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In the fashion of holes.

Updated: May 14, 2018

A fairy tale for adults about the epic journey of a women turning 40. Introducing the philosophy of the chakra system by explaining how each chakra affects us on a physical, emotional and spiritual level.


This was an extremely important meeting. The Sisters had not met since the day the child had left the comfy warm womb of her mother and took her first breath. The child screamed in the way that all new arrivals scream and the noise was accepted and cherished by the mother who held her dearly to her heart.


The child was now in her 30s and had lived a life like many others. She had felt excitement and joy. She had challenged herself to try new things, she had met interesting people and was in a loving partnership. However, equally balanced on the other end of the gigantic weighing scale was a feeling of being overwhelmed with pain and anxiety.


All her life the child now in her 30s had carried around a heavy dark hole. In her younger years she used the dark hole as a blanket to shield herself when the atmosphere was cold. In her teenage years she had adapted it to fit her head like a huge beret protecting her mind from outside influences. In her later years the heavy hole became a huge bag in which to collect all her belongings, memories and thoughts that she had sourced and collected like antiques throughout the years.


She carried the bag on her right shoulder and as the bag became heavier her right shoulder began to stoup. One day the girl realised that she was totally and completely off balance for her shoulder now stooped to her knees. She could no longer carry the bag but dragged it along the floor like a greedy goblin trying to transport a chest of stolen gold too heavy to move.


The bag had become a ball and chain tied to her and it was at this very moment the child now in her 30s decided to empty the contents onto the ground. She took the strap off her shoulder and dropped the bag with delight and relief.


The objects inside the bag began to shift, clutter and bang and then very slowly the bag began to unravel and straighten itself up. It began to extend and grow higher and higher.


The scene was very much like that story read to children at bed time. You know the one. It describes a beanstalk that grew into the sky. Well, it was just like that. In this tale, the bag kept growing until it totally blocked out the sun and there was complete darkness.


After the moon had risen 3 times the bag finally stop moving and to absolute amazement it had grown 38 times the size of the 30 year old child. The child walked around the horrific structure and with all her might she tried to topple the huge monstrosity over but it would not budge. She kicked and punched it before slumping onto the ground with tears and frustration.


Another week went past with a multitude of attempts to release the objects from the horrific structure, but this was to no avail. In a moment of clarity the child in her 30s thought “if I cannot topple this horrific structure over then I will have to delve inside and free the objects one by one”.


She knew that there was no shop on this earth that would have a ladder the size that she needed, so she decided to make the ladder herself. For another year she hammered and clunked and measured and sawed till finally the ladder reached the top.

With anticipation she stood on the rim of the horrific sculpture and just like an Olympic diver she poised herself and took a deep breath and took a jump in to the unknown. To her amazement not a single one of the objects to broke her fall.


The hole was empty. As she plummeted into the abyss she kicked, shouted and screamed. After an hour or so, she was too weak to continue resisting so she just let herself fall. To keep herself from despair she thought of Alice in Wonderland and hoped to high heaven that there was a bottle at the bottom saying DRINK ME.


After what seemed like an eternity and a day, the child now in her 30s finally touched base. She stood up dusted herself off and checked herself for broken bones. She was livid with herself and petrified at the prospect of spending eternity in a dark hole that she had created herself. (She decided to search for that drink!)


Suddenly from the corner of her eye she began to notice an array of shimmering bright colours and she prayed to unknown that the light was the dew of that ice cold bottle she so desperately thirsted for. She made her way towards the sparkle she and realised that all that was there were eight different coloured jewels. The jewels reminded her of a bracelet her mother had made for her when she was a baby.


The bracelet had over time become too small. The string had long deteriorated and the clasp was broken. The child in her 30s had outgrown the bracelet about the age of 7 or 8 and had chucked the beads in the bottom of an old disused jewellery box.


She held the stones in her hand and began reminiscing on forgotten times and place. With nothing else to do in the place in which she found herself she took out her rusty old needle and decided to bead the bracelet back together.


She started with the beautiful red jasper ….. Root.


Root had been preparing for this moment her whole life. This was a very special occasion and simply because you never know what is going to happen she had purchased her outfit many years ago.


The garment was hand made with natural woollen fibres. The style was a true classic and had undoubtedly withstood the test of time. She did not want to appear "mumsy" but she knew some of her sisters would turn up with flirty and outrageous costumes.


Root had decided to go for a beautiful red classic skirt suit. It was not "show- offie" or to revealing. The jacket fitted nicely on her hips and hid the slight bulge of her belly. The skirt sat just above her pale bony legs and her varicose veins looked like they had been drawn on in true 1950s fashion. She knew that she had a long walk through the forest so she wore comfy sandals on her wide feet. Most people would be embarrassed if they owned a pair of feet like Roots, but she was proud of them. They were indeed her best quality and if she ever encountered any trouble then her feet would run and climb and jump to safety.


Although there were a number of short cuts Root entered the forest at the gate that said ENTER as there was absolutely no need to stray from the path. She was not some stupid little girl in red walking alone through the forest. She was a women who knew how to fight off the advances of wolves.


Night was falling so Root decided to make camp for the night. She was a survivor and knew all the tricks of the wilderness. She gathered fire wood, lit the fire, laid down on the leaves and as she rejoiced in the smell of the damp earthy undertones of mud and moss she contemplated.


As the flames turned to dust and the lonely call before dawn approached she began to feel ill. Her lower back began to cease and her bowels began to loose. She was afraid.


With her palms on the earth, Root began to sing and chant to the sound of ER…..


Concerned over her self-preservation.


The child now in her 30s searched out for the second jewel to add to her bracelet, she found a beautiful orange carnelian …… Sacral.


Sacral had just got out of bed after a night of passion with a gentleman she had met a few hours before. Like Hansel and Gretel they were greedy with sugar and spice and had had a night of sucking, kissing and romping.


The experience had come to an end about 4 o’clock in the morning when they had shut eyes and laid in each other’s arms. It was now 2 in the afternoon and Sacral had awoken to a note on her pillow saying "CALL ME".


She bounced out of bed and decided to paint an abstract landscape using body parts as inspiration. The pelvis was a mountain, the vertebra resembled trees, the bladder was a waterfall and fluids resembled streams and rivers.


She was just adding the prostate when she felt the presence of the Child who was now in her 30s. She threw her paintbrush into the air and cartwheeled across the room to her wardrobe.


Sacral was not one to hang up her clothes so they were all piled on top of each other at the bottom of the cupboard. Sacral opened the doors and just like an ostrich ploughed her head into clothes. The silk scarfs, sateen dresses, and beautiful lingerie tumbled further on to the floor.


She turned to see the mess that she had made and decided it resembled a rather remarkable patch work blanket. This was enough justification for leaving the room as it was until she would return.


In just a few moments Sacral was wearing a stunning silk orange strapless bikini that clung and exaggerated every last curve of her hour shaped figure. She got out her jewelled comb and untangled her long orange hair. She decided not to wear shoes but finished of her outfit by plumbing up her lips so that they were wet and glossy.


It was night time as Sacral set out on her expedition and she knew it was going to be a long journey for she had to cross the deep water and follow the tides to the streams. She somersaulted into the abyss and like a log in the ocean she allowed herself to float, trusting that the water would take her where she needed to be.


Sacral knew that she was near to her destination when she arrived at the stone spiral steps. She stood there for a moment and became aware of a beautiful orange flower, its petals were magnificent and resembled juicy peaches. She reached down to smell the flowers flavour and as she did this she spotted her reflection in a single dew drop.


In that one strike between the tick of a clock she was consumed with guilt, she felt diseased and emotional. She curled up into a ball the size of a tangerine. She began to sing and chant to the sound of OO …with the heavy realisation that she had lost all self -gratification.


The child now in her 30s searched out for the third jewel to add to her bracelet, she found a beautiful yellow sapphire …… Solar.


Solar Plexus, who had shortened her name to Sola, had been up since the crack of dawn and had already been for her morning jog. It was now 8.15am and she was chairing her weekly board meeting whilst sipping on the latest health fad.


The drink was a concoction which included the gall bladder of one small spotted frog, the pancreas of a goat and the small intestines of a five winged dragon. It had been advertised as a 'delicious drink to support the digestive system'.


Sola’s ego would not allow her to admit that the drink tasted like crap and she was praying for any distraction to discard it. So when the call came she jumped off her chair, threw the drink in the bin and shoved her staff team out through the glass doors.


The staff team left quickly as they did not want to feel the heat of her fiery tongue. She pulled down the blinds so that she could be alone without any interruption, picked up her phone and pressed speed dial. The other end of the phone answered in a polite chirpy voice “Vitality and Purpose personal shopper, how can I help?”...


At the shop, Sola had tried on a variety of outfits however she couldn’t find one that represented her greatness. She desperately needed an outfit that would show her sisters all of her achievements


It had to be an outfit that would make her stand out from the rest, an outfit that was designed for a queen. She looked into the mirror and asked which outfit made her the “fairest of them all? But when there was no answer Sola began to whale out in such a spontaneous fit of rage that she almost combustive.


She stormed out of the Vitality and Purpose department store sticking her middle finger up at the chirpy shop assistant. When she had finally managed to calm down she decided that she would make her own outfit.


Sola had never even sewn a button or a hem in her life, but she thought about how rewarding it would be to tell her sisters that she was both designer and maker of her own outfit.


Sola created a beautiful yellow tailored pinstriped suit with a zip cuff jacket and bootleg trousers. She wanted to stand taller than the rest so she starched the collar so it would stand up like flames. She finished the effect by wearing eight inch high stilettos. The outfit did not have the desired effect for when she left her house she was feeling nervous.


Sacral stood at the lift and as she pressed the reflective elevator button she got a glimpse of herself. She stood there shaking, she bowled over and vomited into the bin beside her


As she wiped the sweat from her forehead she covered her eyes, hugged her body and began to sing and chat to the sound of OH… with the new learned insight that she had lost her self- definition.


The child now in her 30s searched out for the fourth jewel to add to her bracelet, she found a beautiful green Emerald ........ Heart.


Heart was at the graveyard gently placing her famous pink roses on the unattended graves. She felt such grief for the forgotten souls and wanted them to know that their stories had not been misplaced in the transcript of time.


Heart was an active citizen and a pillar of the community. Every year at the village fete she would make her delicious heart and mushroom pie to donate to the pie eating completion.


The pie eaters who entered the competition secretly knew that if they received Hearts pie then they were onto a winner. Not only did it taste fantastic but unlike the others it was edible.


Over the years this had caused some tension with the other pie makers so this year Heart decided that she would only concentrate on running the youth choir.


For years she had taught the children how to sing at the top of their lungs, each year they would meet and practice every week and then perform their melodies on the fetes stage on the Sunday afternoon at precisely 4pm.


When the performance was about to begin Heart would stand with her upper torso as straight as a poker, take a deep breath and then start to wave her arms about in the most erratic and chaotic fashion. At first when people saw the sight of her conducting they would point and laugh, but over the years Heart had learnt to forgive their cruelty.


It had been such a strange morning the weather was being indecisive, sunshine one minute and rain clouds the next. It was this type of damp weather that flirted with her asthma. Heart looked up into the air and saw the raven and she knew right away that the child, who was now in her 30s, needed her help.


Back at the cottage she went upstairs to find the old wicker basket that stored last season’s summer clothes and the green linen outfit that she had put away for special occasions.


She had worn the green linen outfit to every celebration over the last

eight years and seen it as a symbol of good luck. She put on the long flowing skirt, carefully buttoned the shirt and tide her curly hair back with a pink Alice band.


She decided to use her friends bicycle for the journey. It was a beautiful pink bike with a huge bell, ribbons which hung from the handle bars and in the middle a lovely basket.


As Heart blissfully rode along the path she became aware of the children playing up ahead, she reached for the bell to signal for them to get out of the way but the children did not hear the ding in time.


Heart pulled hard on the breaks and was thrown high into the air, she bounced from cloud to cloud like Tinkle Bell until she finally floated gently back down to the ground. As she went to pick up her friends beautiful pink bike with green ribbons she froze, for in the bells echo she became aware that she had lost her self-acceptance. She lowered her head and began to sing and chant in the sound of AHH.


The child now in her 30s searched out for the fifth jewel to add to her bracelet, she found a beautiful pink rose quartz ..... Thymus.


Thymus had been working as a humanitarian aid worker in the darkest war that the underworld had encountered in years. She felt a deep sense of responsibility to help those suffering in the stench of a chessboard that had been created by mankind. Her duties and responsibility had helped Thymus become immune to the sights of the broken bones, shredded spleens and the pieces that got left behind on the battlefield to rot and decay.


To help the wounded soldiers, Thymus would use a special liquid that burnt easily. The liquid had been used throughout the years to turn dense ingredients into a gooey cream. Thymus used it as medicine to prevent patients from feeling pain during the excruciating operations on the battlefield. Whilst stitching up the suffering Thymus often plotted revengeful schemes against the shadows in armour that caused such destruction. In fact her own body wore its own stiffened armour in the form of crippling arthritis.


Thymus became aware that the child, now in her 30s, needed her through the strange asthmatic wheezing of the wind. She stood up with intent and purpose and made her way back to the camp.


She had not stepped foot in the camp for 8 days which actually meant that she had not washed her clothes or showered for 192 long hours, she was dirty. Her first task at hand was to make her body feel less contaminated. She stood under the dripping tap, thankful for every drop of water that trickled down the arcs of her body leaving what resembled tyre tracks between the cleansed and the dirt.


Thymus cherished every drop of water and after an eternity she began to feel clean and pure. She had nothing special to wear but a least her field uniform was clean. She managed to spruce up the outfit with a beautiful necklace which was made from the marrow of a mountain goat.


Thymus started to climb the Jaggered Mountain. The mountain had many paths and Thymus knew that it didn’t really matter which route she chose. They would all eventually lead to the same place. She hopped and jumped from rock to rock until she accidentally misjudged her footing and landed in a puddle. As the splash hit her forehead she fell to her knees and began to sing and chant to the sound of HUL…shocked with the realisation that she had lost all self-responsibility.


The child now in her 30s searched out for the sixth jewel to add to her bracelet, she found a beautiful Blue Turquoise .... Throat.


Throat had wanted to be a singer. She had been born with such a sweet angelic voice but the screams and tantrums of her childhood where she often spoke ones truth had made many a foe whom would tell her to just shut up.


She had become a public speaker on the themes of creativity and storytelling and although an expert in her field she often felt like a liar. She could not express her intentions and intellect clearly so she walked about with a very stiff upper torso.


Her neck was so stiff that she would have to twist her whole body around just to look to one side. Throat made up for this strange appearance with the beauty of her teeth, her teeth were made from pure diamonds and when she smiled she could dazzle the whole room.


That afternoon Throat had been booked to deliver a conference called Signs, Shapes and Symbols of the Common Mouth, a brief history of folklore, tradition and language.


The conference had sold out within 20mins and over 2000 people, elves, fairies and giants were due to attend with the intention of debate and discussion on the pass wrong doing and edited accounts of their ancestral histories.


Throat had woken that morning with a thumping headache and after visiting the doctor she found out that she had laryngitis. She laid in bed nursing her weak body with honey and lemon and without realising had dosed off into the crack between time, it was there when she heard the screams of the child, who was now in her 30s.


Throat awoke to the noise from the garden. The carnival had started and the drum beat from the giants marching band hurt her delicate ears. She jumped out of bed and fetched her blue cordial evening dress from her wardrobe.


The dress had a creative flare that only the few courageous fashion seekers would dare to ware. The dress draped and coiled and swayed. It resembled a peacock with feathers on show for all to see and admire. It communicated clearly that the wearer was of the “creative sort.”


Throat tiptoed along the extensive corridors of the castle where the conference was being held and entered the Library of Pure Truth and sneaked out through the hidden door shaped like a book case. Her tip toes became steps and her steps became strides until she was running towards the ether.


Once Throat had reach the ether (wherever that was?) she got down on her knees and began to sing to the elements. She sang for truthiness in thought, speech and action. Tears started to fall as she sang and chanted to the sound of EYE… she tried so hard to sing loudly but realised she could not locate her self-expression.


The child now in her 30s searched out for the seventh jewel to add to her bracelet, she found a beautiful Blue Lapis .... Brow.


Brow was and illusionist,. She had started her career by being sawed in half, escaping from chains and disappearing before the very eyes of the audience.


She had travelled with the gipsy people from town to town and met people on the way that would pass silver through her hand for the exchange of knowledge and fortune.


Her clear seeing was attributed to the third eye in the middle of her forehead. It was a bright blue eye that loved to people watch (especially when her other two eyes had dosed off).


Although it was indeed strange to have three eyes, Brow was grateful. As a teenager her face had suffered with severe acne and the scares were still present on her face. People were so mesmerised by the beautiful blue eye in the middle of her forehead that they never noticed her scarred face. Brow often thought that her third eye was in fact her best illusion.


At school Brow was nicked named Thirdly. This was a double-untontre. The obvious association was her extra eye, but on the darker side it was a dig to highlight her dyslexia. Her two close friends would mock her saying that in life she would always be third. Her coping mechanism was to take copious amounts of LSD “an illusion to escape illusions” was her motto, often muttered between sniffs, smokes and the clashing of beer tankers.


It had been a thankful end to a long day and Brow sat in the coffee shop smoking a shisha. She had smoked for so long that she felt diseased and this often gave her nightmares.


As she watched the sun set over the Arabian ocean her insight and intuition took her to the aching call of her sisters’ melodies. She began having one of her seizures and if she did not awaken soon she was sure she would have a stroke.


She knew right then that this was the calling of the child, who was now in her 30’s. She stood up and in her most remarkable fashion walked slowly down the sandy beach and disappeared. All that was known of her presence was the footprints being left in the sand and the singing and chanting coming from a ghostly presence to the sound of AYE… in this moment Brow paused, closed her three eyes and realised she had lost her self- reflection.


The child now in her 30s searched out for the eighth jewel to add to her bracelet, she found a beautiful violet amethyst ....... Crown.


Crown had been born with her skull shaped like a lotus flower that sat on her head like a beautiful purple tiara. Her long hair was made from tiny delicate diamonds and hung from her lotus shaped head to sweep the ground like a broom. Throughout her life people had called her wise beyond her years. Her skeletal frame was tall beyond measurement and she resembled that of an oak tree watching over the world with wisdom elegance and grace. The skin that wrap her slender muscles was soft, smooth and as pale a pearl that shimmered like the reflection of the moon.


As a baby Crown had lived in a smoggy, noisy and smelly city that never slept. She would try to meditate through her migraines and depression but had realised at the age of 3 months that her sensitivity to the urban environment would never suffice. Crown was aware that she had a very important quest and at the age of three months she climbed out of her cot and took her first steps on the earth, she began walking and kept walking until she reached the ocean. Crown was seeking a spiritual connection and whist standing on the edge of the ocean she spotted the perfect place to sit and retreat until the day of the call.


In the middle of the ocean Crown had discovered a rock that could only be seen between the cycles of the tides. She took a deep breath and with her wide stride she began to walk through ocean bed. Crown climbed onto the rock, crossed her legs and opened her palms content with the knowledge that she would sit in this stance for the next 30 odd years.


Over the next 30 years or so the tide would come and go which meant half of Crowns life was spent under the water and the other half was spent in the choices made by the elements of the weather. Crowns diamond hair grew and spread throughout the water and created the shimmers and sparkles that today mesmerise so many of humankind. .

Crown had sat and mediated for such a long time that she had fallen into a deep coma and had not realised that she had become attached to the rock that had become her home. The coral and the weeds had entwined themselves around her and the only part of her that had not turned to stone was her head shaped like a purple lotus.


The call of the child who was now in her 30s had been whaling and howling around Crowns head for so long it was like a recurring dream that Crown could not wake out of. Slowly Crown began to become aware of the call and also of the fact that she had become wedged to the rock she had sat on for all these years, she tried to twist and contort her body but she was truly embedded, stuck and weighted to the dark depths of the ocean. Crown began to sing out to the tune of EE.


The child in her 30s had now strung the last bead on the bracelet and slipped it onto her right arm. ...WAKE UP...


The bracelet dazzled and sparkled beyond beauty and the dark environment that the child in her 30s had been trapped in began to disperse. Light began to travel in the 5 directions of the suns and was connected by a rainbow of colours.


The child in her 30s became aware that she had been curled up in the foetus position and began to unroll her body. She stretched out her muscles and as she stretched she felt taller than she had ever felt before, her feet seemed to be connecting with the core of the earth and yet her head somehow reach the clouds.


The child gazed down her body, from her breasts to her belly, to her knees, to her feet and realised that she was standing there in her true fashion.


Naked as the day she was born.


The child, who was now in her 30s, rejoiced in the way that all new arrivals rejoice and the noise was accepted and cherished by everyone she met but mostly it was accepted by the child who was now in her 30s.


This child was last seen spinning around, swinging her hips, tapping her feet whilst chanting and singing "there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home".


Shortly after this story the child who was then in her 30s, celebrated her 40th birthday and she is pleased to be able to tell you that that she is no longer a child in her 30s but a very happy women in her 40s.


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