Saint Patrick had come to Ireland not so long ago so everyone was running around with shamrocks and wearing green. Mariah and Uishneach tried to get with the whole new program and settled for a teapot covered with shamrocks to show their acceptance of the new status quo.
Except it is now St Patrick’s Day and the little white teapot with the shamrocks on it has gone missing. After a thorough search of her abode she only saw the lid sitting there innocently without the most important part, the body. Mariah, when she saw it stopped in her tracks and glared at it. But there was no answer from the lid. She scratched her own head wondering who had been through the house with sticky fingers. Or perhaps Uishneach, in an effort to be helpful, had stashed it away somewhere out of sight, not in its usual place. He sometimes did things like that. She was well used to the big and little spoons being mixed up and not in their right places.
He was wearing his dark green shirt, which she thought looked like a forbidden forest color and comments to him on it, as she asked about the teapot. He said he knew he would be blamed, even though he had nothing to do with its disappearance.
He felt obliged to walk around to find her teapot and came back with the blue teapot. She hated that thing. And the lid was tiny and was in no way connected to reality and took a dive at any cup it was poised over to fill. She lost some of her finest china that way. The lid was cracked even now. That pale blue color was deceptive.
She settled for the dark green teapot and put the errant lid from the shamrock teapot on top. As she sat there drinking her tea, she wondered if she left the teapot outside someplace. Sometimes she took it out with her to watch the beautiful sun rise. She would have to wait to see where it turns up.
When Uishneach left for the day he gave her a little kiss goodbye not sure of his welcome from her over the missing teapot. She insisted on a much better one, as she was sure he would last many years longer if he kissed her goodbye properly. She informed him of this before his exit, and he said, “So now I will be dead in five years.” “No” she said, “now you will live five years longer than you were going to live, because I kissed you goodbye.” He made a hasty exit.
As she sat drinking her tea, which was less than perfect, because of the missing teapot, and because the milk was a little old and the honey had turned to sugar, and sat at the bottom of her cup, and because she could not gauge the right ratio of tea to water due to the usual teapot having gone someplace else, on strike, not on duty. Her father would think very little of this cup of tea. He preferred a tin teapot that gathered up a lot of dark tannins on the inside and could be left into the coals to be brewed right and kept hot.
She forgot the big problems she had and lapsed into thinking about Druid Bernie. He had been talking lately of the word “resentment” and he was claiming that all the “resentments” that leprechauns had in their thoughts would gather up together and cause harm to those they were intended for and for other innocent people in other parts of the worlds.
He also claimed that the word itself, when broken down, spoke of what happens with resentment. When Mariah has thoughts of resentment, then she is “resending” negative thoughts again and again toward the person she is holding them for, in fact every time she thinks about that person she “resends” those thoughts as energy fields. Druid Bernie did not think it was a good practice, and there was the possibility of the bad thoughts gathering up as a collective cloud and finding expression in disasters. She was having second thoughts right there about going to his talks at the end of the lane, under the big trees. How was she ever going to change that lovely practice she had and she knew everyone else had as well? She would not stop that habit unless everyone else did.
In the mean time she decided to visit the bog and maybe have a little bath in that lovely brown water, as it seemed to make her skin whiter and she always felt wonderful after a dunking there, and it might wash a few resentment off of her. Who knows, the teapot might be found there somewhere. The end.
And if you want to take your resentments in hand, and if you want to stop sending out clouds of questionable thoughts, like swarms of angry bees, then it is a good time to work on dreams and catch up with your shadow, your higher self and the many others archetypes that inhabit our psyche. You can send and resend me your message that is meant to get to me and there will be nothing but good thoughts around setting up an appointment with me in my lovely little office. Love from Rose.
Happy Saint Patrick’s Day.