Sunday comes early with a noon book signing and an author who, in his heyday, penned several novels that morphed into major motion pictures. Even though it seems he has fallen out of favor with his non-stop personal abduction dialogue, he is still very popular among the close-encounters crowd and we have a full house.
Despite his bad rep, I find I really like him and since I get to host, I'm seated up front next to him talking about aliens. The conversation turns into an interesting discussion about the evolution of mythology and the possibility of the jinn and the angels of yore, turning into the ancient demigods before becoming the faery folk and whether they may have presently morphed into our modern-day aliens.
The discussion is well received and sparks a lot of crowd interaction. Everyone seems to be enthralled with the possibility of others among us and the dialogue quickly shifts into a debate…
A studious-looking man in the audience states, “I know Demigods have been featured in a lot films lately, but proof of their existence goes back to scripture explaining that they have always been around.”
Our author nods and adds, “There are ancient texts depicting the Grigori and Nephilim as possibly being the Titans. So, is it so farfetched that they have modernized to become aliens?”
A teen sitting near the back lifts his voice, “Why can't aliens just be aliens? I mean there are megalithic monuments around the world that clearly describe human interaction with a highly advanced culture.”
Someone I can’t see adds, “Don't forget the Islamic jinn, supernatural beings created from smokeless fire that King Solomon used to build his cities. His armies were said to march with jinn and men and birds.”
“I am familiar with the stories of how Solomon could bind the jinn to do his bidding—”
An owlish-looking man raises his hand before he cuts in, “What about the belief that there was a race of “Great Old Ones”, powerful deities from space who once ruled the Earth but have since fallen into a death-like sleep?”
The guy next to him laughs and says, “Belief? I hate to break it to you but Lovecraft wrote fiction. Oh, and I'd like to point out that L. Ron Hubbard did too.”
Several in the crowd boo him while a woman retorts, “There are cases where extremely heavy objects were purportedly moved by extraterrestrial beings when they visited Earth.”
The man nods and says in a sardonic tone, “Well then, I guess that explains who built the pyramids.”
“Explain to us who you think built them!” she challenges
“Not the Egyptians?”
The crowd turns against him as several voices call, “Yeah, and what about Stonehenge?”
The guy in question stands and turns to them. “Hey I didn't say man has never interacted with a more advanced culture. Indeed there are interesting archeological finds worldwide that depict that he did. What surprises me is not one of you brought up the evidence in our own backyard. What about the Aztecs, Anasazi, Paiute and Hopi pictographs depicting spacemen or the six-fingered Gods?”
A voice in the crowd asks, “Isn't being Polydactyl a sign of having alien blood?”
The guy sits back down as another voice responds, “I thought it was a sign of being a witch.”
A large guy, round stomach straining his shirt slaps his knee and grins. “That’s funny. I thought it was a sign of inbreeding.”
The owlish man states, “In the Chronicle of Akakor, light-skinned gods come from the sky in golden vehicles to share their knowledge and return every 6,000 years, anyway these gods have graceful bodies, white skin and six fingers on their hands and six toes on their feet.”
Our author interrupts, “The Chronicle of Akakor? I'm not familiar with that text.”
“It’s the history of a South America, Ugha Mongulala tribe of Amazonian Indians chronicled by journalist Karl Brugger…”
The event goes long and we sell a lot of books. So I'm beat when the last of the fans leave, the last book is signed and Mom departs with the author.
Anna finds me at the cold case debating between mountain dew or cherry cola. “Well that sure went well. I love the way they all wanted to believe.”
I turn from the case and give her a smile.
Her eyes shine. “You were great up there, by the way.”
I grin. “Thanks. I had fun.” A smile curves her mouth until I add, “You know we all take turns. You should look at the calendar and see which event you want to host.”
“Me? Speak in front of a crowd? I don't think so.”
“Oh come on there is nothing to it. The secret is to start off small like you did with Ghost Hunters Go.”
She makes a face. “But that wasn't a crowd and I wasn't sitting up front.”
“Exactly!” I turn my attention back to the machine. “Start out small. Keep the group to a circle. It is fun but really taxing, kind of like they suck all the life right out of you.”
She turns to the cold case. “You do know the only good choice in there is the water.”
I snort. “Water? I was debating between the sugar or caffeine.”
“Why? To make yourself sick?” She shakes her head. “Come here. I have just what you need.” She leads me to the refrigerator where she opens the door and extracts two bottles. “Try this.” She hands me a bottle.
I read the label. Organic Raw Kombucha before I glance up to see her watching me.
“Go on. Try it. It is good for you. Truly a golden elixir.”
I laugh. “Golden elixir?” I lift one eyebrow. “As in the golden elixir?”
She shrugs and I twist off the lid and take my first swig. A bright, pungent flavor fills my mouth and I nearly spit it right back out again. I have to force the strong drink down. Anna laughs as my face morphs into an expression of disgust. “Oh God that's vile,” I gasp.
“It’s sort of an acquired taste.” She twists the top off of the bottle in her hand and takes a long drink. “And wow baby, am I addicted.”
“Thanks, but no thanks,” I say passing the bottle back to her.
“Hey, that one’s yours.”
“But it tastes like vinegar,” I whine.
“And what's wrong with vinegar?”
“Nothing, but I usually don't drink the stuff.”
“This is a wonder drink. It’s good for you. It has amazing healing properties.” She laughs. “Don't be a baby. Drink it down. I promise it will make you feel better.”
I make a face.
“Just try one more sip?”
I give into her smile, and take a deep breath to steady myself before give the drink another try. This time the sharp flavor is not such a shock and I find myself able to drink it without the grimace.
“See,” Anna says with a grin. “Just give it a chance. Finish off that bottle and I promise your spirit will lift and you will begin to feel much better.”
I follow her back into the store sipping on the brew and soon I find that not only has my energy level and good mood been restored but I actually feel kind of sparkly.
Anna notices my buoyant mood and says, “See, what'd I tell ya?”
I chuckle. “You were right. I do feel better. I guess I'm a believer. Thanks Anna.”
“You thank me now but will you be thanking me when you're waiting in line to pay $3.75 a bottle?”
She nods. There is a smile in her eyes. “Yeah expensive, but sooo worth it.”
I exit the store and go into the receiving room thinking of how Anna was constantly surprising me. Just the day before she'd lectured me on the essence of cinnamon and how important it was to carry both Cinnamomum cassia, or what we here in the US call ground cinnamon made from the bark of the cassia tree, and Cinnamomum zeylanicum or cinnamon sticks which is the delicate inner bark of the true cinnamon tree. Apparently they have different energies.
I plunk myself behind the desk and begin working in email. Several orders have come through so I print them, pull the books and put them on the shipping shelf for processing. I'm tucking the last packing slip into a stack of books and rubber banding them together when Anna comes in.
“What are you doing after work tonight?” she asks.
There is a pile of unfinished homework on my desk that I've been putting off, but still I shake my head and say, “Nothing.”
“You're a Libra right?”
I flash her a suspicious glance. “Yeah, so?”
“Cordelia told me,” she explains. “And tonight is a full Libra moon.”
“Please say you'll come over and sit circle with me. I could use your energy to boost my working.”
“Tonight?” I ask, but what I’m really thinking is what the heck does sit circle mean? I’m curious so when she nods I add, “Okay, I guess. But I can't stay too long. I have homework…”
“Perfect!” She opens a small journal. “We are out at seven,” she mumbles as she appears to be doing some kind of math in her head. “Wow that really is perfect!” She beams brightly. “We can start at eight. You can be home by nine thirty or maybe ten at the latest.” Her eyes drop back to her book as she muses, “I have everything for the manifesting powder but the cinquefoil…”