Queens

Two, one two three four
Ev'rybody's talking about
Bagism, Shagism, Dragism, Madism, Ragism, Tagism
This-ism, that-ism, is-m, is-m, is-m. 

This post is gong to be about Archetypes and Gender Identity. Anyone who has a problem with that, stop reading right now. The rest of you, carry on.

The conjunction of Caitlyn Jenner's revelation on the cover of Vanity Fair, the Supreme Court's upholding the rights of gay people to marry, and the murder of 9 people in Charleston for being black has brought up matters of identity in the US. Over on the Joseph Campbell Mythological Roundtable, this has received a lot of discussion. The views range from the 'scientific' - what according to DNA IS 'gender identity'?- to the spiritual - archetypes, the Hero's Journey - to the cultural - what does it mean to be gay, black, fe/male at this time?

The answers of individuals - like the view of historians or biographers - is often more illuminating as to the writer than their subject. But that in itself is instructive as to where we are in the process of Change as a society right now, thus Important.

One of the most interesting discussions, to me, is the re-emergence of the Queen archetype in the female life span, as opposed to Maiden/Mother/Crone being the only options. I take this very personally, as Persephone - one of my major archetypes - embodies three of those modes (Maiden/Queen/Crone)- with Queen of the Underworld being the 'most enduring' (of the longest duration) There of the three. Here in the 3D I have achieved three of those four stages (Maiden/Mother/Queen) and was stuck in the Maiden/Damsel Who Must Be Rescued for a very long time, well into the Mother/Queen st/age. The quarternity, in Jungian terms, is well-presented here.

The Damsel in Distress

This is the immature version of the saboteur. Like the saboteur, this young woman remains self-absorbed, aloof, and does not really understand her environment. It has become disappointing to her as it at best has not met her needs and at worst has entrapped her. Her lack of prior inquisitiveness has left her untaught, ill-prepared and unable to provide for herself. She needs to be rescued from her own life. Unfortunately her lack of relatedness has left her stranded with out known options that would be able to bring about resolution. As in her adult form, her distance from her own needs not only undermines the environment, but sabotages herself. Her need to relate is trapped within her, i.e. self-absorbed, she is well aware that she has needs, but does not have a clue as to how to bring them about. She is trapped, and awaiting divine intervention.

Queen/Mother

I offer this archetypal combination to both honor Toni Wolfe’s original labeling and to acknowledge that there is an aspect of this complexual form that does not have to be a biological mother. The queen/mother aspect of a woman is a complex that has a personal relationship with her subjects and assumes the responsibility of providing an environment in which her subjects can thrive and flourish and find the relational qualities necessary for harmony to exist in the queendom. Her very presence in life leads her through experiences to discover the role that awaits her. Her role will be to instill in her subjects the qualities that she, by her own inner sense of things, deems important. Her dedication to this labor force her to surrender some aspects of her natural sensuality. Her seductress is commonly one of the first victims of this commitment. She may even be tempted to convert her relationship with her lover into that of mother-son, which will provide her mate with a safe place to exist in so his energies are free to provide financial and maintenance support to her family. She tends to be very supportive of social systems that provide an extended environment in which her children or subject are safe to explore and then return to her. The mother has truly surrendered herself and her path as an individual. Her view of wholeness is not simply herself, but the oneness of herself with her self defined charges, be these children or adults. She, of course , will sacrifice herself for her charges, for she has traded her individual path for the opportunity to be the creator and inspiration of her charges who in her creative side she hopes will fulfill and surpass the dreams that she sacrificed to care for them. So, the accomplishments of her subjects become her fulfillment.

The Medial

This aspect of the adult feminine is impersonal as is the amazon, but opposes the amazon in that the fields she play in are the fields of spirit and unconscious ideation. The medial is a channel from the external world to her internal or from the collective unconscious to potential consciousness. She is naturally in tune with her environment and with her intuitive abilities attunes herself to the vibrations that surround her. Her strength is in her ability to trust the internal message over what is obviously standing in front of her as the two commonly oppose each other in the world of the medial. She has some Hecate or witch like qualities about her in that she knows what she knows. But, this knowing does not come to her through reason or exploration. Rather, if she comes near it, it just invades her and demands recognition. When she is surrounded by light creative energy all is well with her and those about her. However, when darkness or discord appear on the horizon of the unconscious, she is the first to sense it. If she denies the intuitive invasion, then the dynamics are pushed into her own shadow and she may be forced to act out the discord in physical or psychological illness. However, the structural form of the medial is truly a vessel, not a receptacle. Therefore, she can avoid this illness by simply allowing the energy of the intuition to pass through her by announcing it to consciousness (either hers or to whomever it may belong). One of the tricky aspect of being a medial is determining for whom her bells tolls. She can easily cause great discord herself by confusing inner messages from her own unconscious with collective material or by assuming that every thought that ripples through her head is a message for someone. Just like the amazon needs to refine her skills, so the medial needs to refine hers. Her unwillingness to apply discipline and wisdom to her gift can be her seriously detrimental to both herself and those close to her.

While it is true that in the Upper Astral (5th Dimension) and Mental (6/7th Dimension) there isn't gender as we think of it here in the 3D, there is an habitual choice of projection for purposes of communicating in the 4th and 5th Dimensions, commonly known as Gender. In specific, all the people we have met thus far in this blog - Franz, Madame, George, Claire, Amy - are actually non-gendered, but project the aspects of gender 'for convenience's sake' [their words] because 'it is hard to get excited by a fuzzy orange blob' [George]. No spirit (or Higher Self or whatever you wish to call it) has gender. It never did. Soul fragments have whatever gender in whatever worlds system the soul goes into as a personality (and some of them have as many as 36 'genders' as we think of them here on Earth) for reasons that have to do with the role taken on.

It is also true that in utero here on earth, certain 'outside influences' [ hormones in food] and 'naturally occurring' influences [over secretion of certain hormones due to enzyme block or lacks as in my own family] can cause hormone and actual physical changes in the embryo, fetus, child and adult, with the cascade of concomitant difficulties and 'gender ambiguity' manifestations (intersex newborns, assigned a particular gender at birth).

My role here - apart from whatever else I am doing - and There is as 'Queen of the Underworld', helping those who are being born and dying with their transitions. I understand the dynamics of physical and non-physical life very well, both in its functional and 'spiritual' aspects. But Claire, for all her having actors ( soul fragments) who have been females and going by a female name - which means Light - hasn't a gender. Many of her aspects are what archetypally would be considered masculine. Her relationships with Madame and Amy and others could conceivably be considered 'romantic' (but so could those with Franz and George). This is an aspect of the 'genderlessness' referred to earlier.

The practical resonance for me here is that I am very 'open-minded' about gender issues, and always have been. I have my own personal preferences - I am very girly girl in many ways, but my mind is logical and thus 'masculine' - but I do not allow these to affect my view of others' co-called 'choices'. The reasons one incarnates in one body type with the mind, spirit and emotions of another are quite complex, and not mine to 'pass judgement upon.'

We are here in this 3D plane at this time as people, to break the stereotypes of what it means to be human, in preparation for being an off-planet civilisation and encountering others (so-called aliens) whom we definitely will view as Other. Gender issues are kindergarten compared to that.

Mountain Rescue- Retrieval III

Again at the Eco Village, this time in my house, a cabin. Cool, dim, comfortable old thing, built from nothing, over these 40 years of earth time. Waiting for George to finish up filing a rucksack with the gods know what. I feel sick. This is going to be... something intense. Self is in the long braids mode and hippie clothes, loose top and shorts. Hmm.

He comes out, from the other room, rucksack in hand, also in his (rather new here) hippie guise of longish hair, Indian shirt and yoga pants. The people coming back are as flummoxed by him as they were by Franz' Hamburg leather pants and red silk shirt. This is not what they expect. 'Are you God' questions become 'God is a hippie?' It's all to loosen them up (as was Franz' 'God is a German queen' outfit.)

G: ready?

K: I guess.

He touches my shoulder.

G: Don't be nervous!

I say nothing. 'I have a bad feeling about this' – to quote Princess Leia.

I realise that Joe and Maggie aren't coming....

We go out, through the pristine Village and pine trees encircling and are moving swiftly towards the mountains, the same area where my Dad lives. I have a swirling sensation, spinning sideways, as I sometimes did when doing readings for people many years ago.

We are at a campground.

I recognise it as one we used to frequent when I was a girl. In the Earth plane, it was in Kern, at Lake Isabella. So many mishaps there... I became intimately acquainted with the local Emergency Room [A&E]. We walk up the winding trail towards the playground area, he before me, making jokes about looking out for bears [as happened in Yellowstone] and eating pine trees [Euell Gibbons].

At length, behind the playground, we come to a section of extremely large boulders, as high as one and two story houses. Up on top, at the edge of one, is my 7 year old self, frozen in fear and indecision. In the earth plane, the daughter of a family friend, whom I was with (along with her little brother) said blithely 'look out for black widow spiders, they're poisinous' described them, and went off clambering with her brother. Seeing one near me, I was instantly terrified, and to my mind had a choice: jump (and die) or stay (and die). As with the poor souls in the Twin Towers who decided to jump from to 115^th floor rather than face a fiery demise, I then thought that taking the decision into my own hands rather than be the victim of an unknown fate was the better choice. It never occurred to me to run away in the opposite direction towards the ground. I didn't know where Rita was. I just screamed and jumped. I never knew how high the rock really was, or how long I was 'out'. Now, I see it was about 30 feet high. Now I know it was about 20 minutes.

But here she is, stuck in that moment of decision, 'in an impossible situation' , with 'only two choices, both of them bad.' I recognise what George is going to do. He is squinting up at her in the sunshine.

G: Hey! Hey up there! Are you stuck? Do you need help getting down?

She just stares at him, shaking her head in terror.

G: It's all right. We'll help you down. Come on, Claire, rope up.

He nods and hands me an end of the rope he has slung over his shoulder.

Ah.

I wrap a length of it around myself in the old way of a 'gentleman's belay', figuring that I and she will have to abseil off. Or at least I will.

G: Don't be afraid, little girl. Claire is climbing up to help you. We will get you down.

She speaks at last.

D: But, but SPIDER!

She points backwards and looks about ready to pass out.

G: Don't worry. It's not harmful. It won't hurt you.

He speaks very calmly. I look over my shoulder at him dubiously. I don't know if it is harmful or not. He nods and speaks quietly.

G: Go on.

We have climbed often in many places here, and as a belayer and climbing leader, I trust him absolutely. He has all of Mallory's skill and a much improved teaching and leading ability. Up, indeed I go, hammering pitons as I do, into the faceless areas, putting in cams in cracks, working my way up slowly and with care, manteling over the outcrop at the top, so that I am lying at the feet of the little girl before I spring up.

K: Hello there. I'm Claire. You're safe now. George and I will get you down and take you home.

I put my hand on her shoulder, because she is too big to pick up.

D: But, but SPIDER!

She points again.

I look over, and there is indeed a spider, but it is not a black widow at all, indeed harmless. All this and nearly dying because of an ordinary spider! [Of which, I should note, I am not presently afraid] I feel angry again at the stupid child Rita, who had other idiocies to her credit on my behalf, Why the parents let her anywhere near me repeatedly, I cannot imagine. I realise that I am angry at the adoptive parents and at Rita's parents for not being responsible adults. Put the anger where it belongs then let it go. Reaching into my pocket, I take out a piece of paper, scoop up the spider, and release it over the edge of the rock then go back to the little girl.

K: You're safe now. Now, let's see about getting you down.

I survey the area, and realise that to the rear of the rocks, it is sloping, perfectly able to be walked down in rock shoes or sneakers, with a helping hand if one is a little girl. The way down is some 50 feet away. Safety, an option not involving death was 50 feet away. Hrm.

I go back to the high edge and tell George of the way down. He'll probably have to walk a bit, but it's perfectly easy. I unrope and toss the rope to him.

G: see you in a bit.

K: Okay.

I take the little girl's hand.

K: Now, see, we can walk down here this way. I will help you so you don't feel scared, okay? And my friend will meet us down at the back. Then we will take you home.

She looks up at me.

D: But, Rita and Jorge...

K: They can find their own [expletive censored] way home. Come on.

We go down, slowly, because she's still shocky, and at the bottom we wait for a few minutes and George comes striding through the trees, all smiles.

G: well, hello there! Very please to meet you. That was a little adventure, wasn't it! I'm George, and this is Claire, and we're going to take you home.

She nods dubiously.

K: she's worried about the other kids. The ones who got her into this fix.

G: Oh I see.

He scans the area.

G: well, I'm sure we'll find them at home. Come on.

He takes her hand as well and we walk through the pines, down the trail to the entrance area to the campground.

G: Now, we have to take a special way to get back, but don't worry. Hold our hands.

She nods and in a moment we are are the Children's Centre (again!)

He takes her in and deals with the transfer while I wait outside with the gatekeeper. After a few minutes, I see the child running to greet someone she knows in the garden. Mission accomplished.

George comes out and we make our way back to the cabin in the EcoVillage. Sitting in the quiet with cold drinks, lounging on the chair and sofa, we talk about the interim [when I was 'out' after jumping] and the impact of the decision and sense of choices.

This was one of those points that happen in every life where a window to leave comes up. But because I was, as you might say, habituated to the [near]death experience, the situation limited the perceived choices that I had (age aside – I was an extremely bright child). This psychological mechanism is (was) still active in me as I write this. Trust in other people's perceptions and judgements, fear of mortal circumstances and bad consequences, and the perception of only extreme choices.

In the interim, it was shown (to my not-child consciousness) what would transpire and not if I stayed There. Far flung, multiple scenarios. (The future, except for the broad outlines of the script, not being fixed). So I went back.

In the physical body, all I had to cope with was a mild concussion and a few stitches. But the psychological impact was very great, and affected my responses to life, and way of making choices to this day. By the grace, this is ameliorated now.

Earthrise Over Mars

This, Babies. This. PAY ATTENTION!
So I was watching the ending scene of the Last of the Mohicans, where Chingachgook is outlining all the CHANGE that WILL COME,
RIGHT THEN, I am also reading THIS in 'The Cosmic Internet' (by my editor Frank DeMarco) - the words belong to his HS, guides, and friends There:

'Consider the work if you will, to be that of creating and infusing with energy a visualisation, a new archetype, a container. Your society is tearing itself apart because you are in the time of a new birth. AID THAT BIRTH!... Your society may now be considered for the first time in RECORDED history all the subspecies of the planet. You are a global civilisation. Those who cannot create rely upon those who can. It requires much less to adhere to a new vision than to obtain and co-shape it. Your work is to help shape the vision so that your fellows - many of whom will hate your for the work! - may benefit. It is a great and a rare privilege to participate in the coalescence of a new civilisation; rarer to participate in a new form of civilisation; rarest of all -your fate - to also participate in the coming to consciousness of a new way of being human.'

This is why I am here, this is what I have always been about. Not only me. But others. You know who you are. And you know exactly why you have put up with all the dross and ignorance and darkness and stupidity. You know what we are building. Do not forget. Stand fast. Stand fast.

Caveat Emptor

An instructive conversation with Claire, regarding Life, Manifestation, and 'internal' or 'pastlife' influences. It appears that the Life Councils have not only responsibility for approval of a particular role (life) and the review process, but also of 'course corrections' along the way. Additionally, playing by the rules of the game here (in whatever one is doing) apparently cannot be circumvented. I understand that this applies to 'black opps' and 'secret societies' as much as to being a brick-layer or corporate financier. This conversation wasn't a 'feel good' boost (They aren't There solving all our problems for us), but it was interesting. I hope it 'proves' to someone that this isn't all a lot of hooey.

Meeting in Green Room of Theatre, on the squashy sofa. [Meetings here are the 'softer, kinder gentler' version of meetings onstage. All have to do with interactions in the 3D]

C: How can I help you?

K: I need assistance getting an income that will support me. It's all very well to 'belong to timelessness', but I have to pay my bills, keep a roof over my head, and food on the table. Same old problems.

C: have you taken into account what Franz said recently? [about work relating to former writings]

K: Yes. But I'm seeing no signs of it. So I don't trust it. I put in applications every day and nothing comes back. I send to agents and nothing comes back. I need assistance. I need a miracle.

C: Your council granted assistance.

K: Not seeing any sign of that either.

C: So you're feeling discouraged.

K: To put it mildly. As I mentioned to a friend just now, what use is knowing and seeing all this, how it works, when it makes not a blind bit of difference to practical life? Whoopie, I 'inspire people'. I shall inspire them ever so when I am dead because of lack of funds, meds, help. I just don't understand WHY the only things I have ever done to keep myself are also soul killing and debilitating to my adrenal condition.

C: Because you have settled for, allowed those things, when you found they were draining.

K: I have to get a living. No trust fund. None of my books has made me rich. Brother Rabbit has not. Even Williamsburg, much as I loved it, was very part-time. In fine, this life reads better than it lives, and I feel that I don't belong here, that the world doesn't need or want me.

C: belonging, again. Because you cannot thrive.

K: To heck with thrive, I just want to break even. I object to the 'do whatever it takes' philosophy, when no shops around here will hire me because I haven't food experience in decades, no business down the hill because … I don't know why.

C: Understand that I am not criticising you. I am in fact taking notes.

K:?

C: to present to the Council.

K: I see. Well thank you.

C: I recognise better than you do what factors are at play in the game. 

K... I had the cognition the other day that the personality and the 'sub'elements' if you will – other resonances [life-roles] that are affecting this personality – are in conflict in terms of desires. On the one hand, personality wants to immerse itself in the Brother Rabbit model of business (but there is no income from which to do that now) AND wants to leave. The various sub-factors want to 1) write and study anthro [Mary Anne O'Malley]; 2) Study the arcane [Ancel]; 3)stay home and manage things [Molly, Patty]; 4) go home (in both senses) [Ellie]. I can see how and when all these factors were or are at play in my life. Are there more?

C: Everything going on here. I know that your life there seems pointless to you, and has done for many years with the exception of the children. 'The effect of choice and the consequences of choice'. The affection and gratitude with which you are regarded is no small accomplishment, by the way. But as you say, 'that's nice, it doesn't put bread on the table.' WE are aware of this – Franz, George, and myself. Your Council is aware of it (through your and our repeated updates.) WE are working to try to change matters, change their minds regarding interference.

K: The maxim goes ' if you don't like something in your life, the way it's turned out, work to change it.' Well doing so, or going for 'what I wanted and am good at' has only resulted in material hardship, if not ruin, over and over. It is this which has got me down.

C: The part which is left out of that maxim is 'following the rules of the game you are playing'. Your problems have come from trying to skip several steps, unknowing that there were steps.

K: Great. I thought I was following signs correctly.

C: The rules of the game there still adhere.

K: So, what do I do?
C: as I have said, keep doing what you're doing. For our part, we're working on it, with other players there, with the Council. It will take a little while. But there are very promising leads.

K ...Thanks...

Belonging

As I have mentioned earlier in this blog, the death of my sister in the days after we were born left me feeling that I was 'all alone out there', that I didn't belong anywhere or to anyone. Being weird - fey - from the beginning also made me an outsider, other. If I have had a neurosis, or challenge to overcome, it has been of feeling that I belong. I have discovered that a good part of this is purely chemical, for when I take taurine or lithium or just nutritional yeast with all its amino acids, I feel this sense of separation less, or not at all.

Nevertheless, in times of stress or crisis, I go right back to that feeling of 'not belonging', feeling at odds with the present time and culture and that the world doesn't want, let alone appreciate what I have to offer. Now, this is not a 'poor me' story. I am just reporting on the inner landscape. My (also vastly intelligent) cousin cannot believe that a smart person such as myself could ever suffer from this. It just isn't in his worldview at all.

So.

All my life I said 'I am my father's daughter, because I am nothing like my mother' (I do sound like her and have the same sense of humour, but those are minor, in my opinion.) This from having regular communications from both of them, all my life, on an etheric level.

Well, as it happens, I am indeed my father's daughter. I am more like my father's side of the family than I could ever hope to dream. Not merely physically, although that too. We have the same intellect, the same (sarcastic) sense of humour, the same talents, the same values, and orientation to life. Over and over again this is shown to me, these last three years.

And then today, the ultimate: after my ranting about the moral turpitude of one of our local business owners, another cousin of mine said to me that our Nana, my father's mother, would be so proud of me and love me so much, that what I had said reminded so much of her.

I belong. To this tribe. This vast rollicking, hard-working, loving, brawling, never-give-up clan.
I am theirs and they are mine.

Thank you, Dad.

Addendum: In the midst of writing this, I had a phone call from my dear friend Mary Wiseman, who interprets Lady Washington at Mount Vernon, thanking me for an 18th century embroidered pin cushion I sent her for her interpretation. She called it, the very spirit of the 18th Century embodied as it lay in her hand. She re-iterated to me as she has many times that I am 'too gracious, kind, knowledgeable, rarefied' for this world, that I should be teaching 'all this' - arts and graces, as well as the spiritual - to people in some historic place, and lamented that she wasn't in a position to make that happen, as she once was when we were at Colonial Williamsburg together.
But I get it. I belong there too - to the ageless, to the ages, to times past and ways past, ways of being past.

Yes. I do.

Gatekeeper

Yesterday, a friend of ours died. Between the notice of her still being on life support early in the morning and our arrival shortly before noon, so many things went down, not least realising WHY George was unexpectedly back from his learning session early. It is one of his jobs to act as 'ferryman', which he has done for many years of our time. It was only 'since' his life as George Mallory that that expression has been the one to show up, on Everest and elsewhere. He is not the only ferryman of course; he has his regions, while others have theirs.

My purpose was also front and centre as we made our way down our mountain to the hospital. I am the gatekeeper, as in the one who sits in front of the labyrinth. I'm here to make sure people who are transitioning understand that they are doing so, that they will be met (by George, their own guides, family and other beloveds), and that they will be taken care of. I am also there to reassure the bereaved that we go on. That they may talk to their beloved any time they wish. That the communication flows both ways.

I have played this role so many times in this life, by 'accident' and by intent. The message, the thread, if you will (thinking of Theseus here in the great labyrinth of Crete) is of primary importance to the various components that make up this 'I' here. In the simplest terms, it is why I am here, to prod the memories of others, to reassure them of what they know: we go on. You are not alone. You will be taken care of. That sounds pretty basic, elementary. But in these critical times of birth and death (I also welcome the incomings, and remind them that they are still connected to all that is There) my presence alone has helped people. It is my service here. Kindness. Compassion. Support.

It's not about fame, or money, or the gratitude of others. It is about the doing. Like Hester Prynne, 'when came the dawn the helpful inmate was no more to be found, shunning both praise and recompense'... They are reminding me to 'finish the line'. so I shall: 'it might be pride, but it was so like humility that it worked a change of hearts on the people of the town toward her, a softness which she neither wanted, nor, perhaps, deserved.'

At any rate, I am grateful always to bear witness to these powerful, critical times. It is an honour to serve.

Thank you, Michelle. We love you.

Doorways

I was called to the Villa, and in the upper Salon, found George, back from his travels and learning, in his Byronic guise, all curling hair and dashingness. We exchanged great hugs and he proceeded to tell me something of his travels and adventures. He was in fine spirits, the recent contretemps forgotten.

I was then sent a message that Madame wanted to see me in her room, which I anticipated might be important, because I have never been asked to her room here before, so I went out into the upper hall, down the hallway to the left and to the room that connected with the bedchamber adjacent to the salon.


The house is and is not as labyrinthine as it appears. It is, at once, fairly straightforward, a Georgian house with antechambers and all connecting through the rooms themselves. But these rooms often lead 'elsewhere'; that is, into other realms, densities, or dimensions. However you want to word that.


As I say, I had never been in Madame's room here. It is her sanctum sanctorum. It is very different to any other part of the house, but in keeping with her job and personality, very much cohesive.

Painted in dark green, with branchy vines and other 'elements of vegetable wickedness' (to quote Hawthorne). it bears a strong resemblance to the Costume Morgue, which is her workspace. There isn't anything directly sinister about Madame; she is simply the Part of Nature, the chthonic dark earth goddess who goes by many names, whom you don't want to piss off.

Upon the dark carved bed she sat in this dim space, and beckoned me over to sit and have a chat.
The subject matter was the 'doorways' in the place. I already knew of the one that led from the lads' wardrobe ante-chamber to the Teaching area of the Mental plane (and to this room, as fancy suited.)
Madame pointed out to me, when I marveled how like the Costume Morgue it was, that the antechamber door yonder led directly to the area where I had, many aeons ago learned as her apprentice, shepherding the infant spirits in learning [how to be] the elementals of existence. These new spirits might or might not ever exist in the 3D physical worlds  - it isn't necessary - but it was our job to teach them how to navigate the initial levels of beingness - the consciousness of what you might call Nature, which is not quite as inanimate as people seem to think. In earth's popular culture, they are known as devas or faeries. But they aren't in the least cute. They are, variously, the old gods, the 'forces of nature', the trolls, dwarves, or the jackros. They are good-natured if well treated. But you don't want to get on their bad side.

The doorway was also one to the Teaching area in the Mental Plane where Madame and I are working presently, in my position as her apprentice, once again, this time to take over the 'Mother Nature' role eventually. I suspected that she was allowing me into the sanctuary to speed up this process of understanding how places and accesses There are interconnected.

After some advice to me that I need to do more with herbs again [ I am a trained herbalist and tend to work in the old ways, with decoctions and tinctures and poultices], she pointed out to me that in my own room - catercorner across the hall - there is a similar doorway in my own  wardrobe antechamber, and that I should perhaps explore whither it leads.

I took this as a directive, and will do so anon.