4 Traveling Mages & A Car Called Being
aka, a pretty good time that you can have too!
We had a very important package to deliver. The name of that package: Vera Franco. You see, in just a few days, a few hours south of São Paulo, two back-to-back trainings were going to take place that would change the world. But as everybody knows, world-changing trainings don’t just run themselves. They require a certain something at the helm. In the case of the Brazil trainings, that certain something was the wild, outrageous set of Bright Principles that walks around calling itself Vera Franco. She was our precious cargo. It was Brazil… or BUST!!!!
As we sped along in a car called Being, Hannah Hirsh womanning the wheel, the one-and-only Nina Chausow (seriously google it, there is only one Nina Chausow on the entire planet) handling the AC and the nuts, me in the back with the cargo, it soon became apparent that the sleeping and the dark forces of the world had colluded to block our venture. Was it the Unmaker? The Chandrian? Some other strained obstructor we had yet to name?
We knew not. But this much was clear: The mayonnaise-traffic was thickening into marshmallow. Google Maps was fickler than usual. The bottleneck that was supposedly an automobile accident turned out to be nothing more than a single cop car and a single cop on the side of the freeway, jabbing at a phone. We weren’t blind. We ain’t sleepers. We knew the signs. Something was afoot.
It was at this time that we chose to invoke and unite the unusual powers we’d been cultivating for years. “Swords out,” I said. I remembered this trick from a few years ago when bad internet threatened to cancel an online Rage Club session. Someone said, “Swords out,” and suddenly—the internet problems cleared up. Perhaps the same would work with traffic.
I turned to Vera Franco. “Are you committed to being on this plane?” A firm nod sealed the deal.
The Universe has secrets, some of which it wants to part with. But in order for it to part with its secrets, the Universe requires a listener and attention-payer. This is one of Nina Chausow’s areas of expertise. Former PI, current and forever sleuth of the Archetypal, Nina began whispering to the traffic, engaging with that behemoth like a gentle, clear tamer with a lion. We didn’t get to hear exactly what she whispered to the traffic. We don’t know the precise words, the negotiations she made. What was immediately apparent is that she’d teased out a key that would help us get around some of the less reasonable moments with grace and ease. That is to say, we were witnessing sights on par with another ancient miracle-worker and the Red Sea.
And then Hannah Hirsh… For years, I’ve been hearing Hannah say “get over yourself” to people and populations who probably would be better off doing just that. But this “get over yourself” is more than just words. It’s a near spiritual orientation. And I didn’t realize I’d been wondering about the application of that orientation until I saw its application in action. To a stop sign, Hannah could be heard muttering “Interesting place for a stop sign” as she glided us safely through it without pausing or harming a soul or interfering with any other subtle cosmic workings. Medians and shoulders, even one situated directly in front of a highway police station, off limits to the average person, became… How do I say it? Let me try this: Anything that could possibly be conceived as a thruway—even areas with clear signage saying, “NOT A THRUWAY”—became under Hannah’s eye-rolling-get-over-yourself steerage an obvious, useable thruway in service of the one aim: Deliver the cargo on time.
During our more rule-bendy moments, a carefully listening passerby might have heard the lilting incantation of four charming voices repeating “nothing to see here, nothing to see here.”
Mind you, there was nothing nefarious in our abracadabra’ing. We weren’t enacting some superior, grey-hat magic on a mass we regarded as sneer-worthy plebs. That ain’t our look. No. We were reclaiming the near-forgotten art of treading quick through molasses. As I looked at the many driving wherever on a Sunday, what I mostly felt was sad because I did not see any other crews also with their Swords up, also whispering to the traffic, also discovering the potential of “get over yourself,” also discovering what commitment can do. Maybe they were up to other things. But having the kind of cherishable time we were having as a team negotiating with forces of the world—I did not see that so much when I looked out my window. And I wish I had. And I think any of us would’ve rejoiced to look over and see another crew of pirate-witch-wizards, alive, together, engaged. And maybe we could’ve rolled down the window. And maybe we could’ve exchanged tricks. And that would’ve been a fine way to have a Sunday. And making that kind of Sunday possible requires more people who know that such a Sunday is possible. And spreading that news takes something. And one part of that something for us was getting our wild cargo to the airport on time to go train up the next potential car crew south of São Paulo…
You can imagine our faces on discovering we were early. You can imagine our laughter when 7 minutes later, Vera Franco called to tell us that they’d corralled her into the priority line and she’d sped right on through security. Now there’d be time for a sandwich. Phew!
So, what’s the lesson? I don’t know. I had an unforgettable drive. I want you to know that that’s possible for you, too.
Master of Swords signing off—