It’s officially summer. Summer is beach sand and reading. Summer is moonlight and candles and reading into the wee hours. Summer is morning coffee and the illicit all day reading session, pausing only long enough to switch the coffee cup for an evening cocktail.

Summer is magical and in keeping with the enchantment of the season, let me share some chapter snippets from a real live adult fairytale. Trust me here, when I say real because this is the real story of our Godmother.

In fact, my favorite multidimensional team tells me this is the original story behind all of our Prince, Princess and Godmother fairytales.

Over the summer weeks, I will share chapter snippets about my journey to find humanity’s Godmother, taken from book one of the Godmother Chronicles, Decoding the Butterfly Promise.

Who knew that freeing our Godmother would lead us right into the belly of the trump political beast. But that is the surprise I was shown by my team as I wrote Divine Duet, book 2 of the series. Ok, I am one chapter away from official edits.

BUT it’s summer and I need some magical and refilling beach, family and book reading time too.

Here is the first:

Excerpt from Chapter 1. The Empress of the Universe Baits the Hook

“It was the last part of a very long Saturday. I had just managed a training program for close to two dozen high profile people we were training to facilitate an upcoming government sponsored health planning conference. The training was over, thank heavens! I was dragging and exhausted but happy at the success of the day’s session. We had recently adjourned to the bar and were milling around with our pre-dinner drinks in hand, waiting for the restaurant to call us to our tables. Under the best of conditions I’m a cheap drunk, and as tired as I was, I’d sucked back my `Dubonnet on the rocks with a twist’ on an empty stomach, and in record time.

“I really wanted to be home, but as the host I was stuck. Although I am personally shy, as the host I couldn’t afford to show that, and my little inner voice nagged and badgered me to “mingle, mingle.” So I obediently picked a small, safe group of colleagues and I was mingling. They were engaged in a discussion of recent books they were reading. Someone brought up the new Castaneda book and my ears perked up. Jane, one of the facilitator trainees, was explaining to the group that she knew a man who was an apprentice of Carlos Castaneda and he lived right here in the city, disguised as a regular businessman.

“Castaneda’s books were about native shamanism. As a point of context here, Castaneda’s writings didn’t fit with science at all. He talked about seeing the world as energy and vibration. His teacher, don Juan taught Carlos and a group of apprentices how to regain their energy and live in a world that was, well, magical compared to the everyday world.

“I was a social scientist working hand in glove with the government and its health care system so I had to be very careful about maintaining my credibility. At that time, during the mid-80s in Canada, one (at least this one) tended to stay in the closet if one had any spiritual inclinations.

“But the drink made me say it. I blamed it on the little Dubonnet on the rocks with a twist—that’s what made me do it. My mouth flew open and words that didn’t even go past my brain tumbled forth.

“I’d like to meet the apprentice who lives here,” I said. “I’ve always felt I had something to give to Castaneda,” I blurted out to Jane and the little gathering of people.

“It was actually the truth. I’d been reading Castaneda’s books about the spiritual world and energy beings for over 10 years now, and a strange thing happened to me each time I read his books. After reading the first book, I was chased in dreams by crows and other animals. By the time I’d finished the second book, I got the feeling (and it was a very strong feeling) that I had to give him something. I didn’t know what the something was, but the pressure continued with every additional book of his that I read.

“Until that moment, what my mouth had just told the group had been my deepest, darkest secret. My embarrassment at what I’d said was cut short, thankfully, by the call to dinner. Like lemmings, we swarmed hungrily into the dining room and the incident was forgotten by everyone except me. I left the restaurant with the telephone number of the shaman’s apprentice who was disguised as a local businessman.”