Loup-Garou

 

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Disappointed in love, weary of war, Goran von Hagen retreats to his idyllic alpine estate. He does not know the ancient secret of the looming mountain--or that it will change his life forever.

I first met this Being a very long time ago, back in my ninth or tenth year when our family was visiting Bermuda.  I was already in awe of this tropical place, because it was much warmer than our home during early April, which was, at that time, in upstate New York.

 Back in the 1950's  in NY, there was still plenty of snow on the ground, and it was still darn cold.  Bermuda was warm enough that you could swim, although the Atlantic was still cold, the sunlit coves and that crumbly brown and pink coral sand of the beaches was absolutely beautiful. I had that day just learned about the Moray eels who hung out in the coral outcrops in our swimming place and had been suitably alarmed. You could even see them in the clear water if you swam too close, peeking out of their lairs with gaping mouths filled with pointy teeth.

  So my nerves were already jangled when later a young Bermudian employed by the hotel, in the course of showing us where we were allowed to play, began telling a gang of us stories about Loup-Garou. As luck would have it, this was the night of the full moon. Soon, the worldly kids from NYC began to recount the plots of old horror movies, to show that although this Loup-Garou was a new monster to them, they already knew about lots of other creepy stuff. My imagination, never under control, went wild. 

In my little single room at the hotel that night, I had a lovely view of the ocean and the full moon shining on the water. As you can imagine, I didn't sleep much.

Then, a few years later, staying in Grenada for two months in a friendly little local hotel, I became good friends with the children of the owner. The owner's wife basically ran the place, cooking and riding herd on her staff and shopping, while her husband swanned about in the evenings, preparing drinks and playing host to the guests. He also kept the books and wrote letters to potential customers to confirm reservations. I remember peeking into his sanctum and seeing stacks of those blue Airmail letter forms atop his big desk. 

The kids were close to my age. The oldest was 15, and working hard to prepare for O Level exams. I played mostly with the second boy, Richard, and his younger sister, Lynette, who had been born just a year after me. They tried to scare me with Loup- Garou, but I scored points when I told them I had already been initiated into The Lore. They had a lot more to say on scary subjects, however, and started to explain zombies, of whom I hadn't yet heard. To their great satisfaction, zombies got under my white skin pretty thoroughly.  :)

The center of all things terrifying, these young West Indians told me, was Haiti. (Poor Haitians! Some things never change, only it's more terrible on that tragic island now than we "First World" people can begin to imagine, not just fantasy.)

This leads me to a book I just finished, which, sadly, has no zombies or werewolves, but is historical, about the early French colonists of Quebec. I was amused to discover, researching here and there, that the French of that province had brought their Loup-Garou with them, and so his "range" was not just limited to France and the West Indies. He also lived in the snowy North Country!

The French, apparently, had had "an epidemic" of werewolves since the 1400's. Of course, people suspected of having the affliction were regularly burned, hanged and so on. In Quebec, there were reports of such beasts from the earliest settlers. 

In 1767, the Gazette de Quebec reported just such a pernicious beast. After setting dogs on it, and much gunfire, the beast retreated. Everyone heaved a sigh of relief, but, like any good monster, one major attempt at extinguishing it wasn't sufficient. The second round of massed gunfire and ferocious dogs seems to have finally done for it, because, after that, although many have searched the remaining documents, we hear no more about it. No bullet-riddled human corpse left behind, not even a humongous dead wolf--nothing! 

Imagine that.   ;) 

~Juliet Waldron

Season's Greetings!

 

Crazy & Yoga

My Historical Novels

Alexander Hamilton & Elizabeth Schuyler, A Master Passion

My grandmother lived through the Spanish Flu. Long ago, when I was a youngster, she told me the scary story of how she'd sat in an upstairs window with her school friends in NYC, all of them watching in fear as body after body was carried from neighboring buildings. 

Bad old days, was her unspoken message: 
Don't worry little granddaughter. Things like that can't happen in these marvelous modern times.

Right as Grandma was about many things, she has proved wrong there. Now my husband and I are isolating; we are hoping and praying for deliverance for our friends and families. We also send our prayers for health and continued strength to our needlessly endangered and overworked health care community. We pray too for the rest  of the world. Each country now shows its true colors in the way it treats its poorest citizens--and many wealthy nations like ours are failing the test.

It would be ironic to drop dead of a heart attack -- instead of the  virus -- over political events an elder recipient of social security can do nothing about. I'll stop venting now and talk yoga instead. 

I've written about Yoga before on this blog. I have tinkered with Yoga since the 1960's. As powerful as Yoga is--this exercise which joins breath with precise movement--I've never been a consistent practitioner.  Of course, that fact alone means that I am exactly the kind of person Yoga was meant for.*  Discipline is as important in yoga as it is in any other exercise--and as it is in writing. That means you have to work out as near to daily as possible. I've been writing daily for years, but best case for me with Yoga has been attending a class twice a week. 

Still, not even that would have been possible for me before the new, sophisticated senior classes, because I'm a skeletal wreck. I don't mean I'm thin. What I mean is that inside I'm badly joined. Tendons are sub-par, misaligned; I have Scoliosis. Maybe I didn't come like that, but that's the way my torso's been since my teens. I have never -- even on my best 110 lb. day--been able to touch my toes. 

As a result, I've had to wait for Yoga's full revelation to arrive in my 70's with the advent of Silver & Fit. The hidden truth is so simple that for years my befuddled Western head wasn't been able to comprehend, but the light has begun to dawn at last. Since the gym closed, I've found I'm able to carry on my practice a bit at home, probably for the first time ever in my life.  

Recently, yoga has been helpful in keeping (what's left of) my sanity, so I'm going to share one of what are called "foundational" poses. It's a simple -- and on the surface, easy -- exercise, but poses are still complicated to explain. Whatever, I'm about to try.

The door opener for me was Mountain Pose, so that's the one I'll use here. It's a great place to start, or even if you never get an inch farther, I think this pose is magnificently powerful in a time when we truly need to BE HERE NOW.* There may not be a future, after all.

The illustration above shows the proper posture. However, the way in which the posture is acquired -- where you actually begin -- is important. So is the breath, but I'll explain that as I go. 

You begin with the feet. My instructor told us to stand hip-width apart, not "together" as above, so I'll add that caveat here. Therefore, your feet are aligned beneath your hips, leaving the natural gap between them. Next, turn your toes ever so slightly outward, just a small bit of angle. Hands are against your sides--as much as your structure allows--with the palm open and facing forward, the thumbs turned out.

After you've got your feet placed, straighten up slowly--perform every move with attention -- and then slowly push your heels together. This push activates your calves, next engages your knees, thighs and then your belly, all of which are all now involved. Once you've engaged the core muscles in the gut, you pause to check that your tailbone is pointed down. 

Naturally, as the tension ascends your body, you will pull your shoulder blades--very gently, please -- together. The breastbone pushes out, and you can help this with a deep breath. For most of us elders, the shoulders won't want to move much, but do what you can. Remember to keep the shoulders down. 

(Digression: Yoga is not about force, which is the very Western notion that your will can overcome muscular deficiency, and that you are not a Jock worthy of the name if you can't push yourself through any pain to perfection in less than a week. This attitude will inevitably end in OW! DAMN! You'll yank something deep inside, have to take a lot of Advil(c) and then just sour grapes quit.) 

Back to Mountain Pose instruction. 

Now take another deep, conscious breath and be certain that you are still looking straight ahead and that all those muscles are still contracted. Don't tilt your head up or down. Keep the thumbs of the hands aimed back. At this point, you can feel your "meat suit" self line up and balance. Imagine your head on a string, the crown gently pulled upward.

Here is where you remain, breathing deeply and slowly, in and out, in and out, for at least eight breaths. You can, if you like, imagine that you are a mountain, plugged into the great energetic being that is our beautiful Planet Earth. Don't forget that you are giving back as well as taking and you'll feel yourself become part of the cycle. Hold Mountain Pose until you find your mind wandering, then stop if you must or continue on to other postures you have a hankering for. 

I hope you will find Mountain Pose as restoring as I do. I return to the endless cleaning of surfaces, newly acquired groceries, etc. feeling refreshed and ready not only for the tasks ahead, but with spirits raised--despite the news. I'm not worrying about a future I cannot control and may not even see. The breathing and the posture re-adjustment helps me keep sane in times which are, frankly, terrifying. Somehow, in the middle of this disaster, we need to remember to keep our humanity and our compassion--both for ourselves and for others. Personally, for me, I've been finding even a little bit of this ancient practice smooths the way. 

~~Juliet Waldron                                     https://bookswelove.net/waldron-juliet/

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*Everybody  IMHO
*Ram Dass