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Mom had a black feather. It came from a hawk that fell into our backyard one morning when she and I were in the garden. Since Mom’s animal spirit was the hawk, we took special notice. My animal guide is the fox, so far as I’ve found. Sometimes I wish I could be guided less by the cleverness and invisibility of the fox and more by the courage and experience of the hawk. This particular one stayed in our backyard for a week, not eating and just barely moving. It hid in the branches and pulled out its feathers. It pulled out one of its big black tail feathers last. Mom said animals know when they’re going to die and pick a spot. The black hawk picked underneath Mom’s butterfly bush. Mom picked the spice section of our garden. It was in our backyard that we held the service, and I made sure Mom was cremated with the black feather.

It was a month ago today that she keeled over in the garden. It was a month ago today that I learned what true pain was— not that adolescent angst shit I’ve been deep into for years. No, this went much deeper than ‘the world doesn’t understand me.’ After all, what difference does it make if a skewed world doesn’t understand me when the one person in my life who did understand me is gone? It doesn’t really matter why I retreated in the first place. And it doesn’t matter that the day she died I retreated from my retreat. What matters is that today I went back to it after a month. I returned to my other life, my secret hiding place, my favorite reality. As real as 366 MHz and a 56k modem could make it at 14 point Garamond.

CoyotE: Hey! Nice to see you back! :-)
Foxy: hey
CoyotE: How’re you holding up, Dear?
Foxy: i almost didn’t make it on… and i wish i had a cig
CoyotE: You’re out?
Foxy: gave them up. Mom didn’t like me smoking. just feels weird to be on the comp and not have one
CoyotE: I can imagine. I’m proud of you. Maybe your good influence will rub off on me. So you’re back on for good?
Foxy: yep. gonna go back to classes tomorrow, too, but it half feels to me like i'm trying to make it like it was before…
CoyotE: Don’t you worry about that. It won’t ever be the same, Dear. You can’t turn back time.
Foxy: you sound like that Cher song… if i could turn back time… if i could find a way…
CoyotE: ooohhhhh that music video had sailors in it *Grin* Yummy men in uniform!
Foxy: LOL! Funny, nice to know some things haven’t changed in my absence
CoyotE: I missed you, you know.
Foxy: i missed you, too, Eddie.

I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be Erik. Not Erik the guy who sits behind me in calculus. Not Eriq the actor on that American medical drama. But Erik, the Phantom of the Opera. I’ve been to Paris on holiday several times, and have found the general ambiance of the city fascinating. But there must be so much excitement in living beneath it and frequenting the hidden backways of the opera house. And even Erik, the hideous, mysterious outcast, had a place to call his own. He created his perfect world of music and privacy. I can only imagine what that must be like. I have so many hiding places, but none of them my own. I share the internet with Eddie and a billion others. I share the music library with the students at uni. I share the standing stones of Craig N’Dal with Mom and the endless number of spirits who have been there since the first druids. More than anything, I wish I had my own place where I can be me- the real me. I’d made music, art, fantasy, history, and nature the laws of the land, and I would reign supreme.

Eddie says I’ll become a hermit some day if I keep thinking about these things. But Mom used to say that a desire for privacy and passion is healthy. Dad doesn’t say much… because I don’t talk to him much. It’s not that I don’t try. And we do manage some semblance of an intelligent conversation every day, even if it’s only about whose turn it is to get the mail or make the dinner. It’s just that, well, we never really talked, even when Mom was alive. It’s simply more noticeable in her absence. And I think, to some extent, he sees too much of what he missed in her in me. I know, because I’ve seen it in myself. In the mirror, my long black hair, my silver-green coloured eyes, my stout chin and long face. In my actions, my flowing handwriting, my volunteering at the homeless shelter, my love of music. In my words, those sayings I swore I’d never say, and those prayers and spells I thought were my mother’s alone. It’s been a month and a week, and I see more of her in myself every day. And it’s beginning to take its toll.

Foxy: i can’t go near it, Eddie
CoyotE: it… you mean your book of shadows?
Foxy: yes. i thought i'd be able to, but i can’t. what do i do?
CoyotE: Give it time
Foxy: damn time! i've given it time!!!
CoyotE: Give it more time, Dear. *HUGS* If it makes you feel better, I’ll tell you about my night.
Foxy: please do
CoyotE: First off, I went to the canyon tonight, just to walk. The moon was absolutely gorgeous! When I was finished and heading home, I saw him. My coyote, the one with the bent ear. He stood right in front of me for two minutes, just looking me over. I couldn’t move. It was the most amazingly spiritual thing that has happened to me since I moved to Arizona. I mean, I’ve seen him around… but he was only feet from me...
Foxy:Gods, Eddie!! that’s so wonderful! i haven’t seen my fox since Mom died. i think it’s trying to tell me something
CoyotE: That is what animal guides are for, Dear. You might want to listen
Foxy: yeah… so, that was your night?
CoyotE: Almost… I went to get a pack of cigs -yes, I’m trying to cut down, I’m sorry!
Foxy: grrrrrrrrrr… you’d better!
CoyotE: Anyway, I ran into the cutest guy…
Foxy: oh! details!!!
CoyotE: blonde hair, bright blue eyes, 6ft 5in, kinda thin but muscular, great behind
Foxy: wouldn’t want you to settle for less- did you go out?
CoyotE: We’re going to- I can’t wait! We exchanged info. His name is Kenneth, isn’t that dreamy? *sigh*
Foxy: wow, Eddie, that’s so wonderful! i knew you’d get what you deserve :-)
CoyotE: I’ve gotta get to work, actually
Foxy: my! people come and go so quickly here!
CoyotE: LOL! HA HA! Good one, Dear!
Foxy: talk to you later, Eddie, bye
CoyotE: Bye! *HUGS*

Mom had a red feather. It was from a Harris Hawk that flew into our backyard one evening. It stopped at the birdbath for a drink, then perched on Mom’s altar a moment. She called it a sign; I called it beautiful. The yellow tuft of feathers around its curved beak and its legs, the bright reddish-brown colour on its sides and down feathers. I watched it for an hour, staring into its dark, mysterious eyes as if we two were the only real beings in the world. After a while of being completely motionless, it swooped down from the top of the carved stone altar to the bushes. Birds flew out by the dozens, and by chance it caught one by the wing. Appalled, I watched as it returned to its spot to tear the feathers off the bird one-by-one. Then its curved beak ripped open the tiny thing, pulling at the meat and throwing its own head back to let the food slip down its throat. It was a grotesque, graphic little display that seemed to take hours to finish and I cried the entire way through it, but too scared to go near the evil raptor. When done, it simply flew away, leaving what was left of the bones, blood, and feathers in the center of Mom’s altar. Then Mom put her arm around me and told me about how Hawks only feed when they are hungry and can go days hunting without catching meals. She told me how nature is always as deceiving as humans can be, but that there is a certain beauty to death. She told me that it was an offering of life, and that one had to go for the other to live. I played that moment over and over again in my head the day she died. It’s hard to believe it was four months ago; a part of me still feels dead.

But that’s how I feel about a lot of things… that one part of me always has to die for the other to come to the surface. I just wish I could pick one face or the other to show the world. No more hiding, no more perfection.

Foxy: i met a guy yesterday, Eddie
CoyotE: NO! Really?
Foxy: gee, thanks, you sound surprised see if we invite you to the wedding
CoyotE: Silly! You know what I mean. Tell me about him. Where’d you meet him?
Foxy: he’s my lab partner in science… i think he was impressed at my knowledge (or my convincing lack thereof)
CoyotE: That’s a good start! He knows you’re smart
Foxy: it’s a terrible start. he knows ‘academic me’ now. the perfectionist, the prissy little miss perfect.
CoyotE: But that’s who you are
Foxy: in school… but here… in my world… i’m so different
CoyotE: you’re the same person in both places, Dear. I wish you’d see that. All that that striving for perfection, all that passion in music and art and nature- it’s all you. You don’t have to hide parts of yourself
Foxy: yes i do. no one would like the real me
CoyotE: I do
Foxy: you don’t count
CoyotE: gee, THANKS!
Foxy: *you know what i mean*
CoyotE: I’ll forgive you for that one, little Brit. Just take it slow, Dear. Don’t fall in love too fast. If it’s meant to be, you’ll know it. I’ve seen good things for you in the cards. A big change.
Foxy: i feel it too…
CoyotE: so you see? Take it easy.
Foxy: thanks, Eddie. i'd be lost without you *scratching behind your ears*
CoyotE: ohhhh *wagging tail and howling*

Why isn’t he calling? He says he had a wonderful time and that he’ll call tomorrow but no, that would be much too easy. He said he’d call tonight, didn’t he? Maybe I got it wrong. We only met last week in lab, and he does have a thick accent, so maybe he meant tomorrow. Maybe I’m making too much of this… No… no, they always do this. Why do they do this? Is there something wrong with me? There has to be. There must be something completely screwed up with me. I must come off as some psychopathic, deranged lunatic who shouldn’t be seen with anyone as completely normal as they are. Gods, I will never find someone. I really am going to become a hermit. A passionless, motherless hermit who hates everything about herself.

In times like those, I need my fox. I went out in search for him this evening but he was nowhere. I thought of going to the stones of Craig N’Dal for some meditation, but I couldn’t make it up the hill. There was something wrong with things tonight. The moon hung, glowing, as if she were trying to warn me. I listened, of course. She is my second mother; she is my Goddess. So I turned back, tears flowing, and set myself back down in front of my computer. I didn’t have my mother or my fox. I couldn’t talk to my father or get to the stones. But I had my escape, and I had Eddie.

CoyotE: Hey, Girl! didn’t see you there. I had my headphones on to the new Goth CD I bought this morning. Sorry. How was your date?
Foxy: he didn’t call me, Eddie.
CoyotE: Don’t beat yourself up.
Foxy: what else am i supposed to do? my life is falling apart
CoyotE: You’ll be ok. You’ll find someone else. He was nothing anyway
Foxy: they can’t all be nothing. i'm the one who must be nothing. why else would they all run from me?
CoyotE: They don’t run, Dear
Foxy: yes they do. as far away from me as they can get.
CoyotE: But you don’t need them
Foxy: look who’s talking
CoyotE: This isn’t about me. I have my own screwed-up life. It’s about you. And you’re not nothing. You’re sweet, and kind, and passionate, and talented.
Foxy: men don’t look for that kind of stuff. they look for looks. i don’t have the build. i don’t have the attitude. i don’t have the drop dead gorgeous face. i don’t flirt, eddie
CoyotE: You don’t need to! You’ll find someone. It’s in your fate.
Foxy: then why do i feel so empty inside?
CoyotE: *HUGS*
Foxy: thanks. you feel it too, don’t you?
CoyotE: Constantly.
Foxy: we’re a sad pairing, aren’t we, Eddie?
CoyotE: Hon, if I weren’t gay I’d be putting a ring on your finger right now.
Foxy: from a cracker jacks box?
CoyotE: Nah, they have sucky prices these days. The ones in the quarter machines at the grocery store are so much better.
Foxy: get me a tattoo instead
CoyotE: Of a giant skull with the words "I hate men" in a circle around it… like mine
Foxy: LMAO!
CoyotE: Nice to finally get a laugh outa you.
Foxy: *SMILE* only you, eddie. only you… chivalry is dead, Eddie
CoyotE: Chivalry is a state of mind, Dear.
Foxy: my mental state is severely lacking
CoyotE: Good. Much healthier that way. Look, I gotta run down to the 7-11 for some smokes. You want to talk to Kenny while I’m gone?
Foxy: nah. give your boy my love though! i just want to lie down and forget i’m alive.
CoyotE: Sweet Dreams, Dear. Don’t beat yourself up.
Foxy: bye, Eddie
CoyotE: Bye.

Mom had a brown feather. She never told me where she got it, but said that it was an important memory that was part of her soul. I think it belonged to the first hawk she saw, the hawk that gave her insight and truth and helped her towards the way of our ancestors. I owe a lot to that hawk as well. It gave my mother faith and guidance, which she passed on to me when I’d decided to follow her ways rather than my father’s. It led my mother to the Goddess. Thus, it led me there as well, with all the love of art, kindness, music and nature in my heart.

In a way, it also led me to Eddie. He and I met in a Pagan chat room and immediately we felt connected. A few months later, I was having such a bad day that he decided to call me. I can still remember how much better it made me feel. He called me again today, out of the blue. I couldn’t have needed him more; Eddie senses these things. The sounds of his words were like warm milk and heavy blankets before bedtime. They were like the lullabies you’ve heard since you were born, but cannot remember the words to. They were like the Goddess’s moonbeams, bouncing from clouds to my soul. He talked to me until I fell to sleep. He told me that the magick would come back to me in time. He told me that it would be all right. He told me he’d take care of me. He told me he loved me and always would.

Foxy: thank you, Eddie
CoyotE: Think nothing of it, Dear. How are you this morning?
Foxy: a little better, thanks to you. How are you?
CoyotE: *GRIN*
Foxy: you either got a new CD or you had a fun night
CoyotE: He bought me a puppy! And a collar…
Foxy: for the puppy?
CoyotE: No… for me. *EVIL GRIN*
Foxy: Eddie!
CoyotE: We were safe, don’t worry ‘bout me. He’s taking me out to dinner tonight.
Foxy: tonight?!?
CoyotE: After ritual, Dear. Do you think I’d miss my Samhain celebration? I may be of the new school of Pagans, but I could never forget today. Would you mind if I said a special prayer for your mother tonight?
Foxy: please do. she’s walked the Summerlands for half a year now, and it is the night of the dead, after all. that and trick-or-treaters
CoyotE: Do you have plans?
Foxy: i’m going to Craig N’Dal. my first Samhain without Mom
CoyotE: Blessed Be, my Dear Foxy
Foxy: blessed be, Coyote

The sun was just beginning to set when I trotted up the grassy hill to the crest of Craig N’Dal. The stones were there as always, great monoliths in what must have been a circle at one time, standing out against the pale pink and purple hues of His sunset. It was a beauty befitting Samhain, the most sacred of the sacred holidays. And I felt my nature coming back to me at last. I greeted the first stone with a hug; I secretly called it the Mother Stone, as it was the tallest. My arms could barely reach around half of its girth, and yet it welcomed me back in its own way. Against my cheek, it felt smooth from thousands of years of weathering, and cold from the late fall air around me. All at once, I felt a part of them again. Energy flowing, pulsing, raging. It pushed me down to my knees in painful beauty, and I shed my sack and Book of Shadows to crawl to the circle’s center. I cried, in happiness and in grief, until there were no emotions left in my any more. The fox is well known for changing his shape. I knew it was time to change mine.

And just as the feeling came over me, so did a dark shadow from above. After rubbing the saltwater from my eyes, I looked up to see the form of a hawk, perched upon the Mother Stone. It stared down at me, brown eyes surveying with an introspective glare. Though Mom had pictures of every species of hawk in existence, I was sure I’d never seen its likeness before. Its perfectly curved beak and speckled wing feathers made me wonder if it weren’t but six months old. She sat for a while, looking down upon me as if expecting me to speak first, so I did. I told her of my Mom, and of my problems. I told her I was angry at my Mom for leaving me. I told her how much I loved life, but had no one to share it with. I told her that I seemed to fail at everything I did. I told her that I felt like I had lost everything when my mother died. I told her that I was alone and was scared that I would be so forever. She smiled to tell me that I was wrong; I would never be alone. She told me my Mom loved me. She told me the whole world loved me. She told me that the only thing left to do was love myself. And she told me she could help with that.

GoldenHawke: Hi Eddie.
CoyotE: Gods, is it really you?!
GoldenHawke: Yes, it’s me. Too much to explain, but yes, it’s me. How are you?
CoyotE: Fine. Just fine. Are *you* all right, Dear?
GoldenHawke: Better than I’ve ever been. I saw my Mom last night.
CoyotE: In a vision?
GoldenHawke: In a hawk.
GoldenHawke: She was gorgeous. Simply gorgeous.
GoldenHawke: You’re silent. Are you still there?
CoyotE: Yes. Simply speechless. And crying with happiness for you
GoldenHawke: Oh, Eddie. *HUGS* I think… I think I’ll be all right.
CoyotE: I know you’ll be all right, Dear. I’ve always known it.

I have a brown feather. It is small and thin, speckled with flakes of gold. I got it from a hawk my Mom sent me. And it saved my life.