General Quarters: All Hands to Battle Stations!

The klaxons have been going off in my body for a while now. From the moment that I started the process of forcing my brother to finish up the terms of Dad's will with a lawyer of my own, my body has been telling me that there are Romulans to Port and Klingons to Starboard. I can not see an enemy vessel in my vicinity. What that usually means then is that the attack is spiritual in nature.

Someone I love is going to need my emotional support and any positive energy for defense and encouragement that I can send. I hate that. I hate it because that means someone that I love is going to need to go through one of those horrible life experiences that build character. It is always a lot of pain. And while the pain is as temporary and fleeting as a bit of gas following baked beans it still stinks to high heaven. And there is almost nothing that I can ever do to prevent it.

And I don't know who is suffering. I can not help. And yet the red alerts have been going off for a year now. So for a long time I expected to hear Matze would divorce. That is something that my righteously indignant self can rally behind to send comforting energy. But there is not any reason to think that will happen. Thankfully he seems to have found in Sarah the best match of his life. Which is great because he truly has had to suffer enough at the hands of the fickle. So then I thought that maybe the doom that falls next would be something with my sister. I've been out of contact with her for almost  year because she lost technical support.

But no. She is back up and running and the whole family is great and there have not been any issues. And she has filled me in on all I've missed from the people on her end who I do like but do not keep in touch with. And they all seem to be doing great. So this sense of doom that has been lurking around me seems definitely to come from the realm of "Things that I am a Fan of".

Which meant that my heart dropped when Randy Travis went into the hospital last week. You would think if that was it that when the announcement was made, having identified the possible cause for that warning that the warning would stop. It is not stopping. Matze is fine. Randy is doing better. There is nothing on the radar of possible heartache or physical pain for Armitage, Cumberbatch, Tennant, Smith or anyone else that has captured my attention so intensely. Wheatons are doing great. So what is it?

What is making me feel defensive? What is making my batleth hand twitch for action?

The last time I felt this cagey was the week leading up to September 11. And nothing about that last time felt personal. Something terrible is headed my way and I can not see what it is.

Flashbacks

I haven't seen my friend Sheri since 11th grade. And when I saw her I was too wrapped up in the year's projects, German II and after school work to do more than make a mental note to get back with her the minute I had free time. She's been out of State for 6 years and things just kept truckin' along so we lost touch. When I did have time to seek her she had moved again. Until Facebook I hadn't heard from her in nearly 2 years. So we got together for coffee.

Coffee has to be the cheapest date in this town. for a meager 4.00 you can sit with a friend for 2,4,6 even up to 10 hours and gab about nothing and everything. It was a good visit. Not only did we get to hit the highlights about life, love and living situations we were able to touch off old memories and get some explanation for things that we remembered. And we got confirmation that we were not crazy. That we did really remember some very bizarre things about school in Traverse City. One thing in particular struck me with such a force that it has taken me a couple of days to let it sink in.

"I remember the day you told me you were psychic."

We were talking about elementary school, first kisses, the boys with the cool toys and art supplies and the teachers that scared the confessions right out of us. Sheri stunned me. How in the world would I have known when I was 10 that I was psychic and why would I know? Clearly befuddled she offered this story.

It was the day that girl got hit by a car on the corner where you used to live. I don't remember her name. She was a red-headed twin. We were standing by the gym, looking at the accident; for some reason you just said "I'm psychic." Whenever I think back on those days and remember you that is what I remember first. Most. I don't know why.

I don't know why I would have said that to her. I'm sure that my Irish Gramma had a lot to do with it though. She used to say that I was an old soul. And that mom was kinda afraid of me because she couldn't fool me like she could fool everyone else. Oh sure, I fell for every practical joke out there. But when it came to teaching me about the world and how to treat people I was able to call her out on the carpet. Unfortunately I couldn't always tell what was going on when she was trying to teach me who I was. Gramma said that psychic connection is why I liked people so much for, as mom would say "So little reason." And why it hurt so much when they left. But also why animals liked me so much and I them. Gramma also said that it would be a difficult gift because I would not need constant letters and phone calls to keep me connected to people I love but they would need those things from me... sometimes in abundance.

After talking to Sheri, I remember that day and Gramma's words so much more clearly. But I can not for the life of me figure out why I would have told her that. The only explanation I have is that I was bursting to tell someone and she felt like a safe place to divest myself of such a burdensome secret.

Time is fluid

It turns out that you can be your own imagnary friend.

Quantum mechanics can give you a doozy of a headache. And boy do I have a doozy.

12-19-08 part two

That stubborn candle, child of darkness, has spent my time in Traverse eroding my sense of purpose. Art is frivolous. Writing a waste and food crafted by my hands is stupid when it can be strore bought. Long time readers will know that the stubborn candle is my brother. New readers should know that this Waltonesque dream of mine is why he's had so much power to make my burdens heavy: I have expected him to make them light in the way John Walton Jr. did his siblings' trials. I forgot that in following the call there are relationships that must fall away. But in being intimately keyed to dad's health care and maintenance, my personal desire to manifest the familiail connections that we had hoped for as children, that I continued to hope for until recently, allowed me to wander this minefield with the gingerfooted grace of a kender rather than a skilled personel retrieval expert. I flet bad because I hurt his feelings by so easily adopting my brothers and sisters in and out of Christian fellowship. He felt abandoned and unworthy. That is his own issue. I tried to always include him but he would always decline. I made it my issue then. I tried to be less around him. Then he was always around. I never noticed it untol the fllamed guttered close to being extinguished. So i rebell and we start our own private war again. So here I praise G-d for Facebook.

And e-mail. Facebook had aloowed me to reconnect with people hwo have been integral to my development on spiritual and human levels. They have all helped me to become the person I am, even if I never knew how important they would be. Case in point, my classmates from elementary to graduation. Facebook, in allowing reconnection, has brought me out of the isolation induced by my unrealistic expectations of my family relationships. I am neither rock nor island: I feel pain and I cry. And I am not the only person with issues. Facebook has allowed me to remember that cometimes tha candle just has to sit quietly on its stand and keep vigil over those who are lost, lonely, hurt or sick. Sometimes it can crack a joke, ofer healing energy/prayers, congrats or advice. But mostly the candle lit by Mercy's light is just supposed to shine thereby drawing others to warmth, maybe an embrace, but importantly to stand boldly against the dark. That requires a shipload of candles to stand together. A single candle gutters in the wind of a careless whisper or a violent bluster. Like a choir of candles in a Catholic shrine or 8 bold little candles on a menorah- the more cadles that shine the more light. Light dispells darkness.
i had thought, guiltily, that Facebook was a waste of time. I indulged in the time wasting by sensing on occassion that if he knew what Iwas doing he would blow a gasket. Then I opened my e-mail today. The overwhelming majority of messages came from Facebook friends and family. Tucked among the catch up notes was an amzing reminder of a truth that transcends belief systems: G-d uses all things to the good of those who love him.
A friend of mine from Marquette wrote an amazing note on his page. I responded by sending a blurb abck to let him know that his words were recieved and no jusgement was going out to him form me. He sent a blurb back. Then today's email says he thought my response was more amazing than his posted note. While I disagree with the amazing lable, I cannot disagree with the amazing result of two lights dancing. [Name redacted *] shared a scenario that reveals both his character nd G-d's while illustrating the need to have other people in our lives; and to have alife you can live as genuinely as possible, flaws and all. It was amazingly poignant, tender and on a Risk factor of 1-10 (10 being riskiest) he wrote at a level 15 vulnerability. But he gained about 500 strength points.
See when i publish somehting on the internet, or anywhere, there is a huge risk of offending someone or attracting that spite and malice in people who hate the light- even their own. This happens to another friend of mine all the time. With (*) having freshly reconnected with people he hasn't seen in years, he ran the risk of judgement resulting in disconnection ot attack. Could people accept this flawed (*) instead of the (*) they knew? Could his sharing have any real value? Could(*), a born encourager and walking partner, still be used by G-d to serve the light? Yes.
I found value in his words, but more in the expression of trust and the reality that no matter what we are human, mistake making, struggling, mis-stepping humans serving the light as best as this condition llows. (*) reminded me that sometimes we are another person's shelter, rock, refuge because that is what G-d asks us to do. He doesn't ask us to tear each other down. Sometimes we are silent partners, not so silent co creators, and exuberant co-celebrants. We are called to cry, laugh,empathise and joke with others. Sometimes we are just an ear or an eye. But we are always connected. And the only thing really that G-d expects us not to do is diminish each other. We do that all on our own. Believeme, we really don't need help in that department. In reading (*)'s post, you can tell that he didn't need to be reminded of falling short. And I don't need reminding that I fall short. I only need the same love and acceptance that I was given by Grace. (*) reminded me that it is still there. So I reminded him. Nothing amazing- just light kindling. Just celebrating the light. That is my business.

written 12-19-08

I should be asleep since its 3:24 am and I'm the lone housekeeper today. We are down to two main housekeepers since management finally snapped a twig about the people who call in all the time. My twig snapped last week when I worked with a high temp head cold and i have been filling in for another department... you know just to keep it interesting. While it would be nice to blame it on the worry factor that today's shift presents, or the bit o'cheer i had in my hot chocolate upon returning to my 40 degree house, the fact of the matter is I am awake to answer a call.
It would seem in my overwhelming sense of desperation to do the work (home and job) of four people during the passed month I neglected to do the work I am called to. And as I write that line I realize it shouldn't be work. But circumstances being what they are it is work since it is so hard to find the cheer in myself to spread around. I put a tree up last night and today opened my e-mail that I have neglected for a week or better and went to Verta's. The common thread tying those 3 things together can best be summed in a paraphrase from the Dicken's carol : "Humanity is my business."

Humanity needs its traditions and in these dark days when people struggle to hold the desire to live, striving to get to the day when they can drink up sunshine, celebrating th light is my business. As people take risks by engaging in what they hope to be genuine relationships on any status level, as they risk transparency, as they share vulnerability in asking for connection to someone, receiving them and responding with love is my business. Serving light, in this case being light, is my business.

I say this again because it is being hammered into my head that I am a frivolous waste of matter, energy and resources. I am, as counted by my surviving family, what Scrooge called surplus population. And as I struggle to remember my purpose I fight a plunge into permanent darkness. For with such a decree pronounced it is rather difficult to assert, given my financial means, that I am not the sum of my register. After all, I was made by a creator. I was made for a reason and it isn't to live on a hamster wheel for the state a federal coffers.

As Verta opened her heart and home to instruct and guide people in seeing, feeling and being in light so that we can help another out of darkness, being in class is my business. So I answer a call; the call to reflect the light shown to me.

Hannukah begins this weekend. It's start coincides woth Solstice- the point at which darkness is dispelled naturally with our position in the cosmos. It's science, you say. Astronomy, you say. Big flippin' deal you say. It's Christmas time you say. Yes. Yes. Yes. And yes. But it is all about coming out of darkness. Darkness is required for rest inasmuch as rest requires less light than action. But to live in darkness id to ive in deprivation. No matter what your religious belief, the Creator never intended his creation to be deprived. Total darkness destroyes life physically and metaphysically. Total darkness is entropic. Entropy is decay. Decay celebrates nothing. it is simply non existance.

So here's the thing. Celebration makes a clean shiny place in the heart for the Holy Spirit's light to dance as a candle flame. Hannukah, Solistice, Christmas- whichever; in the time of the year our mids need it the most the impetus to spread joy, to light the flame in abother heart as one bright candle can light a dark one without diminishing itself is found in these holidays. I chose to embrace all of then because personally i think the light more important than the lable.

But I was going to allow one stubborn candle that refuses to shiny tell me that a holiday in my economic situation and my ranking on his loser-meter was frivolous and unbefitting a person who should be begging forgiveness for all my screw ups with every breath I take, every move i make because he is watching me. I already possess the ornamentation. Why not avail myself of previous years' prsoperity? As I already have the means I wouldn't be spending money frivolously. But then the issue isn't about the money is it?
It was about the fivolity. Frivolity comes with joy. Or it at least sends the invitations. Frivolity is both the beginning and culmination of Joy which (just to make a nice holiday package) is Many Lights Dancing. Frivolity and joy are not things that outr stubborn candle approves of in people it deems unworthy. It is insulted by the celebrations of the poor because they have not done enough in his eyes to attain it. It is insulted that I do not accept the standard he bears and beg for daily forgivness from him. It is insulted that I can find joy despite my failed marriage, my divorce, my personal finances and for chosing to allow grace to cover over other unworthy persons' sins. It is insult that i don't grovel for failing to desire to break a sweat in my work, foir the time I have taken to encourage other candles to keep shining, making art, writing words and making food to share with others- even itself.

I already said I was sorry. I already asked for forgivness. I asked many times but accepted the Mercy of the Light and Spirit only once. Once was enough. The light isln't insulted. It is happy to not have to repeatedly light my guttered candle, to concentrate on reaching others who have never been touvhed with the flame of its passion. As for the art, words and food: the Light asks me to share that first to help keep candles with a dim fire alight and second, to encourage others like my previous slef to accept the Mercy and Light. That is my business. So a frivolous holiday tree with a gold and blue menorak ornament in the German tradition is the most fitting celebration I can have. So i bought the Menorak this year. 8.00 won't kill me faster than deprivation will.

Mood Swings or an Ebb in the Cosmic Tide?

I have to admit to being weepy, depressed and depressing for about a week now. I thought it was the usual girlie problem that I don't usually have, except when working around women for many hours per day. So it never occurred to me that there was any other explanation. Today Verta sent me an alert that explains it well. There is a lull in the cosmic flow, the tide slows like a river coming into a wider portion of the riverbed. The result of this is a tendency to "Weep for no good reason". Verta would say the menses are a reason, sometimes a good reason but mostly a stupid reason to cry, "But what are you gonna do?"
Exactly what I did.
I worried myself over passed failings, whined about being alone and broke a promise to a good friend and went home and cried anyway. he didn't make me pinkie swear so it didn't really count. Right? Anyway, I also got myself a stupid crush going, that if it had any basis in reality might be a nice little gift from the cosmos, but it's completely one way... mine, and i went digging through the Internet to find people that I've lost/misplaced/forgotten about only to have some stupid girlie jealousy rear its stupider head. I meant what I said when I told that story about attraction. And in recent moments of weakness, I wished I could undo that past. I didn't find some people. I did find others in exactly the places I never expected them to be. And I have been catty and ungracious to others. And there is no reason for it, except to say that without a regular flow of cosmic energy, I am nuts. Some would say I am nuts to talk like this, cosmic flow or not. But I am a tomboy, I don't cry. And that's all I've wanted to do.
With this new information, not only do I not mind needing to cry, I don't mind the fact that I have been totally human and totally invulcan. This, I am assured will pass (like a kidney stone) and will leave me with some kind of understanding. I don't know. That's just what I am assured. And the information came just in time. I almost consigned myself to oblivion.
When I left work today I had every intention of writing ACG and my Ukraine friend a fond farewell and relegating myself to the realm of crazy cat ladies (sans feline), dismantling my blog, both of them, and taking down every profile I have on the web. Part of the reason is that last night was too much for me to handle. I found people that I wanted to find and was distraught to realize that none of them missed me as much as I missed them. But I don't know that for certain. I presume that is the case. I felt as though I had embarrassed myself in my weakness, stretching new friendships beyond the strength of their new blooms. I would never end the life to my fleshly body. But there are other forms of suicide less obvious.
Removing my web presence is one form. I only have one regular reader, perhaps others. But one that posts comments. So still, for me, this is a private place to write. I am totally me. I am totally free to be who and what I am. I am learning, as Michelle says, to own my words. For me this is an act of bravery. It is a life form that I have never experienced but have coveted while reading Wheaton. And if I were to dismantle this blog, or my art blog, I would be ending part of my life. My brother doesn't know where to find me on the net. This is the last place I can be me while I continue to live in town. I am underground here. And if I leave this plane, I lose everything I have gained. I lose a vibrancy to my life I have not had in a long time.
I owe a lot of that to ACG. Mostly because we interact on a regular basis. Mostly because he is quality people and I get quality people face time. But also because in his valiant move to step outside of normal operating parameters, we have found a good friendship that I would not want to trade for anything. I have also found connections with people I was afraid of in school... but I've already waxed some shade of philosophical on that point. If I had followed through with my intent, I would have nothing but the fear. And a wet pillow. And I would be unavoidably alone.

"You take the good you take the bad, you take them both and there you have the facts of life."

It's a simple line from an old TV theme. It's a lesson that I feel like I should have learned a long time ago. But I am learning it now. I had felt sorry for myself all day long. I'm amazed I got done by 1:30... usually that kind of self absorption reduces productivity. But, while I was dithering around some blogs, I found an amazing coincidence.
You see, I had searched for these same people back in February when I was out of work and writing my novel while waiting for the employment agency to turn out a gem. I found absolutely no one. Today, I got further into the archives and found that one of my long lost friends had started his blog in March, just a few short weeks before I started mine. Great minds think alike? Absolutely. But mostly I think it has more to do with this ebb and flow in the cosmic stream. Where we have people we have been separated from for one reason or another, some logical, some avoidable and some because of our own paranoid delusions/illusions, those hearts that were meant to connect in this life time and were thrust apart too soon are being put back together. As the cosmic shift approaches, the universe is actively strengthening links between people who will keep things together in their communities or on the global stage. It is of course folly to think that all of those connections are meant to be romantic relationships. In most cases it is that we need each other to maintain our strengths within and outside of the collective. In my case, I am certain that the romantic linking cannot happen until I am back in the middle of a current of people. That is how it happened before. And this time, the person I will be linked to will not be able to separate me from the collective. It was something I had not looked at before, but will this time. And that will be a post of its own. No, the universe is knitting weak strands together because we will all need each other, no matter our religious,political, financial, marital, and employment status. And that is what my searches have been about.
I'm just so used to thinking in old thought patterns that i believed it was because "My perfect mate" was out there. But my perfect community is out there. We are only building roads to each other for the support that we will need when all the changes happen.

If you don't go to class you don't get the degree

Tonight is another meeting to unlock our intuitive selves. We were supposed to watch the Other Boleyn Girl and monitor our chakra's reactions to the movie. The meeting was almost cancelled because two attendees decided not to come. It doesn't matter what the reasons were, both being valid, but it does matter that these two do it all the time and we are all being held up because of it. But it's frustrating because when the class gets cancelled it messes everyone up. This isn't like school in the sense that everyone else has to be in class whether or not someone else is sick or skipping. It's, as i said to Verta, the "Weensiest bit frustrating".

And I need to know why it took me three days to get back to normal, two to quit shaking and one day to breathe. This movie messed me up more than any to date. and I don't know why. It's the damnedest thing. I knew Henry the 8th was an ass. He was beheaded on Jan 27th... my birfday.(smiley face for the day and the beheading) I just didn't know what all went on behind the scenes in terms of the human carnage. And that's exactly what it was. Carnage.

Carnage. Betrayal. Avarice. Deception. Egalitarian machinations. Brutality. Human trading.
Anne and Marie's uncle traded them like cattle at market, or worse, like Africans in Dutch markets. No wonder so many rich people could think nothing of slavery. They sold their own children for houses and seats on privy counsels. They were the worse kind of flesh peddlers. Just thinking about it makes my whole body hurt all over again. I wonder if my aversion to marriage and "official" relationships has something to do with having been sold in a prior life. I certainly was examined by my mother in such a fashion to suggest she had the same social networking goals for us as children. i did not provide suitable raw materials to allow for advancement so I was ignored.
It makes my mother's running commentary about my sister's actions all the more sinister. Had she really thought to perpetrate so devious a plot on her children? Were we really nothing more than raw material with which she had hoped to build her own empire? I am glad that I was not the "Beautiful" child while my mother wielded her checkbook and influence with impunity. I think I can now relish Jerry Hartl's assertion that I was the Gorgon Medusa. I am attractive enough now in my adulthood, despite the rosacea, that I do not feel I should wear a bag over my head. And it comes at an age where I cannot be, as I would have as a child, vain about it. I am what I am, no more, no less. I think I can appreciate me now.
And I am thankful that I wasn't pretty enough to bother with. My sense of identity and purpose would be totally skewed if I had mom's persistent lecturing about the "right" this and that. I might accept these arbitrary lines as solidly immutable and correct instead of transparently unstable and false.
Time may not heal wounds, but its does give enough distance to gain perspective. All the slings and arrows hurt so much because of a past life I didn't know; I am certain of that. In the grand scheme of things, those things hurt less because I had a buffer. I was outside the social circle. And as lonely as it was, I was safer than being part of it.

One step closer to my degree in Cosmic Humanities.

progress... I think

One of the by products of learning how to do this spiritual, in touch with the Universe thing is that you get a lot of messages that you don't know how to interpret right away. All last week, the 30th through July 4th, I felt unsettled. Someone was knocking at my brain for attention. I contacted all the usual suspects and still had a niggling feeling. Then about July 4th Don. S. Davis' name kept hanging around my head.
Don Davis is General Hammond on SG-1. He died on June29th. I just opened the email from Kate at RDAnderson's site. His name has been in my head from Friday until today. I don't know what it means. I did get he vague impression that it wasn't a good thing that his name was there. I did think for a moment that he was dead. Promptly dismissing that thought, I went back to my regular routine. But I haven't been right at work all week.
That niggling used to happen when I lived in MQT and ministered to the fellowship through notes and letters with specific scriptural references. The CM (Campus Minister) thought that it was disruptive when Markus freaked about a letter I sent him. I didn't know what his issues were. I just wrote the letter that he was supposed to get because he wasn't listening to anyone else. After Markus freaked and I couldn't explain to the CM what this gift was, I freaked. I haven't been into that since. But I am having Verta retrain me so that I can understand. I always felt wrong about scrapping that mission without even talking to the CO. And I have to say, without the gift I have been blindsided in ways that I never anticipated. [See earlier posts.]
I just wish that I had known in time to send a little peace General Hammond's way.
I feel like I lost my Dad all over again. The way he kept Jack in line reminded me of my last years of conversations with dad.

The best part of contact with your guides...

is knowing that you're never alone.
I think I whined about that once before. The feeling that nothing is right when there aren't people around to share you interests. Well, I never really have felt heart-deep aloneness. I always felt as though I had all my friends around me. They are guides. Nieve in particular is my sci-fi/puzzle/games/research buddy.
When ever she has show up of her own volition, I have found new sci-fi to love. Star Trek OS, the Martian Chronicles, Assimov, Dr. Who. And she stays around for a long time when she gets here. I guess. Now that I know what to look for in the memory banks, I know that she was always around for a very long time.
I must always have know about these guys. Because I never seemed to worry much about being left alone. And this not-alone quality to my life has always annoyed the people around me. My brother for one.
I guess that is my contribution to our squabbles... I give the very distinct impression that his choice to be or not to be in my life makes no matter to me. It doesn't. People are who they are and will be when and where they will be. That I don't desperately need him offends him. When I was insecure it offended me when people didn't want me. I understand. I am sorry he's afraid of the UF but ... I am never alone or forsaken and I can't live like I am just to soothe ruffled egos.

What's it all about?

As far as my artistic career goes... this foray into the Universe to meet formally with my guides and masters means that there will be a speed of fruition that I had not expected. Nieve, the Dr., will help me. She promises it will be swift. Note she hasn't said painless. But what else does it mean?

Well, I left Verta's Friday in absolutely no pain. I felt like I had 15 year old legs again. I felt limber, vital and I felt my blood flow despite what the rigors of commercial housekeeping does to a body. I did not feel pain again until I went to lunch today. And when I engage Nieve later this afternoon there will be no more pain.

It also means that I will gain greater accuracy, pinpoint to be precise, in diagnosis and prescription. For my art that means it will be much easier to access the heart than ever before and a greater confidence in executing a painting will make me far more prolific than I have been before. But it also means that there is the potential for unrestrained rubber stamp design. I am getting back in tune with that creative genius that feeds energy to itself by remaining within the Unified Field.

Universal Guides

I am so excited by Friday's events that I can hardly keep myself from screaming. The guide that came to me has been with me before and I have been aware of her. But I had blocked all but one memory conscious thought. The last time I saw her, I was working at a sub shop and baking for the wholesale end. It was after 3am and I was wide awake but angry that it was taking so long to get through the shift goals. For fun, I listened to coast to coast am. Suddenly i thought there were people in the store. I rushed to the front and they first 6 of what would be 12 began to fade from seemingly solid form. Most of the first 6 were ancient warrior types. The next six came first in a group of three, all armoured. Then came two, one was a Mage. And the last was a woman I did not see clearly but impressed me with Dr. Crusher's character type. This was who appeared Friday. She was the most modern looking of them all. Most of the 11 so closely resembled the Heroes of the Lance that I thought I was nuts.
I had planned on calling coast to advance another theory from one Greg Kimball espoused. They insisted that I did not and then they were gone. That was at the height of my Tarot reading. I think that is when I quit reading for myself. I can not forget them. And I cannot deny them. But now I know how to communicate at will.
If only the Mage did not scare me. He makes Raist look like a Kender.