Toads, June 2013

June 2013

Charlie* says that Portland is exactly that--- the portal land. There is a vortex spinning above us here, suspended and ready to slurp up those who are ready. Which happens to be quite a few people.

In a warmly lit home built from cedar wood in an undisclosed location that a close-in Portlander like myself would only call “deep", about thirty people gather. Some know each another, most do not. There are many ages and ethnicities, but I am most definitely the youngest, something which is not unfamiliar to me. The setting reminds me most comfortably of the community I was part of as a child in the Ozarks of Missouri. The boundaries of the home are forgiving but will not tolerate mischief. A few people I know through Charlie are there. Once I greet them and the other familiar faces, I am more comfortable. Everyone is either standing awkwardly or sitting quietly in what little seating has been provided. I rebelliously sit on the floor, on a beautiful exotic rug. I cross my legs in lotus position, sit straight, and look about. A somewhat organized pile of discarded shoes litter the front door’s landing. Low, handmade wooden tables are covered with business cards and pamphlets. I see Charlie's and Maya's*, along with other names that I recognize but do not yet know. The lighting in here is soft and the aroma of a home cooked meal drifts from the kitchen. There is definitely garlic, onion and thyme. Monotone voices from the slowly growing mass of people hums in the air but I find it comforting. Somehow I am completely at peace and I feel very confident about what is to come.

All sorts are here, and they are all nervous, but I sense that it is a healthy anxiety. Most people are eager to meet and I willingly introduce myself to people who look like they would rather be approached than approach. After only ten minutes or so, over ten people join me on the floor and somehow we formed a circle. I was proud of my decision to sit on the floor and felt a strong desire to guide those who seemed in need. I made eye contact and conversation.

            Soon a man dressed in white linen, drifts down a set of stairs, his hands clasped in prayer in front of his chest. His smile is like a newborn that awakes after his first nap and gazes upon his parents’ strange faces. “Almost ready!” he exclaims in a voice I did not expect. “There was some technical difficulties but the wait is now over.”

He is loud and has high energy but his obviously large ego does not send up a red flag for me. He was a stout man, maybe only slightly taller than my petite self, and was obviously a Burner. His skin was sun drenched like Charlie's and the top of his head was smooth.

As he stepped aside and invited to everyone to ascend the staircase, I knew that we all felt a new door open just for us. The path was lit with orange light ropes and reminded me of the winding lights that guide the way through the campgrounds at Fair. The ascension was steep and led to a large room littered with cushions. 

Author's Note

Note: this is very unfinished. It's only the beginning of my experience.

**Names are changed either dramatically or hardly at all.

Reviews

[Gary Dale Burns]

This piece has an event, a meeting of people at its center. The mention of a "portal" becomes realized in the ascension of stairs from one floor to the next. The character moves from one plane to another and does so surrounded by a community of a spectrum of ages, with herself toward the younger end. The presence of guidance in white linen is very effective - I'm intrigued, concerned, humored, all at once.

I was told that Portland was the place where one learns all of life's hardest lessons, and perhaps the centrifugal motion of this gyre that spins above Portland is symbolic of the struggle that the people of that city have. I'd like to meet a few of the people your character sits down with, especially since she wants to be an axle of calm for the group of ten that are gathered on the floor. What are their inner/outer struggles that need some expression before entering the room full of cushions? A lot of potential there.