A Curious Morning at the Haberdashery

It is early morning at the Metaphysical Haberdashery, and the shop is not technically open yet.

The proprietor, however, has been awake for some time.

His hair suggests that either he has forgotten to comb it or has recently been struck by an idea. Possibly both. He is wearing one shoe, two entirely unrelated socks, and the expression of a man who is quite certain that the laws of nature are merely suggestions.

There is, unfortunately, no hot coffee.

Electricity exists, of course. It crackles in thunderstorms, hides in amber and fur, and occasionally gives an inquisitive person a rather memorable shock. But no one has yet worked out how to harness the stuff for anything useful.

The proprietor considers this an oversight.

And so, surrounded by copper wire, brass contraptions, books on natural philosophy, several questionable diagrams, and a black cat who has wisely chosen to observe from a safe distance, he is attempting to persuade electricity to heat the kettle.

There is a flash.

Then another.

A shower of sparks leaps across the worktable.

A small piece of paper catches fire.

The proprietor puts it out.

The kettle remains stubbornly unimpressed.

And then...

Ding-dong.

The little brass bell above the front door rings.

Sunlight spills across the old wooden floor as the door swings open.

The first customer of the day has arrived.

The proprietor looks toward the doorway, still holding the kettle, while a thin curl of smoke rises behind him.

Apparently, the Metaphysical Haberdashery is open.

Whether it is ready to be is another matter entirely.

The Creative Process

This story wasn’t planned or plotted in the usual way. I began with an imagined place, The Metaphysical Haberdashery, and then allowed someone else to ask me one simple question at a time: What’s behind the door? What do you see? What happens next? I didn’t try to invent clever answers or decide where the story should go. I simply paid attention to the first image, sensation, bit of dialogue, or knowing that appeared, and described it. Each question arose from the answer before it, and little by little the story seemed to discover itself.

The process has similarities to open-ended guided meditation, active imagination, intuitive visualization, and even some of the protocols used in remote viewing, although I’m not making any particular claim about where the images come from. Perhaps they arise from imagination or the subconscious. Perhaps consciousness is stranger and less local than we ordinarily suppose. I’m quite content not to know. If you’d like to experiment with it yourself, find someone willing to ask you one neutral question at a time, close your eyes if that helps, and describe what appears before you begin deciding what ought to appear. The trick is not to write the story. It’s to follow it. 🦚

if you would like to know more about this process and maybe even try it yourself, check out this BLOG POST