“Hmmm…this is going to take some getting used to,” Jackie mused, marveling at playing and pulling with her energetic “body”, stretching and collecting herself. She delighted in this and the ease and efficiency of her intuition. Basically, when she had a “hunch” or a “right course” of how to proceed, it simply occurred. There was no second guessing or doubting her intentions, no worrying whether it was the right thing to do or not. She simply Was. And because she Was, every action was just an extension of this certainty of her being. She had always told her children and grandchildren, “Always trust your gut, it will never steer you wrong.”
“Mmm….hmmm. What did I tell you!” She loved being right.
While exploring herself and her surroundings, Jackie was drawn to a glowing earthen room. It grew more and more in focus, up ahead and off to her right. It seemed quite far off, yet when she decided she wanted to see what it was all about, she was simply standing before it. She moved through the opening and beheld a sight that caused her million-watt smile to open up and set her completely aglow. When she was in physical form, that smile hinted of something larger; a brilliant soul. Now it bloomed throughout her entire body. The room was filled with women, sparkling with the earthly beauty of every rock and gem ever found in any crystal shop in Santa Cruz county, yet all aglow with unique, compelling energy like she was. Women…glorious women! All shapes and sizes; bumpy, curvy, straight, bony, huge, tiny, tall…lovely. All lovely. All had that dazzling divinity-smile! They all KNEW. “Well, look at all of you,” beamed Jackie. The colors. Jackie had never seen skin made of so many colors; alabaster, beige, chocolate, copper and cream…lovely. All lovely. Speckled, freckled, smooth, ebony, blue. Yes, blue! Blue-black. So deep and rich a black that a greenish-blue sheen danced on the edge of her skin (one of Jackie’s particularly favorite colors). One tall woman of this sheen with elegantly close cropped hair, and an elegantly tall neck beamed at Jackie with that smiling brilliance and moved like a gazelle toward her. “I know you,” Jackie remarked, quite breathless at the sight of her.
“My name is Pearle,” confirmed the woman, “Come join us.”
“Well alright, then,” Jackie replied.
“Good ansa, luv!” belted a delicious, firecracker of a woman, with a crown of fiery hair piled on top of her head. Ringlets bounced and bobbed all around her face as she sat weaving something by a stone fire pit. Jackie couldn’t quite discern what it was.
“I had a painting of you, Pearle,” said Jackie as she moved throughout the room with her, “I hung it on the wall of every house I lived in. Something about that painting always drew me in. I absolutely loved it!
This painting of Jackie’s never matched anything or made any kind of sense in the old New England homes she lived in, but she never cared. She hung it right in the middle of the living room in every house. It was a stylized portrait of what must have been an African Ndebele tribeswoman. She had golden rings encircling her neck, large hooped earrings (Jackie just loved big earrings) and what appeared to be a striped woven blanket of sorts, draped over her shoulders. Painted in the background was a wall decorated with simple geometric shapes. Her children and their friends referred to this painting simply as “The Black Lady.”
Pearle serenely smiled at Jackie, with a look of such knowing, such resolute certainty that Jackie had absolutely no reason or desire to ask any further questions regarding her presence in this comforting room of women, or why she had a painting of her in every home she owned since moving to the United States from England.
“Alright then…what are we all up to?” asked Jackie, as she settled in next to the fiery one.
“Well, as you might have noticed, things take a bit of getting used to. We gather here when we like; to dabble, confide, share, explore. I think of it as a divine stitch and bitch!” At this, she started laughing companionably, her whole body getting in on it, jiggling and bouncing as she leaned in, shoulder to shoulder with Jackie. “My name’s Margery,” she sighed, catching her breath. “It’s lovely to meet you, Jackie. Welcome.”
In the Margins 
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