Keep Calm, Eh? Pt 3

“Hey, can I get a chicken shawarma wrap, with extra garlic sauce and pickled turnips please!”

I love this place, Shawarma Emperor, serves the best Shawarma plate and wrap this side of the Atlantic. Terrible name though, no flair, doesn’t roll off the tongue, and it sounds like three other Shawarma places around the city! Downtown there’s Shawarma King, uptown is Emperor Shawarma, and in the industrial part of town a rinky-dink little food truck called Shawarma Lord rolls around.

“Sola! Why are you here again? I thought you said you would start bringing your lunches with you?!”

There’s Bilal yelling at me for giving him too much of my money again!

“What…when did I say that?” I exaggerate turning my head and eyes away from him as I say it. Any one else would get that I was joking and felt bad about it. Bilal though, he cares so much about everyone he doesn’t let it slide.

“The last time you told me was two days ago, but you also told me that last week, and the week before that, and the week before that, and the—"

“Oh. My. Jeez. Bilal! I was joking! I know what I said, but how can I say no to your garlic sauce!” Give him a little wink and a sly grin. That’s when Bilal can’t meet my eyes, but I see the slightest blush across his face.

“Honestly, I pre-packed my lunch last night, but I woke up late and had to run to make it to work. I was even splashed by some asshole in a truck on my way!” Throw in a bit of a sob story and maybe he’ll stop pestering me and give me some Baklava on the house!

Bilal has come around the counter and seats himself at the table I’m waiting at. He’s a very slight guy, skinny shoulders, slim waist, legs that make skinny jeans look baggy; but his deep brown eyes have these flecks of lighter brown that can look gold in one light and amber in another. Paired with the way he looks at people as if they’re his family and the charmingly goofy smile and you’ve got yourself the best-looking Shawarma man in the city.

“I was wondering what was going on with the way you looked today. From shoulders up you look like a professional ready to take over the concrete jungle. On the other hand, from the chest down it looks like you may have let some poor soul use your outfit as toilet paper…”

He is not a smooth talker!

“Word of advice, Bilal, don’t bring up used toilet paper in a restaurant at lunch time. It doesn’t help with sales!” Laughing at his overly graphic description. “It doesn’t look that bad anyways, maybe more like I was on an exciting archeological dig when I stumbled into quick sand. Yeah! That’s the story I’m going with!”

“If you worked out like the way you imagine, I wouldn’t mind serving you every day. Did you want some Baklava…on the house?”

Yes! I knew it would work; the little softy is so easy to figure out! Is it manipulative? Hell yes, it is, but I come by naturally and wouldn’t even know where to start having a healthy normal relationship. I gladly take the Baklava and the side of Garlic Potatoes he gives me to bring to Leo, again free of charge.

“Tell Leo to come by more often! I’m sick of seeing you, but I would forget about Leo if it wasn’t for the cheesy sign out front his place!”

“I’ll for sure get him to come visit soon, but he’s pretty zombie-ed right now.” I think I’m funny, and that’s what matters right?... right?! “Although, he has always said if you got your liquor license he would be here more than me!”

“I don’t even want to know how much Rye I would need to keep on hand to please that fish!”

I’m stepping out the door laughing and waving bye with the hand I’m carrying the food with. It’s a wave to thank Bilal and his crew, but also a triumphant boast of a successful hunt that will bring me glorious sustenance. Apparently, my drama levels go up when it comes to food!

Walking back to the office I let my mind wander. It’s funny when most people say that they’re just not focused. I focus even more, at least for a moment. Projecting my astral consciousness outside of my physical body so that I’m in two places at once is not a Build but a skill most Magi never develop to being useful. Once I found that I could when I was 14, it would be hard to find me in my physical form.

For the most part the Physical body is on auto pilot. If you leave your body with a strong impression, and simple ideas to follow the physical body just keeps on trucking. I would be in British Columbia while I was doing homework, or visiting Mount Fuji when my body was doing suicides in gym class. Some issues come up when someone has a conversation with the auto-pilot, what I call the physical body when the astral form is gone. Generally, the responses are short and abrupt, which put most people off as it is, but if they ask a question that the Auto-Pilot can’t answer simply than the person is met with a blank stare and no response. What’s happening in that moment is the Auto-Pilot is calling out to the Astral-Form to either come back or to give the answer to it.

I once left my Auto-Pilot in charge of doing my chores around the house, mow the lawn, laundry, all the stuff a 15-year-old wants to do on their Saturday. Ma must have figured it out, because I started getting the hint from the Auto-Pilot I should jump back in control. She had asked it “If God is almighty, could he heat a burrito so hot he himself couldn’t eat it?” Of course, any kind of philosophical or theological discussion is going to shut the Auto-Pilot down; even if the Astral-Form was there I’d probably give a blank stare. Long story short my Astral-Form jumps back into my body… and I’m standing on the roof. Ma had put me on the roof, because she didn’t like the idea of me not doing my own chores. She laughed at me from the ground.

Walking back to the lion’s den I project my Astral-Form at home. First in the kitchen hoping to catch Ma making herself some food. No luck, but I knew that was a good chance since I don’t think she eats normal food anymore. I go through the house from living room, to mudroom, up the stairs to her room, then to mine. No sign of her anywhere; in fact, her shoes and coat are gone from the mudroom. She left the house! A 326-year-old, give or take a few decades, decided to go outside and I have no idea why…

That’s when I feel the Auto-Pilot calling my Astral-Form. Whoosh! Off I go zooming through the air, yanked from my ethereal place in the world. At least that’s what most people think when I tell them what it’s like Astral Projecting. They expect it’s like a movie where the Astral-Form is dragged back over the physical distance between the Auto-Pilot and Astral-Form. It’s actually much more terrifying and simpler.

The Astral-Form and Auto-Pilot aren’t technically in the same space. The Astral plane is like a magic filled alternate reality where there aren’t any individual “things”. It’s a space dictated by whoever is inhabiting that part of the plane, but affected by the minds of the physical world near it. It’s like a live broadcast of an area that I can step into. On certain days certain details change. Ma hasn’t celebrated Valentines day ever in my memory, but February 14th rolls around and on the Astral Plane the house has hearts and cupids every where. I know it’s her desire because the stuff bleeding in from the physical side has a shimmer to it and depending on how the light of the Astral Planes hits it you can tell what is happening.

Physical desires manifest in the Astral Plane with something like a thorn made of light. Hurts to look at because the people manifesting it want it for themselves. Dreams and aspirations appear as a fluctuating aurora since they are the most vivid but most people’s dreams change frequently. Fear is a yellow that if you look too long feels like it starts to swallow you, like most fears if you let them. There are so many different forms peoples’ ideas and emotions can take in this plane that I think I might understand most people’s minds better than their therapists, and I would only charge them half…75 percent what their therapist does!

All in all the time it takes to get back into the physical side is nearly instantaneous. In that instant though, the Astral-Form is bombarded with every base desire of every person around them. If you don’t keep your mind yours you might come out with an urge for violence, or sexually charged, or terrified. It all depends on the minds of the people around the Auto-Pilot when the Astral-Form comes back. This is the biggest reason most Magi stray away from Astral Projection. Growing up with Ma I already know how to deal with absolute insanity.

The physical form focuses and I realize I’m on the roof!

“God damn it Ma!”

“Yeah, what do you want?” She’s sitting down, blanket wrapped around her.

I jump at the voice coming from behind me.

“Why do you keep doing this? Is it funny to you?!”

“Be quiet Sola! You know I do not care for your petulant tone!”

“I’m not a child anymore; my tone isn’t petulant, it’s indignant. You never did care enough to figure how to keep us around!”

I may have gone a little far with that one. Ma hasn’t always been a great mother, but she always looked out for me and taught me so much about my energies and how to Build and Cast spells. The only reason she taught me as much as she did was because most of her other kids died not knowing enough to keep themselves alive.

“Oh…you think I’ve disrespected you, do you feel like you aren’t treated like an equal? Good; we aren’t equal. I told you the first time I taught you to build that you would never be as strong as me. And are you seriously telling a 300-year-old woman you aren’t a child? Most everything is a child to me! Now shut-up and listen!”

She was holding a mirror with the reflective side face down in her lap. She’s plump considering I never see her eat. On paper she looks like she would be a loving grandmother who bakes every day, but take a closer look and you notice the severe judgement in her eyes. The steadiness of her hand, the ridged shoulders, ram-rod-straight spine. If you ever get over “The Sweet Old Lady” look that’s when you’ll realize you’ve already lost. She lives on what people are willing to do for her. In due course, she finds a way to control a person through their compassion or her coercion.

She moves the mirror up to look into it. Absolutely no reaction on her face, but her grip tightens to the point I can see her fists go white. Moving the mirror only enough that I can see half her face she looks at me with a wry smile. I’m not looking forward to what she’s got planned, and I know she has something planned.

“Sola, you know I have had children before you. They died, some of them at my own hands.”

Full stop like she expects me to say something or react; when she’s like this never give her what she expects.

A flash of a real smile before she continues.

“Maybe you have learnt some things. There are still some that are out in the world making their way; maybe one or two of them will come back some day. More than likely you are the last child I can have and that has weighed on me. What do I teach you, how much do I let you experiment, what do I protect you from? For a long time now, I told you I couldn’t leave the house so I could watch you and learn what person you actually are. When push comes to shove, what you would do when desperation set in.”

“What desperation? I’ve always felt pretty luxe to be honest,” confused by what she’s driving at, and a little angry I reacted so easily.

“Why would I need you to be desperate to understand what you would do? I’ve been around people my entire life. Centuries of watching and learning has given me a sight that no energy can bestow. I know what makes them tick, and understanding that you can see what they will do when they have nothing but see a chance for something.” She’s moved the mirror so I can see her entire face. Her eyes are vindictive and even though Ma is sitting she’s looking down on me.

“Cool! Some pretty sweet skills to get out of such a rough life! Ever try to monetize it; I envision something like a carney guessing weight. Your act would be to guess what baggage people are carrying with them.” I put on my best Snake-oil salesman “You sir, step right up and let me tell you what ails ya! Oh-ho ladies and gents what we have here is a full-blown case of Oedipus complexius with a small case of claustrophobia! Sir, I have the cure for what ails you! Mama Dorcha’s Ambrosia doesn’t just rhyme it fixes what’s messing you up! Arachibutyrophobia to Napoleon complex, Indigestion to incestuous desires; Mama Dorcha’s Ambrosia will either fix you or mess you up so bad that you forget the other stuff!”

I know Ma is getting ready to “teach me a lesson” so I’m just going to mess with her as much as I can until than. So much work in trying to piss her off and I get a three on the Ma flip out scale.

“So what did you find out about me?”

“Not as much as I would have liked. To be honest with you; I tried to orchestrate a few situations that should have pushed your hand. Instead you found a new approach and never let it get to you. Leo should have done it, but now you’re working with him doing some actual good for our people.”

“How is what I’m doing good for our people?!” Damn it! Reacting without thinking again; I didn’t even realize she said anything about Leo before I started talking...