JENNY BUCKET IS TOLD OF AUNTIE BUNNY

Part 6. of the Jenny Bucket Series

Light between the trees / 2022 / Photo by Russell C. Smith

Sitting on a bench in the middle of Stanley Park, surrounded by ferns, rocks, and moss-laden tree branches casting shadows, Aunt Doris smiled at Jenny, and continued talking about Auntie Bunny. “She was the most gifted Seer in our lineage. A trickster, a healer, a shapeshifter when it suited her. I was in my early 50s when I met her. Up to that point I’d lived a free and wild life, and I knew something was missing. In the early 1960s Aunt Bunny lived by herself, in a large two-story house three blocks off Haines Road, in St. Petersburg. She chose the role of an eccentric elder, a wise crone who spoke only when she felt like it but talked with clear eyes and an open heart. I never knew her exact age, but one time she said she’d been born in 1802, which matched another time she told me she’d been born in Virginia, before the Civil War. Bunny was at least 170 years old when I met her. On a late May morning I moved into her guest cottage. For the payment of me staying in her hidden behind a hedge cottage, she requested that I make her a tuna fish sandwich and BBQ potato chips lunch every day, and water the flowers in her flower beds every other day. I agreed to her terms, and she smiled and nodded. She spent half the day watching daytime TV, with a parrot named Tilly perched on her shoulder. Tilly released drops of bird poop down the back of Bunny’s pink housecoat, with regularity. Once the mid-afternoon soap operas started, she’d pick up a bowl of peanuts from the kitchen counter, cracked them one at a time, and handed one, then another, then another, to Tilly. Looking at me through squinty eyes and rubbing the side of her hooked nose, Auntie Bunny was a perfect example of never wasting words or performing an activity with excess effort. Two supremely important lessons to be aware of at any stage of life. One afternoon, during my second week of living in her cottage, while we were watching The Guiding Light, Auntie Bunny turned, grinned at me and said, “I used to think it was your sister who was the good looking one, but it’s you, isn’t it?” I said, “Thank you, Auntie.” “Don’t thank me, think about whether what I said feels true. And if it does feel true, does it matter. You and your sister are both beautiful beings, regardless of my words, or anyone else’s. Although quite often your sister does step on my last nerve. Anyway, we live our lives guided by lessons big and small. We hear helpful and harmful words from others. It’s a part of life. Which is why you’re now in my orbit. I could be your mentor, and help you understand your gifts. Does this ring true for you?” I told her it felt true. I respected her and would be honored to have her as my mentor. From that afternoon onwards, she added more tasks to what I was doing for her, and with her. She instructed me to begin meditating first thing each morning. Before sunrise was good but not essential. Do it for between 10-20 minutes. Try it with an alarm clock. If a clock doesn’t fit you, try knowing time passing with your mind. From there, she spoke to me about astral planes, how energies differ at nighttime, and the power of thought to change things. She spoke of hiding in plain sight as a way to live in the world. She told me about moving between society’s expectations and being true to your deepest core. Auntie Bunny said the beauty and tragedy of being a woman is how we’re hardly ever seen for who we are. Beautiful, because we’re almost always underestimated. She saw far into the future, and into the next century, and the next. Auntie Bunny assured me women would gain immense internal power – the type of inner power unseen and unknown in this world since women led tribes of warriors and were revered and reviled for being healers. Soon thereafter, insights came to my mind. Often at 3:00 a.m., as if the universe nudged me awake and had messages for me, and me alone. I began the practice of keeping a journal of these early morning thoughts. Which I’ve continued to this day. I lived in her cottage for a decade. Later, I considered it a time of deep learning and saw how it led to who I am in this moment.” Jenny felt the words and memories of her aunt flowing deeply into her heart. Knowing it was being transmitted to her with the strength of love. And for the purpose of carrying on the knowledge of her lineage. Jenny felt both a heaviness and a weight lifting from her spirit.