Friday Fictioneers: Venetian Vixen

Fatima Faker Deria

Photo courtesy:  Fatima Fakier Deria

Venetian Vixen

Word count:  100


Sylvia cupped her chin in her hands and watched Louis.  Her elbows rested on the window sill while her bottom smooshed against the end kitchen cabinet.  It was a small kitchen in a small apartment.

Louis would visit this evening after he had finished unloading the barge, and his clothes would smell of fruit and vegetables.  She would help him remove his shirt then press her mouth to his warm, damp skin.  He would taste divine.

Across the street, Martha watched from her window.  She was not interested in her husband; only in the woman who had stolen his affection.

Collectively Speaking

So I read another headline (they’re everywhere) with words that serve only to kindle fear, panic, and irrational reactions. By all accounts, the world is in a complete tizzy and it’s coming from all angles and sources; above ground, underground, in the air, from the people, by the people…and on and on.

Imagine this….imagine when we’ve come to a crashing stop for whatever reason. The Earth no longer supports human life or animal life – except maybe the cockroach; it seems pretty hardy. But not mankind. Imagine collectively, the human race’s mind as a light entity drifting up to wherever to face some sort of judgment, to look back, to fully realize the enormity and breadth of its existence; its impact, its awesome power.

I like to think that collectively, mankind might feel remorse and think, oh yeah…the mindful stuff, the Love and Peace stuff.  Huh….maybe we should’ve done that instead.

In that state, I don’t think there is any other way to feel. Above the sphere crammed with bodies, its gravity stuck with its flesh and bone population, it is only then that we certainly, definitely feel peace, love and absolute awareness.

I am a bystander. I observe angry people in their cars, hackles raised, ugly faces, boiling blood reactions.  I read trolls in comments whose only purpose is to stir up hatred and volatility. There was a time when I would have jumped right in with them and had my say; flung criticisms at complete strangers to fuel the anger. I have hopped in my car seat like a hot bean at other drivers, and on more than one occasion informed them of precisely how I felt by way of a finger, or a look, or an aggressive driving maneuver.

Now I am older and wiser.  Not meditating anymore, and often forget to be aware, but the work I’ve done in the last few years has laid a lasting foundation of love, peace, hope, harmony, mindfulness, and ironically, forgetful awareness.

Maybe all who have passed are simply circling the Earth in another realm, all-knowing that there is no deity, no idol. All that exists is pure consciousness and they are biding time until the human race is devoid of that flesh and bone.  Perhaps then, everyone that has ever been in all of humanity, alive and dead, will come together and the light in the Universe will shine so brightly that the darkness mankind created will be revealed.

Perhaps, even now, in the midst of so many crises and horrors, we are gathering knowledge to take with us to another place, in another time, in another dimension, and in another form.

Hopefully we will go there with a better blueprint.

On Anger.

I guess I have a lot bubbling up this week.  See what happens when my back is turned?  The scab is peeled away, leaving the wound open for me to inspect.  For once I welcome it. After too long a time of pushing down the ugliness that struggled to see the light, I am conscious of an opening up to everything that I have refused to acknowledge.

Anger.  And lots of it.  Hatred, too.  And resentment.  Boiling and roiling and really pissed off on its own that I’ve allowed it to fester; covered up with ineffectual platitudes and verbiage of love and forgiveness and kindness in the hopes that it would seep away in its own time.

In my practice of mindfulness, I led myself to believe that these emotions and thoughts were ‘bad’.  Even though truly I knew that they are part and parcel of the spirit, they are not who I AM, who I really AM.  But I was scared of them.  Frightened by the ferocity, by the lack of grace they represented that I was trying so hard to maintain.

Now I crack open my heart and let the grungy, brown toilet water pour forth.  Let it all out.  Feel it all.  Know it’s okay to feel angry.  Know that it’s okay to think  “I really fucking hate you,” because in so saying and in so admitting, I am freeing myself of these things that have held me down for so long.

It must be said also that even though I do what is needed, none of it is destined to remain.  On the contrary, they are thought and said and released.  Gone, like tainted butterflies crumbling into wispy bits out in the Universe.

No fear now for the words or the emotions.  New space is being created;  an empty mass vacated by truth; replaced with love and light.  This was a task no affirmation nor positive quote could accomplish.  Only until I quit with the sidelong glances and stares away to find the strength to turn inside and face it fully, could I feel this freedom and move closer to my truth.

A New and Deeper Truth
by Kaveri Patel


the old truth made you
run a thousand miles
inside an arid desert
desperate for an oasis

sit and close your eyes
inhale the breeze of kindness
exhale the toxic judgments
dehydrating you like a prune

feel the pain of old patterns
trapped in tense muscles
it’s ok to cry, to taste
the salt of possibility

just be, just breathe
let waves break against
the silence, returning you
to a new and deeper truth