lisa hartjen

The sun shifts past the porch beam, instantly lighting up her face. Closing her eyes, she soaks it in, breathing deeply into this moment. She glances over to see Moby’s soft belly turned to greet the sun, his eyes narrowed to a squint, paws sprawled in four directions, soaking it all in. Cats love the sun like no other creature on earth. If there’s one thing that Moby has taught her, it’s how to slow down and breathe into these moments, patiently, like Summer’s unfolding flowers. She reaches over and tickles his belly. He grasps her hands between his front paws, claws carefully tucked away, and licks the top of her hand. Lovely, sandpaper kisses. Her fingers brush the side of his neck and he falls back into a deep reverie. 

Oh, to spend the day lounging on the porch with Moby would be so nice. But today she has work to do, preparations to be made for her first underwater adventure, so this moment of quiet will have to do. She sighs, knowing that she will miss her dear friend, Moby, dearly while she explores the ocean floor, but she feels better knowing that he will be in his favorite place on earth, cared for by her father’s friend, Sarah, for the next month and a half.

On her way to the kitchen, she passes Sarah who glances up from the morning paper.

She remembers the story her father told her about his first boat, The Pansy. His stories captivated her like no other. Remembering the glee in his eyes when she asked him to tell it once more, she smiled and imagined his voice. The year was 1931, and Dx picked up her husband’s ink pen with unprecedented determination to draft a letter to her trusty friend Hx. Dx relied on her sister-in-law Hx as a battle axe, a necessary weapon when dealing with her husband, Rx, Sr., on matters of importance. The construction of House #1 was on the horizon, and Dx needed all the help she could get to insure that it would be built with her delicate frame in mind. Dx was demure in nature with willowy arms and a sing-song voice; a perfect match, in her complete oppositeness, to the overbearing presence of [Allie’s grandfather], Rx, Sr. After all, it would be Dx, not Rx, who would be left to mind the children, sea and shore while Rx, Sr. turned rubber into gold traversing East Coast bi-ways as a travelling salesman in his trusty DeSoto.

With a “boxwood” shell, House #1 was built like a barn with vertical planking that seized the sky and rooted the structure to earth in a simplicity that underpinned the luxury to come to these Hampton shores….

“Fold your arms across your chest. Leave nothing sticking out,” commanded Bx one crisp summer morning, “And don’t flay them about!” Cx added to the demands on young [Allie’s father], son of Rx and Dx [Allie’s Family name] of Brooklyn, NY. It was his first year summering on the East End, and disobedience was out of the question to his 4 year old mind as he became the football, skillfully tossed between the lithe arms of brothers Cx and Bx, and their friend Dxx. At four, [Allie’s father] was an early initiate in the [childhood friends of Allie’s father] East End ways.

[A novel start. More to come….]

[I’m currently working on a short story about rescuing the fawn I call Cairn. Here are a few words that I wrote on the day of her rescue. This is a work in progress and rather rough.]

Tiny hooves dance across the chambers of my heart. Her cry for help becons me into the wild. The call of the heart, like the cry of a fawn, lost and forlorn, easily ignored and covered up with so much to do. I call her Cairn. Wedged between two boulders and crying for help, she is like all of us who get stuck between a rock and a hard place fighting like hell to get out of all that bogs us down, only to dig ourselves deeper in with each fighting breath.

I call her Cairn because she marks the way forward: a beacon of hope in a prickly forest of thorns.

I call her Cairn because her beauty is held gracefully upon four tiny hooves.

I call her Cairn because she’s a joyful reminder that the creative is found everywhere and in all living beings.

Here’s a high speed movie of the Pink Mandala build. I like this side view because it shows the stream and play of light on the trees. Next time I’ll bring a tripod for an overhead view. Enjoy!

 [this is the last installment of a story in progress, last published 26Aug2020]

Epilogue

Cairn is very much alive and well these days, It’s a joy to see her grow bigger each day, to witness her wean from her mother’s milk and begin to explore the world on her own, to watch her run and play and know that I had something to do with her growth and freedom. Cairn taught me the power of loving a wild helpless thing and my encounter with her continues to reveal deep truths about life. 

Cairn taught me how to ask for help in moments of great need and how to hold the space for healing my inner wildness. At times when I find myself stuck in a hole that’s hard to get out of ­– a bog of negative thoughts that can pull me into a cold, dark space­ that I can’t dig myself out of ­­– I call on dear friends, family, and my inner teacher for support. I’ve found that help always arrives when I ask for it, even though it may not come in the shape or form that I wish for. This support breaks up any negative thinking and paves the way to freedom, at least for a while. 

These days, when the world around me feels less than fulfilling, I remember the few precious moments when I held Cairn in my arms and imagine holding myself in the same way – calmly and with lots of caring. I think it must be part of the human condition to wish for loving arms to lift us out of our suffering, to comfort us until we are strong enough to stand on our own once again. I’m glad that I did this for Cairn. I’m ever grateful that my dear friends and family continue to do this for me and hope that I’m able to do as much for them. May we all do as much for each other each and every day.