Careful now, mind the puddles! That one beside the path looks as deep as a
lake!
What a storm that was!
Come and sit down here, where it’s warm and dry, and help yourself to
whatever’s on the table. That basket’s
full of biscuits, fresh out of the oven.
Let me get the butter for you!
Funny, this cottage.
It’s a real place in the NOR (Non-Ordinary Reality), so it really is
alive. I was here last night, and was
surprised to see a little black cat in here, moving amidst the plant-pots. I saw her again today, shy as violets, and instantly
as I thought that, it was like a little moth fluttered at my forehead, so I’ve
named her Violets. She comes and goes as
she pleases. Pretty little thing!
I wonder about that part of the cottage as well. Does this mean eventually I will have
plant-pots filled with growing things around me in my everyday life? I like the thought of it!
But yes, there I was, peeking at the little cat where she
was peeking out at me from between two rounded pots, and what should duck under
the hanging planters for a visit but a great black Narrow with glowing eyes!
The Narrows I first met years ago, when I was working with a
guide I named Liam – tall and bearded, broad-shouldered, twinkle-eyed and kind,
he helped me find my way at the time to a better sense of community, a better
sense of belonging. Many days we would
converse (in the walking-around world, this looked like me sitting and writing)
on the deck of his flying boat, on our way to wherever we were going, we’d talk
about his hill home, and I would confide my wishes, and it was a lovely
friendship. And then, once I was at last
where he’d been bringing me, he let me go.
I knew it was time, but I still cried about it a little. I remember that day, I had written our
farewells during my lunch break, and afterwards in the office washroom had a
piercing moment of the finality of that chapter ending crashing in on me.
It wasn’t the end though, not really. I still checked in on him from time to time,
or he would check in on me. Now that he
wasn’t transporting me, he was free to go back to his beloved home on the hill,
and it was visiting him there that I first met the Narrows, long, eerie
wolflike beings, tall and shaggy and deeply black, walking upright on long hind
legs, with long arching necks and thick black manes, their clothes little more
than the belts and straps they wore to carry their pouches of whatever it was
they carried. Most striking of all were
their eyes – huge and pale yellow and glowing like the moon, they had the
surprisingly expressive quality of changing shape in an entirely cartoonlike
way – when they were happy, the eyes would turn into upturned crescent moons,
for example. I first encountered a small
group of them, leaving Liam’s home one night, friends of his, communicating in
that silent way they had – silent but entirely eloquent. After that I would see them around from time
to time. They lived in the forests
around his hill, he explained, and were very pleasant neighbours.
So yes, imagine my surprise then, yesterday, to see a great
Narrow stepping under the overhang, out of the rain, to greet me at my cottage!
It wasn’t long before I realized he wasn’t here for just a
visit. I noticed he was wincing a bit,
and then he pointed a long paw to one of the hanging planters – apparently I
grew healing herbs here, and he knew which one would help him. I tried to get a good look – the plant
growing there had little yellow flowers, but not ones I have seen in ordinary
life. These were almost like
sea-flowers, but tiny – there was an almost bulb-like quality to the
petals.
I tried to feel what was hurting my guest, and I found it
readily – one of his knee-joints – well, the Narrow equivalent – was aching
him. It wasn’t bad, but it was a bother
for him, a hindrance he’d rather be rid of.
So I took some of the herb with me and went into the kitchen.
Now I have no experience with this – though again, I wonder
from this if I someday will – I got the sense that the Narrow expected me to
know exactly what to do – not only that, but that I had done so many times before
for him. I also got a sense that I was
wearing pale purple robes, even a pale purple pointed hat!
And suddenly, Liam was there with me as well – having also
dropped by – and he guided me through what to do next.
First, I ground the herb with a mortar and pestle. Then I boiled some water, and sprinkled the
crushed herb into it. Then I poured the
liquid through a strainer into a cup, and gave it to the Narrow, who eagerly
drank it.
Now, describing it in that above paragraph sounds all very
elegant and simple. Almost like I knew
what I was doing.
That’s not how it was, really. At all.
I am embarrassed to say that I spent most of the time
convinced that I was doing whatever it was that I was doing completely wrong, second-guessing
every move I made, bemoaning every step as having very likely been out of order,
and that I should have done this step before that step, and is it possible to
completely ruin ingredients in the NOR, because I don’t know how many bulby
flowers I have left in that hanging pot, or even what they are or what they do,
and all in all it was probably the most awkward potion-making in the history of
potion-making.
In my defense, it was
my first time.
Liam was as patient as ever, and laughed a lot, which
helped.
After the Narrow drank the liquid in the cup, he went and
laid down by the fireplace, and I went back to the kitchen and visited with Liam
for a bit.
Meanwhile in the walking-around world, that was probably the
very moment that, after a day of ice-pellets and freezing rain, and hours of some
of the scariest wind-gusts I have heard, the power in our building went out
with a decisive, and to be honest, exhausted-sounding thump.
It was, however, eleven at night, and I was already in bed,
so I decided to just sleep if I could.
Back to the cottage – a little while later, and I find the
Narrow sitting up by the fireside, looking disoriented. His eyes, true to their cartoonish nature,
were moon-glowing spirals. Gently I led
him to the couch and had him lay down there, and I covered him with a
quilt. Liam was staying over as well, because
of the weather, so that was all right.
The next day – having left for work from a still-dark home,
through a very dark hallway, and navigating my way to the bus stop over what
was, almost everywhere I looked, a sheer, unbroken expanse of wet, impassible
ice (I finally made it through the courtyard, which was a bit crunched up from
the cars having driven through it – crunchy ice being safer to walk over than the
rink-world everywhere else) – when I next checked in at the cottage, the Narrow
was up and about, and clearly feeling better, but the weather was still so bad
that I didn’t want him to leave just yet.
He looked out at his forest and worried,
but he stayed.
A little while later, Liam showed up with his flying boat to
take the Narrow home. I was a bit
incredulous about this – after all, didn’t the Narrows live deep in the
forest? But Liam explained – in bad
weather, or just for community, the Narrows spent time in tunnels under a
central mound. Well! Things I did not know!
But still the Narrow hesitated, so I asked him if he wanted
to stay with me today, and he nodded eagerly, which made Liam laugh.
The rest of the day was busy in the walking-around world, so
I didn’t get to check in much after that.
I did catch one glimpse of my pale-purple-robed self actively busy doing
some magic, casting a circle and singing boldly, and the Narrow jumping hurriedly
backwards out of the way, briefly dropping to all-fours to do so.
The next time I was able to check in was on my way
home. The weather had improved greatly
(though it was still very wet and rainy), and we were back under the overhang,
with the many pots of growing things, and looking out towards the forest. After a moment, the Narrow looked at me, gave
a little nod, and then bounded out, disappearing almost instantly between the
trees.
On the little table, I found his payment – a bundle of herbs
with some nuts and acorns wrapped up within.
I will have to look at those more closely at another time – for now,
they’re on the little table in the plant-pot area.
Then Liam offered to take me up in his flying boat, which of
course I agreed to. It had been so
long! The boat seemed smaller than I
remembered, although Liam was still Liam, huge and bearlike, but calm and
wise. We rode up into the air until we
could see the sunset sky, orange and pink and pale purple.
And when I got home, the power was back on!
Quite an adventure!
It’s a very pleasant surprise to re-connect with Liam after
all this time, and I can’t help wonder if he is here again to help guide me to
a new where-we’re-going, because if so, that’s exciting….except this time, I
feel like he’s letting me lead, which is even more exciting.
But oh my goodness, look at the time! I must let you get going to where-you’re-going! The rain is much calmer now, and most of the
ice is melted to slush – it’s wet, but not so slippery. Glad you’ve got your boots on! Do you need to borrow an umbrella? And take a biscuit for the road!
Take care! See you
soon! Goodnight!
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