Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," hopefully Anne's "Samuel Pepys Diary" for her superior descendants!
I just want to record this quickly for my own faulty memory's sake, and then I'm gonna load some vacation stuff before I go try to avoid Dick Cheney in the hamlet of St. Michaels, MD.
(I have some experience avoiding heads of state, having grown up near the Catoctin Mountains and the forbidding Camp David.)
Today's topic: Chonganda came to me in a dream. It was marvelous.
I dreamed that OakWyse, the leader of LlynHydd Grove, told me to go seek this holy man in the mountains. Of course I'm no stranger to the mountains, so I went.
The holy man's house was on a hillside, about halfway down into what we hillbillies call a "holler." And it was very cluttered with old stuff, and sort of falling down, the way we hillbillies call "home."
So I walked down the path and onto the porch. A heavyset black man wearing a dashiki came out the door and greeted me. His face was very gentle, and he seemed to be pleased to see me.
I was confused, however. Why would a Druid send me to an African holy man? This may be a reach, but I doubt there are very many Druids of African descent.
Well, you know dreams. I was just settling in to get this kind holy man's advice when the cat jumped on my stomach and demanded her morning massage. Thank you, kitty.
It wasn't until hours later that I recalled Chonganda, and how I had prayed to him to help save my husband's job, and by gum, Mr. Johnson's job is safe for at least another five years.
So, with apologies to none, and with pleading to all, I say, if you have any wisdom passed on to you from Chonganda, awesome bored god of the ancient Congo, share share share.
THE MERLIN OF BERKELEY SPRINGS
AREA 14, STAR 14