Alysse Aallyn

Category: #Gender

  • The Missing Bride – a mystery by Alysse Aallyn

    Chapter Ten – Is Lord Verne In the Epstein Files? 

    Cycling through museums of dream –

    Christine, threatened forever by

    Her hideous Phantom, Daphne

    Sprouting as a laurel tree;

    Philomela without her tongue.

    Was that what Verne meant by

    Classics? In the night’s dark heart 

    I woke and thought I saw him standing there or

    Was it Mirabel – reaching out through a gold-framed

    Mirror to beckon me closer

    Or warn me away?

    Somehow I became convinced

    Mirabel was dead – murdered by

    Lord Verne – he must have done it because

    I was his perfect alibi, covering up

    His appearance in the Epstein files

    Of life, where old roués

    Tarnish up the young.

    If I stayed here

    I’d be Mirabel forever – so I

    Fled through shattered French windows where

    Sheer white curtains blew across my face

    Impeding me; supplicating

    Me to dance, daring my embrace.

    Where was I? Was this the ruined castle

    Where the wraiths were tourists

    Gazing at destruction paid for

    With the lifeblood of the country?

    The stone terrace beneath my feet

    Was littered with the broken glass

    Of Piper Heidseck bottles – picked my way

    Between the broken statues – horny Pan 

    Whose face had split, cupids gaping with

    Their fractured mouths, Vulcan lobbing

    Stone pineapples down the mossy garden steps.

    Pursued by something

    Too disgusting to confront

    I saw his shadow –

    A leering man with antlers.

    At least the distant view

    Was comforting – pond encircling island

    Ornamented by gazebo – forests crowned 

    By snowy mountains. 

    Surely he could not pursue me there.

    Something amiss about this lighting –

    Bleached too white – bad weather or

    Apocalypse; eclipse of the sun or

    The end of the world?  I revert to

    The “helpless bystander” dilemma of childhood –

    This was too horrible: I forced myself awake. 

    Dreams multiplied enigmas –

    I could not abandon Mirabel

    Prance on home

    And declare she’d

    “Done it yet again.”

    Either she was in danger or

    I was. And all my life

    I’d been preparing for this moment.

    In the mirror I saw

    Richenda Marshott complete with morning mouth –

    Sunlight exacerbating a hangover

    Not from overdrinking but

    From over-dreaming.

    Verne’s door was closed –

    It would be awkward if I’d killed him

    But I refused to check. Men

    Should not be so dangerous.

    I took control of the empty kitchen.

    Some bad person – probably me –

    Left out the cake – stiff and

    Ruined now – only cardboard sugar

    Which I guess it’s always been.

     Tossed it,

    Put the last espresso in the

    Microwave and

    Opened cabinets sadly.

    Here’s finally a place where guests could

    Unpack their clothes –

    Empty, empty, empty.

    The front door unclicked –

    I jumped so hard

    I banged my head.

    “Ow!”

    And Verne cried

    “Breakfast!”

    I hadn’t killed him after all. Seems 

    I’m the one who overslept.

    “I haven’t slept so well in ages. What was

    That stuff?” he 

    Eyed my mug with disapproval.

    “You can’t drink yesterday’s.”

    I’ve heard it said their lordships

    Can’t comprehend the hoi polloi.

    “I brought everything.” He went on,

    Impossibly cheerful

    Considering yesterday.

    Waffles, eggs, fruit.

    Coffee. No milk?

    “It’s OK,” I said to his 

    Self-recriminating face

    “I noticed you have ice cream.”

    Vanilla works as well or

    Even better.

    “Mirabel never drank milk,” said Verne.

    “She says it makes cowbones

    And soy makes man-boobs.”

    She would say that.

    Charming Mirabel.

    I could one-up and list the

    Plant-based milks I willingly absorb but –

     “Ice cream is better.”

    Hard to one-up when one is

    Drooling. Visibly. 

  • The Missing Bride – a mystery by Alysse Aallyn

    Chapter 7 – Bride & Seek

    In the elevator Verne requested: 

    “Game face only.” I was bemused.

    Which game is that?

    “Bride and Seek” – the ancient

    Party game – requires someone 

    Getting locked in an airtight trunk

    Does not end well, as I recall.

    We decanted on the penthouse floor.

    Battle of the Rich Men, I thought,

    Who knew that’s how my

    Weekend would devolve?

     But this man’s apartment seemed really his

    As opposed to Verne’s

    Antiseptic rented rooms – 

    Each gaudy piece carefully curated, 

    Trucked in from God knows where

     Art deco friezes,

    Naked ebony statues –

    Bows & arrows –

    Lots of brass and torchieres.

    And that’s just the hall.

     Leather paneled, copper nailed door 

    Opened before we even rang the bell and 

    A handsome, shorter, older man

    Stood before us in bathrobe and slippers.

    Mirabel with this guy?

    What is the use of beauty

    If this is all it gets you

    Verne’s at least good-looking. 

    “Why, Verne,” he said in a voice even I

    Recognized as jovially false: 

    “What brings you at this hour?

    Please come in.” Bizarre foreign accent

    I couldn’t place.

    He took my hand, mauling it like many

    An unbalanced teacher at my Special School

    for Introducing Adolescents to Adult Subjects

    Long Before They’re Ready.

    I am practiced at closing my mind

    Against these guys

    Even as they woo me.

     “You can only be Mirabel’s lost sister.”

    “That’s just it,” I said, “It’s Mirabel who’s lost, not me.”

    “I’m Ravi Kruptupian,” said the man, 

    Refusing to let go.

    Subtle power struggle – your manners make no

    Purchase here –

    My first flicker of

    Actual fear – alone in the world

    With two strange men who wore

    Compulsive need like ad logos.

    I can’t fault Mirabel for deciding 

     Better disappear than marry amongst this ilk but

    Where does that leave ME?

     “Welcome to my enchanted forest,”

    Said the man in the bathrobe.

    “Please leave your shoes by the door.”

    He slid the bolt as

    We came through.

     “I know it’s late,” Verne began,

    Ravi said, “Never care about the time. Drink?

    Pot of coffee?”

    Kruptupian’s inner rooms did not reassure.

    Dark, hand-carved, certainly fake

    Tree branches projected from the walls

    Displaying riots of glittering glass objects.

    Coffee appeared from

    A wall recess. Why not? 

    Spiked mine with hot milk and brown lump sugar.

    “Where exactly did Mirabel SAY she was going?”

    Asked this man as if he and Mirabel’d never met.

    “Aren’t you supposed to be

    Honeymooning?”

    Was that a tinge of glee I heard?

    I’m sure Verne heard it too.

    He might go off on any moment –

    I didn’t think he was coping well –

    Game face was NOT in evidence.

    We sat in an upholstered leather booth

    Highbacked –

    Plundered from some café.

    “She didn’t say,” said Verne.

     “She was joining us for dinner,”

    I told this strange new man.

    “I just arrived on the six o’clock train.”

    “Sisters can be difficult,” said Ravi.

    “Or so I’ve heard.

    Your relationship was good?”

    Wow! Mirabel wasn’t great at telling folks

    The basic facts about her family.

    Was he implying

    Mirabel left because of ME?

    Two Marshott girls never breathe at once?

    I decided not to get into it.

    “She seemed fine when we tried on clothes together,”

    I began to feel hopped up on coffee.

    Quit that stuff

    Before the shaking hands. I

    Banged my mug upon his shiny table.

    “I heard you knew her well.”

    Let him think she’d squealed –

    I smiled in a way that forecloses

    Further questions and

    He blinked indulgently.

    “I haven’t heard a word 

    Since her going away party.”

    Ripple of surprise from Verne.

     “Going-away party” unknown to groom?

    Ravi kept smiling. 

    He had a lot of teeth.

    “Maybe she needs a honeymoon alone

    I heartily recommend 

    Fall in love with your SELF first.”

    We did not believe him for a minute –

    He was needling Verne.

    This bad conversation somehow seemed

    To be endlessly getting worse.

    “She certainly had the means –

     I gave her a generous parting gift

    Then found out she helped herself to more.”

    His face hardened, steely-eyed.

    “I didn’t know until she tried to fence my stones.”

    “Mirabel stole from you?”  spluttered Verne.

    “Who knows what went through her mind,” 

    Ravi spread his hands in apology.

    “She may have been confused about my gift.

    No harm done.

    Jacobson returned the stones.”

    What did all this mean? Don’t worry about Mirabel,

    She’s just a little thief?

    Disappearing from humiliation, exposure & shame?

    I felt surge of prosecutorial passion:

    Was it possible to get to the bottom of this?

    Never had “game face” seemed so

    Dangerous and unappealing.

    “She worked for you?”

    I tried to clarify.

     “She was my scout. She brought me – 

    Things I might want to buy.”

    Verne’s boil burst.

    “She never for anything with me!”

    He sounded ready for a fight

    But defending his money, his charm or

    My sister?

    Ravi skirted the issue

    With old-world politesse.

    “Women keep some expenses private.”

    That’s true as dirt;

    My mother calls it “mad money”.

    A hundred dollars tucked inside

    Your bra. Verne would never best this man

     Except in hotness and

    Eligibility. Someone

    Needed to tell him he was “enough”;

    Probably that was Mirabel’s job

    And she got tired of doing it.

    I was not the one to explain to him.

    I pursued investigation.

    “Did she call you?”

    Ravi pulled out his phone. 

    Flicked through content. “I don’t see it.”

    “She took a car to the wilds of Brooklyn,”

    Verne asserted, coming back up

    Like a Bobo doll.

    “Know anything about that?”

    He was overly combative – this

    Wouldn’t get us anywhere.

    “What address?” At least

    Ravi seemed interested.

    Luckily Verne recalled it.

    Ravi remained impassive.

    “I’ve got no information.”

    Verne stood up. This felt bad.

    “Sure she isn’t hiding here? Using some old key?”

    Ravi rose too. 

    Short but still impressive.

    “She never had a key. She couldn’t enter

     Without my knowing. I’d rather

    My house guests weren’t disturbed.”

    Verne veered away. Fisticuffs avoided.

    Ravi walked us  – miming helpfulness

    Towards the door.

    “I suggest missing persons.

    Get police involved.”

    He seemed to know this would insult Verne further

    And it did but Verne shook it off, 

    A punch-drunk fighter.

    “What good are they?”

    Ravi pushed his luck.

    “Troll the basics – hospitals and morgues.”

    Verne’s face melted into gargoyle. 

    Turning to me Ravi backtracked –

    “Likely bridal nerves?  The engagement was

    So sudden.”

    “We’ve been together forever!”

    Verne barked. I took his arm.

    “Sorry if we’ve inconvenienced you.”

    Somehow the door got opened.

    “No problem. Let me know if she turns up.”

    I shoehorned Verne outside.

    “You’ll tell us if she calls?”

    “If that’s what Mirabel wants.”

    I got the door shut before Verne

    Attacked him.

    “I hate that guy! He’s so disgusting!

    How I wish we hadn’t come!”

    I thought he might weep.

    The elevator opened without a

    Summons. This whole place seemed

    Intent on ridding itself of us.

    But Verne resisted. “I bet she’s in there.”

    He looked back longingly.

    “I bet she’s not.” I muscled him

    Into the elevator.

     “How do you know?”

    He looked at me as if I had

    Magic powers.

    “He accused Mirabel of stealing!”

    Verne blew that off.

    “Mirabel’s light-fingered.

    He steals from the world, she steals from him.”

    He didn’t seem to realize 

    This philosophy could apply to him.

    Why marry someone you can’t trust?

    One more thing I still don’t get

    About Adult World.

    I reassured him.

    “She burned that bridge. I could tell.”

    Verne taxed me with how I knew –

    Sneering, “Woman’s intuition?”

    Since he couldn’t trust Mirabel

    How could he trust me?

    Needing me made him hate me.

    I would have to manage him 

    Like a parent. Like poor

    Mirabel herself. Luckily

    He relaxed into the car without more fuss.

    I said, humoresque – “I’m psychic.”

    I say that to my folks because

    They’re just so clueless about

    Others’ vital signs –

    How else explain the obvious? But

    Verne’s whole face changed. He became

    Pathetically excited.

    “Of course!” he said.

    “The sister thing! It creates

    A Psychic link. I have no siblings. 

    Tell me what you feel?

    Where’d she go?”

    The driver also needed to know:

    Where to?

    We put him on pause while

    I equivocated. 

     “I haven’t seen her in so long,

    The connection’s fogged.”

    The only thing I knew for sure was

    Mirabel must hate Ravi just like I did.

    “I need to get to know her again.”

    “Tell me where to go,” said Verne.

    Then he invoked the magic words.

    “I’ll do anything.”

  • The Missing Bride – a mystery by Alysse Aallyn

    Chapter 3 – The Lost Sister

    I realized with horror that

    I was going to cry.

    Seemed I’d never expected

    To actually see her

    She was a scam  – a myth –

    Like so many ones

    She pleasured to perpetrate

     On our poor parents.

    “Darling!” Threw her skinny arms out

    And kissed the air.

    “You escaped!

    You’re all grown up!”

    She was shorter than me now –

    A tiny person-

    How I laughed.

    Laughed with relief – 

    Suddenly I was initiated into

    Her exclusive club

    Two of us against the world

    Superiority & sisterhood.

    She’d always known – none better

    How difficult parents are.

    They didn’t need me to protect them

    Running my own modest scams

    To engineer breathing room

    Took all the help I could get.

    Could it be time for Mirabel and me 

    To grow up together?

    I’d have a New York City sister –

    Married to a lord 

    Providing escape anytime.

    Mirabel tossed Verne a burning look –

    “Get us drinks?”

    And dragged me –

    Literally DRAGGED me –

    Into a double-doored bedroom where she

    Swept me down upon the white flokati rug

    And gazed deeply in my eyes.

    I felt a bit of a hostage at that point

    To tell you the truth.

    She seemed more desperate for ME –

    A nobody fourteen year old –

    Than I was for her.

    How could this be Mirabel?

     So much smaller than my memory –

    Disappearing before my eyes in fact,

    Running away

    As she had seemed to do 

    The whole of my existence –

    Shoulders folding together

    Over her knees –

    Dress size diminishing

    Smaller, ever smaller.

    How could this tiny thing

    Ever strut a catwalk?

    Blondness was history

    She was a redhead now.

    She caught me staring at her scarred

    Upper lip and covered it

    With a gesture I recalled

    As if moving her hand fast enough

    I wouldn’t see it. “Too many

    Piercings gone haywire,” she explained.

    Apologizing to me

    For the ruin

    Of her beauty.

    Something rattled at our door – Mirabel called –

    “We’re naked!”

    Pulled me into giggles –

    “Leave it outside!”

    She covered my mouth and signaled with 

    Humongous eyes –

    Crawling to the door she –

    Peeked out low –

    Pulled in a

    Champagne bucket and a pair of flutes.

    My face must have showed

    Surprise at his exclusion; but

    She said: “Grooms get in the WAY 

    Of weddings! No one wants them!”

    She lifted an unsteady

    Rock-wearing hand to toast –

    “Men! You know! They want to

    Decide everything but weddings are the

    Bride’s-” She gasped and gagged 

    As if from desert thirst – as if

    She’d never had such wine.

    “You can’t think what pleasure it is

    Finally getting rid of him – too much

    Togetherness destroys

    The hardiest relationship.”

    I sipped sedately, even though

    The brew frothed my sinus

    Parked burning foam

    Behind my eyes.

    How COULD this be Mirabel?

    The way she looked at me –

    Something stank of 

    Imposture and deceit.

    I just can’t say –

    I’m far too new –

    It’s just too weird.

    She was my sister and yet not.

    She leaned too close to

     Touch my hair.

    “They should have named you

    Maribel so we’d be twins.”

    The door opened and Verne stood over us

    Looked reproving as

    Mirabel fell away.

    But he was mild enough 

    Laying dress bags on the bed.

    He winked and

    Then was gone

    Door slightly left ajar –

    Pointedly, I thought –

    Mirabel closed it with her foot,

    Called, “See you at dinner!”

    I felt sorry for the poor groom –

    Then we heard the outer door slam and

    Mirabel unzipped bags briskly after

    Topping off her glass with

    Vodka from a bottle by the bed.

    “Bad champagne,” she excused herself,

    “In Europe, babies drink this stuff.”

    I studied the bottle –

    Beau Joie Brut Special Cuvée –

    “Brute” champagne 

    Sharpened me like

    Winter air when you can

    See farther, fly further

    Or think that you can.

    Mirabel offered her bottle.

    “No thanks.”

    And drained her tulip glass

    And spoke my words.

    ”You’ve changed,” she commented.

    Did I drink vodka at eight years old?

    I said, “So have you.”

    “My hair hated being blonde.”

     “Is he really a lord?”

    Mirabel rolled her eyes.

    “Unfortunately.” At my surprise she added –

    “It’s a cruel trick if

     You can’t do anything you want.”

    Shrugged.

    “At least the restaurants like it.”

    “And you’ll be –“

    “Lady Verne.”

    Unexcited at the prospect.

    Opposite of what

    Old Mirabel would have thought

    She followed the doings & undoings of

    European princelings in 

    Vogue magazine.

    I probed deeper.

    “You just met?”

    “God no, we’ve been together FOREVER –

    And only now we tie the knot. But you!”

    She spun me all around.

    “You’re so tall! And thin!”

    I found myself apologizing.

    “I can’t stop eating –

    “I must grow so fast because I eat

    Whatever I can find.”

     “After the wedding,”

    Mirabel promised

    “We’ll do a purge.”

    Sounds like a great honeymoon

    I thought but didn’t say.

    She was not making out a

    Great campaign for aristocracy &

    Marriage.

    “Think you’d fit a four?”

    The dress she flourished was pale gold,

    A fairytale gown with an endlessly flounced

     Puffy skirt. My gasp 

    Relaxed her. And she smiled.

    Most beautiful dress I’d ever seen.

    “Let’s find out!” I

    Almost dropped my wineglass in

    Excitement. Rapidly

    Stripped to totally unsightly sports bra

    And cartoon briefs.

    I knew we’d try on clothes

    But I owned no decent lingerie.

    “Can’t wear a bra,” said Mirabel.

    “You don’t need one anyway.

    I’ll cinch you in.”

    She gazed too long at my sad breasts

    A man’s gaze I thought –

    This dress had ribbons for corset strings 

    and Mirabel cinched me tight.

    “There!” The mirror exposed a stranger. 

    I was a new person.

    “A little short, maybe” said Mirabel,

    “With the right shoes…”

    From the closet she threw out flats.

    Disappointing – but –

    Bridesmaid shouldn’t tower over bride! 

    Maid of honor harnessing

    The clashing egos! 

    In weird familial telepathy

    Mirabel said,

    “Princess Richenda

     To the Dark Tower came.

    Just like in the

    Tarot cards.”

    In the mirror

    I admired my nude

    Beribboned back.

     “How about your dress?”

     “You’ve seen it.”

    It was like the breath went out of her.

    She tossed it out – they were identical.

    How could that be?

    Wasn’t that too strange?

    I was gobsmacked –

    Never heard of bride and bridesmaid

    Wearing the same dress –

    Think of the confusing pictures – 

    People getting entirely

    Wrong ideas. 

    Sounds like bad luck-

    Guaranteeing

    The groom will see the gown

    Before they’re hitched

    If you believe in that sort of thing.

    Mirabel’s dress was

    Smaller – size “zero” –

    Competitive,

    Combative Mirabel.

    She knocked my phone right out of my hand –

    “No pictures till the wedding.”

    Her pressured speech rushed on –

    “We’ve got to dress for dinner.”

    She checked her phone.

    “What will you wear?”

    I looked embarrassed at my

    Corduroy skirt

    Discarded like a 

    Shriveled carapace along the floor.

    Mirabel threw open mirrored

    Doors to reveal another bedroom –

    This one stocked with girlish stuff.

    “This room is yours -”

    She told me –

    “He’s staying at The Stanhope.”

    I blushed – I don’t know why

    He’d called it “his” place –

    And these closets were packed

    With Mirabel clothes so

    Where did I fit in?

    My sister unbound my dress –

    I’m not used to

    Clothes that need assistants.

     “You can borrow anything.”

    Tossed out a slinky gown green with

    Scales that matched my eyes

    Still with price tags –

    I’d never had a dress this costly.

    No bra here either –

    I dangerously chose heels that made me

    Six feet tall – but Mirabel

    Didn’t seem to mind –

    She gave me smoky eye, nude mouth and

    Emerald glitter.

    “Verne hates lipstick.”

    But she wore plenty –

    Cherry red to match her dress –

    I felt lucky anyway

    To be transformed.

    Now I was an impostor too.

    “He’s waiting at the Stanhope Bar.”

  • The Missing Bride – a mystery by Alysse Aallyn

    He reached for my bag

    Kissed the top of my forehead –

    Doubtless drinking in

    Sweat, hairspray, foundation;

     “Richenda?”

    Pronouncing it “Richendor”-

    English accents are so cool.

    “Recognized you immediately. You’re

    Just like Mirabel. Maybe it’s 

    The dark glasses – always dodging

    Paparazzi.”

    I felt helpless rapture as if

    He flattered me when all it meant

    Was that Mirabel wanted to hide and yet

    Remain superior in just the way I’d

    Fantasized. I did some obscure

    Need to argue –

    I’m an arguer –

    But taking “compliments”

    Is the better part I know.  

    But usually people said how unalike we were

    Snow White and Rose Red.

    “Er, thanks,” sounds so ungracious and

     “What happened to Mirabel?”

    Downright rude.

    I said it anyway.

    He batted at it briskly.

    “Unavoidably detained.”

    Swept me and bag away from the escalator

    Clogged with ordinaries –

    Down the platform

    “We’ll take the elevator to the car service.”

    Actually, it was a limo.

    The driver rushed to fondle my

    Pathetic flowered bag. Couldn’t parse whether he

    And this mystery man

    Knew each other – casual hire? or

    Permanent position?  Hard to know.

    “You’re the fiancé?” I stuttered out. 

    Worse and worse! Country cousin

    Morphing into bumpkin sister.

    He seemed surprised.

    “So sorry,” he bundled me into the limo,

    “My excuse is wedding nerves. 

    Meet the family!

    Philip Valerian. Everyone calls me 

    Verne.” Now I was 

    Laughing and I couldn’t stop.

    “Mom thought your name was Rupert Golden!”

    Verne didn’t see the amusement. 

    “Must be some other swain,” he huffed.

    Was I

    Getting Mirabel in trouble? 

    Would she thank me?

    What kind of fiancé

    Hates to hear his glamor girl

    Has been around?

    “I guess we all have wedding nerves.”

    He was jumpy,

    Fingers drumming on one knee.

    What a relief to turn away

    Make what brain-meat I could of the street outside.

    Writing my own story

    In which he was smoother, easier,

    Less knotty and complex.

    New York City! Kubla Khan!

    But everything was dark and dingy

    Until Fifth Avenue; there a

    Nonstop parade of glittery storefronts 

    And entitled shoppers

    Promised trousseaux and makeovers and

     Glamorous fun!

    The limo stopped at the dress designer

    Questrina,

    And the driver stepped out of the car.

    A woman rushed through the double doors offering

    two glossy green dress bags in outstretched hands-

    Driver swept them into the trunk and we were off again.

    “Your dresses,” explained Verne.

    My excitement dulled to confusion &

    Disappointment –

    Bait and switch:

    I should have known.

     “I thought Mirabel and I

    Would choose our dresses -“

    “Oh, there’ll be lots for you to do.”

    I’m surprised he didn’t offer a

    Lolly to distract me.

    “Here we are,” said the would-be groom.

    “At my place.”

    A skyscraper on Fifth Avenue? 

    Shiny red doorman

    Rushed the curb. “Your lordship.”

    I thought my ears were ringing.

    Was I hearing right?

    Should have watched that damn Downtown Abbey 

    Or whatever it was called –

    My oldsters begged me to 

    Watch with them

    Instead of proudly sequestering my anime anger.

    Could he really have a title?

    Do they still give those out?

    We were alone for a looooong 43 floor ride.

    Under sallow yellow

    Lighting he seemed

    Depressed – was it me or

    Or approaching Mirabel?

    If only I could read minds!  Then

    Gold enameled door opened and 

    There stood my sister.

  • The Missing Bride – a mystery by Alysse Aallyn

    Why would a bride vanish after pushing her fourteen year old sister into the spotlight?

    Chapter 1 – Surprise Wedding

    I’m Richenda

    Fourteen; I

    Thought myself bored.

    Winter break’s glacial dullness

    Broke just recently –

    Right before dinner, when

    Mom

    Harried as usual 

    Put her head around my door :

    “You won’t believe what has happened!”

  • Purrsiflage – Welcome to Your Daily Cat Zen with Alysse Aallyn

    Feb 21

    When You Wake Up This Morning – You realize, the future weighs on you. Will you be found wanting? 

    This is a Message from the Multiverse – these oppressive anxieties match with universal preoccupations. The planets slow when we don’t acknowledge their power. Let’s make friends with our anxieties. Uncertainly beleaguers us. Is there a way to divine the future? 

    Consult Your Dreams. The Number One question people have about dreams is, Are they prophetic? And the answer is of course YES. We KNOW the “truth’. We fear the truth.  We don’t want to face the truth. We tremble at the continuing “losses” of age because the accretions are so hard to see. But our dreams – and the collective unconscious – KNOW what is going on. We are weaving straw into gold on a daily basis, transmuting the physical into the spiritual. 

    Dreams are also Art, and art – especially good art – is as forcefully mysterious, meaningful and evocative as any living thing. It changes as you change.  It changes depending on how you look at it. 

    If Purrsons Need Truth. Purrsons Must Accept Revelation – Dreams tell us when to be afraid. Dreams warn when something is missing. Dreams uncover all the secrets you have been keeping from yourself.  

    The First Obligation : Purrsons Accept is that the truth will set you free.  The second, is that although it can be terrifying, the truth is necessary. Purrsons spurn the hiding, lying, misrepresentation, that substitutes for truth. 

    Purrsons Can Handle the Truth – We are human, we are imperfect, and we need each other. Humans need governance and law to regulate our natural blindness and selfishness (which some would call original sin) into peaceful accord. The truth also is also that humans who lust only for power will eternally angle to get themselves into positions of control, exclusion and punishment. These impulses must be identified and weeded out and it is courageous, difficult, and really unwelcome work, because we Purrsons, we loving, generous Purrsons also have our own lives to live. 

    Purrson Danger – Our dreams notify us when one of these lethal persons is in our midst. Our maps & models offer a variety of plans for confrontation and escape, and a recipe for courage. At the present time, the Lethal Persons are banding together and hoarding weapons to give themselves even more guarantees for power and opportunities to welcome our despair. 

    Purrson Promise – Jesus said evil will not win. The challenge is to explore what ELSE he said, indeed, what is the message of all the great teachers? People who tell you to hate one another and go to war with one another are agents of evil. The first challenge is to create peace in our own hearts, peace in our own lives, peace in our own homes, and then start developing compassion for those who are not so lucky. 

    When Brutal Tactics and Empty Promises are Exposed as family destroyers, peace destroyers and community destroyers, we see clearly that efforts to spread and share despair come from an innate desire to surmount despair, but also that this has never worked and is not working.  It allows the torturer (and the tortured) only the briefest respites. Only when the goal of increasing world suffering is finally given up can we welcome penitents back into the communion of equality. 

    Models & Mentors – “We write the future moment to moment” – Pema Chodron 

    “The best prophets lead you up to the curtain and leave you to peer through for yourself” – Frank Herbert 

    “The greatest thing a human soul can accomplish in this world is to see that poetry, prophecy & religion all are one”– John Ruskin 

    “The best way to predict the future is to create it”– Abraham Lincoln 

    “Yesterday has gone, tomorrow has not come, let us begin” – Mother Teresa

  • Purrsiflage – The Multiverse Counsels Your Inner Cat – with Alysse Aallyn

    Feb 16

    Let the Multiverse Inform You – Let’s access ALL the gifts of the Purrson, including our cat-like resources of sensitivity and intuition to allow the healing begin. Are you a believer in magic? Do you dream of restoration, of nostalgia, of lost youth?

    Purrsons Believe in Magic – We know cats are magical reasoners. Bravely, through our curiosity, daring and response to universal challenge, we put consistently ourselves in the way of harm, and harm is done to us. We believe in the magic of restoration through transformation. These scars, these wounds, these experiences make us smarter, harder, brighter and more beautiful.

    Understand the Meaning of Your Scars – These are life’s tattoos, which have ennobled you. It is your honor to embody the story of the multiverse with your blood and your bone. But the Purrson’s Brain & Heart combination brings us closest to the soul of God. The mystery of suffering is that it educates us into the greatest mystery of all – that God is willing to suffer with us because Love means holding each other through pain and infusing our strength into another’s sadness.

    Bow To Each Other – Show Respect –  We are each other’s masters, we are each other’s pupils, we are each other’s lovers, siblings and rescuers. Drinking ginger tea from translucent porcelain cups, we lift our cups to each other. We bathe together in steaming pools. I release you as you release me. When darkness falls, we touch one another’s hands before departing. If we can bear it, we brush bodies.

    Purrsons Recognize That We Cannot Diagnose Ourselves – We offer ourselves for the multiverse’s good and so it takes a universe to cure us. Healing and diagnosis alike will come from the welcome lips of another. It has been scientifically proven that even plants respond to kind words. We yearn for the laying on of hands, for the gentle rituals that usher & bless us as we pass from one stage of life to another.

    Purrson Challenge – Paradoxically, no “medicine” can succeed unless we “accept” our healing spiritually. We must feel “worthy” of restoration.  We must ask ourselves: what are we fighting for?  Think deeply. Remember the daring explorations of the boundary-defying Cat. We are not combative and self-punishing but are marking as clearly as we can that life is valuable in all its forms. If you are only as “young” as you feel, are we only as “healthy” as we allow ourselves to be? Forgive yourself. Accept change. Contrary to our fears, it is change that keeps us young.

    Purrson Danger – Healing cannot occur in an atmosphere of self-hatred and self-blame, and many of us are STILL “blaming” ourselves for twists of fate, for unlucky genetic, social and medical outcomes. “Fundamental attribution error” consists of blaming individuals for group effects. We are all caught up in the machinery of temporality. Never forget that we are souls who happen to have bodies, not bodies who happen to have souls.

    Purrson Opportunity – “Restoration” is such a glorious promise that early Christians found themselves ensnared in decades of argument about PHYSICAL resurrection. How would it work in cases of burning and dismemberment, exactly? It is easy to laugh at these painfully ridiculous theological conflicts.  One is reminded of St. Joan of Arc’s response to interrogators at her trial who asked if angels appeared to her naked – “Do you think God cannot afford to clothe angels?” Accept the power accorded to you by the multiverse. Accept the strength of your own mind, the control given by your chosen attitude. Healing is not just possible, it is a life-force in which we can all participate. Jesus came to us as a healer.

    Models & Mentors – “Healing yourself is connected with healing others”

    – Yoko Ono

    “What happens when people open their hearts?  They get better.”

    – Haruki Murakami

    Your body cannot heal without play. Your mind cannot heal without laughter. Your soul cannot heal without joy.” ~ Catherine Rippinger Fenwick

    “We are healed of suffering only if we experience it to the full – Marcel Proust

    “Maybe the dragons in our lives are princesses”

    – Rainer Maria Rilke

  • Purrsiflage – Daily Cat Zen for Your Inner Kitty with Alysse Aallyn

    Feb 8

    The Universe Sounds the Alarm – Time to pay attention to your physical well-being. This doesn’t necessitate a doctor visit, but it could mean you know perfectly well you’re doing something to threaten your health and it’s time to quit that.  Whatever it is.

    But Sometimes a Doctor Visit is Mandated – Do you dream of hospitals? Doctors? Shamen? Magic pills? One of society’s proudest boasts is our seemingly mysterious ability to cure illness, or at least palliate its effects. Your dreams say you yearn for healing, and something in you recognizes you need help.

    Do You Trust Your Doctor? Maybe it’s spiritual healing that’s required. Try a naturopath, acupuncture, massage therapy – you are searching for that instinctively helpful healer. Revisit all our advice on managing gurus (See WISDOM) – they must not be greedy and must meaningfully demonstrate they have your best interests at heart. You should not become their sex toy or support them in an extravagant lifestyle. Seek references from friends. Anyone attempting to isolate you and wall you off from information is not your friend.

    The Purrson Path Is Exhausting.  Anyone daring enough to redirect entropy suffers wear and tear. We need constant support. No shame – it’s part of the calling. Our hearts are involved, and they can race too much.

    What Makes a Purrson’s Heart Race? – Anyone developing their own personal lifemap is going to get lost frequently. It’s a wilderness out there. How can we find the right path?  How can we develop the confidence to choose the “right diagnosis” for what ails us? When should we request a “second” or “third” opinion?  How can we stay on the “right” course, or even assess the “rightness” of any course, considering all our past mistakes?

    Purrsons Need “Heart Strengthening.” Listen to your heart. Get out your Training Journal and start making notes. What questions do we wish to ask? Who do we want to be? Where are we trying to go?

    Purrson Danger – Can we tell the difference between a “fortifying” or a “harming” path? TV pharmaceutical ads list grisly side effects for pills tackling the vaguest malaise. Who can overlook these threats? Perhaps the ultimate “danger” lies in ignoring the warnings our “dis-ease” gives. What does “I want to be young again” really mean? We are all mortal. We have just so much time left to plan. To “become”.

    Purrson Opportunity – Some people are more confident following an “experts recommend” course, others adapt and customize as they go. Joy is the moment when planets and moments all click into alignment and we feel we accepted as a beloved child of the universe. Let’s unclog our ears, remove the plank from our vision and simplify our world to recapture the moments of joy experienced in childhood. If a loving, guiding force rescued us over and over again, we can summon the confidence to find several human healers to guide us through the healthcare system.

    Models & Mentors –  “Hugging is good medicine”

    – Karen Salmansohn

    “Medicine is the art of amusing the patient while nature cures the disease” – Voltaire

    “Medicines cure diseases, but only doctors can cure patients” – C.J. Jung

    “Medicine cures doubt as well as disease” – Karl Marx

    “The arts are as essential to everyone’s lives as clean food and fresh air”

    – Renee Phillips

  • Purrsiflage – Today’s Zen for Your Inner Kitty with Alysse Aallyn

    Feb 7

    The Stars Agree – You are suffering from an entanglement. An ensnarement in which you are sadly complicit. You don’t think you can escape, so you don’t try. You are afraid that the benefits of your slavery outweigh the joy of freedom. But the imprisonment you do so much to conceal is slowly strangling you – to death.

    Do you fear abandonment?  Have you always been afraid of being alone? In ou Purrson Universal Horoscope, the Clinging Vine archetype reminds us of all of the unpleasant aspects of needing others’ constant support to function.  A clinging vine can’t stand up by itself, it needs an immoveable shoulder to fasten upon. Whose power are you increasing while yours wilts away?

    Americans cultivate the fantasy of independence and self-determination. It’s just too threatening to imagine what might happen if the wall we’ve been covertly clinging to, suddenly comes down.

    Purrsons Require Freedom of Action – We must be dependent on society for basic functions. At what point does mutual dependency become constrictive? What is your supposedly stalwart support dependent upon?  Why have you become locked into a position of support for someone else?

    Who Benefits? Is the cry of the detective when solving a crime – and trust the Universe – your imprisonment is a crime. Look around you. Who’s fat and happy and smiling all the time? Who’s lecturing others about how to knuckle under, a thing they themselves would never do?

    Purrsons Must Define Freedom in Their Relationships – Your freedom requires that you learn to recognize and resist parasitic and exploitive relationships where the benefits are unbalanced. 

    Get Smart. No need to over-react now with rage, humiliation and personal offense. Start drawing boundaries. Look behind your wall to see what supports it and to view the wide, wide world outside. Teaching any clinging vine to stand up for itself is doing it a favor.

    No One Stands Alone – The truth is, we’re all in this together. Billionaires, leaders, CEO’s, all actually need much more support than we ordinary beings fending for ourselves. But they always insist on maintaining their freedom of action – for good reason. 

    Don’t make destructive deals involving your future. Purrsons need to Become Immortal so their futures are always a poignant mystery.  We are responsive to the fluttering of butterfly wings as well as the shifting of tectonic plates. Divest yourself of pointless, (usually “inherited”) shame (from the collective unconscious) and simply acknowledge the obvious truth that humans are, for good and ill, social creatures.

    Life Is a Negotiation – Make an experiment of listing your dependencies – bank, mail system, social security? Vehicle, gas availability, fuel affordability? Grocery stores, restaurants, our own two ambulatory feet? Weather, peace, law enforcement?

    Recognize the Fragility of These Systems. Confronting fear creates some ruthlessness but Purrsons will never check their brains at the door. We are strategic, planning, evolving. Our maps will always need an update and a redesign.

    Purrson Challenge – Are we hanging ourselves in loops of dependency? How can we free ourselves? What could we do to claim more psychic and physical independence? While Mormons may require a “year’s worth” of canned goods in the basement, the rest of us recognize the need for an emergency savings account. We are beginning to understand how a threatened supply chain can snap. Begin imagining some future failure scenarios and hash out the possibilities; if the elevator fails, is it possible to take the stairs? Your dream life will reward you with a lessening of existential anxiety.

    Models & Mentors –  “Don’t set yourself on fire to keep other people warm” – Alysse Aallyn

    “Fear is the memory of pain. Addiction is the memory of pleasure. Freedom is beyond both.” – Anonymous

    “Don’t work harder on someone else’s problems than they do” – Ross Rosenberg

    “Enjoy togetherness but allow space. Respect differing beliefs. Accept, don’t try to change each other. Appreciate the other, but always be prepared to survive alone” – Darlene Lancer

  • Purrsiflage – Today’s Zen for Your Inner Cat with Alysse Aallyn

    Feb 4

    The Universe Tells You to Open Your Eyes.  Some shy, unpretentious glory awaits your consideration. It could even be your own Self. 

    Are your dreams so beautiful you regret waking up? Do you imagine possessing great beauty yourself, or do you dream of caressing another’s gorgeous flesh, the dream lover turning those diamond eyes upon you? Do you dream of beautiful places, caverns, waterfalls, chapels –spectacular in their other-worldly glamor? We are all visual learners, attracted to beauty, hypnotized by color. Our relationship to the universe is naturally worshipful.

    Purrsons Don’t Take Time to Appreciate Their Own Beauty – We’re here to preserve and exalt – in our own individualistic ways – the beauty of our natural world. We alert when the planet slips into disharmony, but our love of beauty provides a guide suggesting how our pleasure in harmony can be restored.

    Beauty Is a Guide to Order and an education in symmetry. Wildflowers’ magnificence is numinous. It stands in contrast to the managed world which is constantly attempting to freeze & fetishize the ephemeral, even unto the eternal. Wildflowers’ mysterious evanescence suggests what true beauty is. To become a servant of the seasons is to fill our lives to overflowing with constant pleasure.

    Train Your Purrson Eye – Take joy in your surroundings. Japanese samurai practice flower arranging, for the purpose not only of relaxation, but discernment. As there is “forest bathing”, so there is “flower bathing.” But nature is wide and we are part of it. The Purrson Mandate is vast and all encompassing. Puppies doing anything, kittens doing everything, a dance class of toddlers (all doing the wrong thing), flowers coming up through cement, a piece of brilliant stained glass on a battered utility truck, a book of cave paintings, the swirl in our coffee, old photographs, our beloved’s sleepy morning face – once you start the “collecting” process, you realize beauty is all around you.

    Look in the Mirror – That is what beauty is – those lines, those scars, each one a history. That light behind the eyes is a directing soul, in tune with its guardian angel. Accept yourself. It is necessary for the Purrson to love Self, in order to truly See, much less Love –  others.

    Unclutter Your Soul – Clutter is frustrating for the brain. We all love sharing beautiful pictures, but aggressively, officiously  “beautiful” people have been hogging the space. Be discriminating in the cherished mind-pictures that you gather.  Think of the wildflower. Is fakery the path to joy or depression?

    Purrson Danger – We find ourselves caught in a frenzy of “likes”. A “like” button can have a plethora of meanings, but if we don’t take care, we will begin to “need” likes the way a drunk needs booze. Without them we fear nothingness. Specious approval from strangers – or at least attention – can never fill your heart. The quiet joy of certain pleasure inside your own head as you follow your bliss –– that’s lasting pleasure. Relax, refresh, renew.

    Models & Mentors –  “Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it” – Confucius

    “Beauty is a light in the heart” – Khalil Gibran

    “Beauty begins the moment you decide to be yourself” – Coco Chanel

    “Don’t think of all the misery but the beauty that remains” – Anne Frank

    “Beauty is reality seen with the eyes of love” – Rabindranath Tagore