AVANT SOUL

"Sometimes we realize something is of value 
only when we throw it away,"
  said Madam Orcah, as she gathered her evening class. 
Old thread worn rugs
  covered cracked tile floors, and fragrant, 
acrid smoke rose from 
a small cast iron cauldron 
near the front door of her shop, The Ancient Eye. 

Sounds of the traffic from the busy street 
on Broadway seemed almost underwater once you 
  entered her domain, filled with candles 
in somewhat hideous shapes, rune jewelry 
  and talismans, and rustic shelves 
weighted down from wall to ceiling 
with gallon jars 
  of musty herbs, roots, and spices. 

She was once a beautiful woman but had transformed 
  herself into an old hag, complete with missing teeth, patchwork clothes and a shape which,   
  stooped and broadened, somehow made her even more powerful. She wasn't training her students 
  in the lost arts of the Old Religion in order 
that she keep up appearances, and some said 
  that her knowledge of spells, herblore, deities, and alchemy was second to none.

  A mangy black cat with a crooked tail named Merlin lived freely in her shop,
  and seemed almost as hidden in the shadow 
and darkness as she. Yet when Madam Orcah spoke, 
  her students listened, and especially in the hush 
of the dark moon, that period of emptiness 
  when one's will could be launched and directed, 
her words seemed to glow and take on a life of their own.

"And we throw it away so carelessly that it's as if 
some part of ourselves is
  blowing a whistle, or banging a silent skull drum, 
just to seize our attention."
  There was a crack as something ignited in the cauldron, 
and a thin silver plume
  of fragrant incense filled the room. 

In these moments, Madame was as shrewd
  and practical as the most worldly Zen philosopher. 
She never apologized for her
  appearance, and if you dared to interrupt, 
she was fearless in glaring you down.

"It's only through loss and carelessness that we may pass through the fire of experience
  to realize vigilance and value. You will either be transformed by your losses and rise
  through them like the Phoenix, or losses 
can literally clip your wings and leave you unable
  to soar, or to take flight. The Dodo bird was aptly named," 
she continued, "Don't take its example."