattered into the shape of Algiz in a warning of protection, and a green stone I’d planned on using as a golem heart before deciding to bury it along with Malachite, returning them to the earth.

I’d performed spells along the perimeter of the greenspace before, and walked around to the familiar spots where I’d buried, sang, chanted, or spoken with the local flora and fauna. Each one seemed to perk up at my presence. As if anticipating me, the cool air of the mesquite stand before me tousled my hair, and I began to bury the stones, tapping rhythmically on my knees and focusing my breathing.

As the last grain of earth covered the old stone, I felt the Deva’s awareness on me. I’d spent time listening to individual trees, making fast friends with a silly old tree named Aza’Alla’Alla’Leia in central Austin, but the spirit of an entire forest was much more intimidating than I had anticipated.

Its gaze flew threw me like shards of shrapnel from a landmine planted years ago, forgotten. The Deva seemed excited yet confused, a similar feeling to the trees on the way to work, and again I heard them say my name: Cassandra.

I bowed briefly; a welcoming and respectful gesture, but turned to look the forest right in its eyes as I guided my consciousness to seek the answers I needed.

The Deva’s thoughts swirled into my own as if draining down a pipe.

“Curious thing you are.” It informed me. I stood in silence, still listening deeply. “When everyone else has gone, you still remain with us. For what reason?” I got the sense this was a masculine Deva due to the rolling timbre of his accusations.

“I do not know what you mean by ‘everyone else has gone.’ Can you please explain?” I asked.

The entire forest chattered with excitement. It was a long while before the Deva responded back to me. “We do not know either. This morning, it seems you are the only one who chose to stay with us.”

The stoic words took the breath right out of me. I was trying to understand what he was saying. It seemed he also did not know what had happened, but I had to confirm my dread and deepest fears. I couldn’t leave it alone.

“Are you saying I am the only one left on the planet?” I tepidly asked, hoping I might die before an answer came.

The Deva was much faster this time. “That we can feel.” He responded, flatly.

My grief shut me off from all else for an eternity. I ran within myself, frantically scanning the past few minutes for any sign that the truth was not as it seemed to be. Nothing.

The Deva waited. I thanked him and asked if this had ever happened before. The forest bristled at my question and the Deva responded, afraid, “Yes, of course it has. How can you not remember?” At that point, the Deva shifted his awareness away from me completely. The weight of my loneliness deafened me, but I walked back to the car and started to make my way somewhere, anywhere, that felt familiar.

Nothing did.

Stay Tuned for Part 3!

Photo Credits: Malachite by orientalizing

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