RAELINDA WOAD of STORYTELLER JEWELRY

Raelinda Woad sculpts books that she then fills with her own stories and text. I'm delighted to showcase several of her works that bless my collection. First, here are a series of Dragonfly books which bear the word "Peace" in several languages:

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We also have several of Raelinda's book art which she also fashions into pendants and (lapel) pins:

Here below, I also show a photo of their (for now) home; they lie in a box formerly used for chocolates as I consider these books also absolutely delicious:

I am posting individual works below with each followed by Raelinda's description/introduction to the work as well as the story within the sculpted book. Some of the featured stories are excerpts and some are the complete stories. What's wonderful about the excerpts are that they also do stand on their own, fully capable of providing readers with much enjoyment:


I.  DRAGON

About the Book

Dragons love books (and the humans who read them).
The cover of this little book features an ornate dragon and a new moon.
Open the book, and there is an original story inside for you to read and enjoy. The story is called "Follow That Dream." It's about a woman who works nights driving a taxi through people's dreams.  And a very reluctant passenger.

Book dimensions: 1.25” X 1” X .25”
Materials: steel, brass, etched glass, glass opal, paper. The book locket is steel with a silver oxide finish. The pin is brass with a base silver finish. The dragon and new moon are brass with a silver oxide finish. The stones are etched glass and glass opals. The colored background is painted paper. The story is printed on fine linen paper.
Construction: All the decorative elements, including the cups holding the stones, are riveted securely onto the front of the book and the pin is riveted onto the back of the book.

Storyteller Stuff
Like all the stories in my miniature books, "Follow That Dream" was test-told before a live audience for quality control. Below is an excerpt.

FOLLOW THAT DREAM

You know, I don't think people realize this but we all work in our dreams. Take me. During my day job I'm a storyteller, but while I sleep I drive a taxi, ferrying people from one dream scene to another.

It's a very interesting job. I've met some of the strangest people and I've gotten into some of the most fascinating conversations. You just wouldn't believe the things that people will tell you while they're dreaming.

Well, one deep midnight I was driving around, looking for a fare, and I got to wondering about how I'd gotten this job in the first place. And how peculiar it was that I could remember being awake while I was in my taxi, but I could never remember driving the taxi while I was awake. It was sort of like being able to see out to the shore from underwater, but not being able to see what was inside the water from above the waves.

Well, I was so busy thinking about this that I didn't even notice when someone jumped into my taxicab. Until I heard a woman's voice from the back seat cry out, "Follow that dream!"

"Yes, Ma'am," I said, and stepped on it. Now I have to admit that I was acting very professional, but all the while I was thinking, "this woman sure looks familiar."

Of course looks in dreams can be so misleading. Most people look like a big ball of white light. At least until their dreams start. Then they become that mad, flickering mixture of self perception and self deception.

But there was something about this woman.

To be continued...

*

II. PEGASUS

About the Book
Add a little magic to any outfit with this magical book shaped necklace.
The cover features a pegasus flying under a new moon. Open the book, and there is an original story inside for you to read and enjoy.
The story is called "Dream Wings." It’s about a girl who has wings in her dreams, and how she learns the difference between hiding in her dreams and sharing them. I originally wrote it as a children's story, but it has become one of my more popular adult tales.
Book dimensions: 1.25” X 1” X .25”
Chain dimensions: 22” long.

Materials: steel, brass, etched glass, glass opal, paper. The book locket is steel with a silver oxide finish. The chain is brass with a silver oxide finish. The pegasus and new moon are brass with a silver oxide finish. The stones are etched glass and glass fire opals. The colored background is painted paper. The story is printed on fine linen paper.

Construction: All the decorative elements, including the cups holding the stones, are riveted securely onto the front of the book and the chain loops are riveted onto the back of the book.

DREAM WINGS

Once there was a girl who had a beautiful pair of wings. But only when she was dreaming. 

This girl lived with her Great Tribe Family in a beautiful forest filled with trees and animals and sunlight. But she did not care because she was awake. 

Every day the girl could not wait for night to come so she could crawl into bed and close her eyes. The moment she was asleep the girl would open her dream eyes and and look around. She would find herself standing in a dream forest. It looked so real that the girl would sometimes wonder if she was still awake. But then she would feel a tingling in her shoulder blades. And she would look over her shoulder and there they would be.

Her wings. 

They were beautiful. You could see them and you could see through them, they were that fine. They were made out of light but they moved like water, like they had been poured into the air from a bowl of moonlight. 

And just the way your feet will sometimes say to you, “Dance! Dance!” her wings would say to her, “Fly! Fly!” 

The girl would leap into the air and she would fly all night long, high above the dream trees, even the oldest, tallest dream trees. She would fly so high that her beautiful wings would brush against the clouds.

“I am never going to wake up,” the girl would think. “I am never going to stop flying.”

To be continued...

*

III.  FLYING RABBIT

The book contains the story "Egg Moon":

* 

IV.  RABBIT WITH TEAPOT

About the Book

A book-shaped necklace makes a unique and magical gift! Add a little magic to any outfit with this tiny, wearable book. The cover design features a rabbit and a teapot. Open the book and there's an original story inside for you to read and enjoy.
Book dimensions: 1.25” X 1” X .25”
Chain dimensions: 22” long

Materials: steel, brass, etched glass, glass opal, paper. The book locket is steel with a gold oxide finish. The chain is brass with a base gold finish. The bunny and teapot are brass with a gold oxide finish. The stones are etched glass and glass sea opals. The colored background is painted paper. The story is printed on fine linen paper.

Construction: All the decorative elements, including the cups holding the stones, are riveted securely onto the front of the book and the chain loops are riveted onto the back of the book.

Storyteller Stuff
"The Tea of Letting Go" is a really short story, so I'm posting the entire text below.

THE TEA OF LETTING GO

Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and think, the number of molecules in the sum total of all the objects in my bathroom cabinet exceeds the sum total of molecules in my body.

How did I collect so much junk in the trunk of my car? When did I buy all those clothes pressed together in my closet like passengers on an overcrowded subway train with only on stop: ‘Raelinda’s Room. Please move to the back of the clothes pole to allow the newer garments on board. Thank you. Next stop, Raelinda’s Room again. Please wait until the doors are firmly shut before wrinkling. Thank you.’

Every week on trash day I take out a bag of trash. But my apartment never seems to get any emptier.

The Earth revolves around the Sun, a small planet slave to a great mass. The greater mass of our planet is always pulling our small bodies towards the ground. In the politics of gravity, jumping is a revolution. But no matter how high you jump, you can’t jump off the Earth. Only astronauts riding on explosions of force can achieve escape velocity and break free to dip their toes in the edge of the infinite sea.

I wonder what’s the escape velocity of all my possessions?

*

V.  DOLPHIN

A unique and magical gift! The cover of this wearable book features a dolphin swimming around a Celtic harp. Open the book and there's a story Inside for you to read. The story is called Sea Tea. It's about an encounter between a fisherman and a mermaid, and a favor repaid in a strange and magical way.
Book dimensions: 1.25” X 1” X .25”
Chain dimensions: 22” long

Materials: steel, brass, etched glass, glass opal, paper. The book locket is steel with a gold oxide finish. The chain is brass with a base gold finish. The dolphin and Celtic harp are brass with a gold oxide finish. The stones are etched glass. The colored background is painted paper. The story is printed on fine linen paper.

Construction: All the decorative elements, including the cups holding the stones, are riveted securely onto the front of the book and the chain loops are riveted onto the back of the book.

Storyteller Stuff
I first performed "Sea Tea" at Brother Blue's Storytelling Coffeehouse in Harvard Square. The audience enjoyed it, and I hope you will too. Below is an excerpt:

SEA TEA
(within the book is an excerpt, but Raelinda generously shares her entire story here)

One day a fisherman was pulling in his nets when up came a mermaid. Her hair was tangled in the twine and she was just finishing off the last of his catch.

He hauled her aboard, no easy task. Like all true mermaids she was as healthy and plump as any deep sea creature, with a long split tail heavily encrusted with corals, barnacles, and rough gold coins from ancient shipwrecks stamped with the proud profiles of kings and princes and even one of a young boy, an orphan king, but with that same fierce proud look. And on the oldest coins all, stamped by some lost art onto lumps of star metal that had fallen to earth were the images of queens and priestesses, wolves and snakes.

The mermaid lay on his deck in a terrible seaweed tangle, picking her pointy teeth with a moon-white fish bone.  

The fisherman beheld his ruined net and his scale covered guest. Then he set to work untangling her. It was a long afternoon’s work because his fisherman’s life had taken the cleverness from his hands. But he possessed a fisherman’s patience and he simply kept to his task. By sunset the mermaid was free.

She stretched on his deck. Her scales were like a thousand tiny mirrors. Each one held a setting sun, burning colors, melting clouds, and the sea. She looked at him, listening.

What to say.  

Others had told him, “Your voice is so rough. Your words sound like things scraped off the bottom of a boat. Like barnacles.”  

The fisherman rarely spoke and he did not want to now.

But there is nothing quite like a mermaid for listening. They cast their attention at you and speaking becomes as irresistible as a siren song.

“Hope you enjoyed my dinner,” the fisherman rasped.

The mermaid replied in the exact same rough voice. The sea was her home but on his tiny boat she was a guest.  

“Yes, I did enjoy your dinner. And now you may enjoy my tea.”

She formed a cup with her two scaly hands and reached over the side and scooped up some sea water. She held it out to him, placing her hands on his hands.

“Drink up, air swimmer.”

He shook his head. “Can’t drink sea water.”

She pulled back her hands and the water remained perched on his own hands, still cup shaped.

“Drink up,” she said. “I made it just for you.” Then the roughness slid out of her voice and her voice became as water.  

“Brewed in the brine, steeped in the deep, it is the tea of the sea.”

The liquid sound of her voice compelled a thirst in the fisherman. He raised the cup shaped measure of sea water to his lips. He could almost hear his unborn grandchildren asking, “What did it taste like?” Then he drank the water right out of the air.

What did it taste like? A mouthful of sea water. A mouthful of sea words. He blinked in surprise and rolled them out, amazed to hear such beautiful, liquid words in his own voice.

“Allura llueema huamma nawawa.” He became enchanted by his own voice. He never wanted to stop speaking.

“Allura llueema huamma nawawa.”

A splash broke him free of his own trance. The mermaid was gone. And his voice was a rough scrape struggling to sound like water. Silent again, he returned to shore.  

The fisherman grew old working the sea. He did no better than other fishermen. 

He did no worse. He had many grandchildren and he told them many stories, although never about the mermaid and the cup of tea. Eventually he passed on to them his boat and his nets.

He took to sitting on the beach, an old man watching the sea. He would think, “Growing old is not what I thought it would be.”  

He had imagined himself slowly fading out of the world. But it seemed as if the world was fading away from him.

The fisherman grew older still, sitting on the beach. His memories began to drift away from him on the night tide. He became lonely for his past.  

The loneliness compelled a thought in him. It was time to speak the words.

He began to speak them quietly to himself at every sunset.  

“Allura llueema huamma nawawa.”

He had little breath left for speaking, and the words came out as a watery whisper. Yet each time he spoke them he could feel the cup of tea in his mouth. Brewed in the brine, steeped in the deep. Each time he could taste it. What did it taste like? A salty, evening breeze of a taste.  

And each time he would enter the mermaid’s trance.  

She would grin at him as she picked her teeth from the tangle of his nets, as the waves rocked his boat and the sun set and the clouds melted and the sky turned burning colors. He would be freeing her. He would be young again.

Then she would put her scaled covered hands together and begin to work her old sea magic. Sometimes she was as a fisherman, catching up that moment of time in a net of words for him to hold. Sometimes she was as an artisan, beading that moment onto string of words for him to wear.  

But the very last time she was his mermaid again, offering him a cup of the tea of the sea.

*

VI.  SEA TURTLE

The book contains the story "Sea Change":

Sea Change

It is one thing to be in your home and hear a voice on the phone giving you the marine forecast for the day: Small craft advisory. Wave heights up to 15 feet.
It's another thing to be in a small craft, struggling through the waters outside the shelter of Marblehead harbor, and look up to see 15 feet of water heading your way.

That first big wave quickly took over the job of being the horizon from the horizon, which just a moment ago had held a tiny, far off version of the city of Boston made out of blue smoke. And land.

Not 10 minutes ago the Hunter 33 that we were sailing on had seemed like a really big boat. It was George's boat. Ed, Hugh and myself were George's crew. When you added us up we had almost 100 years of sailing experience between us. And when you divided us back down, Ed and Hugh had almost 50 years each.

Our job was to help George deliver his boat from it's unprotected mooring in Marblehead to it's winter dock in Chelsea, tucked into one of the folds of the Mystic river.

That morning we had driven George's van through the chilly streets of Marblehead. It was the week before Halloween and just before we reached the harbor we passed a house decorated like a cemetery with tombstones and a grinning skeleton holding a sign that said: Turn back before it's too late.

As that first wall of water bore down on our boat I had a feeling 'too late' was on the other side of it.

And I really, really wanted to turn back before we got there.

But the wave got to us first. And I invented a new word inside my head. Mountaining. That wave was mountaining over our boat. It looked absolutely impossible up there, looming over us, but what happened to it next was even more impossible: The wave disappeared.

"Hey," I said. "Where's the wave?"

At that moment the boat grew a pair of feet and stepped onto a watery escalator. Up, up, up we went onto the shoulder of the wave. We could see for sea miles. And then down, down, down the back of it into an alley surrounded by tall, green buildings with frothing white roofs.

But buildings don't usually stampede.

Up, up, up the next one we went. Then down again. We did this six times, and each time up I looked behind us and could see Marblehead getting farther and farther away. There was no turning back now. We were on a dead run in front of a storm swell. The muscle of the sea was behind us.

Hugh was at helm. Hugh was one of those salts who had sailed everything in everything. He was so happy he was humming.

"Did you know," said Hugh cheerfully, "that every 7th wave is bigger than all the others?"

No, I did not know that. Until I looked over the stern and saw lucky number 7 heading our way.

At first it didn't seem different from the other waves. Until I realized that it was making a noise that was so dense you could actually feel the pressure of the sound pushing ahead of the wave before you heard it.

Shhhhhhhhh, went the wave. Like it was asking the sea for quiet.

"Yep," said Hugh. "It's the ones you can hear coming that you have to watch out for." He looked like he had just won the lottery.

Suddenly the shhhhhh became hssssssss and the wave shook off the rest of the ocean and began pulling itself up to its true and frightening height. It was like watching Medusa rise up from the sea. With hair, a hissing snarl of white sea snakes, and a terrible green face rolling across the water towards us.

"Oh, hey, Raelinda," said Hugh. "Do you want to try the helm?"

"No," is what I wished I'd said. But I as it turned out, I could go even worse than, "no."

I said, "I can't."

It was the miserable truth. I wanted the courage to take the helm. But it was too late, I'd already turned back.

Up, up, up the biggest wave we went until, perched on the hissing, churning crest, we shot forward like someone had just floored the accelerator.

Did you know that sailboats can surf? Well, they can.

As I clutched the life lines I found I had the perfect view of my heart's desire. And it wasn't the sea like I'd thought.

Luckily for my ego, I can remember other moments from that trip. I remember eventually getting so used to seeing walls of water bearing down on us that I was more concerned with where I'd packed my cheddar cheese sandwich. And when we approached Deer Island Light, and the seas settled down to under 10 feet, I remember my confidence creeping shamefully back. And I was able to take the helm and sail us the rest of the way to Chelsea.

Believe me, it's a lot more flattering to myself to remember the moments like those. But I find they just don't do it for me anymore.

Because it was that moment I was riding the head of Medusa, gulping for breath and blinking salt out of my eyes. It was that moment I was looking down, down, down at all those wild churning sea miles, and out, out, out across them to a horizon holding a far away city made out of blue smoke. It was at that moment when I felt something under my thoughts shift and slide open. And a hidden room had appeared.

It was like a secret chamber in my mind that I had never known existed. Had not even known that I needed. It was a place for holding memories that was half alcove, half altar.

Because it is one thing to remember those moments when you're already pulling yourself back together. But it's another thing to remember moments like this.

*

VII.  MOON STAR

About the Book

The cover of this wearable book features an elegant goddess, sleeping in the curve of the moon. Open the book and there's a story Inside for you to read. The story is called "Night Stitches." It's about a woman who spends her nights stitches up other people’s troubles, instead of dreaming her own dreams.
Book dimensions: 1.25” X 1” X .25”
Chain dimensions: 22” long

Materials: steel, brass, etched glass, glass opal, paper. The book locket is steel with a silver oxide finish. The chain is brass with a silver oxide finish. The moon goddess and star are brass with a silver oxide finish. The stones are etched glass and glass sea opals. The colored background is painted paper. The story is printed on fine linen paper.

Construction: All the decorative elements, including the cups holding the stones, are riveted securely onto the front of the book and the chain loops are riveted onto the back of the book.

Storyteller Stuff
I first performed it under the Ballad Tree at the Kerville Folk Festival. The audience enjoyed it, and I hope you will too. Below is an excerpt.

NIGHT STITCHES

People don’t listen. Or they listen but they only hear things they agree with. How do I know this? Because whenever I tried to tell people that I never dream they would say, “You mean, you dream and you don’t remember.”

That is not what I said. That is not what I meant.

I could remember sleeping. But there was never any dreaming. There was only stitching.

Sleep was like a silver needle that I would ride, braced in its eye. As a child, all night long I would stitch up the parts of my family that were coming apart, good and tight to last another day. 

Then all day long I would watch my night stitches unravel. And I would bite my lips and try to mend their arguments with my apologies, hoping that it would all just last until sleep that silver needle.

So when could I have dreamed? 

I grew up on the seam of life where the edges meet but won’t hold together.

To be continued...

*

VIII. OWL MOON

The book contains the story"Things v/s Thinking" featured here with my appreciative cat Tarzan" and with the story below:

THINGS VERSUS THINKING

Things are made out of particles of plastic and quarks of cardboard. Thoughts are made out of edited memories and amateur prophecies.

Things are stable. If you put down a teapot and turn away, behind your back it will still be a teapot.

But if you turn away from a thought it will never be the same when you come back to it. It will be darker or brighter, or less important. Or scarred because you've thought it too many times.

Is there any place in the universe more unstable than the inside of our heads?

Are there no drugs powerful enough to tame the turbulent flow of our perpetual mental alchemy?

Hopefully not.

You can think about lead. And then you can think about gold.

*

IX.  PEACOCK

About the Book

This lovely, wearable book locket features a peacock and a new moon on the cover.
Pin it on a scarf, lapel, or even a hat to add a unique accent to any outfit.
Open the book, and there is a story inside for you to read and enjoy.
Book dimensions: 1.25” X 1” X .25”

Material: Brass, Glass, Paper, Steel. The book locket is steel with a silver oxide finish. The pin is brass with a base silver finish. The peacock and moon are brass with a silver oxide finish. The stones are etched glass and glass sea opals. The colored background is painted paper. The story is printed on fine linen paper.

Construction: All the decorative elements, including the cups holding the stones, are riveted securely onto the front of the book and the pin is riveted onto the back of the book.

Storyteller StuffThe story is called "The Gift." I didn’t exactly write it, "The Gift" sort of appeared inside my head, fully formed, at a memorial service for a fellow storyteller.
Sometimes storytellers are just delivery people working for the universe.

THE GIFT

This is a story of the Inside People, who lived inside a city made of glass and steel and a medusa's nest of electrical currents.

The Inside People hated to go outside. To them, outside was just this uncomfortable realm that you had to go through to get back inside again, and the sooner the better. The problem with outside was you had to take it as it came. If it rained, you had to get wet. If the wind blew, you had to be cold. And if it became dark, you had to reach your hands out in front of you.

But inside, you could decide what time NOW was. Or how big HERE was. And most importantly, you could decide who could come inside and who could not.

Everyone agreed that Death could not come in.

Now, Death takes many forms. For the Inside People Death took the form of a huge black bird with a golden eye, a silver eye, and a blue eye. Any time this black bird came near, people would throw things at it to shoo it away. They would throw sticks, empty bottles, even curses.

"Go away, nasty thing! Go away!"

Even when Inside People died, Death was not welcomed in. Instead, the people who died were put out. Out into ambulances.

Out into hospitals. 

Out.

But one night, one night...

A child lay in her bedroom and could not sleep, there was too much happening downstairs. But she had been told to stay upstairs.

"No, do not come down tonight," her mother had said. "Here's a glass of water, if you want more use the upstairs bathroom."

But her mother was so distracted that she had left the girl's bedroom window open a crack, and a little bit of outside air wafted into the room. The child breathed it in, and it felt so good. She hopped out of bed and went closer to the window and breathed in another draft of outside air. It felt so good. She exhaled it into her room. Then she placed her mouth right up to the little bit of open window. And breath by breath, she breathed the outside into her room.

When her room was full, in flew Death.

"Have you come for me?", asked the child.

"Not for a long time, by your measure," was Death's reply. "I have come for your grandmother downstairs. But she wanted to share me with you."

"Hmm," said the child.

Death regarded her with all three eyes. "I suppose you have heard all about me."

"Ooooh yes!", said the little girl. "You are dirty, you are nasty, you are bedamned and becursed. May I hug you?"

"Of course, my child."

The child embraced Death. And when she did, NOW spilled out of all the clocks, HERE spilled out of all the rooms, and lifetimes seemed no more than single footsteps on a long journey. 

Sometimes, a step made on tip toe, barely touching down. 

Sometimes, a firmly planted, a mountain step. 

Sometimes, an angry kick step, the beginning of someone's very long road of learning. 

And sometimes, a dancing step, the bright brief life of a seasoned traveler.

"Oh!", said the child. "May I have a wish?"

"I am Death, not your fairy godmother," Death snapped. Then Death softened. "What is your wish?"

"I wish that you could be a part of my whole life, not just the end of my life."

"Ah. You have wished for the one thing that I cannot grant you."

And at that moment, the child realized just how generous her grandmother
had been.

*

X.  FAIRY

About the Book

A wearable tale!
What could be more magical than a miniature book with a fairy on the cover?
How about a wearable miniature book with a fairy on the cover and a story inside.
The story is called "Dream Wings." It’s about a girl who has wings in her dreams, and how she learns the difference between hiding in her dreams and sharing them. I originally wrote it as a children's story, but it has become one of my more popular adult tales.
Book dimensions: 1.25” X 1” X .25”.

Materials: steel, brass, etched glass, glass opal, paper. The book locket is steel with a silver oxide finish. The pin is brass with a base silver finish. The fairy and settings are brass with a silver oxide finish. The stone is etched glass. The colored background is painted paper. The story is printed on fine linen paper.

Construction: All the decorative elements, including the cups holding the stones, are riveted securely onto the front of the book and the pin is riveted onto the back of the book.

Storyteller Stuff
I first performed “Dream Wings” at a small independent book store that was filled with children (and quite a few adults) waiting for midnight to arrive. Because midnight was when it would become legal for the store to start selling the 5th Harry Potter book.
Yeah, I opened for Harry Potter.
Below is an excerpt from “Dream Wings”:

DREAM WINGS

Once there was a girl who had a beautiful pair of wings. But only when she was dreaming.

This girl lived with her Great Tribe Family in a beautiful forest filled with trees and animals and sunlight. But she did not care because she was awake. 

Every day the girl could not wait for night to come so she could crawl into bed and close her eyes. 

The moment she was asleep the girl would open her dream eyes and and look around. She would find herself standing in a dream forest. It looked so real that the girl would sometimes wonder if she was still awake. But then she would feel a tingling in her shoulder blades. And she would look over her shoulder and there they would be.

Her wings. 

They were beautiful. You could see them and you could see through them, they were that fine. They were made out of light but they moved like water, like they had been poured into the air from a bowl of moonlight. 

And just the way your feet will sometimes say to you, “Dance! Dance!” her wings would say to her, “Fly! Fly!” 

The girl would leap into the air and she would fly all night long, high above the dream trees, even the oldest, tallest dream trees. She would fly so high that her beautiful wings would brush against the clouds.

“I am never going to wake up,” the girl would think. “I am never going to stop flying.”

To be continued...

*

XI. DRAGONFLY PEACE

Materials: brass, paper

This tiny, wearable book opens to reveal 14 words for peace from around the world.

***************

RETURNING THE BORROWED TONGUE 
(2019)

Raelinda also created a one-off book containing one of my poems, "Returning the Borrowed Tongue" which appears in my book Reproductions of the Empty Flagpole. Here are images, including a more legible version of the poem from my normatively-sized book: