No, but wait, I do have something to say...
The great thing about realizing that what I have to say, in
my creative and spiritual endeavors, is irrelevant or obscure is the liberation
of it. It takes the pressure off trying to be heard. I can, instead, sit back
and wonder why I want to be heard. I can drop the bad habit of expecting or
needing approval or recognition like I did when I was a child working for that
gold star or the pride of having Mommy tack some ouvre onto the refrigerator
door… It’s okay to fade into the
woodwork, be contemplative, focus on the bigger picture and the grand scheme of
things…
Camael means “sight of God.” This angel is said to not do
much but lurk and watch. For me, he is a boy and his obediently long-suffering
hound dog standing in the desert, patiently biding their time through thick and
thin.
Today's message from Camael (also known as Chamuel and Samael) is the Serenity Prayer:
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.
Excerpt from La Maga from Chapter 7 The Daughter
They parked. Lady Vinca Blanco Sortiar pulled
out a black scrying mirror. She spritzed water on it and turned it toward the
light. She and Professor Camael Magus gazed into it intently. Mirelle leaned in
to study it as well. She had to push up close to Professor Camael to do this.
She smelled his cologne. It was something with vetiver and sandal and
torturously titillating to whiff.
“Are these the girls?” Lady Blanco asked
Mirelle.
The mirror held an image of the inside of
Homunculus Tongue. It was a dingy, rustically wood-paneled place that had
tables scattered around facing a stage.
“That’s Tina—Serpentina—Hamadryad.” Mirelle
pointed to the wiry girl with the dark, pin-straight hair. “That’s Karen.” She
pointed to a more imposing and husky young woman with red hair and ruddy,
freckled features.
“Karenia brevis,” Professor Camael
snickered. The others in the SUV turned quizzical glances at him. The consul's brother, de Lux Magus, shook his head and tapped his brow as if
something very stupid had occurred. He seemed to be even more grave and snobby
than Consul de Lux Sortiar typically was.
“Karen Ea Brevis. You know her?” Mirelle
asked.
“The affectations of young magical persons
never cease to amaze me,” the consul’s older brother quipped.
Lady Blanco was smiling smartly but sort of
compassionately—or maybe it was pathetically. The consul was clucking and
shaking his head. “Does Karen Ea Brevis sound like a magical name to you,
Mirelle?” he asked.
Mirelle simply blinked. It didn’t .She waited for the punch line.
“Karenia
brevis is the name of toxic microscopic algae, the proliferation of which
causes a phenomenon known as Red Tide,” the consul announced. “Do you know what
Red Tide is with your ties to the Creole South—the Gulf Coast of the U S A,
Mirelle?”
Professor Camael and the others gaped at her,
as if hanging on to her answer.
“Red water that kills everything in it and can
kill you if you eat anything fished up out of it and takes your breath away and
makes you wheeze if you stand on the shore near where it settles,” Mirelle
recounted.
“What kind of person would choose such a name
for herself?” the consul asked bitingly.
Lady Blanco told the consul to stop picking on
Mirelle. “So she’s got an adversary now. That’s the spice of life. A little
excitement. Every young sorceress should have an adversary. Otherwise, she
might as well get a job as a radiology technician or something in the Outer
Plane, don’t you think, Leo?”
The consul simply nodded distractedly.
Lady Blanco turned back to Mirelle. “Are you a
maga or a sorceress, Sweetie?
Mirelle told her that she hadn’t decided.
“Yes, why do people have to be one thing or
the other? Why is that, Leo,” Lady Blanco quipped.
The consul didn’t reply.
Lady Blanco grimaced. “He’s ‘distracted,’ Sofia La Maga. Who
knew.” she uttered to Mirelle. 
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