Forget the LionsWhen I was a child I would wake in the summer to the songs of lions,calling hotly for meat, blood, bone to fill their bellies.How many little girls can say when they opened their eyes every morning the world reminded them:"Take all from what you are given. Tear it apart in your teeth, your hands, your mouth and take nourishment from it."Eat. Live."This morning my lions aretwo black cats that weave pitifully between my bare feetsqueaking their discontent into a florescent sun.I cannot even hear the sparrows.
FFM - 23"When Rabbit howls, everyone listens."--When Rabbit Howls, a book by Truddi Chase.Have you ever held a natural garnet?Experts in their little expert bleached-white coats, holding trays with pens will tell you with noses in the air they are rather common. Semi-precious. A little bit everyday.These are people who have never held a garnet in their hands, nor have they stopped to ponder how some are formed. A few are born by being rolled back and forth between two moving surfaces. Each roll, the forming garnet picks up more and more metamorphic rocks--tiny little things that would normally have been destroyed by the usual processes that create the on average stone. Except only they aren't obliterated. The garnet saves them all and makes them part of itself.A garnet becomes a collector of history. A stone that can sometimes have 12-24 different sides. A stone that can be the color of fresh blood.If people were gem-stones, Fionna Helston must be a garnet. Each roll, each shift that lif