Once upon a time I started to write…
a fantasy…
a story…
a journey…
of awakening...of searching for my own truth...of discovery…
Who am I?
What is real?
Where do I belong?
I asked God, "When will I understand?"
And they answered, Now is the time.
When I started these books back in the early summer of 1988, I was burned out from my dancing and needing another direction. I went to a river in the mountains east of Seattle, taking with me a spiral-bound notebook and my Reflection cards. I started to write, and this is what I wrote:
Chapter 1
Morgana Brejjard stood alone by the river and watched, her gaze reaching across the ever-changing waters. She had returned many times to this place, seeking answers to the restlessness that plagued her soul.
"Today, the Lady must call me today," she whispered, looking out over the misty flow. She felt the inner voices sweep through her awareness—words without words. When would she understand? She had felt this nameless calling all her life, especially as a child, when she believed she could fly. "Only in your dreams," her mother had said. "Not just in my dreams, it was real!" she had cried. Her mother had only frowned and said every child had these dreams. But when had they all forgotten how to fly?
A defiant thought rose in her mind as a tear clouded her sight, "It was real, I did fly," she whispered to the river. From the far bank a bird cried out, as if to agree.
A light morning breeze brushed the chill from the river and she hugged her shawl around her shoulders tighter, remembering the previous day's heat. She turned and began walking along the narrow path towards her secret place under a large cedarjinn tree. It was her favorite hideaway where she stole away as much time as she could from her tedious hold duties: watching the river, listening to the voices, waiting, and dreaming. She loved the stillness of the forest, the endless murmur of the river and the wild creatures there. She remembered fragments of her childhood, the times spent in games of solitude at the river, and the freedom she felt as she skipped beside the dancing waters, exploring pools of scooting fish and calling after the birds that hunted among the shining rocks. She yearned for that freedom again with a passion she kept hidden from everyone she knew. Once, a few summers past, she spent a magical night alone under her tree, but upon her return had been terrified by her father's rage at her night's venture. He threatened to lock her away in one of the dismal upper rooms of the main house if she ever contemplated repeating her foolishness, and would have done so instantly if her mother had not intervened.
Morgana approached the cedarjinn tree. The great evergreen was one of the larger ones on her father's lands, with a trunk nearly twice her arm span and a crown seeming to reach endlessly for the sky. The lower branches hugged the earth on all but the water side where it stood bedded to the rocky bank. It had nearly been washed away several times over the years, for much of its huge roots were exposed, but still it clung to the bank, daring the river to pull it to its doom. In summer the river was low enough so she could sit amongst the largest roots facing the river and not be seen, not even by the wildest animals who came to drink.
Morgana reveled in the brisk air as she settled into her hideaway. The morning's vapor left everything cold and damp, but the day promised to be very warm. She told herself she would come again before the first stars appeared, despite her father keeping a close watch over her as of late. She huddled deeper into her shawl when a breath of wind brought the water's chill around her once more. I should return, she thought to herself as her gaze lowered to follow the glistening waters. Her mother expected her assistance for her sister's betrothal feast, yet defiantly she stayed, even knowing the anger that would be waiting upon her return. The river's call was stronger than her fear.
This is the beginning of The Children of the Anarii, my first book of The Anarii Chronicles: a vast project that was shown to me from my guides, the Anarii, way back in 1988. They told me it would be the biggest thing in my life, far surpassing all my precious years as an amateur then professional Middle Eastern Dancer and costume designer, and that everything prior to these books would never have the impact that creating this fantasy world would make in my life. And yet, is this just a fantasy? Or is it real?
What is your truth, Morgana? How much have you grown and learned since that fateful day by the river? What is your truth, Morgana Elissii? Please share it with me, so that I may share it with all those who search for meaning in their lives, but cannot find it in the normal, mundane, day-to-day existence of our ‘ordinary" world!
Click on the image below to enter the mystical otherworld of The Anarii Chronicles
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