A Deer Grows in Brooklyn December 16, 2011 by Shiva Rose A Deer Grows in Brooklyn December 16, 2011 Oh no . . . I have become one of those kooky, new age, hippy mamas! It's finally happened. Was bound to I suppose. It dawned on me when I realized the looks a certain elderly gentleman, sitting next to me on the airplane coming from NYC, were not the, "hey like to get to know you for the next six hours-you seem fascinating"kind of look, but rather "you really are a nut job lady!" I have to back track a bit. It happened when this man, hmm let's refer to him as Mr. Y, was behind me in the security line. Y had to wait on me for emptying all my carry-on's in each of the six buckets (who can fit it all in one?). The 4 foot stuffed deer I bought for my daughter wouldn't quite fit in the bucket but somehow I managed to get it through. After that chaotic circus act with the boots, coat, computer, deer etc. I then asked to not go through the x ray machine due to radiation, but to be frisked. This decision did not bode well with the others behind me. After that fiasco I raced to catch the flight. As I wandered through the aisles knocking passengers on the head with Bambi, I finally made it to my seat, but to the dismay of Mr. Y, in the seat next to him. "Of all the seats on this plane she has to sit next to me!" (I'm pretty psychic so I'm sure this was his inner monologue.) I then began my protocol of taking herbs, squeezing drops of Flower essences, chanting for a safe trip, and misting the general area with a clearing spray. I think Y was really getting perturbed at this point. Finally, after being in the air for some time I finished the book I was reading (see spirit) and burst into tears. Mr. Y handed me some tissue and we finally began speaking to each other. It seems he was just hungering for some connection. Dear Mr. Y. I suppose we all are somehow. This week I traveled from my house near a brook to Brooklyn itself. I so love being able to walk in the crisp East Coast streets and soak up some humanity in the urban jungle. Brooklyn is ripe with artisan energy. I heard stories from many amazing people from taxi drivers, to passengers like Mr. Y himself. What it reminds me is we are all vulnerable somehow. We all have a story to tell. Come discover Brooklyn's treasures from Beautiful Dreamers to Prem Products. Hope you like the new look on the site too!