Promethea wakes with a start.
“Shit! It’s 11:30! One of these days I’m going to get the hang of slaying demons all night and waking up promptly in the morning to start my day off right….”
She steps out of bed and stumbles to the bathroom. The cats and dogs are on her full force: stretching and yawning, licking and pawing, eyeing fiercely.
“I know, I know! You’re starving.”
She quickly fills the kettle and starts the water to boil before she begins to scoop their food into their bowls. They writhe and wiggle, sit and shake, expectantly. They are so happy! A t least she’s doing something right.
Once they all finish eating, she lets them outside and grinds the coffee. Then the water is ready. She pours it lovingly over the fresh grounds, closes her eyes, takes a deep breath in and sighs. It is the little things, the simple pleasures, that make life in this miserable world tolerable at times. And coffee is definitely one of those things.
This 20 minute period that Promethea grants herself at the beginning of the day is priceless and sacred. When the weather permits, she sits outside to drink her coffee and tunes into what is going right, the clouds in the sky, the flowers, the butterflies. She tries to give them her full attention, if only for a few moments, and to thank them for being the beauty in the world.
And then she’s off, for a full day of training, studying, and answering the calls of others. Thank goddess for the ability to fly! It saves so much time! Promethea created a special harness that enables the dogs to go with her. (She tried to include the cats, but they weren’t really into it.) So the first stop is always her favorite spot by the river. It’s about two hours outside the city if you were to drive by car. The perfect distance where the voices begin to quiet unless they are really important!
Promethea swims with the dogs for a about 20 minutes. Again, trying to concentrate on what is going right, the birds and the trees and the water. Then she dries herself in the sunshine on the shore and begins her training. It includes yoga poses and breathing, climbing trees, jumping and swinging between branches, and it ends with chanting, calling upon certain vibrations and frequencies and then meditation, receiving their guidance and wisdom.
Often the messages are fuzzy and a bit unclear. If they require further research she heads to the most appropriate library, the secret ancient text section of one of the nearby universities or museums. All the professors and curators know her now, so it’s pleasant coming and going. At first they were very stand offish, like she didn’t deserve to be there, like the knowledge in the books was intended for them alone.
She tried telling them which Gods, Goddesses or mythical creatures had come to her in her dreams and asked her to learn their stories. But they weren’t impressed. That made them look at her like she was crazy. So instead she began to look into their hearts and listen for the soft whisper of their worst fears. When she repeated those back to them, they always stumbled back stunned and let her pass. She always tried to find something in the books that she could share to sooth them as she left.
Usually about this time of day, as the sun begins to set, the voices, the prayers and pleas intensify, and she knows, it’s time to head back into the city to serve. Some say she was blessed with a gift, a superpower, in her ability to hear the thoughts of others. For most of her life, she felt like it was a complete curse! Can you imagine, the horror and intensity of feeling what everyone else around you is feeling all the time. It will rip you in a thousand different directions! It will make your head spin!
But now a days, Promethea is pretty sure that everyone can access this state of awareness. We are all connected, after all! If you’re not too scared and selfish to be present, you can hear it. For her, it is no longer a choice. She hears all the voices at once, all the mumbles and murmurs and complaints. And she goes to whoever needs her most. It isn’t necessarily the loudest, but it’s always the most heart felt and desperate.
But it isn’t what you think. This isn’t a fairy tale. She isn’t rescuing maidens in distress. She’s really just interrupting patterns of duress. She’s startling all participants. Giving them a moment to take a breath. To be in awe of her all knowing presence. To choose to do something different. So for the most part, all she has to do is fly in and hold the space. Let all parties know that they have been heard. Suggest that there may be another way.
Honestly, it isn’t the “victims” she comes to rescue. It’s the people that have gotten so low they think their only choice is to hurt and take from others. She gives then hope! And sometimes a suggestion or direction towards a meal, a teacher, or a job. She’s come to know a lot of people through this work, fulfilling her calling. She feels like she knows everyone.