The Scavenger's Hunt

By Mya A. Blu

The main character goes on a journey, backwards, to figure out why nothing ever seems to work out in the present. She comes to the sudden awareness of the weight of everyone's solo path and has to learn to use her intuition, the gifts and hints provided by mother nature to survive her never-ending troubles in a world where they are all trapped in cycles engineered by generational trauma.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mya A. Blu
• Release date: Mar 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215769683

Mya A. Blu

Poet, astrologer and mental health advocate.

Book preview

INTRODUCTION

We are all given a new name every time we are reborn; generally influenced by the hour, place and energy present in the ethers, swayed by whiffs from an unlinked past.

These aspects never stay the same and the energy is therefore transformed by the pressure from life’s processes.

Sometimes, everything shifts and even the given name, has no choice but to melt away and follow suit.

Mya – Illusion/ Dream/ Millions of Years ago

Aiva – Life/ Island

Blu - Powerful/ Gift from the Universe

Mya Aiva Blu put together means, the life in your dreams is a gift from the Universe. The beholder of the name therefore, unveils the illusion of sadness from the ineluctable experiences of her life.

Chapter 1

THE BEGINNING AND THE END

I remained too much inside my head and ended up losing my mind.

– Edgar Allan Poe

Happy

A bright and beautiful soul in a nappy

Spirited and calm

Too much so if we were to compare to the conventional toddler on every other palm

Having gone through the photo album more than once

I always find myself coming back to this one picture like an ending to a choreographed dance

And the dimples on those chubby cheeks make me smile just like at the sound of the last note

And once again, it’s like I’m that adorable little tot

And I can sense an increase

A never-ending feeling of peace

The kind of happiness that comes with ease

It becomes pretty clear why everyone who had the chance to meet her speaks of how adorable she was

How her older cousins fought for turns to babysit like in the wars

Despite none of them ever being offered a dime

For hours spent around what was not that far off from a needy mime

A billion stories of how her father loved her so much

How open he was about her being his favorite and always got her something sweet to munch

If only the picture could come perfect to my current mind

Even if just for one moment for that special find

Seems like one of the best chunks of my life if I am being true and honest

Maybe even the best and the fondest

Yet we might never know exactly

Left with stories that are neither full nor flowing and only tell it all abstractly

And even if mother had to go back to work surprisingly early

It is told that the little girl was always surrounded, cuddled and well taken care of

In another’s safe hands engulfed in love that comes in different bundles of fluff

They say she cried for her little light bottle

Or was it a couple every night in every other pottle

A necessity by her crib side

If the babysitters did not want to risk a battle or a divide

She genuinely enjoyed sucking on that rubbery nipple like imitation

That seemed to work just fine despite the lack of human touch limitation

The milk would still go down easy

Do the lulling magic until it was time for another round of squeezy

No trouble unless the tummy growls

Such an imperturbable baby that other mothers would call fouls

It was such a different time

When we lived in a very different place that now feels quite sublime

And often comes as foreign to mind

Every one of us in bodies not in any way similar to these ones in shape, size, form or any other kind

Carrying energies also relatively not the same

Which were more than just fine right about the time when I came

Something good was always coming tomorrow

It must have changed routes with no way to look back and borrow

We travelled

Picking up whatever we found valuable on the way hence the lot left to unravel

We had learned to succumb to the various states of mind as we went on

Something we thought we had to get ourselves used to regardless of whether it was the pattern of a con

It went almost completely dark

No wonder none of us can remember when, or what happened exactly that created the permanent distasteful mark

Like there had been a sudden unplanned for implosion

Whose investigation led to a certain conclusion

Without question,

Some time and effort must have been put to force the situation to that particular line of direction

After which, through the cracks that continually formed, tiny rays of light came through and there was a sense of separation

As they appeared to be forcing themselves through the petite spaces

Politely bringing some shine on varied spots throughout the darkness but in separate phases

How fortunate

That they create a new sense of wonder that could draw in from any coordinate

But happen to pull in a sprinkling of the few

Surprisingly, not everyone could last in the light long enough just like the morning dew

Could be that it turned too bright too fast forgetting that darkness too had become home

It is said that we must be careful of holding on to anything at all because not everything is as light as foam

To take caution, not to get that which does not belong, stuck within us or on the outside

As we couldn’t function efficiently if not truly aligned; even if we tried to make new laws that would make it easier to abide

I can’t help but wonder why my intentions come off as unreasonable on almost every occasion

Why it is always in question that I don’t seem to care as much as I’m supposed to in proportion

As much as any normal person should

In order to remain in unaccommodating realms of good?

How easy it is to forget that it is undoubtedly not for the lack of trying

How hard is it to understand, that I’m just being honest when I say, I do not know what else they would want me to do when all I have now is the feeling of dying?

If I would request a short meeting with whoever’s in charge

I need to know if there is a return policy to this or if not, whether there is a way to recharge

It was supposed to be a gift

Not sure if it’s my fault that I can’t use it right but who really cares at this point

And why is it wrong for me to say so if it feels off anyway?

No one should have to handle all this alone in desperation and dismay

Yet I too do not understand where it comes from and it’s not that I’m foolish or dumb

All I know is I’m very uncomfortable and I would rather be numb

I cannot pretend and blindly participate because it’s part of another short lived trend

Not that I haven’t given a witty try

It couldn’t come naturally hence my never ending lonesome cry

Often stuck in thought, amazed of how it does to anyone

And therefore cannot take part especially if it’s just another game that’s not meant to be won

What’s the use if it’s all but a waste?

Truly my eyes tire from opening up to this pathetic taste

The reason I had to be brought here away from all that is outside

Where I am often seen as quite illogical that’s why nobody truly stays by my side

Where is the other chapter of my story or did they exempt my little wing?

Why am I among the unlucky ones who can’t sing?

When everyone else is mostly doing fine

Others miraculously better than ever like the recent owners of a plentiful mine

Always staring, with lots to say as they wonder what the fuss is all about

From their point of view, I surely must have lost all my marbles in my sunken boat

As none of them knows anything about the dark

Yet all that time I was more than certain that they were right there with me as it felt like we were all tied up in a tiny sack.

*******

When she was born, visiting her first house of self, identity and personality, was Neptune, the Lord of the Invisible Empire and Uranus, the Lord of the Heavens and Sky, who acquired rulership the moment she took her first breath. Neptune came bearing gifts, beautifully wrapped in every kind of illusion and somewhere hidden, the ability to see through them. Uranus came with the strong heart of a rebel, enough to follow and survive on a unique, quite shaky path where she would often find herself on the other side of society or authority. Mars, the Lord of War, in her 11th house of Scorpio, left her with an unquenchable thirst for what might be considered magical. Together with his co-ruler Pluto, the Lord of the Underworld, in her house where she goes to relate with society, they made it easy for her to see though and function in the darkness; so much so that she would often believe that she belonged there. Pluto in Scorpio empowers her through the cycles of life, death and rebirth, mostly when she brings what’s hidden and murky to the surface to be transformed into light.

The North Lunar Node was also present in her house of identity at her time of birth, pointing towards the direction that she should take.

During the time of the character’s hospitalization in a mental health facility, Neptune the ruler of Pisces was visiting her third house of thought, communication, siblings and local environment and was going to stay for 14 years. With Neptune, comes heightened imagination and an appreciation for the arts but also, increased chances of illusion, confusion, mental illness, addictions and isolation at that time of her life. Relationships with relatives, siblings and the locality suffer due to illusionary, secretive or hazy communication. Security in daily life is also diminished.

Edgar Allan Poe has four planets including his moon in Pisces, the mutable water sign known for being highly sensitive, having great imagination, prone to escapism and an easy connection the otherworldly. Together with an Ascendant in Scorpio, emotions played a major role in his life where the themes of life, death and transformation repeated. His parents died when he was a child and he was split up from his siblings. He ended up with a love of alcohol like his father. He also gambled and played with women’s hearts. He enlisted in the army to run away from his debtors where he published his first well known narration. There was a lot of grim in his life that found many channels and one of them was poetry.

Chapter 2

IS THIS ALL THERE IS?

Perception is not reality. It is just our tiny experience of reality, which is something that is very limited and flawed. Only truth is reality and unless we are willing to question everything that we know, we will never see anything but illusions and lies.

– Gavin Nascimento

That’s just how things are done on this side of the street sweetheart

It’s either that or you find yourself somewhere else that better suits your mighty heart

Where they can let you be yourself as you keep saying

Where they will let you live your life freely as you wish like it’s as easy as hip-swaying

It’s that simple

Make the choice

Get going or stop whining like you popped another pimple

Many apologies your highness if we couldn’t make you comfortable

Do you know how many people wish they could have this much on their table?

Words thrown around with a frown

Just because you asked for another gown

They come down in the shape and form of a thunderous threat

Plain hostile and full of mockery that the child remains in a state of constant fret

It’s not easy to be on that receiving end

When