Bruja

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She showed up at the Bridge late one afternoon, after the heat had broken. There were just a few of us vendors still there, trying to make a few dollars more before night fell. Mateo was still there. So was Eddie.

The woman was not in the least interested in me. She was interested in Eddie, and she was very interested in Mateo. She talked directly to him, although Eddie and I listened too.

She said she was an artist. She said she made really large dream catchers. She said she’d be back to the Bridge in the morning to sell her wares. She also said she was a bruja.

I was new to Northern New Mexico, and I didn’t know this word “bruja.” After the woman left, I asked Mateo about it, and he said it meant “witch.” The woman had said she was a witch! Was she bragging or warning?

Before the woman left, she’d said Mateo and Eddie and I were her friends. She said she would set up near us the next day.

I’d recently learned aventurine is believed to protect a person’s heart chakra so his or her energy can’t be stolen. This woman, this bruja, seemed to want our energy, especially Mateo’s. (I don’t think energy is all she wanted from Mateo.) I had small beads of aventurine I’d recently been given by a bead angel (Read that story here: http://www.rubbertrampartist.com/2016/01/02/bead-angel/.) I took three of the beads and put one each on bracelets for me, Eddie, and Mateo. We were still wearing our bracelets the next day.

By the time the bruja arrived at the Bridge late the next morning, there was no room for her to set up anywhere near me or Eddie or Mateo. Vendors were packed in close together, and there was no place for anyone else to squeeze in. She was trying to figure out how to get in next to us when the self-proclaimed “president of the Bridge” came along and told her she could set up and sell across the street in the parking lot that also served as a sort of overflow vending area.

As soon as she’d been whisked away, Eddie, Mateo and I were talking about her, telling other vendors about her, laughing about how weird she’d been. We were not being kind.

While I was away from my table, the wind picked up momentarily as it often does out there. The wind strengthened, just briefly, just long enough to flip a lovely rainbow obsidian stone off my table and into the dirt.

The piece of rainbow obsidian had come from the bead angel too. I’d been told the stone was valuable, and I should be able to get at least $20 for it.

But now it was in the dirt, which is not a good place for a piece of obsidian to be. Obsidian is volcanic glass, and we all know glass is fragile. It’s not good for obsidian to fly off a table and hit the ground.

When I picked up the piece of obsidian, I saw it had broken. I was very sad. Eddie and Mateo–both rock guys–were sad for me.

Do I think the bruja knew I was talking about her behind her back and sent a gust of wind to throw the beautiful stone off the table? No. Do I think the Universe knew I was being unkind and sent a wind to teach me a lesson? Maybe. Maybe I do believe that. Do I think I should have stayed at my own table and paid attention to my own business instead of saying unkind things about another person? Yes. I definitely believe that.

Mateo, Eddie, and I saw the bruja drive away early in the afternoon. The heat and the sun must have gotten to her. We saw she had the remains of a bag of ice balanced on her head as she drove. As far as I know, she never returned to sell at the Bridge.

About Blaize Sun

My name is Blaize Sun. Maybe that's the name my family gave me; maybe it's not. In any case, that's the name I'm using here and now. I've been a rubber tramp for nearly a decade.I like to see places I've never seen before, and I like to visit the places I love again and again. For most of my years on the road, my primary residence was my van. For almost half of the time I was a van dweller, I was going it alone. Now my (male) partner and I (a woman) have a travel trailer we can pull with our truck. We have a little piece of property, and when we're not traveling, we park our little camper there. I was a work camper in a remote National Forest recreation area on a mountain for four seasons. I was a camp host and parking lot attendant for two seasons and wrote a book about my experiences called Confessions of a Work Camper: Tales from the Woods. During the last two seasons as a work camper on that mountain, I was a clerk in a campground store. I'm also a house and pet sitter, and I pick up odd jobs when I can. I'm primarily a writer, but I also create beautiful little collages; hand make hemp jewelry and warm, colorful winter hats; and use my creative and artistic skills to decorate my life and brighten the lives of others. My goal (for my writing and my life) is to be real. I don't like fake, and I don't want to share fake. I want to share my authentic thoughts and feelings. I want to give others space and permission to share their authentic selves. Sometimes I think the best way to support others is to leave them alone and allow them to be. I am more than just a rubber tramp artist. I'm fat. I'm funny. I'm flawed. I try to be kind. I'm often grouchy. I am awed by the stars in the dark desert night. I hope my writing moves people. If my writing makes someone laugh or cry or feel angry or happy or troubled or comforted, I have done my job. If my writing makes someone think and question and try a little harder, I've done my job. If my writing opens a door for someone, changes a life, I have done my job well. I hope you enjoy my blog posts, my word and pictures, the work I've done to express myself in a way others will understand. I hope you appreciate the time and energy I put into each post. I hope you will click the like button each time you like what you have read. I hope you will share posts with the people in your life. I hope you'll leave a comment and share your authentic self with me and this blog's other readers. Thank you for reading.  A writer without readers is very sad indeed.

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