What do you envision when you think of a 'Gypsy'? You know...what would the picture in your mind's eye look like if you tried to describe it? When I close my eyes, I see a clearing in the woods. The clearing is carpeted by a thick mossy ground cover, surrounded by trees, next to a river. Wild thyme grows underfoot and sweetens the air. Evening has fallen and the moon in the sky is a full round glowing orb. Oh how I adore a full moon, so full of feminine energy and promising mystery. The light that shines down from a full moon is the most magnificent light of all, because it illuminates the earth in such a magical way. The moonlight falls on the ripples of the water and shines like glitter in the night. One can easily find their way down the wooded trail to the Gypsy Camp when the full moon offers to lead the way.
This particular night is in mid Summer. I know this because the delicate, sweet scent of jasmine wafts along on a soft balmy breeze that tickles the skin. Through the trees, I spot the flicker of fireflies darting to and fro among the branches....a sure sign that Summer has arrived. An owl bellows out from deep within the woods, and if you listen closely, you'll hear the faint sound of laughter and music above the cricket symphony.
Up ahead in the clearing, there are several Gypsy Wagons circled up around a blazing campfire. The wagons are colorful even in the darkness, and they have lights and
lanterns strung about them in a most enchanting way. I am drawn ever closer by my curiosity and delight, as if being pulled along by some magnetic energy.
Then there are the Gypsy women...oh, those exotic Gypsy women. How they enchant us all. They are flamboyantly dressed with their flashy jewels, noisy coin belts and scarves of many colors and patterns. They dance their frenzied, yet alluring dance around the flames in an air of reckless abandon, with the ruffles of their skirts twirling madly about them. It's as if their gyrating hips lull everyone into some strange hypnotic trance.
The bewitching trail of their perfume hangs fragrant in the air, and seduces with its heady scent of spice, incense and musk. Their long curls hang loose around their shoulders, while their bells and trinkets jingle and sparkle in the most beguiling way. And their faces are set aglow by the light of the moon and the crackling fire. Oh how beautiful the skin looks when it is softly caressed by moonbeams. The sweat of the dance glistens on their bare shoulders and bellies. They are one with the music, they are one with the night.
Over to the side sits a Fortune Teller's tent. And inside, is an elderly Gypsy lady called Madame Zelda. She is something of a legend in town. No one is sure if she really exists. But she is here tonight to work her magic. She is the matriarch of this Gypsy clan, and many full moons have risen and set since she was a young Gypsy maiden joining in the 'dance'. Her head is covered with the traditional gypsy scarf, and her face is wrinkled and weathered by the years. She is the wise woman and the 'Fortune Teller' of this Caravan, and her tent takes on a colorful glow as though illuminated by fairy dust and magic.
Madame Zelda will be working hard this evening to earn some coins for her travels. Her crystal ball and tarot cards are laid out for service, and her tent smells of burning candles and spicy incense which trails out the opening to entice those who eagerly await their turn inside.
I am the red haired Gypsy, dancing barefoot by the fire. My toes have rings, my fingers have more.
My skirts are colorful....adorned with
stray bits of lace and ribbons and buttons. My peasant blouse falls off the
shoulders and my vest is laced up tight. My crimson curls cascade down my back
and my head scarf ties to the side. My eyes are wide with energy and delight.
Beads of sweat form on my skin as I dance and dance and dance. I honor the
earth, the fire, the water and the wind....I dance my dance for the Moon, and I dance my dance for ME! The stars, the moon, and the music have cast a powerful spell on me now. I give in to their ephemeral delights. No worries of
yesterday or fears of tomorrow...only the sheer enchantment of this very moment
permeating my soul. The night seems endless and euphoric.
Just then, I spy something over in the grass. In the waning moonlight, I catch a glimpse of something shiny on the ground by the trees. Indeed, there is something sparkling there in whats left of the night's magical moonlight. I bend down to find a large, ornate ring that must have fallen from the slender fingers of one of the dancing Gypsy women. And there is magic still dancing around the ring, like electrically charged fairy dust. In fact, I begin to realize that this may be the only tangible proof that the Gypsy Caravan had even traveled through this town last night. But surely someone else must have seen them, everyone was here.
Weren't they?
My attention is again drawn down to the ring. I pick it up and hold it in my hand. I can feel its warmth and its magic tingling in my palm. And all at once...reality seems obscured. Did I by chance fall asleep in the grass when I laid down to rest, and wish on the first star in the evening sky? Did I even really dance with the
Gypsies beneath the full Gypsy Moon last night? Or was this just some kind of
hazy intoxicating Midsummer Night's dream? You know, the kind that leaves you
feeling dazed and confused when you first awaken....unable to distinguish
between reality and fantasy. A dream so mesmerizing that you yearn for it to be real. Those are the best kind of dreams to have.
