SYBILLA'S JOURNAL
Copyright (c) 1999, Susan K. Putney

August 31, 1998
     Today I changed my name from Sieglinda (after my great aunt from the Old Country) to Sybilla (a truer reflection of my spiritual essence).  Arrived in Hatch, New Mexico today.  But that's not important.  The important thing was, on the bus I met Verity Willhout, an older woman (25 at least), who told me so many things about myself and my spiritual journey.  I feel as though, for the first time in my life, I am wearing my true face.  Also I have been joined by my spirit guide, formerly known as T. Behr, now traveling with me under the name of Theosophilus.  Theosophilus found me in the bus station restroom, and I am not sure whether other people can see him or not.  Most spirit guides are invisible, but Theo, I think, takes a form comprehensible to younger souls.  Verity said she didn't think Theo was a real spiritual guide at all.  I said perhaps she was a little too… how should I put it… venerable to grasp the essence of Theosophilus.
     Hatch is… what can I say.  Elemental.  Here one rests the mind and senses and reattunes one's spirit to the rhythms of the earth, far removed from the hurly-burly of traffic, television, plumbing, pizza…  I have walked in the desert and communed with eagles.  At least, I think they were eagles.  Theo said they were eagles.
     I spoke to the local couturier about a new outfit.  We had a disagreement over fabric--I leaning toward the rust-colored chiffon, she toward a folksy, floral calico.  My taste, of course, prevailed.  It pays to be persistent.  I am planning a side trip to Phoenix before going on to Mississippi.  I hope to persuade someone to take me to Sedona while I am so near.

September 2
     I traveled to Phoenix today along with two doll people (Roberta, a local Hatch girl, and Beth Ann, a traveling doll like myself though not as intelligent), plus two flesh people, plus a very, very, very large four-footed person named Leia, all traveling in a new, palomino-beige pickup truck.  Roberta and I rode in the same compartment together and exchanged ideas.  She is more earthy than I, but plays the French horn, which I think shows that she does have a well developed spiritual dimension (especially since the horn is French).  Roberta is my new best friend.  Beth Ann rode in a separate compartment which was just as well.  She is very bossy and opinionated.  Originally our compartment was in the back of the truck, but then it was moved to the back seat of the truck, which was a little better--except we had to share the seat with Leia, who was even bigger than that 90 pound Akita we hear so much about.  Leia slurps her ice cream very ungracefully.
     We stopped for ice cream at The Thing, a tourist attraction along Interstate 10, where shopping was done but we had to wait in the truck!   At that point it started to rain a bit, and the flesh people brought Beth Ann in from the back of the truck, plus Roberta and I moved to the front seat, where the view was much better.  I had very little wardrobe worthy of the name, and was dressed in a skimpy chiffon thing which I wore while waving to truckers and construction workers, much to Roberta's amusement and Beth Ann's disapproval.  Hmph.  Roberta was in a slip and she waved, too.
     Roberta taught me a song, "On the Road Again," but she didn't know all the words, so I wrote some.
 "On the road again
 Just can't wait to get on the road again
 Going to some exotic place I've never been
 I can't wait to get on the road again!

 Every mile is new,
 Every curve reveals a different view,
 Doesn't really matter where I'm going to,
 I'm on the road cause every mile is new.

 Like a satin band,
 Touching wheels that touch the turning land,
 I can feel the road unfold beneath my hand,
 I'm on the road cause every road is grand!"

     Roberta said they were wonderful lyrics.  Beth Ann said they were unoriginal.  Which puts it all in a nutshell, I think.
     After a while we napped, but one of the flesh people insisted on waking us up for things like our first sight of a saguaro.  I said, let me sleep till we get to Sedona and point out our first energy vortex.  Saguaros, big deal.

September 3
     We all went shopping--flesh people and doll people alike.  Some fabric was found for my new wardrobe in shades of peach, which is most becoming to my skin tone.  Beth Ann got a pet mouse, and Roberta got a pair of shoes.  There is another dog here, a red-haired one whom I do not trust.  I often have trouble with redheads.  Theosophilus says I am more compatible with brunettes such as my dear Roberta.

September 4
     We actually took the bus to Sedona!  The flesh people were busy with something else so we doll folk took the bus and went up on our own.  We had to take Beth Ann because she had the money for the bus fare.  She turned out to be not as obnoxious as I originally thought.  What a glorious day!
     We arrived in late morning, in time for a Walking Book Tour.  We (Roberta and I) had planned to lunch at the famous Restaurant on the Strip, a quaint cowboy-decor establishment on the west side of the Sedona Airstrip, near one of the major energy vortices, refreshing our spiritual essences as well as our bodies.  Beth Ann said no, if we ate at any place but the Teal Green Arches (they don't have that mundane golden sort in Sedona), we wouldn't have enough money for the trip back.  I said, fate will provide.  Beth Ann said she would provide, but she would not provide lunch at the airstrip.  So we lunched at the arches, but later on we did have tea at the strip. The high blue sky had scattered white tufts hovering over us when we went to the jazz revival at Tlaquepaque (I swear that's how it's spelled), but the music was exquisite and Roberta was in ecstasy.  After that we investigated a fascinating chapel built around a waterfall.
     The next thing that happened was very exciting!  We were in the Eye of the Vortex shoppe when we saw The Tapestry.  It was a wonderful medieval-style wall hanging that showed ladies in fluttery garments dancing around a pyramid of flowers.  I was struck and fascinated and practically mesmerized by the tapestry and could only stand and stare at it.  Roberta said, "What are they doing?"
     "Tap dancing," I said.
     "I don't think it's tap dancing," said Beth Ann, "because they're all barefoot."
     "Those people sitting at the edge of the clearing must be doing the tapping," I said, pointing to a shady portion of the image, "but it would have to be tap dancing since this is a tapestry."
     Roberta giggled.  "An example of the tapsichorean arts."
     "Yes, Theo agrees," I replied, and that settled it.  Theo had earlier revealed to me that he was once the shaman of a tribe of grizzly bears.  They named themselves after things they saw in nature and his name had been Many Running Humans.  I had shared this with Roberta and Beth Ann and now they were pretty much convinced of Theo's credentials as a spirit guide.  So if he said it was a picture of tap tancing, and a fine example of the tapsichorean tradition, then that was what it was.
     While we were discussing the tapestry, we met the Large Medium.  I don't know her real name, but that is how I shall always remember her.  I heard this voice behind us say, "And a child shall lead them!" and I turned, and there she was.  Large.  Long gray hair.  Flowing azure robe.  She glided forward, and took my hand.  "I see that you have a long and eventful lifeseam," she told me.
     "Tell me more," I said, knowing that Roberta and Beth Ann would not mind a delay for such a fascinating subject.  To our delight, the Large Medium offered to buy us tea at the Restaurant on the Airstrip!  We sat there for quite some time, sipping our (well, soda pop, actually, though our hostess had Earl Grey tea).  The large medium told us of her many adventures as an astral tour guide, and the time she barely escaped being impregnated by an extraterrestrial in an elevator.  I understand that sort of thing happened to a lot of people in the sixties.
     Since we were so close, the Large Medium drove us partway down the slope to the Airport Mesa Vortex, where many people were, as they say, drawn to climb to the heights, both spiritually and physically.  The Large Medium preferred to remain in the car and make the journey astrally, but we three climbed physically.  Many other people were there, standing around with a bit of a "now what?" look on their faces.
     That was when the urge came over me to tap dance.  Quickly I kicked off my sandals. "Tap for me," I murmured to Roberta and Beth Ann, and I left Theosophilus with them to safeguard them from the whirling energies that were to follow.
     Tap dancing, as one can see on the tapestry, is a matter of flowing from one pretty pose to another, with long pauses in between, to the insistent cadence of tapping rocks.  The wind fluttered my chiffon dress in very much the same way as the flimsy draperies of the ladies in the tapestry.  And to complete the perfection of the moment, an eagle came and danced with me!  A gorgeous rock-red eagle whirled and whirled overhead, sending its wild cry out to echo back from Sedona's enchanted mountaintops.
     While dancing, I was aware of some commotion over by my friends, but was too absorbed in my spiritual journey to respond to it.  Later, after the energy left me, I went back to them and was astonished to see my old friend, Verity Willhout!  I reached for her to give her a hug of greeting, but to my dismay she stepped away from me with a sneer on her face.
     "I've created a monster," was all she said, and she stomped away down the trail, which is a little hard to do, stomping downhill I mean.
     "What was that all about?" I said, as I sat down to quickly strap on my sandals.
     "Well," Roberta began, "she was here with a group of people."
     "She was telling them all about the vortex," Beth Ann added.  "Like she was their guide or something.  She seemed very self-important."
     "She does know a lot about spiritual things," I agreed.
     "But they liked your dancing," Roberta continued.
     "Better than her lecturing," Beth Ann chimed in.
     "They all wanted to touch Theosophilus," said Roberta.
     "And she said Theo was just a discarded toy you found in a bus station restroom and probably full of germs," Beth Ann said, with a grim look.
     "That is where he found me," I said.  "I've never hidden that fact."
     "Of course you haven't!" Beth Ann said.  "And she said the eagle was just a--a--chicken hawk!  That beautiful eagle!"
     "A chicken hawk!" Roberta repeated.  "Oh, I wanted to shake her!"
     Knowing there had to be some misunderstanding, because Verity would never be as mean as they thought she had been, I hurried down the hill, just in time to see the Large Medium standing outside her old car, and Verity roaring away in a minibus, raising a cloud of dust in her wake.  "And may the extraterrestrials never choose you, because by the Seven Circles of Cytorrak, you would be a terrible mama!" the Large Medium called after her in a good operatic soprano, before the dust set her to coughing.  We gathered around and patted her on the back and pretty soon got her calmed down.
     The Large Medium dropped us off on the main highway, and when we turned to wave goodbye to her, she and her old car had vanished!
     The Wolfwalkers Gallery held a barbecue and chamber music/ fiddling contest.  We couldn't stay for much of it, because we had to catch the bus, but I did order some "wearable art," a beautiful pair of shoes that will be sent to me in Mississippi.  And so we went back to Phoenix, tired (and broke!), but satisfied.

September 7.
     We were attacked!  I knew that red dog was not to be trusted.  The flesh people had gone away, the door to our room was slightly ajar.  I myself was in the kitchen checking out the fresh raspberries.  When I heard Roberta and Beth Ann screaming, I was so petrified with apprehension that I was unable to run in and help them.  Poor Beth Ann, the smallest of us, could only dive for cover between the bed and the bedside table, but Roberta, my brave, valiant, dearest friend Roberta, actually fought off the giant beast until the flesh people returned.  Luckily she was not seriously injured, only mussed and bruised and very, very shaken.  We are now very careful to keep the door latched at all times.

September 8.

     Today I met an independent film producer!  I viewed a small-budget movie called "The Wait Between," a piquant blend of humor, drama, and (ahem) more than a little sensuality, a story of a love triangle.  It was interesting, for a first effort.  I was fascinated to chat with Ms. Brown about the problem of support for the arts, and have decided on a career: I shall be a fundraiser for the arts!  Fundraisers for the arts always dress very well and live stimulating lives.  Ms. Brown assured me that if her next movie has a part in it for a doll, I'll be the first one she calls!  Meanwhile I think I had better take some acting lessons, just in case.

September 16
     I'm writing this on the bus to Mississippi.  My last few days in Phoenix were very pleasant but not extremely eventful.  Roberta, Beth Ann and I made friendship bracelets for each other; I'm wearing mine now.  My couturier, who came with me from Hatch, made a traveling outfit for me, a comfortable turquoise jogging suit with a patch on the back showing Oak Creek.  Oak Creek is a village next to Sedona where we stopped at an antique store, and it's also a gorgeous canyon with, I believe, an energy vortex in it.  The patch shows the energy vortex.  The suit doesn't quite match my eyes but was a generous effort nonetheless and I shall not quibble.  The jeweled belt that came with my tap-dancing gown keeps falling apart, but all it takes is a moment and a pair of pliers (or teeth) to put it back together again.  The person who made it wanted to secure it all with crazy clue but after they glued the tube of glue to their finger almost immediately, I said no, thank you, I didn't want the belt with any skin attached.  If it falls apart, that's okay.  I gave my dear Roberta a book of poems, "A Child's Garden of Verses," and to Beth Ann I gave my beloved paints, because I have discovered that she paints better than I do.  A few minutes ago, when we were waiting for the bus, they gave me a lovely pair of gifts.  Roberta hugged me and handed me a crystal she had bought for me in Sedona and kept hidden.  I shall treasure it forever.  Beth Ann produced a long wooden staff, which she'd had some trouble concealing from me, having someone else slip it into the car and carry it into the bus station:  a staff, on which she has carved mystic runes as directed by Theosophilus!  "You'll need a good stout stick in Mississippi, we heard Suenance needs some protection," she said faintly as I hugged the breath out of her.
     I am crying now, for I will miss my beloved friends and don't know when I will see them again, if ever.  Still, life takes some strange twists and turns and I may see them sooner than I think.  Look how soon I saw Verity Willhout again!  And I wonder if I have seen the last of her...
 
 

My first acting job!  I appeared in a fight report in Talahya, one of the arenas of the mighty Duelmasters system (which can be contacted through the "links" page).  This story is written from the viewpoint of the sportscaster.

        Here's what really happened.  It was the night before the fights.  I was out walking.  Pre-fight night in Talahya is generally pretty quiet, since most gladiators don't like to fight hung over.  (The arena healers
won't cure that for you, either.  They just let you suffer.)  No one was about, and a lonely crooning echoed from somewhere out in the lake.  I found my way down a dark alley and met the usual informant to buy the usual information.  (Dark Pantheon was most avoided, Lloth's Way most avoided them, Lynx was most challenged, and Ally Sheedy wears pantyhose under her armor.)  It's a good thing this information is really cheap because I wouldn't give a bashari for it. I think some wino started up this little business to keep himself supplied with Ripple.  Anyway, heading home with this vital data, I was struck by a sudden impulse to go down to the dock and have a conversation with Misty, the lake monster.  Dismissing it as a meaningless whim, I continued homeward.
        Sounds of a struggle caught my attention and I ran into another alley, only to see a trio of ruffians fleeing, and a wounded man slump to the rain-wet bricks.  I knelt beside him, cushioned his head with my arm, and saw that a dagger was sticking out of his chest.  He was still breathing, however.
        "Who did this to you?" I said.
        With a great effort, he gasped out a few words.  I leaned down so that I could hear his faint and fading voice, but to no avail.  I had absolutely no idea what the man said, nor had he any wallet or any other identification on his body.  I carried him to the nearest constable station, which luckily was only two blocks away.  Sometime during that trip, he passed on.
        The constables took the body away to a morgue somewhere.  While I waited to give my statement, I witnessed a disturbing scene.  A man and a woman came in, arguing.  It seemed that the woman (a long-legged blonde with brown eyes) was a professional escort and the man was her business manager.  She claimed she had been robbed, he accused her of stealing and concealing money that was due to him, and they had brought their dispute to the authorities to be settled.  As the woman presented her case to the desk sergeant, her manager took exception to something she said and struck her in the face.  I came up to my feet, and instructed him (as any gentleman would) to step away from the lady immediately, lest he be knocked down by myself and every other right-thinking male in the vicinity.  A detective came out of the back room at that point and told the two people that he would take their statements now.  The woman hastily handed me what I took to be a used handkerchief, but which turned out to be a handkerchief with a message written on it in eyeliner.  Unfortunately, the makeup had smeared all
over the crumpled cloth and the message was unreadable.  I  waited, hoping to speak to the blonde when she came out, but after going in to give my own statement, I inquired at the desk and was told that she'd
left the station while I was speaking with the detective.
        Walking towards my apartment once again, I suddenly spied a child's doll lying on the damp sidewalk.  I picked it up.  It was made of cloth stuffed with wool, and it had red yarn hair and blue painted eyes.  Its dress was mussed and it looked as though it had been stepped on a few times.  "Looks like you've had as unpleasant an evening as I have," I said, walking over to a nearby stoop with the intention of setting the doll next to the door.
        "I certainly have," the doll replied.  "Don't put me there, that's not where I live."
        After an instant, I did a double-take and looked more closely at the doll.  Its mouth was only a smile painted on the cloth face; there was no way it could talk.  With a very uneasy sensation, I glanced around to be sure no one was watching, and then said, "Where DO you live?"
        Naturally, the doll said nothing.  Feeling very silly, I started to place it in the doorway, then decided it might get trampled there, and so I walked on, looking for a better place.
        "I ran away from a cruel home," came the doll's voice.  "There was a dog that wanted to chew me up."
        In the dark street, I raised the doll and peered at the painted face, by moonlight.  I poked at it with my finger.  Painted cotton, nothing more.  I stared at it for a good five minutes but it did not speak.
        "I must be losing my mind," I said, and drew back my arm to hurl the doll away from me.
        "Wait!" it said.  "If you help me, I'll tell you what you want to know!"
        I raised it to my face again, nose to nose.  "What is it that you think I want to know, doll?"
        Silence.  With a sigh, I turned the thing so it was facing away from me, and then its voice replied, "What Misty wanted, what the dying man said, and what the prostitute wrote on the handkerchief."
        "All right.  What manner of help do you want?"
        "Take me home, and take the dog away with you."
        "Is it a very big dog?"
        "To me, it's huge.  That's all I can tell you."
        "All right, I'll do it.  Keep your bargain."
        "Misty wanted to eat you.  The dying man asked you to save him.  The prostitute asked you to save her little sister."
        "Wait a minute, what sister?  Where can I find this sister?"
        "I don't know, the note didn't say."  Then the doll gave me directions to its house, and I had to keep my end of the bargain.
        So, I spent the rest of the night and most of the next day searching Talahya for the long-legged blonde with the brown eyes.  I did watch the fights and write a report, but then I left it at my apartment, where the doll-eating dog ate it.