In the days in which Jericho actively opened all of the doors and windows there was really times in which I had to knock a wall down.
More often than not there was frustration if I didn’t share all of my thoughts, hopes and dreams.
I was encouraged to share my fears too and then came the times of the tigers, witches and warlocks.
Days of confusion and uncertainty and questions about whether the moon was playing tricks on us or not.
The castle walls were built higher than before and the drawbridge was closed.
Occasionally I managed to sneak past the guards and roam within the walls and there was great joy and merriment.
Until the guards threw me out and the cycle started anew.
Eventually I found my way back in and for an extended period maintained my position within.
Still the guards found me again and this time they worked harder to ensure I never gained entrance again. More turrets, more guards along with an effort to physically hobble me.
You could call that a very rough description of Buck The Master and the Silver Woman.
It is not something every sheila will follow and I expect the rippers won’t quite see what lies about the sandy shores, but some will. Don’t have to rush to find the DBA to ask for help on this one.
Some describe me as stubborn and some suggest slow to understand and or accept that which disagree with.
Not for me to say if this is accurate or misleading, only to say there were a couple of times after the guards booted me in which I decided I had enough.
Set sail and didn’t look backwards, there were new lands to see and new adventures to be had.
Except the damnedest thing happened…storms wrecked my ships.
The first time I shrugged my shoulders and accepted the rescue of a passing ship that probably shouldn’t have been there.
It wasn’t until sometime after this I learned how aggressively the universe can be when it wants to teach you a lesson.
Because the next time I tried to sail away the storm left me marooned on an island. Let me sit there battered, bruised and perhaps a little broken.
It was only after I screamed skywards that I wouldn’t ignore the bells and that I would follow the path until the lesson was learned or understood that I found my way back.
Don’t ask me to tell you about the time in between as it was hell and the scars it left are still visible and may always be.
I found myself back where I had said I would never be in the place I hadn’t expected to sojourn in and fought hard to build something more than a shack.
The walls I remember were reinforced as expected and for a long while no one acknowledged my presence. I was ignored and treated as if I didn’t exist.
Did my best to try to find allies and eventually built correspondence between those who might one day provide opportunity for a formal audience.
It was a significant change from trying to sneak or force my way in, though I knew both options provided good odds.
Decided this time I had to take a different approach.
Wrote multiple letters providing thoughts and ideas without expectations and said I would take silence as consent.
The audience has yet to be officially granted but I sense the day is approaching when there will be a chance to cross the bridge and converse.
Having been thrown from the tower as well as drawn and quartered I am well aware of the potential for unpleasant outcomes but also confident in my abilities to survive them.
It is more painful to hear the bells and ignore them to respond.
Time to write a few more letters and wait for the sign.