The Fisherman and the Mermaid

’Twas a radiant Summer’s day, perfect for fishing on the West Coast Sea.  Jeremy had rowed his little forest-green boat all the way out of the Greenlandian Bay and into the big blue.  He was alone and he preferred it that way.  Audrey didn’t care how he went about his business, so long as he brought her back a catch.

And so long as he met her in secret to satisfy her other appetite, as well.  Truth be told, Jeremy didn’t know if their meetings really were a secret.  He suspected that his majesty, King James, did know, but didn’t care. 

Or at least, didn’t care enough to actually do anything about it.  Perhaps King James was too busy keeping his unruly daughter, Princess Aurora, in line.  Come the Full Harvest Moon, she would be seven Solar cycles of age; and with each trip around the Sun, Princess Aurora seemed to grow more and more unhinged. 

So, perhaps James was too busy dealing with Princess Aurora.  Or perhaps he was too busy satisfying himself with elven mistresses in the Solar Kingdom.  Or perhaps both.  Rumour had spread that little Aurora Green wasn’t really Audrey’s child, after all; that she was some half-elven bastard.  (Jeremy’s older brother, Raymond, who lived in the Solar Kingdom, often gossiped about King James, King Reinhard and even Emperor Sola in his booze-infused letters to Jeremy.)

Regardless, King James was busy.  And Audrey was lonely.  And she had quite the appetite for Sir Jeremy’s fish. 

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Crocky-the-Crocodile and His Crocodile Smile

There is a Crocodile named Crocky.  Crocky-the-Crocodile is his official title.  Now, speaking ‘factually’, crocodiles do not live on Vancouver Island, or anywhere in Canada for that matter.  (This is aside from the crocodiles held captive in zoos, which is a horrid thing and ought to be made illegal!)

All that said, Crocky-the-Crocodile does live on Vancouver Island, in the swamp just north of my cottage.  If you don’t believe me, why not embark on an expedition and see for yourself?  I have given you the precise coordinates: the swamp north of my cottage.  And if you don’t already know where my cottage is—well, then you never will know—for I am never going to tell someone who needs to ask.

Now, where was I?  Ah, yes… Crocky-the-Crocodile often strolls over from his swamp to my cottage, to join me for tea.  The forest animals are familiar with him now, but this certainly was not always the case.  As I’ve said, Crocky is the only crocodile in all of not just Canada, but North America. 

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I Am Not A Fortune Teller

One of my favourite things in this world is the Tarot. Now, when you think of the Tarot, what images come to mind? A head-scarf-wearing fortune teller, living in an old, horse-drawn caravan, traveling the land, predicting the future of desperate, gullible people? As much as I appreciate the aesthetic of the fortune teller, this really isn’t an accurate representation of the Tarot; nor is it an accurate representation of the practise of divination at large.

First and foremost, I want to make this known: I am not a fortune teller! I have learned, in my near seven years of reading Tarot cards, that trying to predict the future is, honestly, a bit foolish. The future is not set in stone. Even as a practitioner of Astrology, I do not believe we are fated to anything, not Truly.

I do, however, believe that we are always receiving invitations from the Universe, and that tools like Astrology and Tarot can help us become more aware of these invitations. But whether or not we accept said invitations is up to us. Other factors, beyond the notion of ‘destiny’, come into play: both life circumstances and free will.

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