The Rose King

  The Rose:

     '"There was once a poor woman who had two children. The youngest had gone every day into the forest to fetch wood. Once when she
     had gone a long way to seek it, a little child, who was quite strong, came and helped her industriously to pick up the wood and
     carry it home, and then before a moment had passed the strange child disappeared. The child told her mother this, but at first
     she would not believe it. At length she brought a rose home, and told her mother that the beautiful child had given her this rose
     and told her mother that when it was in full bloom, he would return. The mother put the rose in water. One morning her child would
     not get out of bed. She went to the bed and found her dead, but looking very happy. On the same morning, the rose was in full bloom.'"

The Rose King

     Many years later, a princess was riding through the meadow when her horse became unsteady. She fell off and hit her head. When she
     awoke, a handsome man was looking down upon her. He helped her stand and she smiled gratefully, but could not help but laugh at
     his clothing. When asked of her laughter, she replied " My good sir, how does one come to be in my father's meadow this fine day
     whilst covered entirely in roses?". The handsome stranger only smiled. They lay there together on the cool grass until the sun began
     to set. The princess needed to return to the castle, but asked the stranger to meet again the next day in the same spot. The stranger
     agreed and the princess departed with her horse. When the princess returned to the castle, she went to her father directly and told
     of her accident and of the stranger. Her father did not believe her. The king laughed a mighty laugh and said "My fair daughter, as
     heir to my throne, one must not entertain such fancies! You hit your head and t'was all that happened! Now, let us have supper".
     The princess felt quite foolish for believing such a story herself, that her meeting must have been an imagining. After a weeks
     passing, the princess went strolling through the very meadow again. There she came across the stranger again. "I came the day after,
     but you did not. I came again every day but to no avail. What has kept you, my princess?" the stranger asked. The princess explained
     what had happened the night they met and the stranger understood. After weeks of secret meetings, the stranger gave her a rose. When
     the princess returned to the castle, she was no longer able to contain her excitement and , once again, went to her father. "My father,
     look upon the gift I have been given from my handsome stranger who I had past spoken of. We have been meeting in secret. He has told me
     to wait and, when it is in full bloom, he shall return for me!" The king was more worried than outraged at his daughter's confession.
     He forbade her to leave the castle and would not allow visitors until the stranger was discovered. One morning, the princess was not to be
     found. Guards were dispatched to search the areas around the castle. The princess was found in the meadow, lifeless yet smiling. She lay
     entwined in soft ivy upon a bed of red roses. The white rose she had been given was within her grasp, and was in full bloom.
     A simple note lay upon her breast:

       "A rose given, a soul taken. Eternal peace and happiness granted."

     William Baffin, the Rose King

         "The Rose" Grimm's Fairytales, G. Reimer 1819 Edition Volume 2
           "The Rose King" Joshua Kyle, 2012.
                                                       

A story...

  Once upon a time, a man decided to escape the busy city of St. Louis to live out more quiet years with his family. After purchasing 137 acres of land in 1880, the man set out to build a caretaker's cottage, a tower, a barn, stables, greenhouses for his beloved plant specimens, and a three story Romanesque Revival mansion. The man's name was Daniel Sidney Brown, and his home was "Brownhurst". Sadly, he and his family occupied the residence until 1918 when it was sold to the Society of Mary. This later becoming the land owned by present day Vianney. They were the only family to ever occupy the house.

 Fast forward to 1987/88. A curious boy looks out the back side window of his parents blue minivan on the way to his grandparents house. He is captivated by the place, but with little interest other than curiosity. Throughout the years that followed, interest turned into fascination. What was that place he saw? Who lived there? When was it built? Wild imaginings flew through the boys head. Thoughts that someday he would go to the house and ask to see the inside. To meet the owners and find out evrything he could. This house was the foundation of his love for old homes, his respect for them and the lives that had inhabited them. His fixation with historical architecture. A fixation that, even to this day, thrives in his mind. At a very early age, the boy wanted to become...not an astronaut, or a fireman, or a police officer, ...but an architect of buildings like this one. To one day buy the home and make it his own. When he finally got his drivers license, he wasted no time going to the home. As it would turn out, there was no cheery couple in ownership of the grand old dwelling, but a Catholic boys school. Using the place for storage. The dean was gracious enough to allow the boy inside to see the place. He was given a key and told to be careful.

 What a great time it was, exploring the mansion. So many rooms, fireplaces, staircases. Beautiful details and a spooky atmosphere. After leaving the home and returning the key, the boy was told the drafting teacher had copies of the floorplans. What a great discovery! The teacher allowed copies of these so long as the boy kept them to himself. And he has kept that promise, more or less. Everyone he knew closely, he took and showed them the house. He even got a job at the WalMart across the street just to be close to the house. It was the very thing he knew would always be there come rain or shine. The boy grew into a man, moved away, then moved back. There the place stood, solid as ever.

 A couple years down the road, the man tried going into the home again to take pictures. This time he was turned away. The house was in very poor condition and was declared unsafe inide. Despite the man's promises of safety, was still denied access. A few more years went by. The damage and deterioration was showing on the exterior of the home. But that only caused the man to care more about it. To him, it was in pain. It was the dog left out in the rain by its careless owner.

The man moved away again. This time he was gone a long time. When he returned to Missouri for his grandfather's funeral, he took a day to show his father a few sites he had loved. This was the last place they visited. they took a few pictures, walked about the exterior. The next day, the man boarded a plane and flew back home.

 The following year, the man decided to take his fiance home to meet his family. While on his trip, they went by the old familiar places. Schools, stores, even his childhood home. And Brownhurst. The man drove a special way around the storefronts on Lindbergh Blvd, explaining there was a great surprise hidden from view behind these buildings... even made his fiance guess what they would find.

  He was excited, anxious, eager... it had been so long since he had seen the second love of his life. The one thing that had lasted through it all. He felt like a boy again, peering out of the minivan window at the stone and shingle monolith. They rounded the corner of the last store front and the man announced happily "Here it is! Brownhurs....." His voice trailed off and choked. He slowed the car to a stop. Tears welled up in his eyes. He looked frantically at the space before him, blinking as if his eyes deceived him. His life, his friend, his love... was gone. All that lay before him was an empty lot.

   A part of him died that day. A big part. And all the man has left is half of the home's history, some battered floorplans, and a small handful of poorly composed pictures. And there is nothing to fill the void left behind.

Turning 30... Random Thoughts

In 10 days, I will be 30. 30 years of living, giving, taking, loving, and hating. 30 years of dreams and nightmares. 30 years of finding myself, and still havent. Friends came and went, as did foes. Some things I remember, most things I dont.Why is it so easy to remember those who burned you and knocked you down, but not the ones that helped pick you back up again? Are we destined to only focus on the negative? Lord knows I've done my share of heartbreak and destruction. Burning and backstabbing. Ive also done plenty of loving and caring. For a long time I was more or less alone. Deeds done that next to noone know of. Errors in my past I would do anything to take back. Memories I'm cursed to play out in my head for the remainder of my life. We all have skeletons. Anyone who claims not to, is lying. I wait for that profound moment when I will "grow up". So far, nothing. I just look older, feel older.
                                  Growing up, my parents did the best they could. Hormones kicked in at 9. Puberty hit and I no longer knew what or who I was. As a teenager, I dropped into a chasm, ruled by depression. Noone liked me, but just as well for I didnt like them. I liked guys, but had no identifying word for what I was. Had noone to talk to. The friends I grew up with cast me off as a freak and avoided me. Older I got, the gayer I got. Still, no advice. My junior year of high school, I started hitting the internet hard, looking for more "people like me". It was pretty difficult and, sufficed to say, was very disappointed with what I found. Sex, Sex, Sex. And, of course, as a teenager I was sucked into that negative area with not a single person to learn from or look up to. About mid-way through my senior year of high school, I strated hanging out with a group of outcasts. They were the most creative and, well, nerdy people I had ever talked to. They were awesome. I hung out with them alot and wished I had met them sooner. Right after graduation, we parted ways again.... or rather, I disappeared. I came out and moved out. Shortly after finding an apartment in University City, I met my first boyfriend. Having no past history with a man, nor having any support or leadership in the gay department, proceeded to go out with him. Daniel was abusive, both verbal and physical, and dealt coke (I found out at the end of the relationship). Bad things happen to bad people and our relationship ended quite involuntarily. After him, I moved here and there, working here and there trying to find myself. No luck.
                                   On October 26th, 2001... I answered an ad looking for an assistant in Los Angeles. I was done with Missouri and needed a change. I hopped on a bus and headed for California. Most people would view this as both extremely risky and completely irresponsible. I was 19. I needed a thrill. The job was on the level and I got hired. I worked there for a month or two before getting a job in a bar in West Hollywood on friday and saturday nights as a dancer. I held these jobs until mid-2002. While in a bar called "The Abbey" one night, met an awesome awesome guy named Michael. He worked for a software developing company and we dated for a good 5 months before I screwed it up really bad. After that ended, I got an apartment off of Colfax in North Hollywood. I quit my 2 jobs and became a waiter. Dated off and on for a while. The California lifestyle just didnt seem right for me and soon moved back to Missouri and skipped around for a bit until I found a roommate in Valley Park. I worked 3rd shift at a gas station for a while. He got weird. The job got old, I moved on again. This time landing back in the city, on Hartford Street. Where stability finally set in for the first time in my adult life. I started seeing a guy named Lance. I started working for Home Depot on South Kingshighway. I started making really great friends again. Lance was a wiccan and, at the time, didnt understand the religion and a few other things he did. We broke up. A few months later, while at work, I get a call from by older half sister in Montana whom I hadnt seen since I was 2 or 3. Reconnected with my birthmother and, before long, took a 10 day vacation to Montana to meet them. It was... awkward. They are really great people, just felt strange to see someone after so long and not even recognize the fact they were family. My sister is a great person, and my bio-mom is a very generous person for the community in a small resort town called Polson. I think if everyone volunteered half as much as she does, people would be alot happier. Upon coming back to St Louis, I met a man. Eric. Great guy, great smile, amazing eyes, wonderful daughter. We started seeing eachother and it quickly became serious.
                                          I rapidly destroyed that relationship. By this point my depression and self denial had returned in full force. I became angrier and angrier. I loathed myself and blamed people around me for the way I felt. I turned vanity into a sick cry for attention. My job was my saving grace and kept me sane. I loved that job. I was good at it, better than good. I contributed my soul to it. I was truly happy when I went and clocked in. Helping all those people made me feel like the world was a better place. Then, I clocked out and the anger returned. Finally on Dec. 19th, I left my favorite job. 2 days later, I left the man I wrecked...Montana bound. I was looking for a change. I found it, but not right away. I moved in with my sister and got a job archiving for a military contracting company. I drove to the nearby town of Missoula every chance I got to be around people and for the shopping. And bars. After 4 months of isolation in Polson, I had to get out. I visited Missoula and in one day landed a job in a factory and found an apartment with a guy I had begun seeing. We had a rocky and brief relationship, but the job held strong. Shortly after the relationship ended, I met another amazing man. And it was in no way meant to be serious, just a casual meeting. Strong, determined, focused, yet light hearted and fun. Honest eyes with a little humor in them. Despite lying about his age at first, he was and is a beautiful man in every way important...and not.
                                              So, here I am. 10 days from 30. Engaged to that beautiful man. Communicating better with my father than I ever have. Surrounded by wonderful friends. In a town filled with the most diverse crowd imagineable, nestled in a valley lined with mountains. I have my health, my job, my creativity, a photography company of my own, and a blue car named 'Bunneh' with severly expired plates. I have good days and I have bad days, but dont we all? 10 days from 30, what will the future hold? Marriage, home-ownership, and a car with legal plates. Not to mention more twists and turns, ups and downs. 10 days from 30, I see bright days ahead.
                                         

Power Tools....

Yes, power tools. Just not the Black and Decker or Bosch you may be used to. You'll never find a paslode nailer in my hand unless I'm taking down 'Unmentionables' in the zombie apocalypse. Which, I may add, requires little effort to rig and you get 100 shots off before a new fuel cell is required. But, I digress....

               Power Tools I speak of are those objects you have no idea why you have them around, they just are. Those items you grab for luck, focus, or otherwise. They can be anything as complex as a hockey stick (Harry Dresdon) or something simple and modern as a car key locator when you are running late for work. Despite the major differences in both, you can agree that you'd be lost without it. Power Tools in this instance being the peice of driftwood I found today, or rather, was directed to. Five feet long, smooth, with a double twist at the end. Heading from Hamilton back to Missoula, I just had to have my fiance turn around and drive down to a boat launch landing I randomly noticed. Large piles of dead flood debris, a wide expanse of rotting floodplane, both circumnavigated by streams and the Clark Fork. I climb out of the car, approach the heavily eroded bank, pause for a second to admire the view. I look down and there, lying at my feet, a power tool. A staff. A blank canvas to the woodburning creator within me. The possiblities were, and are, endless with what you can do to personalize an object. This one in particular will be cleansed tomorrow morning, followed by grounding, then finished off with a ritual to empower it. When all that is finished, I will begin the personalization process. This will be accomplished through meditation, instinct, and the muse that drives me as well as all creative people in the world. Upon completion, this power tool with join the ranks of many other tools I have and await its purpose... whether that be decided by me or not.
                      So, scoff if you will. Ignore those little signs or warnings from others before touching that "So called 'Bad Luck Rock'" (You know who you are). Pass up that opportunity to unleash your creativity on an object that, somewhere down the road, may help you out or get you through a rough patch. And if it doesnt, you'll have the memory of the joy you had creating it. Dont run out and look for something, it will find you.

Lions and Tigers and Bears! Oh my!

Well...none of those, but just as exciting. For me anyway. When you love herbal work as much as I do, its natural to blow a gasket when you do your weekly, bi-weekly, or monthly herb inventory and realize you need to go shopping again (SQUEE!!!!) for a supply run. Now having a list in front of you comprised of 86 herbs/elements, would make most people say "Damn, thats alot of frakkin' crap", but me... I look at the empty bags and remember all the things I did with the contents. Things I learned, mistakes I made, new guidelines to follow, and always remember which ones resulted in a rash. Apparently that one needed repeating to sink in. The list, as follows, are things that I actually use. Yes. I will, at some point within the next 4 months, use all of these for one thing or another.

Organic Comfrey Leaf, Slippery Elm Bark Powder, Yarrow Flowers, Slippery Elm 'Bark', Lindenbracts,
Egyptian Mint, Eyebright, Mugwort (2 lbs!), Jasmine Pods, Mace, Blue Malva Flowers, Cloves, Organic Calendula Flowers, Cats Claw Bark, Cardomum Pods, Juniper Sprigs, Arigimory, Organic Catnip, Caraway Seeds, Vervain, Jasmine Flowers, Hyssop, Black Walnut Bark, Violet Leaf, Safflower Buds, Hibiscus Flowers, Organic Licorice Root, Blue Violet, Sulphor, Oak Moss, Lavender (2 lbs!)(I love the stuff), Vetivert Root, Eucalyptus Leaves, Peppermint Leaves, Angelica Root, Organic Wormwood, Snake Root, Sarsparilla Root, Organic Sage, Fennel Seeds, Gum Mastic, Kava Kava Root, Althea Root, Spearmint Leaves, Cinquefoil, Basic Ground Wormwood, Hops, Ginger Root, Lemongrass, Pau D Arco, Sunflower Petals, Labolia, Copal, Benzoin, Dragons Blood, Dandelion, Boneset, Damiana Leaf, Rosemary, Celandine, Feverfew, St Johns Wort, Coriander, Asafoetida, Aloes Cape, Organic Comfrey Root, Ground Sumac Berries, Rosehips, Kudzu Root, Orange Blossoms, Star Anise, Rue, Bayleaf, Whole Cumin, Gum Arabic, Witch Hazel Bark, Henna, Goldenseal Leaf, White Copal, Devils Shoestring, Juniper Berries, Frankincense, Arrowroot Powder, Ground Slippery Elm Bark, and Turmeric Powder.

      And, as I said, these are just what I have on hand. Pretty crazy amount, huh? But, candles need charging, satchets need sewing, pillows need stuffing, teas need brewing, incense need mixing, and people need helping. And that, my friends, is my goal. If there is the will, there is a way.