Magic Rain

My grandmother’s grandmother would tell her stories about a magical world that would appear when it rained. A world of magical creatures that wandered around us but invisible to the plain human eyes. She would listen to these stories that were passed down from generation to generation of women in our family handed down over time. Now she was telling me these stories a new generation in the family. She would paint a beautiful world before bedtime that made for amazing dreams.

The world my grandmother told me was one of wonderful creatures that were translucent like soapy bubbles but their mood changed their color like the glow of neon lights. That the animals in this world didn’t have the same weight connected to gravity like our world. She thinks they hid in the clouds just incase they feel that humans could see them. That way the clouds would just seem to be playing tricks on the human mind. The way she described some of the animals I imagined them to be like inflatable balloons. With strange shapes like a big elephant with wings that would change colors and could jump over a tree without any problems. So light that they could run up to the clouds like a forest giving shelter to the deer or rabbits. There were flower like birds that floated like jellyfish in the skies. She would say because of their transparency that at night they would glow like lighting bugs and would float up into the sky. If by chance anyone did see them, they could get lost in the stars.

It was a long ride out of the city to grandma’s farm house but this trip was more exciting then most. It was my thirteenth birthday and the day of ‘the seeing’ ritual was going to be preformed. I have been listening to stories of this magical world for years and now it was upon us. The family belief is that only the girls can see this magical world. But being a girl isn’t the only test. It has to be raining the day of their thirteenth birthday when the ritual is preformed. That’s the only way for the magic to work. It never rained on my mother’s birthday or my grandmother’s birthday so they never were able to see the world beyond the curtian of normal sight. The last one in our family was my great grandmother’s grandmother. She was able to see them her whole life after her ritual in the rain and only when it rained. She is the one that started to document and draw them in the sacred diary. I have wanted to see the sacred dairy my whole life. Every time I would visit I would beg my grandmother but she never broke. ahe never gave in to my curiosity. I asked if she had seen the sacred text. She said yes but it was used as verification that someone could really see the magical world. Only after a month of rain would the next generation be able to view the sacred text. The ones that could see would be the only ones to be able to add to the sacred diary.

For twelve full moons before ‘the seeing’ ritual a magic crystal would hang on the top of a flagpole only in the moonlight and then kept in a special box lined with different types of gem stones in the day time. With every new moon the magic crystal would charge with moon light magic. With every month of a full moon charging the magic crystal would get more powerful and two months out before ‘the seeing’ ritual all the other gem stones charged from this crystal would start to glow. The day of the ritual the crystal is placed into a special crown with a glass bubble above the nose. The crown is made out of milky white crystals connected by gold in a kind of v shape. The top of the bubble was open so you slide the crystal in. After all the traditions of the ceremony, the person walks out into the rain. When the bubble fills with rain water, the magic in the crystal is activated and a light shines into your forehead and opens a part of your brain. A part of a spectrum that you can’t see to the plain eyes is now open. When this happens, the veil of this magic world disintegrates and you can see the magic world.

We all got ready in the house and grandmother and mother went out to the barn and told me to come out in 15 minutes. I opened the barn door and stood in amazement. The barn was like a whole other world. I could have never imagined it to look how it was decorated for as many times that I have been in there. There was a type of alter created. There was a platform and on it was a type of arch with crystals and moon designs and symbols I had never seen before. My mother on one side and my grandmother on the other. We were all dressed in these type of Romanesque white dresses. Everywhere in the barn there were hanging crystals that seems to catch the light like a bunch of disco balls. There were wind chimes all around, inside and outside. My mother and grandmother stepped forward to a table with two boxes on it. My mother told me to walk up and stand in the circle that was drawn on tge floor right in front of the arch. Time froze and all I could hear were the crystals and the wind chimes making music in the breeze. My mother asked me to kneel and she walked to the small box and pulled out this crown. She held it over my head as my grandmother read some words. Mother gently placed it on my head. Then grandmother went to the other box and opened it. There was a strange glow coming out of the box. She pulled out this beautiful narrow crystal like a pendent and walked over to me. Mother read some words and grandmother placed the magic crystal into the crown. You could feel the energy and excitement in the barn. Everyone was happy and nervous. Mother and grandmother walked around the arch and back behind it to the main barn doors and opened them. It looked dry and we were all waiting for sometime before mother told me to walk through the arch and outside. With every step I was thinking, what if it didn’t rain today. I got to the door and looked at both of them. You could see their hopes in their eyes as they shed tears. They have heard the stories so many times and have told them too. Believing without ever seeing the magic world and yet having the strength and faith they had was incredible. I walked out of the barn and into the field. I looked around and nothing. Walked further when I had my eyes closed, I felt a drop hit my nose and then moments later my eyelids and forehead and cheeks. I had never been so happy for rain.

It wasn’t a hard rain. It was a sprinkle and I looked and saw nothing. I walked and stood waiting and still I saw nothing. I looked for the right spot to stand and the right angle to tilt my head to catch the rain. But still I saw nothing. It just sprinkled for a very long time. After about 45 minutes, it started to rain harder and after another 15 minutes or so is when my forehead was starting to feel a strange pressure. Like someone pushing their fingers over your brow in the middle of your forehead. It felt stronger and deeper and heavier. But still there wasn’t anything different to see. I turned around and looked at them waiting and wondering. I nodded my head. My grandmother yelled wait a while. Then I turned and saw the start of a rainbow beginning and started to walk towards it. It got thicker and the colors got so rich and brilliant. Then out of nowhere was this burst of light. It blew my hair back and up like a strong breeze going through me. Looking at the rainbow, I could see a bird flying through. I slowly turned towards my mother and grandmother thinking they threw a flower. I froze right there and then and couldn’t move or speak. There right in front of my face was a face inches in front of mine looking at me. It wasn’t grandmother. It wasn’t mother. It was something strange. Something new and big. Really, really big. It’s head was shaped like a panda bear with a really long neck like a giraffe and a long tail but it’s legs were like butterflies and it was floating above the ground. I could see through it. I was frozen for some time before I put my hand out. It’s eyes grew big and wide and then it rubbed it’s cheek in my hand. It started to turn into a see through hot pink color. It was beautiful whatever it was. When I looked around, I could see all sorts of new creatures I could have never imagined before.

My grandmother standing still with her hands in a prayer position over her lips waiting and hoping. Waiting decades for this moment of possibilities. Her long silver hair glistened in the sprinkles like diamonds. My mother on the other hand waiting intently and nervously looking. She chewed her lower lip while she was nervously waiting.

She shouted out, “well… well what do you see? Do you see anything?”

I must have had a strange look to them as I was touching one of the magical creatures.

“It is so beautiful.” I said softly.

“Well?” Mother shouted again.

“It’s beautiful. It’s all true. The stories were all true. It’s magical. They are all around us. I wish you could see.”

My grandmother and mother started to run out towards me. Where they ran was a field of magical calla lilies and as they started running through, all of them took flight out of their path. It was magical. The calla lilies were all kinds of colors with yellow pollen stems that were actually their beaks and the flower was collecting water for them to drink when they looked like plants but to take flight they spun like a ballerina into the air as the flower pedal turned into a type of winged propeller. The scene was like a child running through a group of birds and how they all take flight. Except, imagine the birds were all flowers flying into the sky. It was absolutely beautiful like a rainbow raining upwards and out. We all embraced each other in a big group hugging, crying and laughing and dancing in a circle with joy. Looking at my mother and my grandmother I saw their tears of joy. I realized how incredible they were. Even in the years of holding onto the family story and to believe in the magic had to have come with many days of wanting to give up faith. Of loosing the belief in the story as well as the magic. If it weren’t for these incredible women who passed on a tradition that could have been lost, I would have never see this beautiful magical world. While it still would have existed, it’s knowledge might have been lost to the sands of time.

They asked me what I saw and to describe everything and in that moment, they became the children listening to the stories and I the story teller. I described all that I saw around the farm. About the different colors I saw that indicated the animals were happy and friendly or scared.

I told them about the flying flower birds. About the one that looked like a thick rolling chocolate chip cookie; where the edges had more little legs then a centipede. It rolled by all the little legs running. How the two side; the top of the cookie and the bottom where filled with forty to fifty little eyes. How they were the size of a frisbee and ran around in small groups. My favorite ones looked like clear octopi but only with 5 tentacles which opened up like little wings. They fly through the air from tree to tree like a sideways pinwheel that glided. There was a type of creature that looked like a snake that looked like a long ballon for making animals out of. The way it moved was strange; one end would grow a big bubble like it inhaled and then in the direction it wanted to move it would grow as if you blew into one of those thin long clown balloons. Like the bubble was blowing into its own skin towards the direction it wanted to go. Then the old length would disappear or shrink towards the bubble. It made us roll on the ground laughing. I spent the next two days of rain with them, walking around describing everything I saw. Places that looked like we could leave them food. I tried to show them how to pet what they couldn’t see. They would hold their hand out and wait till I would tell them what animal came to their hand and rested it’s face in their hand. I asked if they could feel it? Most of the time no but every now and then they thought they felt something. The animals were super friendly and loved the attention from the people that they lived with but could never be seen although they see us. Those couple of days were the most incredible days of all our lives.

I always think of those tender moments of that day and the days that followed. The magic isn’t in the ability to see this hidden world with your eyes. That’s basically like a special set of glasses that lets you see a spectrum which we normally can’t see. That world exists whether we know it’s existence or not. The real magic is in the tradition of telling the stories form one generation to another. In the thousands of bedtime stories that painted this magic world we couldn’t see but we created with our imagination and dream about them in our sleep and in our day dreams. It is in the anticipation and waiting for the thirteenth birthdays. The magic was in the women who believed in the magic world even though they couldn’t see it themselves but rather that their belief in their family and the generation of women holding the bond through time; in the act of story telling and the rituals was the real magic. The love in the stories. The love in the story tellers. The love for the daughters and the belief in the daughters, in their mothers, in their grandmothers, in their great grandmothers, in their great great great grandmothers and so on all connected as one amazing magical act of love that connected them all; past, present and future. You never needed to see the magic world because the belief in it was magic enough.

Years passed I was able to see the magical world when ever it rained. I met your father and fell in love and we had you. Now it grandma’s turn to tell you the stories but she wants me to tell the stories too because I can see. One day it will be you standing at the ceremony on grandma’s house. One day you will be telling the stories to your daughters and your grand daughter.

“Mama? I know we can’t see them but why can’t we feel them.” My daughter asked.

“That’s a good question.” I sat and thought for a while as she just looked up with big open eyes that reminded me of the first creatures eyes of excitement and surprise. Sitting waiting for the answer.

“I think we do. You know when you feel a strange feeling in your spine or on your arms. I think it’s them. No always but sometimes.”

“I‘ve thought about it many times. The air like water is a fluid. It is just a lot lighter. So it is like swimming in water and touching a harmless type of jellyfish. If you didn’t directly see it and it brushed up against you, would you know? It’s something like that? But they do tend to stay away from cities. But you do see them wander or float through. But that’s why we go to grandmas so much.”

“Will I be able to see them?” She asked

“I don’t know but that’s part of the magic. It’s in the waiting and the hoping and the wishing. But you have many more years of stories before you should ever worry about if you can see them or not with your own eyes. You will always be able to see them up here and in here.”

I pointed to her head and then her heart.

“You have many more stories to go before it’s your time for the ritual Amalia. Okay good night and magic dreams.”