7 December 2017 0 Comments

My Rabbit Painting Through My Six Year Old Eyes

When I was young, from four to six years of age, I had a fear beyond what any average-young child should have had. This fear wasn’t normal by any sense of the word but I have to say, fear of any kind isn’t a good thing. My fear was blocked and hidden beneath layers of denial, blurry visions and the ever expansive darkness swirling around these memories.

My sense of smell though, to this day, has never forgotten that stench of fear that permeates the nostrils just before death. I still smell this odor to this day, especially if I am near a cemetery after a person has been buried. I call it – smelling their death. It’s slightly different from person to person and animal to animal. Once this odor is experienced, it  never goes away.

I finally came to terms as an adult with the fact that my innocence was taken at a young age, from a blank and faceless foe, devoid of any human characteristics but still as ominous to this day as it was in my adolescence.

Death, took my innocence away.

I know what it’s like to watch something die, close up and personal, hearing the noise of anguish and panic that happens when something has no choice but to surrender to an imminent death and the aggressive pursuit of a predator,  growling it’s warning before is seizes its prey.

Maybe just maybe, my memories are false and I realize that this can be the case but I must say, the reality of my memories, paints a very vivid picture. Now that the blocks are gone, I can see the moments in time that have become frozen and I can also come to terms with being a young victim of cruelty. Death is a cruel teacher, it’s never far away. This is what I remember so many years ago.

When a family pet dies, it’s a horrible feeling because they were a beloved part of a family. As a young child, this feeling of anguish is amplified tenfold because of how innocent their view of the world is.

By the age of ten, I wasn’t just desensitized, I was broken down to a point that I didn’t feel much except for that feeling of impending doom that every once in a while would take over me.

Here’s why.

I have memories of animals dying from the hands of unknown people. To this day, all I can see is big hands, the size of Hulks hands, holding baby animals. I just see from the elbow down … not even clothes or skin color but more so just hands.

The cats or puppies were held from behind the neck but the little bunny rabbits were held by their long ears. They struggled and I struggled as I was being held in place, made to watch them … die. I’ll spare you the details on how but it was bloody and I had to hear the poor animals squeal and scream until their little bodies went limp. I would become just as limp, crying and feeling so responsible because I was told it was my fault.

If I closed my eyes instead of watching the animal die, they would kill another animal and tell me, it was my fault they killed it. I carried the weight of these little animals on my shoulders throughout my life. I was a guilt ridden little girl and young woman up until I came to terms with what happened.

The best way to take away innocence is by making innocent eyes watch horrific acts of violence.

Let me back track.

To begin my story, me along with six or seven other kids were taken from a Catholic school we attended by men in military uniforms in a light blue bus. We would be driven to an underground facility. I vaguely remember a stench in the air; a smell like you would smell at a zoo.

Part of breaking our innocence was introducing us to failure. They brought about failure as a part of the training we went through by making us responsible for the baby animals or other animals dying. They were always going to kill them but we didn’t know that.

I couldn’t save the baby rabbits. I couldn’t help any of the baby animals they killed.

They would kill babies as a means to imprint onto us that innocence is easy to kill, we would be easy to kill but more importantly they could kill or harm our parents if we told or said anything.

We were put up close, almost in harm’s way, from lions, tigers or other types of predators chained. They made us watch the seemingly starved animals kill their food. Usually a live animal was dragged up to the chained and hungry cats. This is why Life of Pi is off limits for me, it brought back all the horrific memories. I cried for hours just watching a small portion of this movie. It was a horrendous trigger.

Fast forward to April of this year, 2017…

I saw a painting of bunny rabbits that I became infatuated with. It was only $30.00 so I decided to buy it.

The rabbits are eating peacefully and as I look at this painting, I feel peaceful. It’s a moment frozen in time just like my memories, with the obvious difference being nothing can hurt them.

For some reason this painting is therapeutic for me. Maybe that’s strange for some people to understand but for me, it’s helping me heal from moments in time that in a way, I feel chained to.  The comforting thought for me, is the bunny rabbits will be in that moment, painted forever alive and not even death can change that.

 

 

 

 

10 September 2016 0 Comments

Werewolf Encounter

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Years ago I can remember stories up in Taos, New Mexico about Cryptids called Werewolves and Dogman.  I can’t say for sure that Werewolves are Cryptids because they seem to be darker in nature, half animal and half human. Are humans Cryptids, obviously not.

The Taos Mountain in many ways became my enchanted forest, the mystery of not only my soul but also that which I couldn’t see but feel. My first Vision Quest happened up in the back mountains of Taos when I was 23. The three day Vision Quest started with prayers and a peaceful repose that lingered within my heart through out the days and nights of mediation. The ending though, was far from serene, more like the scene out of a scary movie.

The difference is this really happened and it happened to me.

I have always felt that trees can hide people from danger, if only they are asked to do so. The trees seemed to shelter me and I felt I was hidden away in my private world of mediation. With the trees as my allies I had a false sense of protection. They after all can only do so much from their high vantage points but I was to find out, they have other ways of at least warning people of possible danger.

Lying down in my tent, I noticed that I had goosebumps on my arms  and then I sat up and felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. The dead silence of panic was deafening along with the startling angst in my chest. The dead silence alerted my warning bells and they started to chime unabashedly. The beautiful night’s tranquility had been shattered within the blink of an eye.

A voice, Elemental in nature yelled, “Run!”

It seemed the trees started to creek and moan loudly, waving at me, seemingly throwing branches at my tent. I scrambled out of my tent and started running without a second thought. The moon was full and high within the darkened night sky yet her luminous glow was my beacon leading me in the direction of my family’s campground. With the speed of a scared rabbit, I jumped over sagebrush and knew that even one glance back would be my downfall.

I could hear breathing from far behind me with a slight growl escaping its jaws besides sagebrush and rocks being scattered and trampled. I was running as fast as my feet allowed me and in some strange way, I knew that if I didn’t pick up my pace, I was a gonner. Somehow I just went for it, an all out run, yet this thing was getting closer and closer. I could feel its gaze, penetrating my back, that of an angry predator. To put it bluntly, I felt like a deer or antelope escaping for my life. Somehow my superhuman powers took over and I sprinted home with a speed I didn’t know I was capable of.

I ran into the bus and slammed the door behind me. I could tell it had stopped chasing me a couple yards away. The horses started to get panicky and the dogs growled. Let’s just say I woke up the whole camp, humans and animals alike. That night,  I realized that I was just out of harm’s way by seemingly an arm’s length.

That night I was lucky that the Werewolf backed off.