I did not feel broken into a million pieces … I felt like ash.
Worn down like a river stone, where I did not have much left, you know?
It is that point where you do not really care which directions things turn, and you almost need the control to be taken out of your hands, just so action can begin, and change can take place.
It all started with that bloody suede jacket.
I was at a bit of a crossroad in life and had just returned from Bali, where I had been intensively studying dance and art with a close friend of mine. So much travel with children was starting to become unsustainable financially and with school, so I was in this weird limbo.
That is when chaos came knocking …
I will not get into the fine details, but it began like this, I knew someone in my social circle, who like me, felt as though we did not belong, especially not in our true naked form, we were too unpredictable, too wild, just not disciplined enough. In retrospect, we just did not consider consequences to the degree we should of. But, we had so much fun, until we didn’t.
Of course, that ended, not in a crashing ball of flames, but as an abrupt disappearance.
Fast forward two years, and we are back at the beginning of this story. Are you still with me?
I got a reply to the message, I had sent two years ago, concerned for the wellbeing of this person, who I had concluded, was in hiding with his tail between his legs. This behaviour of running away, was also not surprising or unusual. Then within hours, and after two years, trouble was back on my doorstep, sitting at the same table we used to sit at, under those god-awful vertical blinds I hated so much, I mean, have you ever tried to clean those suckers?
It felt like two Judas outcasts, getting ready to inflict more bad decisions on the world, you know when you feel trouble brewing and you just know, you are driving a freight train, which is on fire, into a volcano? It was exactly like that. I am going to say right now, that I deserved everything I got, before the judgement starts rolling in. This was a lesson that had to be learnt.
Two very fiery, volatile creatives, what could go wrong? He is a musician, and at the time I was a dancer and circus performer, so our lifestyles intertwined nicely, we picked up exactly where we left off two years ago, and the chemistry was always there, but the rest was just all wrong. It turns out, that was also not sustainable. You can only run around as two chaos gods for so long, in the quiet moments, what is left? It is that ash I mentioned earlier, that’s what.
I am not going to talk about all the low points and terrible things that happened, that ex-partners often do, why? Because at no point, did he ever pretend to be anything else, he always told me exactly who he was, and I still signed that contract, floating feather pen, mischievous glowing eyes, and all, it was all there, right in front of me. I was in, and I think secretly, I liked the destruction. We were two equal players on that chess board, even though I felt so hard done by at the time.
So that jacket.
I have always loved a good suede jacket, I must have inherited that from my mother, who likes anything in a brown or bone colour, and in suede. I stumbled across this jacket, satin lining with rodeo horse print, tassels … what more could I want. What a perfect jacket to wear on all the new adventures I would have with my once lost love. That jacket has come everywhere with me, I have sulked in wallowing self-pity with a bottle of whiskey in that jacket, I have slept half-naked on the concrete outside, under the moon … also partaking in another wallowing self-pity, misery party, all in that jacket. But our biggest adventure of all, was like something out of a children’s fairy-tale, but the dark kind, where everyone ends up getting eaten or maimed.
For this part of the story, I am referring to an old fabric covered dairy, filled with pressed flowers and insect wings, that I had written in every night, while I sat alone in the aftermath, trying to make sense of my own mess, and while I am on the topic of that sitting alone with my decisions, it was also in the middle of the bush, in the south west, so there was literally no-where to go, to avoid facing the one thing I have been avoiding my whole life … myself.
Something I do take from this, is that someone who deserved vindication, was granted that pleasure, I won’t talk about the who or why, but I was almost relieved, I knew it was only a matter of time before I would pay the price for the lack of consideration for consequences, mentioned earlier.
So, strap in, and get prepared for some serious eye-rolling.
Once upon a time there were two fire gods, the Fire God of the West, and the Fire God of the East.
After a time of turmoil and destruction, the Fire God of the East disappeared, and the Fire God of the West, was heartbroken and left wondering what fate had become him. In the throes of sadness, she had a dream, a vision, which went like this.
Sitting alone, in a wooden cabin in the forest, the sun filtering gently through the window, as the breeze made the white curtains dance. The Fire God of the West sat on the end of the bed and waited, she waited patiently for the Fire God of the East to return, growing less hopeful as the hours drew on … he never returned to her.
The Fire God of the West awoke with an even greater sadness than before, knowing deep down, that they may never cross paths again, but that dream, turned out to be a perfectly accurate prophecy.
Years later, the Fire God of the East returned, worn down and wounded, but also calmer and slightly wiser, to the doorstep of the Fire God of the West. She let him back into her life without much hesitation, and they sat outside under the night sky, filling in the missing spaces of the years that had passed by, but she never actually asked for an explanation as to why he had disappeared.
The two Fire Gods, in blissful happiness, travelled to a coastal forest, and started a life together in a small wooden cabin, with sunny windows and white curtains that danced in the warm breeze.
But before long, trouble started to brew again, the lack of rest … lack of balance, and lack of compromise, meant that the two Fire Gods began to start a war, and again the Fire God of the East disappeared, for days the Fire God of the West searched for him, worried what may happen to him, in a forest he was so unfamiliar with. So, with that, she put on her suede jacket, and ran down the slippery, rocky path, with her mother calling out to her in vain, telling her of the big mistake she was making, but the Fire God of the West did not listen to her mother’s warning.
Walking along the highway, in the middle of nowhere, with no real plan, the Fire God of the West worked out where her lost lover had gone, and so she began to make her way to the biggest dive of a backpacker’s you have ever seen. It was late afternoon and there were hardly any cars on the road, this impulsive decision was starting to feel very real, and by foot, this was easily going to take until morning, she stuck her thumb out and flagged down the first car that appeared over the horizon.
The fire God of the west jumped into the car, and immediately, a little dog, hopped onto her lap, and curled up into a tight ball, the driver, a young woman with blonde hair and small stature, apologised saying that the passenger’s seat was the little dogs favourite spot, and that she got him because she had lost her children. The woman’s ex-husband, a man with authority and money, had dragged her through so many court cases, that she could not afford to continue, and with that, he swept up her children and brought them to the big city, leaving the young mother alone, and broken, living on a backroad that often floods every winter. The woman told her story as if no-one else were there, re-counting every moment, as if she were talking to herself, trying to make sense of how she came to be where she is. The woman began to cry, before turning to the Fire God of the West and saying “Now I live for revenge” as the cross hanging off her rear vision mirror swayed with the movement of the car.
The woman, now with a sudden interest in her passenger, asked why anyone in such a brilliant suede jacket, would be hitch hiking at this time, in the middle of nowhere, The Fire God of the west replied that she had to check on the welfare of her lover, in the next town over, with which the woman replied “Why are you looking for a coward?”. The words cut deep, because they had truth, the shame also cut deep, but excuses were made, as they had been a hundred times before. The woman took her passenger as far as she could go, before pulling the car over, on a bend off the highway, which had a huge wooden cross sticking out of the grass, not unlike the one hanging from the rear vision mirror. The Fire God of the West thanked the woman, and suggested they exchange numbers, the woman paused for a moment, and asked “You would like to exchange information … with me!?” clearly so torn down in her life, as happens in situations such as this, that she felt unworthy of even friendship.
Again, the Fire God of the West began to walk, it was getting dark, and she wondered where she might sleep for the night, should no more cars come, at least her suede jacket would keep out the cold. But just as soon as the thought of walking away from the highway entered her mind, another car came along the bend, an old ford, driven by an older woman with black hair and a weather worn face. The Fire God of the West could not believe her luck, and jumped in the car, away from the devouring darkness. The women exchanged small talk before the Fire God of the West noticed the older woman had a dragon tattoo on her hand, right between her pointer finger and thumb, she complimented the tattoo, and the older woman began to cry. Again, the driver, like the one before, started to re-live her story as if no one where there, as if all alone, she was trying to make sense of her world.
The tattoo had great meaning to the older woman, it was a matching tattoo that she had with her husband, the love of her life, her soul mate, who had sadly passed away.
The older woman began to cry.
The Fire God of the West began to cry.
The two women blamed it on the weather, and then sat in silence for a moment.
It took until the very last leg of the journey, for the older woman to ask the burning question, “Why are you chasing this man? he is not a man”. That stung even more than the younger woman’s question, coming from a lady who knew and lost great love, and knew the value of real love. It was getting hard to keep making excuses, and even the Fire God of the West, did not believe the words coming from her own mouth.
At last, the Fire God of the West had reached the old, dirty backpacker’s, but the Fire God of the East was not there, it seemed he had been partying all over town and had moved on to another place up the road, at the next accommodation, she was met by a man, with well-worn brown teeth, and he told her that he had seen her lover, earlier in the rose garden, so she waited, and waited … and waited.
By this point it seemed there was only one thing to do, so she walked to the nearest service station, bought a thirty pack of the cheapest cigarettes and chain smoked them one by one, down the main street, of a town she had many memories of, good and bad, it almost felt like a bit of déjà vu. It started to rain, and the soft drops hitting her face, felt like soft kisses, re-assuring her all will be well. But unfortunately, not the instant relief she longed for, the road to the end of suffering, would be years away.
She wandered into bars, asking toothless barmaids and farmers who looked like they were moulded into the bar with the old wood, if they had seen her lover, no one had seen him anywhere, maybe he did get lost in the forest like she feared.
And there he was!
The Fire God of the East, stumbling down the footpath, missing his jumper and feeling sorry for himself, from the night before. Did the Fire God of the West yell out? did she scold him? … No, she bought him soup.
He brewed over his soup, with eyes like a cobra, a cobra that was enjoying the pain of its own venom. By now, it was dark, and there was no-where to stay, no way to get home. So the two Fire gods wandered the streets, walking from motel to motel, none were even open, they wandered … and wandered, eating their grey paper wrapped, oily chips, until they settled on a place they could not afford, but it was better than trying to share one suede jacket that barely had any warmth left for one.
The two Fire Gods fell into each other and put their war aside, too weary to continue. Strangely, those moments never had much heat, not what you would expect from two balls of red-hot flames. Again, the Fire God of the West never asked for an explanation, as to why he disappeared; the women reading this, know why.
The sun rose, and the Fire God of the West put her suede jacket back on, musty from cigarette smoke and rain, lucky she forked out for the expensive room, so that the jacket could at least be hung up in the wardrobe. Not a word was spoken on the long journey home, not at the old bus station, not on the bus, not while buying coffee when they reached their town, and not on the long, long walk home, through the back bush trails, some of which only the Fire God of the West knows, places she roamed as a child, a place that spoke to her that whole way home, even if the Fire God of the East wouldn’t.
For a time after their journey, they had peace, as long as the Fire God of the West never asked the wrong questions, and never disturbed the mischief of her lover. Until one night, she could not meet his demands, they could not play forever, and responsibility had come calling, he did not like this speak of facing up to commitments.
Those moments do not need elaboration, they are no longer important.
But what was important, was that the Fire God of the West, knew it was time, time to return to her own castle, her own throne. She made it through the night, and made her run for it the next day, where did she go?
She went to work.
Wearing dark glasses and an air of devastation mixed with relief, it could not get worse than this. She worked in the laundry of a motel, throwing up white sheets and catching their corners, to fold them, imagining in those moments that the sheets were enveloping her, that she were in another world, just anywhere but there.
It didn’t help that the Fire God of the East worked next door, at the local pub. She would see him ride past on his borrowed blue bicycle, as she cleaned the motel room windows. She did not find any relief for a long while, many nights were spend sitting at the lonely wooden table, in the lonely cabin, in the darkness, re-playing the events of what felt like the end of the world. The end was abrupt, remember that prophecy, years earlier?
The day that a spark re-ignited in the Fire God from the West, was the day a little bird flew up to those motel windows as she cleaned them, something so simple was enough to know some shift was on its way, and in the years that followed many lives were lived until she found one that was home, one she would live in for good.
The fire God of the East was a distant memory, and the suede jacket no longer smelt of cigarettes and rain. But of course, while walking down a city street, the two Fire Gods crossed paths again, they had not spoken a word to each other for so many years, and this time the Fire God of the East looked afraid, he was not looking at the same woman from before. This time there would be no soup.
He had not changed, not a bit. The two Fire Gods had finally met on equal ground, his mischievous eyes no longer had any effect, as he tilted down his dark glasses. They were even able to wish each other well as they parted ways.
But as the universe just loves to play with us, the two Fire Gods would meet … often … in the most obscure places and situations, which could be nothing short of a serendipitous joke. The Fire God of the West would see the Fire God of the East, working his magic on Gods of the Earth, Gods of the moon and even Gods of the stars, while glaring, with that cobra glare, the other Gods so unaware of the journeys they were about to endure and the guides they would meet.
The Fire God of the West?
She now plays with the God of Water, and that is a whole new adventure all together, with its own lessons, which the suede jacket, now fragrant with beer and sandalwood bears witness to still.
Sometimes the things happening to us, are happening, because we allow them to. Through some love of destruction, or through guilt, knowing that we have dues to pay. When anyone compliments me on that suede jacket, I look back at the past, so light in the knowing, that I am no longer playing a role in my own suffering.
*The term god has been used, as opposed to the polytheistic terms God and Goddess when referring to deities, because we are all masters of our own destiny, and Gods of our own reality. The west refers to the place in occult belief, where we all go in the end, the position of the feminine and of cups, the east referring to swords, truths, the masculine, and the coming together of these two opposing forces.
Magical, reading to the very end was not negotiable!
I appreciate that so much Brenda, it was actually a story I was never going to share.