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| Abstract Musings | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Apr 9 2009, 04:49 AM (83 Views) | |
| Anise Flanagan | Apr 9 2009, 04:49 AM Post #1 |
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Bewitching Queen
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Caspian's memory seems to improve by the hour though I've adjusted well enough to his lack of. Once the initial discomfort was gone, life had greatly improved. Most of the time, I don't remember that he can't remember most things and it takes an odd look to bring my own memory back. I've been thinking of visiting my mother; of meeting Danielle, seeing Briac, Chimaera and Luke. Yet, every time the thought is considered, I whisk it away to the back of my mind for whatever reason. I believe it's a defense mechanism; some internal part of me that continually attempts to divide who I used to be from who I am now. There are many things I used to do that I no longer touch; experiences I do not bother with because they feel so unimportant. It doesn't stop the want, granted, or maybe even the need - whichever it may be - but I find myself stumbling to a halt when so presented. The most I make these days is my own cream, shampoo, soap but only because I refuse those of the palace. They're too scented; too frilly and feminine with an appeal that makes me want to gag with their overwhelming potency. Perhaps its only me for Sahara and Julianna don't seem to mind and neither does anyone else appear to notice but I prefer the natural scent of things. Natural in that I refuse to smell like anything but myself unless its otherwise necessary. No longer do I thrive in the unknown. I'm not sure that I remember how, circumstances considered. In August Caspian and I will have been married two years and I haven't seen anything but Marsillia, the palace and a small part of Blataine since. I fear my days of traveling, of adventuring and exploring are behind me. Even worse, I should have expected such upon our marriage but I never considered it. There was much I didn't consider when I agreed to marry Caspian Flanagan. Much I didn't stop to think would change. More that I feel I wasn't ready for. But I'm a big girl, yes? This is neither a grave nor a cage; I am not shackled or tethered by anything but myself. Still, there are the moments when I reminisce and consider, wonder what my life would be like had I said the fateful word: no. I'd have escaped Briac, I'm sure. I'd have run off with the circus or the colonies, explored new worlds and considered new venues with enlightening experiences behind each. I don't know what I'd have found but it would have been more than a ferry to Ctesia. More than Revonia. I envy my husband that: his escape to other places, in visiting other areas of the world, even under the circumstances that he was under. A part of me is truly surprised that I've been able to sit so still in one place; that I've revisited the urge to run and explore. For example: I've always wanted to see a volcano. To see mountains jutting into the sky higher than those in Glennhaven and attempt to tackle them. The desert; rumors of the arid heat and parched landscape. The plains of Africa and the jungles in the South. Chanille is full of stories and rumors; the air heavy and thick with the taste of differing cultures that abound. The colored men with large piercings and tattoo's covering what seems the whole of their bodies. The bronzed skinned ones with the long, dark hair and exotic eyes. The yellow swathed in rich, vibrant silks with the round faces and slanted features. All bring stories, all bring trinkets, all completely enthralling in their own peculiar way. And what of the rolling, emerald fields of Ireland? The Tower of London? Gaza? Rome? Greece? India? My mother would have killed me, no doubt, and had Briac ever let me on a ship, I'd have been long gone - perhaps never to return, I cannot say. But what I'd have found; the riches, the bounty... At times I question my own sanity. At times I question whether or not these things would have compared, would have been as fulfilling, as being in love with Caspian Flanagan. As being the expectant Queen of a country. Of having the ability to mold the world to my focus... who deserves such power? In the hands of one or six, as the royal house may be, who should have the ability to force an entire country to be molded into the hand of single ideals? There are times I question this as well; not my ability to lead but whether or not I should lead. Whether or not I should be endowed with the power to shape and mold this country into our combined visions. There could be worse; we could be worse. That much I know and understand without a doubt but the dilemma is not about could. When I truly reflect upon my leadership I find myself lacking in firm resolve. I give in; give in often. A logical argument combined with my own ideal of what people should or should not have throws me wayward and off base. Present to me an argument of whether or not Christianity should be practiced in light of being a Pagan and I'll be won over every time. Of course, the opposite argument would also hold and why? Because I believe that faith takes the form of many in comparison to one. Because I believe in individual choice rather than mass conformity. Because I believe that every heart is different; that no two people are the same and thus no two choices should be the same. Forced miscarriage, as another example, is not something in which I believe. This is not a path I believe I would ever choose for myself and yet, time and again, I've seen prostitutes visit my mother for the very reason and hold no grudge or hard feelings against them. And why not? Because while the choice is not one I would make for myself, it is their choice; the choice and path they deem right for themselves. Stepping into their shoes, shoes that are full with simple survival and beauty, freedom, being an aspect of that survival... can I truly blame them? Pity them I do not, but nor can I blame their actions for they are made for themselves and who am I to question what is right or wrong for another? The life is not mine. I do not have to wake up the next day and question my decision; not now, not ever. They do. Thus my biasness toward choice stays my hand more often than not. Too often do I believe I'm concerned about the masses, the masses ability to have their own freedom, their own independence, to carve their own paths than I am with general rule. I'd much rather guide Revonia into having the ability to make those choices, to indirectly sway the people into more choice than to stifling options altogether. How to do this? Strange as it may be my loosely strategic goals include women's rights, to focus on education and skill development rather than mere hereditary undertakings, in opening up the ability to adopt more easily than previously, equality amongst the sexes in addition to cultures and races... and how to accomplish all of this? I haven't any idea. They are, admittedly, rather obtuse goals. Caspian has stated that he and I shall run away this summer, venturing our world of Revonia to connect with the people. Perhaps this reconnection is what I need to put focus behind what I want for the country and her people. Perhaps it won't be. I am excited, however, at being able to get away from Marsillia. I've been dying since the day I realized I loved him to show him things in this country; hoping beyond hope that he would see their beauty as much as I do. The snow capped mountains, the thick cover of fog laying claim to orchards and vineyards, to see nature overtaking a cottage in a forceful though slow reclaiming of what used to be. To see a civilizations rise and fall, as can be witnessed in Martyr's Glen. My desire is not to show him anything as simple as common but something I find rich and beautiful, bountiful in the midst of life and the circle it encompasses. I want to love my husband in a field of wildflowers during a thunderstorm. I want to wake up in the morning to the sound of birds, staring at an ivy torn wall with broken windows while the early morning sun casts shards of color throughout the room. I want to drown with him in the ocean, to fall asleep with him on the hot sands, naked without a witness or care. I want him to know my world. A world of silence, of rich complexity and thorough simplicity... and I want him to feel, to see the impact it has upon me. I don't want to be scared he won't feel the same; that he won't understand. Most of all, I want him to understand that the world I love is not full of people, not full of the bustling rush of those in market, in keeping down their lawns or in being good or bad. But nature and all she encompasses; all of her beauty, her ugliness, her surprises and comforts. I wonder if he would be surprised at what I feel. If he could feel the same contentment in a sunset that I do. If he could let all of his cares, all of his worries, all of his stress go in a matter of a minute when peering upon some spectacular, awe-inspiring event that could rock the soul. At least my soul. I wonder if he would, ever will, feel as if it is okay to simply be; that nothing else, in a matter of a moment, could matter. Not a lack of memories or the ferocity of them. Not ruling a country or the country therein lacking rule. Not tomorrow or even an hour from: but right then. Here. Now. Odd that in two years I still feel as if I don't know him as well as I should or that he knows me as well as he should. I believe it's because we've come from two different places; two different times. That there is so much that cannot be spoken, no matter how much either of us tries. That some things about the other can only be experienced with the other to fully understand, to honestly realize. I've always hated asking questions about another. There's no honesty or absolute fulfillment in asking. But to witness, to experience, to share each other throughout life... that has meaning. So simple to ask what someone's favorite color is - an unimportant question, all things considered - but virtually the only way to know is to ask. Yet to inquire how someone feels about snow or a sunset? Some of the joy, the appeal, is marred when the question has to be asked. To know the full intensity it has to be experienced; to be seen and felt through a connection that ties two people together in the light of life. Sometimes I wonder if Caspian and I have that connection. If we still... flow on a level that connects the two of us or if we've allowed ourselves, together, to diminish through a lack thereof. If the bond between us has been worn from misuse or have begun to tarnish without having been polished. Bad experiences, good... we've been through a lot together but what have we done for us? For he and I? To learn, grow and share with one another what the other individual is. I live in his world, he can only visit mine, and I've come to accept that, realizing now that I wasn't fully accepting when our relationship began. I'd thought I'd been ready, thought I'd understood... but I hadn't any idea. Our relationship has been a growing experience, at least for me, but I wonder... sometimes, anyway... I wonder what keeps us strong; what keeps our love strong. Because isn't that apart of every relationship? Going and doing and being and growing together in the light of misfortune and fortune, of misadventure and adventure? A bond exists and perhaps a person in a relationship cannot see it, perhaps we are all blind in love, but seeing what our companionable glue is makes me curious. And here I go, anxious to learn all over again... ... some things, it seems, never change. |
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12:25 AM Jul 11