What
do you envision when you think of a 'Gypsy'? You
know...what would the picture in your mind's eye look like if you tried
to describe it?
When I close my eyes, I see a clearing in the woods. The clearing is
carpeted
by a thick mossy ground cover, surrounded by trees, next to a river.
Wild thyme grows underfoot and sweetens the air. Evening has fallen and
the moon in the sky is a full round glowing orb. Oh how I adore a full
moon, so full of feminine energy and promising mystery. The light that
shines down from a full moon is the most magnificent light of all,
because it
illuminates the earth in such a magical way. The moonlight falls on the
ripples of the
water and shines like glitter in the night. One can easily find their
way down the wooded trail to the Gypsy Camp when the full moon offers to
lead the way.
This
particular
night is in mid Summer. I know this because the delicate, sweet scent of
jasmine wafts along on a soft balmy breeze
that tickles the skin. Through the trees, I spot the flicker of
fireflies darting to and fro among the branches....a sure sign that
Summer has arrived. An owl bellows out from deep within the woods, and
if you listen closely, you'll hear the faint sound of laughter and music
above the cricket symphony.
Up
ahead in the clearing, there are several Gypsy Wagons circled up around
a blazing campfire. The wagons are colorful even in the darkness, and
they have lights and
lanterns strung about them in a most enchanting way. I am drawn ever
closer by my curiosity and delight, as if being pulled along by some
magnetic energy.
Gypsy men are sitting around the campfire, cheerfully playing their
instruments. I do not hear the traditional old world Gypsy sound however. Instead, there is more of a
Gypsy Jazz vibe to the music. Something akin more to the playing of Roux and his band of water gypsies in the movie
"Chocolat". I hear what sounds like Django Reinhardt playing Minor Swing on his guitar, and
maybe an occasional violin or tambourine. It has more of a 30's French
jazz feel to it. The men laugh and play long into the night...their chords
drifting away on the breeze, up into the surrounding town nearby. But the music can only faintly be
heard in town....just enough to peak the curiosity and make one eager to investigate the merrymaking down by the lake.
Then
there are the Gypsy women...oh, those exotic Gypsy women. How they
enchant us all. They are flamboyantly dressed with their flashy jewels,
noisy coin belts and scarves of many colors and patterns. They
dance their frenzied, yet alluring dance around the flames in an air of
reckless abandon, with the ruffles of their skirts twirling madly about
them. It's as if their gyrating hips lull everyone into some strange
hypnotic trance.
The bewitching trail of their perfume hangs fragrant in the air, and
seduces with its heady scent of spice, incense and musk. Their long
curls hang loose
around their shoulders, while their bells and trinkets jingle and
sparkle in the most beguiling way. And their faces are set aglow by
the light of the moon and the crackling fire. Oh how beautiful the
skin looks when it is
softly caressed by moonbeams. The sweat of the dance glistens on their
bare shoulders and bellies. They are one with the
music, they are one with the night.
Over
to the side sits a Fortune Teller's tent. And inside, is an elderly
Gypsy lady called Madame Zelda. She is something of a legend in town.
No one is sure if she really exists. But she is here tonight to work
her magic. She is the matriarch of this Gypsy clan, and many full moons
have risen and set since she was a young Gypsy maiden joining in the
'dance'. Her head is covered
with the traditional gypsy scarf, and her face is wrinkled and weathered
by the years.
She is the wise woman and the 'Fortune Teller' of this Caravan, and her
tent takes on a colorful glow as though illuminated by fairy dust and
magic.
Madame
Zelda will be working hard this evening to earn some coins for her
travels. Her crystal ball and tarot cards
are laid out for service, and her tent smells of burning candles and
spicy incense which trails out the opening to entice those who eagerly
await their turn inside.
Her chair remains filled all night with the curious
townsfolk who have dared to sneak off down to the river in hopes of gleaming a glimpse of their fate and
fortune. This evening is filled with music and dance and drink and revelry.
Inhibitions are left at the door. And we all do as the Gypsies do tonight!
I am the red haired Gypsy, dancing barefoot by the fire. My
toes have rings, my fingers have more.
My skirts are colorful....adorned with
stray bits of lace and ribbons and buttons. My peasant blouse falls off
the
shoulders and my vest is laced up tight. My crimson curls cascade down
my back
and my head scarf ties to the side. My eyes are wide with energy and
delight.
Beads of sweat form on my skin as I dance and dance and dance. I honor
the
earth, the fire, the water and the wind....I dance my dance for the
Moon, and I dance my dance for ME! The stars, the moon, and the music
have cast a powerful spell on me now. I give in to their ephemeral
delights. No worries of
yesterday or fears of tomorrow...only the sheer enchantment of this very
moment
permeating my soul. The night seems endless and euphoric.
The
first pink rays of the sun begin to peek over the horizon, as moonlight
still illuminates the darkness. The world will soon yawn as it rubs the
sleep of night from its bleary eyes. And when dawn
begins to break, the magic Gypsy spell will be broken as well. I too
begin to awaken from a most peculiar slumber, to find myself curled up
in the grass next to a dying fire of embers and ash. The smoke is heavy
as it mixes with the early morning dew, and the air smells vaguely of
pine, smoke and perfumed incense. The remains of the fire smoulder
on, but there are no Gypsies to be found. I rub my eyes sleepily, and
attempt to recall the events of this magical night. I am quite certain
that there was a Gypsy encampment right here where I lay. But where are
the brightly colored Gypsy wagons, and Madame Zelda's tent? And how
did I get out here?
Just
then, I spy something over in the grass. In the waning moonlight, I
catch a glimpse of something shiny on the ground by the trees. Indeed,
there is something sparkling there in whats left of the night's magical
moonlight. I bend down to find a large, ornate ring that must have
fallen from the
slender fingers of one of
the dancing Gypsy women. And there is magic still dancing around the
ring, like electrically charged fairy dust. In fact, I begin to realize
that this may be the only tangible proof that the Gypsy
Caravan had even traveled through this town last night. But surely
someone else must have seen them, everyone was here.
Weren't they?
My
attention is again drawn down to the ring. I pick it up and hold it in
my hand. I can feel its warmth and its magic tingling in my palm. And
all at once...reality seems obscured. Did I by chance fall asleep in
the grass when I laid down to rest, and wish on the first star in the
evening sky? Did I even really dance with the
Gypsies beneath the full Gypsy Moon last night? Or was this just some
kind of
hazy intoxicating Midsummer Night's dream? You know, the kind that
leaves you
feeling dazed and confused when you first awaken....unable to
distinguish
between reality and fantasy. A dream so mesmerizing that you yearn for
it to be real. Those are the best kind of dreams to have.
And
perhaps it wasn't just a dream. Maybe we can, as some
people believe.....travel out of our bodies during our dreams and live
out paradoxical lives and fantasies. Maybe we can glimpse snippets of
past
lifetimes in the same manner. Or maybe we are sending ourselves
subliminal messages
of our hearts true desires, and we should pay heed to them and chart new
courses
for our lives as a result. Then again, maybe it WAS but only a
luscious, lingering dream......but if it didn't really happen.....then
where did this
ring come from? I think I shall slip it upon my finger and see if there
is any Gypsy magic left in it for me!
