Poison Arrows & A Taste for Vengeance

Posted on by K.S. Schultz

Nessus in the Pisces/Virgo Eclipse Cycle

How the universe regulates astrophysics can be found in cycles. Tracking the nodes of the moon is not only useful for astrologers and astronomers, but the 18.6 year eclipse cycle is also used to predict tidal patterns and coastal flooding by oceanographers and coast gurads around the world.

Astrological understanding of Solar and Lunar eclipses begins with knowldege of the North and South nodes of the Moon’s cycle transiting two of the twelve zodiac signs for a year and a half, with an overlap rather than a linear progression. Pisces & Virgo’s last eclipse cycle began shortly after Facebook became available to all users (2006) and ushered in a time of global economics with the birth of the European Union and the North American Free Trade Agreement.

Our strength when the North Node is in Pisces lies with logical Mercurial Virgo and the S. Node of the past, actual information balancing deep spiritual and psycholigcal unknowns.  

The N. Node in Pisces whispers, “can you imagine if” and begs us to suspend our intellect in favor of trying new ways based on what we need and want rather than what we think. This is chaos at heaven’s gate, suspension of our quest for empirical evidence for that of unseen energy. Most can agree truth is not easy to swallow while swimming in a sea of information, but this is where unseen principles like archetypal psychology assists us with pattern recognition and benefits of disruption and redirection.

In addition to intensely strong change signatures of Jupiter, Neptune, and Mercury due to their positions, there is an element of hugely karmic energy in this eclipse cycle.

Nessus, a centaur minor planet discovered in 1993 between Saturn and Pluto, is riding with the N. Node in Pisces, and flavoring this cycle with the excessive appetites of centaurs in mythology. It isn’t all fun and centaur games in laid back Pisces, though. Unifying potentials tug at our hearts and the collective may witness harsh consequences for abuse of power. Sowing poison may be rampant, but few poisoners escape their own intentions. Sometimes the most positive contribution in an unhealthy situation is nothing. “I contribute nothing to (_fill in the blank_)”, is a powerful self-reminder.

In Greek mythology, Nessus becomes a ferryman carrying passengers back and forth across the river Evenus on his back; a third chance for the lusty Centaur who had escaped paying for his unapologetically immoral behavior countless times. On this day, Nessus told Princess Deianara, gorgeous, yet insecure wife of Hercules, he would be more than happy to offer her a ride across a roaring river bulging with recent rains to the road on the far side. “Just across the river and no further,” ordered Hercules without even a glance in Nessus’s direction. He may have recognized the centaur if he paid him even the slightest attention. But, he was preoccupied looking back the way they had come as the couple ran from the wrath of his father-in-law, King Oeneus, due to Hercules’s inadvertent killing of his favorite cup bearer. Thoroughly disgusted with her husband, Deianara accepted the centaur’s offer. Across the river, Hercules heard his beloved’s shrieks as Nessus ran his hands up her gown and over her legs and tried to carry her away from her husband. Pulling an arrow dipped in a hydra’s poisonous blood from his quiver, an enraged Hercules shot Nessus in the chest before the centaur made it to the tree line with his unwilling rider. As he laid writhing from the poison, Nessus begged Deianara’s forgiveness through sobs. Even in his weakened state he charmed her with his excuses. Surely, she knew he had lost his mind due to his nature as half beast coupled with her irresistible allure. It really was not his fault she had tempted him by riding astride as he had advised for the safest passage. Blood rushing to her cheeks at his innuendo, Deianara was caught off guard by his inappropriate speech.

As a token of apology to the princess, the cunning centaur collected a few drops of his hydra-tainted blood in a tiny vial and gifted it to Deianara.  A love potion made from his centaur blood was the least he could do to make amends. Potently effective, he told Hercules’s wife to save it in case her lover’s affection was ever captured by another, more youthful love interest in the future. Nessus promised if she used the contents of the vial Hercules would never look at another. While Deianara doubted Hercules would ever fall out of love with her, she still secreted the vial away in her purse. Nessus died happy, confident of his manipulation and eventual revenge on them both.

As Nessus predicted, eventually Hercules grew restless and dreamed of his love for the fair Iole. Her grandfather King Eurytus had reneged on granting Hercules her hand in marriage as a prize for winning an archery contest before he married Deianara because Hercules was cursed by Demeter and could be driven mad by her at any time. Years later, it bothered Hercules when he thought about how he, the most heralded hero in the entire universe, his strength equal to his father Zeus, was wronged by a mere mortal king. Vengeance was sweet when Hercules killed the king and his sons and took Iole as a slave after sacking the city. They would all know the price for denying him the respect her deserved.

From the balcony, Princess Deianara saw Hercules and his new richly dressed slave as they came through the estate gates. Deianara’s heart clenched at the young woman’s fresh beauty while the smug look on her husband’s face filled her with jealousy. Carefully, she laid out a new dark shirt for her beloved which perfectly hid droplets of Nessus’s love charm.

Within seconds of dressing Hercules fell to the ground screaming in torment from the hydra’s poison he himself had collected and used against his foes. The pain was unbearable and unrelenting, but he yelled out that it was his wife who gave him the poisonous shirt. Finally, he built his own funeral pyre from nearby trees, climbed onto it while still writhing in agony and begged for someone, anyone, to be friend enough to light it and end his life.

Deianara was heartbroken her jealousy had been used to kill the Hero Hercules and she knew she would be punished severely by the Gods. Deianara rushed into their home and stabbed herself to death. In the Greek language her name stands for “husband destroyer.”

In astronomy Nessus has an unpredictable orbit, making its future movements unknown, much like micro aggressions that fester if not forgotten. In archetypical psychology some or all of the characters are within our psyche. Do you recognize:

  1. The Arrogant Hero displaying superiority and entitlement to the point of violence and murder.
  2. The Wild Unbridled Horse- a part of the human psyche which celebrates freedom from man-made rules and cannot be tamed.
  3. The Villain is morally corrupt and brings all the nasty emotions which drive violence like lust, jealousy, and spite.
  4. The Jealous Wife who tries to manipulate and control her spouse.

A modern Nessus narrative may show up as a friend who leaves you alone to pick up food with an extremely attractive stranger who you mentioned was your type when you arrived at a party together. Hercules’s traits may be seen in a random person who assumes you want to dance when they grab your arm and spin you in a circle while announcing it will be a night to remember now that you are with him. Deianara may appear as you telling the overly enthusiastic dance partner that you have a friend who is perfect for them then introducing the two as soon as she returns. Meanwhile, your friend does not have the chance to tell you that she talked you up to the person you thought was extremely attractive.

We all have shadows/behaviors born from unmet needs or victimization, but it is the hiding of our human weaknesses that destroys relationships. As we travel with Nessus conjunct the North Node of fate over an unpredictable period, being aware of our desires and what we need to feel fully free keeps us safe from poisoning, or manipulation and misunderstandings. Revenge carries an energy in the Nessus mythos that doubles back and self-destructs.

Crone Story Astrology

Posted on by K.S. Schultz

“Know thyself” – inscription over the temple door at Delphi

Who knew? Perhaps it is a YOD configuration between Pluto, Neptune, and my creative Sun that informed this version of “me” as a Hellenistic Astrologer, lifelong Hobby Writer, and researcher humbly offering astrology chart readings. My intention is helping clients know, accept, heal, and love yourself enough to move forward consciously on your soul’s journey. There are clear reinventions when I look back on my life, this one starting 17 years ago with a health crisis and painful ego losses. The past 5 years have brought me to this rebirth as an imperfectly healed & whole person who tremendously enjoys the patterns and cycles of astrology as a divinatory science.

My approach is based on ancient techniques revolving (literally) around earth’s seasonal energy, as well as planetary phases in relation to the Sun. Understanding personal themes and life cycles, we can navigate the seas of fate with conscious choices and resilience.

Zodiac Wheel @ Saks/Dior Holiday Light Show, 2023

**Crone Story’s Astrology readings are not a substitute for professional health or legal advice

Full Moon Journeying in Capricorn

Posted on by K.S. Schultz

The road from 1° to 29°

On the summer solstice, we had our first Full Moon in Capricorn at 1° shortly after 9p EST, while Neptune sat at an illusory 29° of Pisces opposing Black Moon Lilith on eagle-eyed 29° Virgo, creating a dynamic Grand Cross by degree, but not involving the eclipse energies of Libra and Aries. Leadership is conflict-ridden and cannot move.

Full Moon in Capricorn on June 21, 2024

Interestingly, the Sabian symbol for 1° of Capricorn is a Tribal Chief and asks how does a man use the power entrusted to him by his people. For this reason, and due to a correlation with Tropical Astrology seasonal theory, I reference Native Lakota definitions of the Four Directions for this Grand Cross:

  • East, where the Sun rises, the beginning of understanding, Light lets us see reality, Wisdom – Capricorn Full Moon in this chart
  • West, where the Sun sets, rivers, lakes and Essential water, the Great Thunderbird lives in the West & brings storms – Cancer Sun in this chart
  • South, where the Sun is at its highest and draws Life from the earth, warm & pleasant winds – Virgo Lilith in this chart
  • North, where the Sun is at its lowest and Cold harsh winds cleanse the earth, resilience – Pisces Neptune in this chart

No one can deny the Cardinal tensions of the past month as marginalized voices strain to be recognized (Lilith), feelings amplify and direct us, and the wealthiest, most powerful among us, jockey for position (Sun in Cancer). This is have/have not oppositional, King-of-the-Hill competition flavored by the recent Jupiter/Uranus conjunction.

During this time of Uranian technology the collective searches for firm footing on a shifting sea floor (Saturn in Pisces), but Neptune and Lilith opposing one another creates snapshot productions of guilt, tragedy and luxurious desires. Dopamine dumping as a result of scrolling short-form content has resulted in a universal addiction while Neptune has been in Pisces, just as intended.

Stone Henge was temporarily defaced by Eco activists the day prior to the summer solstice using bright orange powder paint. Pretty sure I witnessed a glimmer of Druidic sacrificial energy, likely due to Pluto in Aquarius. Humans normally aligned on ecology became outraged at the action, the attachment to material overtaking concern for earth. Connections in our lives may have been fractured during this first full moon or we may have realized a diminishing value in others. Isolation and even depression are often the signatures of a Capricorn Moon in fall. The flow between Cancer and Capricorn is not easy-going despite both being feminine. They still initiate change as Cardinal signs, one representing night and the other the toil and ambition of day.

Midway between our Capricorn Full Moons a New Moon in Cancer on July 5 brought forward ancestral and familial issues relating to “home” as the U.S. celebrated its’ independence and Hurricane Beryl landed on the Yucatan Peninsula. Water elemental energy stirs emotions and our sense of belonging may have been highlighted. New intentions regarding our family relationships, forgiveness and strengthening our home security are themes during the season of the crab who carries their home with them. In the creation chart of the world, a.k.a. the Thema Mundi, Cancer sits at the helm on the Ascendant and was termed by ancient philosophers as the “doorway to life”. Cancer symbolizes the waters of birth as well as a cycle of rise and fall. Change brings stress, but we find our seas legs the less we struggle against it.

As one of the ruling energies, Saturn in watery Pisces can help our seasickness. By grounding in the mundane tasks and responsibilities we may not relish, we become present and able to create future security. It is ok if we only feel or dream it with an abundance of watery emotion as our backdrop. As conflicts increase, the Wheel is being reconstructed even as it is being destroyed at a faster than usual pace. This is a continuing saga from the 2020 Great Conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn at 0° Aquarius, a New Air period of human advancement and revolutionary idealism has begun.

Thema Mundi

Our 2nd Full Moon in Capricorn is at 29° on July 21, 2024. The Sabian symbol is a woman reading tea leaves, which Dane Rudyhar interprets as recognizing omens and signs in everything that occurs. The “as above so below” theory is represented- what Rudyhar describes as “true clairvoyance”. There is a connectivity between all things, a universal truth felt more fully in the sign the ancients referred to as the “gateway of the Gods”. The final degree is especially Saturnian as Capricorn feels a responsibility to build the ideal in the physical world, to bring heaven to earth.

Idealistic Souls with Suns located in the latter degrees of Capricorn

  • Dolly Parton’s Sun is at 29°
  • Edgar Allen Poe’s Sun is at 28°
  • Jim Carrey’s Sun is at 26°
  • Martin Luther King’s Sun is at 25°

Applying to a conjunction with Pluto at 0° Aquarius, the Moon puts a spotlight on the shadow side of humanitarian idealism and technological advances. The French Revolution encapsulates Aquarian zeal becoming extra, the oppressed becoming oppressors. Most of us are innocent bystanders during this full moon, just as we all carry the energy of Capricorn and Cancer in our zodiacal chart. Not adding to conflict can avert Pluto’s energy, but this may be difficult with an exact square between Uranus the change-maker and Mercury in dramatic Leo. Squares in astrology carry the energy of Mars, who is at a 0° of Gemini, so there may be debating among friends. In my opinion this is the hardest part of new cycles, but Venus in Leo is higher-heart energy that comes from the Divine Feminine. Manifesting this in our 3D world is possible with steady effort that includes emotional care and regulation. We are tasked with being authentic and present in reality. Grounding this intensity in productivity and mindful physical movement such as QiGong or Donna Eden’s energy exercises is favorable, while heartfelt conversations can wait a few days. As the Moon wanes, so do emotions. Capricorn rules the bones, knees and lower back. Cardinal signs, Scorpio, and Aquarius should be mindful of over overdoing, always a danger for everyone during any full moon along with overestimating ability.

The Sabian symbol for 0° Aquarius is an adobe mission and may be interpreted as the enduring product of spiritual vision. Again, we are met with a concept of ideals being made manifest, legacies which survive past the physical lives of the builders.

My ideal vision includes a useful garden and my grandson’s success, so I am pouring effort into those ideals. My dream of an astrology practice is more possible with the Ancient Astrology course I’m currently finishing. Writing astrology pieces like this is more aligned with my ideals than creating short-form content, is one of my full moon realizations with Capricorn in my 1st house of identity.

How are you building your ideal?

Project Hardcopy

Posted on by K.S. Schultz

A Hybrid of Roots & Wings

From the technology lens, the speed of societal change is somewhat dizzying, familiarity becoming rare without a real effort to capture it. Effort itself is a bit outdated, but like a freshly-prepared meal compared to fast food, it’s the first ingredient for deliciousness and enjoyment. Slow cooking is one of those hands-off-the-screen activities that help my nervous system decompress while my overactive mind chops and simmers new ideas.

Progress is frequently viewed as a road constructed in uncharted territory, a pursuit of novel scientific solutions. Only recently, I’ve wondered, “what would we do without satellites and global internet” and “I hope there’s a backup plan”. As NASA gathers research on solar storms and flares, a part of me is anxious about Icarus-like tech giants.

Don’t worry- This isn’t a tech doomsday imagining, nor will I bore you with reminiscences of my dog-eared books, or tea stains and greasy prints on thousands of notebook pages. I simply wonder if some media not only feels secure as a hard copy in my possession, but also strikes something in my genetic memory, a chord of imaginings stretching and supporting me when I’m blocked or feel low. I can delete it from everywhere else and have a single vulnerable hard copy (shiver). I’m unsure if it’s riskier than a sudden outage or an unreliable auto-save feature.

Yesterday my 7-year-old grandson excitedly told me, “We were attacked!”, when I picked him up from school, then went on to reassure me, “but we don’t have to worry because they are far away in Russia or another country”. At least they aren’t sheltering under their desks, I told myself as I steered our conversation to pencils, paper worksheets, and white boards. He went on to tell me it wasn’t a big deal because “we don’t have any schoolwork left, just fun stuff”. Fortunately, an all-day walking field trip in their town including history lessons and ice cream was already scheduled for his class the next day. Real-time learning activities minimized the hacker’s damage and I hope gave administrators ideas for mitigating impacts of future digital outages.

I’m not suggesting we roll back tech and ai advances that continue to prove efficient, but I wonder if today’s news regarding militarized Russian satellites gives us one more reason to prepare for internet outages. The loss of the library at Alexandria comes to mind when I think of the intellectual property stored in the cloud. The decades upon decades of dystopic stories have trained my brain, I know, yet cannot help but follow the plot to old-timey solutions that somewhat save our sanity, if not our humanity.

Vinyl has made a resurgence for the same reason I am suggesting hard copies of stories and vital information, not as a sole source, but as an artistic product in multiple formats for security’s sake and for our mental health. Being a creative is challenging enough without worrying about losing work.

In the midst of a tech era, I’ve been studying Ptolemy, Manilius, & Vettius Valens, learning the history and theory of ancient astrology. A side-effect of studying Greek philosophy is sharpening observations of the world around me, especially noticing patterns of rise and fall. As we rise, we typically take some of the past with us, the known blending with unknowns. Perhaps, by reading real-life books, printing a few pages at the library and writing in notebooks we can find footing in a world increasingly constructed of air.

These are the thoughts and feelings informing my hybrid-model astrology practice in June, 2024. When the aliens arrive, I realize I may need to adapt, but stories will always be secure inside an exercised and flexible mind.

Parnus- Part 1- New Earth

Posted on by K.S. Schultz

After being cast in darkness for weeks, blushing Parnus moonslight flooded the cabin and allowed him to shut down pin-prick lights overhead, saving what power he could for landing. Her eyes darting behind their lids, Scotia didn’t surface as quickly as Dusan desired. A staccato beat reverberated in the cramped space, his giveaway foot in sync with short and quick breaths. A relaxant mist no longer delivered in tandem with oxygen and nitrogen would be helpful at the moment, Dusan thought. Two years he’d waited. “Scotia”, he bent down and whispered close to her ear, long nimble fingers brushing her hair back from her creased forehead. Always serious Scotia. An initially positive indication of cell coherence despite its’ silver hue, Dusan noted hair growth in her record with a nod. If anyone was made for this sunless planet, it’s Scotia, he thought and traced one vividly blue vein the length of her clavicle.

“Approaching Parnus”, the craft announced. The remainder of her physical inventory would have to wait. “Secure your person and all loose objects within the next sixty seconds before momentum shifts”. His hand lingered against her cheek for a moment longer. Momentum shift, indeed. Whatever lay ahead, at least she was here with him and Zehmy.

Except, Scotia still dreamed of old earth. She paced the gardens of Eudaimonia, normally where she’d find her best friend Haffney, hunched over eggplant or pepper plants, never choosing the best for their weekly portion as she did. Where could he be? Once, there had been sprawling flower gardens complete with an intricate hedge maze and baby animal statuary which separated Eudaimonia’s scientific center from the shoreline a few miles away. A sea surge claimed that parcel not long after most of the population left for Parnus. Her eyes stung from the gusting salty wind, but an almost-full moon helped her navigate a path. “Haff?”, she called feebly. Deja vu fluttered like a sheer curtain in her periphery. She retreated a couple of paces. Sounds from the equipment shed carried on the wind and made her heart clench as if it stopped. Scotia’s shorn head hinged back and forth fiercely in the shadowy night as her mind struggled with what it heard. Preeky’s cries of pleasure were plain, as was his “yeah, that’s it”. Scotia ran then, away from the shed, away from Haff and betrayal, back to their container where she’d plead illness. Just for the day. Then she’d get it together, she thought, but her body heaved with sobs and her childhood sweetheart story lodged in her throat. She damned Dusan, again, for leaving her behind on this dying planet. But… how did she hear him, “Scotia! Scotia”, excited and definitely Dusan, “We’re here, Scotia!”

Although they efforted, earth’s civilization could not recover enough ecosystem to sustain the species. Extinction became probable as catastrophic events occurred almost daily and fertility grew scarce at an equally stifling rate. Those who remained in the western world created Eudaimonia, a new society, in a region formerly known as Colorado. Scotia, Haffney and Dusan were born in Eudaimonia and began training for a new planetary home before the age of five.

Despite world unification, Mother Earth and Father Sun did not open their hearts again for humanity. Her core mantle and atmospheric shield abused beyond repair, she now only needed water to cool her from his raging beams. In only two short decades, they lost most of the world’s artful masterpieces, along with the seven wonders of the world and cave drawings dating back to the dawn of mankind. The seas rose over Vatican City, completing the fall of Rome, while towering skyscrapers across the world fell unceremoniously. Eventually, Eudaimonia’s population sustained themselves on a single meal of millet and sweet potatoes, later adding iron-rich plasma snacks when prisons became insecure. Cannibalism wore a disguise of justice.

Remaining scientists became royalty, and as such, reassigned resources toward discovering an exostar or moon with a habitable zone. They hoped for two decades, at least, of data collecting. Their plan provided time to devise survival necessities and structure developmental plans. Repopulation hopes seemed more fantastical than relocating. For once, every human on old earth agreed discovery was their primary move if humans advanced to another planetary home. After a decade of increasingly desperate and resultingly daring exploration of the Milky Way, only two viable sub-planets were discovered, exhaustively studied, and to everyone’s sorrow, ruled out .

Commander Xavier Parnus hypothesized a harnessing of enigmatic forces between Baade’s Window and the Galactic Center in order to travel outside of the Milky Way. His theories met with scorn, mockery and threats to his explorer license until, with the help of Dr. Urick Parnus’ biophysics team, he found a way through and beyond. The sons of astronauts, the brothers were catapulted into heroes worth worshipping once Parnus was deemed unexpectedly habitable.

While Dusan’s bio-pod had opened a week prior, Scotia had remained in an induced theta state with periodic windows of deep delta wave restoration until they arrived in the orbit of Parnus’ furthest moon. The pod provided several essentials: oxygen, hydration, nutrition, waste removal, and cryogenic sleep. In preparation for Scotia’s retrieval from old earth/Eudaimonia, Dusan himself had added an extra layer of shielding in hopes of mitigating metabolic changes and cellular abnormalities upon morphogenesis, or “reorganization” as Eudaimonia’s elders preferred to describe the process.

Frowning at a tiny oval scar at Scotia’s hairline, Dusan wondered whether he’d made a mistake agreeing to the implant. Coni would’ve let him add his affirmations regardless, he thought, then cast his regret away with a shrug.

Conshoi, Dusan’s sister and reluctant Director of Health on Parnus, added psyche reconditioning and unity consciousness to the orientation modules in Scotia’s biopod. “Coni”, as Dusan called her, also let her brother insert a few assurances throughout Scotia’s theta periods, after she gave her older brother an enormous dose of teasing. Nothing comes for free, she’d reminded him. With Dusan’s consent, an epicortical nano implant was placed easily with Scotia in cryogenic stasis. Research volunteers were scarce on Parnus, although generalized fear seemed to be relenting according to Coni’s measurements. Still, she considered all of the 388 humans who inhabited Parnus psychologically fragile.

“Scotia, we’re home”, his long dark fingers caressed her cheek and stirred their nano-implants into a dopamine dump with a bit of serotonin, a calming hormone he suspected she lacked. Her eyes calmed and the edges of her mouth turned up. Sharp edges of her collarbones and wrists had softened some since they departed Eudaimonia. Her cheeks weren’t sunken anymore, the injuries from bashing into the cliff face mere shadows now. The state of her mind would take longer to assess than her physical condition, her experiences an anomaly in the new Parnus population. People were accustomed to her being an anomaly, though. Dusan didn’t think she’d be happy about muscle loss, but Zehmy would make up for any negatives, after her initial shock. Almost two years could not be undone in 32 days, he knew, but he had not felt this hopeful since… Dusan shook his head, his braid clamps clinking at his back. “Scotia, wake up. Come see these bubble waterfalls on our moons”, he told her as her eyes slit and her head swiveled to him. “Here, let me get your breathing tube. You ready?” At her nod, his mouth turned up at the corners. Of course, she was ready. “You know what to do. Here we go, Scotia. Inhale. Now big exhale.” So far, so good. Her cough sprayed him in a fine mist and activated a humming air vacuum. ”Here, let me help”. A tickling sensation in her cheeks made her involuntarily crinkle her nose as he suctioned out her mouth.

She’d made it. Scotia squinted her scratchy eyes toward the rosy sky outside their spacecraft’s viewing panel. After taking a slow and long sip of unfamiliar liquid from a hydrobot, she croaked, “How soon”? Dreams of Zehmy had filled her theta wave periods even before their journey to Parnus. Drawing in enough air to inflate her lungs felt impossible, as if an immoveable weight sat in their depths. “I feel like if I could get a few deep breaths my mind would clear”, she whispered to Dusan, his face close to hers.

“Your body is waking up and taking over where the pod functioned. I’ll get some measurements in a minute,” Dusan replied. He lifted her out of the pod to a nearby padded chaise where he’d slept next to her since his biopod opened. He hoped he never had to get in one again. Despite closing the viewing panel and ports on immense swaths of nothingness, space was lonely. Scotia was not the only one excited about a reunion with Zehmy.

Ixkeeb insisted on an in-person introduction to Scotia. Dusan’s wide forehead creased and he let out a long exhale. If he didn’t warn her… or even if he did, Scotia’s reaction would determine all of their futures.

Exiles

Posted on by K.S. Schultz

Alphonse Mucha, Mars, 1899

voices decanted from a forgotten vessel

stirred in my bowl of belly senses

with care and precision by the manager

oblivious to a warrior child impatiently waiting

unspeakables falling out of her pocket

as she drums into creation

a newborn dragon nestled in ash

one eye open and searching

heaven’s detours for a

never-imagined journey

along illuminated slopes

slippery with meteoric insight

ecliptic signposts alchemized in timelessness

newborn galaxies explosions of awareness

unmarred unwounded unknown

slow cautions Saturn

feel and flow

sky as sea

reflecting black iris depths

from the edge of her abyss

a living volcano driving upward

lava roiling in her heart

cooled by eternal divine waves

she claims invisible Mars

her pockets inside out empty

with a nod she removes her helmet

and sheaths a broken sword

“I am the Sun!”

a sea of tears whispers within

I am the stars

Mars unfurls her baby wings

Art, Life, Photography, Uncategorized

Courtland Cemetery

Gallery | Posted on by K.S. Schultz

I was drawn here to find my ancestors graves. Once here, others beckoned, many with names and dates worn away. My Great-Great Grandfather William Beatty died from TB (“consumption”), common at the time.

I couldn’t find my Great-Great Grandmother Lucy Flynn’s grave among the Flynn markers, but maybe I will find her next time. A few women’s graves are marked simply with “Wife” to “a man’s name” and there are many small white stone markers without names.

Age is noted on many gravestones, even down to the # of days.

Voice

Posted on by K.S. Schultz

At ten

secrets leaked

on yellow pages

“Bruises on my Soul”

Innocent heart

nudging in shadow

sensing

lifelong land mines

Keys swing

on my hip

but locks

on Medicine

dissipate on

my tongue

Beckoning heart

Rousing

an inherited impulse

to unlock

Everything

Eudaimonia-Part 5

Posted on by K.S. Schultz

Galactic Exit

Maybe I’d gotten over my fear of Dusan once, but now?  My circle of trust barely exists since Preeky, my closest friend, confessed her feelings for Haff. It’s been almost two years since a starship loaded with almost everyone I love left earth. Twenty months since I sat for a week on the shore waiting for Dusan to retrieve me . Almost two years of weighing every single move as a despised and closely-watched “Culler” from a former Elite family. Twenty months of wondering why he betrayed me. We may as well be strangers, despite his intimate demeanor while cleaning my scrapes. He clearly means for me to return with him to Parnus, but in what capacity?

Hazy sunlight forms a halo around his imposing form on the outside ledge, angular stalactites casting arrows of light through the cave’s high slim opening. Lowering myself to the silty cave floor, I let it sink in that he’s finally come. Not for the first time, he reminds me of a carved ebony statue of Shaka, a fearsome Zulu warrior who towered above me in my great grandfather’s bamboo-paneled hall of collectibles where I sometimes hid with a book. It seems so long ago, yet I can hear my mother calling for me when I close my eyes, almost feel the sun’s cozy warmth radiating through leaded windows.

He’s come back at some risk to himself, it occurs to me. Is he staying outside in dangerous sunshine to give me time to collect myself? As if I can sort my racing thoughts and ballooning feelings. Or, perhaps he’s communicating with Parnus or his mother. Or maybe he’s drinking in a panoramic sea view, nostalgic yet predictably sad. On the cliffs by his family’s estate, Dusan once told me I should take time to admire such things, especially in an emotional crisis. I feel the same now about his sentiment as I did then, except now- outrage, even violence are in my periphery and barely held in check. He took my son, first here on old earth, then again to Parnus, a galaxy away. Telepathically I reach again for Haff and am met with silent space. Dusan is the gatekeeper to Zehmy, I remind myself, exhaling long and slow as he brings the last of our gear in the cave. He swivels his head, not looking at me, but gaping at our surroundings.

First on a naturally gifted list of Soroka traits isn’t his height nor his intellect. Dusan’s unadulterated genealogy gave the Soroka family freedom, and ultimately-power. As the earth’s ozone dissipated in the 21st century, humans with minimal melanin or “caucasians”, lost any ability to withstand sunlight. Fortunately, most humans are multiracial in the 22nd century. Unfortunately for my family, very few people wanted to partner with pale humans who could only go outdoors after dusk. Being considered comparatively ugly didn’t help, either. Rubbing a hand over my prickly scalp usually soothes me, but it doesn’t now as I imagine what I must look like-a desensitized killer/Culler with a shorn head, frightened eyes and exhausted face. Not exactly new earth material. The thought makes me giggle despite a sea of unknowns.

“You ALL stay here. Together, for months”, Dusan sounds incredulous as he peers into an inky vastness where we store food and culling supplies. His deep voice is swallowed by the cave, one of its gifts when over two hundred people are inside. Pausing in his assessment, he waits expectantly for me to inform him. Pride wells in my chest. “This is home for citizens of Eudaimonia during the summer, when sunlight and temperatures render our containers and labs uninhabitable”, I report without hesitation. It’s my first time being here both in springtime and without Haff. Damp chill emanating from rock walls gives me goosebumps. After baking in mud a short while ago, I relish the shivers on my still-wet limbs. Dusan notices, opens one of his packs, and pulls out something shimmery. “Your mother asked me to bring you this. We have a successful Eri silkworm farm on Parnus”, he says, holding out an iridescent robe with buttons refashioned from my grandmother’s silver rosette earrings. It is otherworldly, truly exquisite. And entirely useless.

“Unbelievable”, I shake my head. “She leaves me for dead then sends a gift. Keep it safe for me, Dusan. As I trust you’ve kept Zehmy?” Nothing else matters to me, certainly not another piece of finery, even if it does pique my curiosity. It’s been a while since I felt hurt by her cursory affection, although the buttons are an unusual touch. She needs me for something, I think.

“Don’t be foolish”, Dusan tells me with a hint of arrogance and a shake of the garment. “That sun will dry your clothing in minutes”. If it was anyone else, I’d think he was trying to see me naked. Unflinching, I disrobe quickly before I can think about it, and shake my damp clothes back at him. “Good point. Here. Trade you”. Holding out my well-worn garments in one hand, I’m sure to brush his skin with my fingers as we swap. Dusan’s eyes narrow with a quick intake of breath. I pretend not to notice as our nanotattoos bounce electromagnetic energy between us, but I can feel the cocktail of hormones released from both my adrenals and pituitary. This is why Haff told me to run. If I feel it, then so does he.

“Did you do something to Haff, Dusan?”, I ask, failing to sound unaffected even to my own ears. 

Dusan looks at me and tilts his braided head thoughtfully, his chest rising slowly in a deep breath as if he’s gathering himself.

“Haff violated our betrothal contract AGAIN, Scotia. I commuted his sentence when you were pregnant, and lost respect for it”. Back in complete control of himself, Dusan informs me, “Haff is being culled per my order, just and fitting for a man who doesn’t control himself. Don’t worry- I added slow draining despite his despicable dishonesty. You’ll get to say goodbye, BRIEFLY”, he stresses, “before we leave for Parnus. He can make up for the protein packs we’re taking with us on launch”.

My breath is coming faster as he reveals why I cannot feel Haff telepathically, our rare connection broken by a femoral port emptying his life’s blood. Oh my sky and stars, oh no, what did I do? My mother warned me I would cost Haff everything.

“How could you, Dusan? You usurp my authority! You said you appreciated him keeping me alive”, I hate the sound of my voice pleading. Damn the sunlight! for the millionth time.

While I cannot get to Haff, Dusan can. “You don’t want that between us. We have a chance, you and I. Isn’t living here on this dying planet more than enough punishment? Please”. My chest hurts at the thought of costing Haff his life.

Dusan looks skyward, unable to meet my eyes as he says hurriedly, “Haff was assigned the Culler position, Scotia. You weren’t even supposed to be here, remember? Once we are away from here we can parse out everything that’s happened. I promise. Right now I need you to trust me, at least a little”, his eyes are earnest as he finally makes himself look into my eyes, takes my hand in one of his, and lets out a loud sigh as if it genuinely pains him to drop truth on me like a two-ton boulder. Peering into their depths, I know, but I don’t accept it.

“Nooo”, my head automatically swivels back and forth with denial, “that can’t be true, Dusan … that day, I was wrecked when I saw the boosters splash down. you were gone, Zehmy was gone… the holo they left for us at the Health Center had my name next to Culler. Everyone saw it, along with Haff’s as BC Department Head. He told me I could change the process, make it more humane”. My memory is blurred by disassociation after discovering I was left behind and sentenced to be a despised Culler. Haff is more interesting in growing food than babies, it’s true. No successful embryonic nursery graduations in years, despite gene manipulations and cell displacement trials, were explained away. Even if I had known, I might not have done anything about it. “You’re sure?” He nods and shakes my hand a little.

My identity, everything I’d trained for from childhood as a “Parnus Pioneer” ended the moment I’d became culler, the weight of it almost too much… if not for Haff. With Zehmy also gone, it felt like my heart froze; I became numb. Haffney was all I had left. My knees buckle a little remembering. I’m unsure what was worse- hatred directed toward me those first few months or intense longing for my child and a life other than one on the edge of extinction. Haff wouldn’t do that to me. Except he did? Silence is obnoxiously loud in the cave until drops of condensation from meters above us hit the cave’s sandy floor in a soft staccato. I’m barely holding back tears. “Why would he do that? It makes no sense”, I insist.

“I guess he knew you would do what needed to be done, you know-for everyone’s survival. Everyone knows that about you, that you care enough to do the right thing, especially when it’s hard. Now you know Haffney’s character. He takes the easy path, Scotia”, Dusan’s usual flat tone is tinged with anger, “We can unravel the whole mess while we’re traveling. We need to get off this planet. Eudaimonia can continue without your help. We’ve always known the ending, Sco”. His dark eyes boring into me makes me uncomfortable, my understanding crucial to him for some weird reason. Sensing my need for space, he says, “I’ll be right back”.

Silk kisses my ankles and the tops of my feet as I put more distance between us. The buttery fabric reminds me of the old privileged Scotia, the one who did not fathom the complete interconnectedness of all things in an ecosystem. Drips of condensation fall like rain around the edge of a large round opening in the mountain hundreds of feet above me slowly filling with light during the sun’s descent and making this area glow for hours. A pair of flowering cumquat trees stand on the far side of the light circle, grown to maturity just as Garvey predicted when we left the cave last fall. Letting copper-colored water sprinkling steadily from above splash on my outstretched scraped-up hand for a second, I decide this is what I need. After laying the silk robe on the cave floor, I close my eyes and let the warm liquid trickle over my face and mix with my tears.

I can sense him a moment before Dusan pulls me to him and holds me there while I sob into the center of his chest until I run out of tears. “I’m sorry. None of this would’ve happened if my mother hadn’t interfered”, he says.

Although I thoroughly understand culling legal code, including penalties for interference, I can’t let Haff be culled. If I leave while he continues here I can imagine him laughing despite everything, remembering the way he finds the funny and buoys a group when despair rolls in, the way he considers everyone’s collective welfare. Pushing away from him yet allowing his arms to remain around my shoulders, I plead, “They need Haff to survive, especially with me leaving the planet”.

Dusan bends down, wipes my tears with his thumbs, then relents, “This is the 2nd time I’ve broken the law for you, Scotia Braun”. Picking up my robe he cautions, “You’re turning a little pink”.

“Let me get dry quick”. I move into the center where there is only diffuse sunlight and spin slowly with my arms out, relishing the soft warm light, then move them up and down like wings, enjoying his concerned gaze. Dancing out of the circle of light I don the robe he’s offering for the 2nd time. “Thank you”, I tell him. “Now tell me more about Zehmy, please Dusan. Did he tolerate the travel ok? What did you tell him about me”?

Withdrawing a silver square micro-projector from a barely perceptible slit in his skinsuit, he smiles at me for the first time since he’s been back. My heart skips as Zehmy’s wide smile and long-lashed golden eyes light up the cave wall closest to us. A boy’s face, a bit flushed from excitement, droplets of sweat above his upper lip, surprises me. He’s grown more than I imagined.

“I told him it was a mistake that you weren’t on the ship. He argues with me about it, says he knows I’m lying. He wouldn’t even acknowledge my mother before she expired”, Dusan casually declares. At my shocked expression he says, “Several mature leaders experienced issues adjusting to the climate on Parnus. Their sacrifices were honored”.

“Mommy, I love you. Why can’t I see her, Dusan”? My heart hurts and I hold my breath waiting for the answer. Dusan isn’t in the frame, just Zehmy with the same curly russet hair, much shorter than the wild mane I remember. A pink sky and what looks like a flying star zooms back and forth behind Zehmy and leaves trails of rippling clear matter. Liquid, maybe?

“Mommy is on Old Earth, Zehmy, remember? Daddy is going to show her this holo when I go there and ask her to return to Parnus with me”, Dusan replies to Zehmy.

Zehmy’s eyes swim with tears as he peers earnestly at the holographic recorder. ”Mommy, please come to Parnus and live with me and Daddy. I need you. I need you to explain to the mean people why I know things, Mommy. How I know the shortcut from Parnus to old earth, like how you just know, Mommy. Like the dice game, Mommy!”, he yells the last part then disappears abruptly as the recording ends.

Yes, I do remember the two of us making a game of predicting the throw of the dice, and Zehmy never guessing wrong on a single throw. Now I understand he wasn’t guessing.

“Our son needs us, and Parnus needs YOU. My plans for us haven’t changed”. Dusan closes the space between us in two long strides and clasps my face between his hands this time, forcing me to look at him. “Creating a society on Parnus is our destiny”, he declares as if he’s willing it into my being, his eyes projecting a surprising desire. We’d been intimate before he left for Parnus, but not sexually. Perhaps our partnership has more potential than it did almost two years ago.

“What did Zehmy mean by ‘a shortcut’ and what is your timeline”?

Beaming now, “Tonight is Aphelion”, is his chipper reply, referring to when old earth is farthest from the sun and, by relation, deadly solar flares and storms. “And Zehmy asked me if I was taking the shortcut in the Galactic Center, Sco. I’ve communicated back to Parnus that he is correct. Returning on the same energetic stream puts us with our son on Parnus in 32 or 33 old earth days”.

“If you halt Haff’s culling, there’s no need for me to say ‘good bye’. Can we leave from here? Oh, wait! I forgot there’s one thing I want to take with me-my great-grandma’s teapot”.

Dusan strolls over to his gear and removes a box with wild red and pink vining roses. “I’m happy this is all you needed’. What he means is easily understood. “I can RC the capsules to the shoreline below. Shouldn’t take more than a couple hours to prepare for launch”.

Trust is built over time, I tell myself. I ask Dusan if he can speak loudly when he suspends Haff’s culling so I can hear him just inside the cave’s entrance, and am not surprised when he tells my former security force that Haff is now Culler. Preeky will make a good partner. Honestly, I think Haff may be relieved to be rid of my otherness. Forgiving him frees me to leave Eudaimonia.

“Thank you for coming to get me”, I tell Dusan. Placing my hands on his cheeks, eyes communicating a depth of feeling mere words can’t relay, gratitude takes hold. I’ll never again take the future for granted.