A Saint With Mojo

 By Maryanna Gabriel 


Whoever said a geographic move is not a cure did not understand the importance of vibration. It is all about energy. Some people, natural surroundings, or rooms, are uplifting. Or draining. No question. 

The first thing I did after the last debacle was head for a rather splendid beach. Absent-mindedly, I watched a woman move a metal detector back and forth, scanning for treasure. I leaned against
a log and smelled the sea air,  experiencing the warmth of the September sun. Strange and weird energy that was not mine slowly drained away.

A gleam caught my eye. The treasure seeker missed one. My fingers stretched for what I thought was a silver coin. It turned out to be a medallion, and I dug deeper into the sand. The medallion was connected to a chain of pearls. Upon further examination, I could see it depicted a saint encircled by letters from a language I did not recognize.

Once home, I researched. Oh. Serbian. My heart skipped a beat as I read further. The medallion is for breaking curses, dark spells, black energy, negative family trauma and is used in exorcisms. The pearls promptly went around my neck and the saint now rests close to my heart. 

By not accepting what was unacceptable, I have relocated to a place of great beauty. Perched high on a bluff with a supernal view where clouds roll onward over a sparkling sea, I might as well be on Mount Olympus.

Yesterday, my kind hosts brought me tomatoes. Without saying a word and understanding that I am a writer, today they brought a COMFORTABLE WRITER'S CHAIR. And a bouquet of roses. The scent is heavenly. Clearly, I have whoo-doo, voo-doo, lady luck, and a saint as advertised - adorning my heaving bosom. Thank you, and to partially quote Long John Baldry, no laying any bad-assed-boogie-woogie on this queen of rock' n roll. Back off. I have a saint with mojo.