Heartstone

Oct 17

Colorado. 6,500' elevation. Seven Eagles. The Summer of Science.

I had recently lost my beloved Shepherd and was now standing on the front porch where he and I, together, would scout the morning’s presence and potentials ahead of whatever day’s doings may await.

But this morning I stood alone feeling the deep grief of his loss. His goofy, always happy face, anticipating whatever adventures may lay in store. His always exuberant Sagittarian soul, ever-ready to roll.

Side-by-sidekickin’

In the then-recent past, he had accompanied me to Seven Eagles valley with a team conducting a fish study.

I had been filming the black seep - which may have contained naphthalene - while attempting to collect my own evidence from largely indifferent oversight agencies. That particular seep had appeared in association with new and recent hydraulic fracturing operations just south of the Cliffhouse and relatively adjacent.

As the team of maybe eight slowly traversed West Divide Creek’s waters, I filmed the black ooze for three minutes, amusing myself with the idea that perhaps an orb had come to also check it out, as a round white light (probably a reflection from the sun) had showed up in one of the digital photos. The appearance of the black triangle had just previously urged my consideration of further research into that particular phenomenon; but occupying only a side concern, Ancient Aliens - near at hand and on nighttime satellite tv would have to do, which was where I picked up the whole orb notion. Cackling to myself, my pup happily nosed around in the brush within 30 feet or so of me, then he and I sat for a moment on the bank, catching a couple of photos of the team traveling slowly downstream to share with them later.

I came out of what I thought must have been a quick nap just as the team, and my dog came back around a southern-trending bend situated just past a large beaver pond, 70- or so yards away. While unusual, falling asleep for a moment in the sun would not have been surprising as during those very long and exhausting years I operated on little sleep while attempting to keep up with a ‘fast-tracked’ oil and gas industry deeply devastating our region and benefiting from very little meaningful oversight - found to be federally corrupt at least once.

I gathered my field bag and stood up, highly concerned that my dog appeared to have decided to take off on his own adventure with the team (which they later confirmed, laughing at his uninvited antics)… and who knew what all else.

The sun appeared to have traveled quite a bit, but I was sure I’d only dozed off for a second - which to my knowledge had never happened before. According to my watch (corroborated by the steady distance just-traveled by the team) three hours had gone by. Apparently all that time, I’d been out cold, regaining consciousness just as the team and my dog rounded the distant bend. As they were too far away, I hadn’t heard them, but I saw them. I attributed my hard crash in part to exhaustion but due to the completly unconscious nature of it… also the seep, as I had just-prior filmed it only about 2 feet over top. Detail and context always matter in any investigation - and I made careful assessment of all.

Seeing me upright and looking around for him, my boy bounded through the brush to be by my side. Then. You know… since he’d already run off with a bunch of strangers to party in the creek.

Our last hours together.

It was a blessedly crowded summer, as the just-former appearance of a Black Triangle may have foretold. Years of hard fought relatively independent science and every devastating sacrifice for it came to fruition just as the given, associated vision had revealed.

Today, I would be accompanying a team of two to the valley floor in order to collect water samples toward an endocrine study - the results of which would take years to receive (showing… no surprise - endocrine aka hormone disruptors). I would be field guide and 2nd assistant to the lead scientist.

After a very long day of careful observation, sample collection and documentation, I and the two scientists ascended to the canyon rim - along the way, discussing with one of them our notice of - and her day-long observation of - a ground squirrel following us every step of the way… all along the lengthy creek bottom… while casually but very intently observing our every move… near tree - to near tree - to near tree… branch-lounging… in full view. Intently eyeing everything. As if she were some aged and jaded old hand in the lab assigned to supervise our collection efforts - and suspecting incompetence - lol, none of which did I, at least, detect.

A country girl from the midwest, her observations of the squirrel’s in-the-wild behaviors were something she and I both found quite uncommon. Supervising perhaps, in cloaked form… an ancestral Spirit peep… also not uncommon to Seven Eagles or to me, there or otherwise. Turns out she had Cherokee heritage. I was just glad she noticed her environment as closely as she did. A gifted attribute in any scientist, field or lab. We’re still friends, btw.

Once we got back up top, my pup was waiting. Waiting for me, before he chose to put his nose between his paws, lower his head and close his eyes for the last time.

Reflecting

After his creek antics with the fish-count team, he was relegated to the indoors during that summer’s remaining field excursions. But, he was dedicated to his person. And deeply depressed as well as destressed when we were apart.

He’d beeen insperable from my father for most of his six years; and, oblivious to me, he’d quietly chosen me after my father passed. I had been wiped out in my father’s recliner looking at him on the couch across from me and worried for his lingering depression.

Suddenly, I realized he was needing an Alpha; and when I looked up at him from across the room, he saw in my eyes that recognition. He and I became inseperable ever since. Except for the fish count. And dedicated investigative excursions - which all became to some degree.

So inseperable were we, that one day I’d gone to help an aging neighbor set up her computer a half mile or so away. My boy thought I’d gone off to the valley without him… again. My mother opened the front door; and he dashed off on his own investigation - to the creek bottom and beyond. A frantic call sent me after him; and indeed, he’d been looking for me. …sigh… Found. Brought home. Together again. All was well. Good thing I’d developed a very l..o..n..g-distance call years ago, for gathering wayward horses. Here they’d all come, in a rising cloud of dust, from three miles away.

Thinking about him drew a terrible and swamping sorrow, like none I’d ever felt. I knew I would have to carry it in my heart forever. There would be no relief - just as there is no relief, now - so many years later. Grief accumulates. The price paid for love, Jan Karon - a favorite author - once said.

Perhaps so.

But I, in my depth of despair and regret struggled to find the justification, the reason, the strange - maybe not so strange - sense of exchange. It seemed so cruel, even though I knew his father - my uncle’s police dog - had also passed at six years, as had his grandfather, another police dog, same age. Just wtf.

Blessed guidance

Standing there helplessly swamped… my spirit felt another speak. Was it him? Someone speaking on his behalf? Someone else? My father? Another? I stood on the porch, listening and thinking very much, just wtf.

The Spirit voice said, ‘walk over here to this river rock embankment’.

Fine.

Whatever…

I did.

I stood looking at the stones. I love rocks. These were all rounded and soft and weathered by roiling waters crossing the sky, falling in the desert, churning in the sea, tumbling along creeks from mountains distant to banks nearby… ever re-joining.

One.

Well… okay. I softened.

Maybe this was the perspective I needed to re-recognize.

I was then strongly inspired to pick one up - a particular one. I recognized the request as a request. I went straight to it, reached and obliged.

Holding a small seemingly perfectly round basalt-like stone in my palm I stood there thinking… What? Why am I standing here?

I felt ungrateful and miserable for it, knowing I was - as always - led here for some reason, and knowing that sometimes… the greatest of moments, the greatest of gifts are not revealed until we are truly ready and perhaps need to receive them.

So I offered some kind of forced and pitiful, though genuine, accolade. “It is really lovely. Really very round…”

The Spirit then said, ‘Turn it over.’ So, I did.

And broke.

Imbedded in this lovely small stone was a heart with wings, gently raised in a type of quartz-like relief.

Then the Spirit spoke again, ‘Regardless of imposition, the heart will rise.’

This is that Heartstone below.

Years after receiving it, I took it to the Crystal River in a reuniting ceremony with wild Water. Ceremony rarely commemorated, let alone shared…

…and causing quite the extraordinarily reactive response which I will share more of later.

We each have sorrows and reasons and lessons and life to live.

Let us carry knowing we are carried. Love is for all to know.

Lisa Bracken

Heartstone

Side-by-sidekickin’

Our last hours together.

Reflecting

Blessed guidance

Wild Water, Willow and Dune

atmosphere