N The broken jet heart

N The broken jet heart
Tuesday March 19, 2013
In the garden first thing, I am taken down to the well again. On the other
side, the wolf walks slowly down the stairs. She wants me to come with her.

I climb across and together, we move slowly up the steps and into the old
yew tree. She walks stiffly but with assurance down the spiral staircase.
I guess she's used to it. I'm struck by her indomitable courage. I touch
her head and she leans towards my thigh. Such a loving gesture.

SHE is by the fire in the corner. I can't make her out. The wolf leads me
to the fire and lies down. I am invited to look in and find something to
take out. I see a glistening piece of jet. I reach in and take; it's warm
but doesn't burn.

I hold it in my hand and understand that it's for me. There's something
about transformation. Jet is associated with mourning. I wonder what this
means. Maybe it is the dance with death that must be going on.
Momentarily, I am afraid, but then I remember, we must all dance with death,
for we will die one day. I hope for me that it won't be soon.

I hold the jet piece in my hand. It shapes itself a little like a heart
shape. It's warm. It almost pulses. Perhaps I have it so I can be
conscious of my mortality but take comfort in it. I'm not dead yet, after
all, unlike many friends.

I kneel before Bridget, a shadowy figure in the corner. The wolf rests her
head on my thigh. The bear looks down upon me with compassion and
reassurance. I suddenly feel easier, not alone and comforted. I touch my
heart and bow to her, stroke the wolf and we get up to go.

I get up to go. The wolf takes me back up and to the top of the steps down
to the wall. I remonstrate with her. I can find my way. She continues to
walk with me. I feel like she's saying, "I'm with you, I'm a bit old and
it's hard, but I'm not leaving."

I'm so touched by this. With her, I also feel the presence of the bear. At
the top of the steps, she leaves me. I step across the well and as I arrive
next to a friend who is ill and seeking support at the well of healing, I
feel the jet in my hand divide into two. I give my friend one of the
pieces, touching her arm gently as I pass and climb back up the stairs.