Trust the wolves, but do not tell them where you are going.

Here is a poem from one of my favorite authors, Neil Gaiman, and while I think his fiction is much better than his poetry, there really isn’t enough room here to post an entire story of his…plus that would probably be illegal! I do, however, highly recommend his American Gods. According to Gaiman, this poem is a list of instructions for people if they happen to find themselves inside a fairy tale.

Instructions

by Neil Gaiman

Touch the wooden gate in the wall you never saw before
Say “please” before you open the latch,
go through,
walk down the path.
A red metal imp hangs from the
green-painted front door,
as a knocker,
do not touch it; it will bite your fingers.
Walk through the house. Take nothing. Eat nothing.
However,
if any creature tells you that it hungers,
feed it.
If it tells you that it is dirty,
clean it.
If it cries to you that it hurts,
if you can, ease its pain.

From the back garden you will be able to see the wild wood.
The deep well you walk past leads to Winter’s realm;
there is another land at the bottom of it.
If you turn around here,
you can walk back, safely;
you will lose no face. I will think no less of you.

Once through the garden you will be in the wood.
The trees are old. Eyes peer from the undergrowth.
Beneath a twisted oak sits an old woman.
She may ask for something;
give it to her. She
will point the way to the castle. Inside it
are three princesses.
Do not trust the youngest. Walk on.
In the clearing beyond the castle the
twelve months sit about a fire, warming their feet, exchanging tales.
They may do favors for you, if you are polite.
You may pick strawberries in December’s frost.

Trust the wolves, but do not tell them
where you are going.
The river can be crossed by the ferry.
The ferryman will take you.
(The answer to his question is this:
If he hands the oar to his passenger, he
will be free to leave the boat.
Only tell him this from a safe distance.)

If an eagle gives you a feather, keep it safe.
Remember: that giants sleep too soundly; that
witches are often betrayed by their appetites;
dragons have one soft spot, somewhere, always;
hearts can be well-hidden,
and you betray them with your tongue.

Do not be jealous of your sister.
Know that diamonds and roses
are as uncomfortable when they tumble
from one’s lips as toads and frogs:
colder, too, and sharper, and they cut.

Remember your name.
Do not lose hope — what you seek will be found.
Trust ghosts. Trust those that you have
helped to help you in their turn.
Trust dreams.
Trust your heart, and trust your story.

When you come back, return the way you came.
Favors will be returned, debts will be repaid.
Do not forget your manners.
Do not look back.
Ride the wise eagle (you shall not fall).
Ride the silver fish (you will not drown).
Ride the grey wolf (hold tightly to his fur).

There is a worm at the heart of the tower;
that is why it will not stand.

When you reach the little house, the
place your journey started,
you will recognize it, although it will seem
much smaller than you remember.
Walk up the path, and through the gard
gate you never saw before but once.
And then go home. Or make a home.

Or rest.

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Gaiman with girlfirned Amanda Palmer from the Dresdon Dolls! She rocks too!

Watch their collaboration at NYC’s Housing Works Bookstore:

http://www.spin.com/articles/watch-amanda-palmer-neil-gaiman-live-nyc

It is called, “I Google You” and I really like it… if you are my friend, you probably know why, which is that I am a superstar sleuth and I “google” most people I meet who I find interesting or who I am interested in. We all do it and don’t talk about it.  :-)

If you have ever considered “googling” me, let me save you the trouble. There are some good things to see, but it is all overshadowed by a beastly photograph of me from the American Entomological Society and a poorly written essay for a NYTimes contest. Also—but this is a tougher hunt—there is my old Deadjournal from my angsty high school days, which has its tender moments, but is overall too confessional, and I would love to take it down, but I don’t have the email address I used to sign up for it, and the gods of Deadjournal never answer my emails.

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Here is a clip of Tori Amos talking about Gaiman: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Cw8pSJEeAY

I love it when she says, “He is always watching, and listening to the things you don’t say.”

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