Lisalone - It starts with a view

Aloha,
I´m not writing as much as before these days.. Well I´m writing things, but not for the weblog. Thats why I thought I will post a part of Lisalone again. What about the beginning? I want to keep the interested ghosts amused! I´m sorry for calling you a ghost. But I mean it quite friendly, I am happy about each and every ghost who feels like reading what I just Love To Write. A new wave is coming up, so keep coming back I´m born to amuse you ghosts!
You maybe know the movie ´The Hours´ about Virginia Woolf, directed by Stephen Daldry?The daughter of the character Mrs. Dalloway who is organizing a party where all the people from the past will come to, to celebrate her poet friend she says: ´They are all here isn´t it, all the ghosts!´  For some reason I love that small sentence and the way she is saying it. It comes up once in a while. All the ghosts, the living and the dead, all the feelings, all the connections through time and space. I´m somehow so touched by how we can feel connected, how far a voice can reach into the heart of a beloved. Love, if you want to it is so easy, the doors are always open..

always knew, I would spend a lot of time alone. No one understands me, maybe I should go and live amongst the animals – Coco Rosie

It starts with a view

This is a story about a girl named Lisalone, who choses herself that most of her lifetime she wants to spend alone. She makes this choice already before she gets born. We are now looking down with her from the island of souls, floating up there somewhere in the big unmeasurable heaven. Lisalone choses where, why and besides whom she will live in the exciting realms of her alonesomeness.

Ironically enough her brother Samson is  sitting besides her, as a reminder that although she wishes to be alone,  she will be followed by at least this one person of her soulfamily. Here up on this Island with an unexplainable beautiful and all-knowing view she smiles about this. She still knows everything will have it’s reasons like it always had.
One of them is that Lisalone loves stories and has a yearning to be part of an exciting one. Therefore one needs crazy parents, a brother fiery like a lion, fairies, unicorns, lots of other creatures both sparkling and dark and of course contrast and conflict. Lisalone WANTS to be alone and for this she has to be lovable so there will be a reason to claim for it.

>Samson, I will get born now<  Lisalone announces.
Samson is playing some cosmic kind of ball track that he immediately stops.  But the balls of the four elements are still rolling around. They sound like a steamy running fabric.
>What did you say<  he asks. >I will get born now,< she repeats. >Lisalone will take form, her time is there> and as she lookes down again she feels a deep longing for the blue planet earth she sees. She feels a little bit sick, like being pregnant of herself!
> You know how it works?< 
> Life isn’t a lot about having to know something< Lisalone smiles wisely.
>If I want to go I’m half way there. This wanting is like a spark of fire, and than I will start spiraling into my body-self, like a caterpillar in it’s cocoon!< And so she does.

Samson follows only nine months later. He does not like very much to be alone.
Mother Viola Gaya Bearskin is very happy that her family expands this quickly for Lisalone is a complicated baby. She does not like cuddling, she sleeps in a hanging mat on the ceiling in the most far away corner of the house. Lisalone screames herself pink like a stressed little pig when someone is only looking in her direction. Father Konrad the Jester who actually is  a world travelling wizard has to stay home this nine months to save his wife from postnatal depression. Watching your new born on screen, filmed by a hidden camera just isn’t totally IT when you are a hippy-mommy dreaming about bringing attachment parenting in practice. But that’s Viola’s story. She has to accept that for Lisalone she is most of the time nothing more than an important figurant.

Lisalone loves  the stunning phenomena of nature.
Growing up she loves watching  herself as a miracle from nature with all the vibrant details. The little hairs on her arms, the freckles around nose.
To touch her head and imagine her skull growing. >Im flesh now<  she repeats. Finding it difficult to really get what it means and because of this having enough reason to observe and enjoy it more. Collecting her tiny sensual experiences. Collecting her life on her own.
She loves the sounds of  animals, the calling of the raven and the howling of the woolf. To sit on the roof and rain soaking wet, wearing a coat out of leaves.
And not to forget she loves doing crochet. The seven days  before the adventure in the land of the earth-spirits starts she crochets two children, a willow and a fox.

Zhilan, Gardener, Faun

Ahooo, it seems like I just wrote a fairytale and it took a ride with me! I had an idea where it would go and than things came very different and I realized a personal story wanted to be metaphorized. The story became like a being for me, helping me to digest, give meaning and comfort my feelings of guilt. Why I still never said sorry? I just followed my nature, what else could I have done? The comfort is that all is one. It really is. Love. 

Zhilan, Gardener, Faun 

There once was a Geisha her name was Zhilan. She had a garden that was made exactly in the form of her body, only it was a thousand times as big. Most of Zhilan’s gardenbody was covered with all sorts of white flowers, like lilies, roses and chamomile.
Zhilans mouth was represented by strawberryred poppyflowers. Her navel was a little pond wherin a few lotusflowers drifted peacefully and  for each of her nipples there were growing two encyclia orchid flowers with their open hearts together on two hills covered with jasmine. The sweet fragrance  came very close to  the angels in it’s reaching out for heaven.
For Zhilan’s hair the gardener strew seeds every hour so the black raven flew down from the lush blooming yulan magnolia trees growing around her gardenhead,  to eat. This way the raven poetically metaphorized the aliveness of Zhilan’s hair on and on and on, each and every day again. The contrast ravenblack/magnoliawhite often made Zhilan philosophate about yin and yang, night and day. Her thoughts often resulted in a haiku or inspired her to dance. She danced how day became night around her gardenbody. Zhilan’s admirers always came to her, walked with her around the flowerbody.  Each day important men and woman came, drank tea with Zhilan and she exposed them all kinds of art and beauty.

One day the gardener found Zhilan crying her tears in the pond.
>Why, noble lady Zhilan are you crying in your navel?>
Zhilan immediately composed herself, whipping away her tears discretely with a point of kimonocloth. One crane’s beak got wet.
>What, my rude gardener makes you believe you can just come to me and ask me such a question, concentrate on the flowers, I am sure there are some dying around at the moment. Go and erase them.<  She felt sorry for her own rough way of talking right after saying this words, but she looked in another direction and heared him leave.

Something about the darkness of being a Geisha, Zhilan thought, was upsetting her deeply and brought her out of grace and beauty. She went to her feet for some silence, it was shortly before sundown and she felt disturbed, imagining to hear her name in the ravens crowing.  She sat down under a Ginkotree, a few meters from her feet. It was perfectly quiet and the cold shadow falling over her calmed her mind. >Look there are WEEDS growing here< a tricksters voice spoke. And as she jumped up shocked, she looked in Faun’s absurd face.  >Eatable< he added and smiled at her, eating the herb. Zhilan felt caught and started laughing in her right hand. >Are you sure you belong in this story mister Faun?< she asked. He nodded. >Yes, for sure, to teach you nothing belongs to be in a certain way different than the way it is. You can pack your perfect little expensive suitcase my sweet flower, we are going on a journey!’ 

And so she did and so they went. Zhilan did not care now about the raven they seemed to crow her name now much louder. For heavens sake she was riding Faun’s back in the direction of a bloodred sunset. Zhilan felt like a star getting born, an explosion of love. Her hair flappered in the wind like a crowd of raven in flight. The gardeners mouth fell open, and O shaped like this it looked like the whole earth would fit in his astonishment when he heard his noble lady screaming like a wild amazone and saw her riding a goatmen’s back.


First the gardener was so sad that he did not fulfill his tasks anymore. He left the dead flowers where they died. He cried in the pond until it swam over and drowned the flowers around. He did not feed the raven anymore. Many of them left the Magnolia-trees and flew away. Maybe looking for Zhilan, or maybe just looking for something to eat. With time the garden grew very chaotic and wild and the gardener too grew chaotic and wild. He loved to play living statue becoming part of it all. Each flower was now Zhilan for him and he himself was Zhilan too. There are many songs about this, blewn by the wind, all over the world. Listen. 

I come from the other side

                                                               *by lauri*

Who? The fox!

Hello dear brothers and sisters,

I want to introduce Lisalone to you now for the first time, with a short piece of text.
She is the main character in my novel 'Lisalone on the blue planet.'

Two strange looking girls, both very pale are standing before Lisalone.
> If there is one creature on this globe having a special connection to you, it's the fox!
My name is Eleonora actually. <  one of them said.
 Who? The fox?
Maybe she listened to PJ Harvey's Who the fuck a little too often yesterday evening, Lisalone thinks.

> And that's my twin-ghost Aronoele. We know it's annoying for you that we are some kind of girls, Lisalone. We know you prefer to be on your own but the fox fits perfectly to you. He's quiet and a very sensual type. His orange was so vibrant once that the squirls were jealous on it. He knew he was ment for you Lisalone. But things go terribly wrong these days. I'm sorry to say this, but your fox, he's ill. There are many other problems to be solved but first, dear Lisa, you have to fix the fox!<

Aronoele just nods. >Yes, please fix your fox yourself Lisalone<
There Lisalone stands besides the willowtree, all alone again. Perfectly one and alone.
The only thing she has to find out now, is where that soft foxy crying is coming from.
She does not know why, but she really feels like nursing this poor little creature.
Can it be that the fox is inside of the willowtree?  
Turning around the tree she finds an opening, looking like a gate in the shape of her own tiny body.

Inside it's all blue light. There in the middle he lies, a miserably pale looking fox, lying around a small light giving globe. A diamond, enchanting like the earth.

 

The fox´s most beautifull nightmare

The fox feels pretty disturbed. For a few days all animals came to him. They said he looked so beautifull when he was hunting the mouse. They called his movements stunning.  They described his colours, the spurting of the snow, the movement of his fur and all their eyes lighted. The owl even wrote a poem about it. And, the hare came to him, barely able to breathe. Saying a human-being  filmed the whole scenario. The fox did not notice, he was just busy with being.

It was just a funny game! It just felt good! But now the fox feels like things awfully changed and nothing will ever be the same again. The animals peep upon him with spacious eyes if he maybe does something stunning again. Well, there are times that the fox actually gets caught into play again and forgets about ´the show´.  But than afterwards he hears the voices. To my opinion the fox did not play that stunning today. Well, there was this one moment where he moved in a nice kind of way, but than he started to overact and it got ridiculous.Besides that, the snow is failing anyway! 

The fox feels really annoyed. Why can he not just fox around? The way the owl owls around and the hare hares!? He cries a long time in his fox hole because of feeling so broken hearted and left alone for no reason. When the inner storm is over he decides to look around like a little newborn fox. Isn´t it very likely that when you feel pushed through some dark kind of tunnel, there will be a light shining pretty soon?
Outside the sun warms and lights the earth, still wet from the melted snow. The birds sing their enamored song and the trees atomize their breathgiving aroma. The fox breathes and seeing, feeling and smelling all this beauty, he thinks life actually is pretty stunning, and sighs. It´s so good to be watching when nobody is watching!

Than suddenly appears a woman. She is on her way to take a bath in the stream. She wears a brocate bathing sooth and in each hand she carries an orange. It´s like she just comes walking out of a fairy-tale into his fairytale! Yes, stunning is again the word!
He enjoyes the view and listens to her singing. She does not notice the fox and just bathes.
No one is filming and he will never tell anyone about it.