“H?” you ask.

Yes H. H of the Love is Not a Victory March post. I didn’t mention him by initial before, but yes, H. He’s away for 12 days and I’m cottage- and dog-sitting.

The great thing is that I get to be by the lake. (Water! My favorite place to be in all the world.) And I get to care for and eat from the garden that we’d planted before things ended. (Yes! The baby basils are all grown up.) And if I wake up early and can’t sleep I get to hop in a kayak and watch the vapor rise off the water as the sun comes up. (Magical!) And there’s Jennie who gets me out into the woods for runs and walks and throwing sticks. (Woods! Sticks! Jennie!) Being here is a retreat for me. A get-away! (And yes, I’m returning to Boston for my beloved clients on massage days).

And it’s been hard. I am reminded of all the things I’ve loved and lost. Maybe not lost completely since here I am still enjoying the lake and the garden and Jennie and sometimes in some ways even H, but lost in the sense of hopes and dreams and plans for a future together… The loss of all that has felt so big I’ve been trying to numb and trying not to numb it in various ways for weeks—oh, who’m I kidding: pretty much the entire month of June.

When I stop watching Veronica Mars all the trying and turn toward what’s inside of me I am met with a big empty well and I’m afraid it doesn’t have a bottom. I’d like to understand the well, but I can’t seem to get close enough. Not on my own. Because, hello! Scared!

So I’ve gone all Veronica Mars on the well. You could say I’ve hired her, if by “hire” we mean that I am channeling her. When it comes to understanding and helping myself, I will stop at nothing. Understanding myself helps me love myself. And when I love myself, I can much better love the world. Also? Channeling heroes? Most exciting thing ever. Not sure why it’s not caught on out there!

~ * ~

I’ve parked my Adirondack chair car within view of the well. My journal fancy shmancy camera with ultra zoom lens is at the ready. I’m gathering evidence. I am Veronica Mars. I have a record to uphold: no case unsolved.

It’s dark. My lights are out. Nothing appears to be happening, but I am not fooled. It is not unusual on a stake out to have to wait many hours for action. You, dear reader, may not appreciate this, given the fact that most likely you’ve only ever watched stake outs on TV where the boring parts get cut.

That said, this is boring! Eff it. I’m going in.

I have donned my invisibility cloak (Veronica Mars and Harry Potter are friends. Of course.) and I am now approaching the well’s edge. I peer over. Rather anti-climactic, I’m afraid. I can’t see a thing.

I walk around the well a few times looking for signs, clues, anything…

Clearly it is time to tune in on a subtler level… The feel of the well is sad. A veh———ry heah——–vy sadness. (You must say those words all drawn out like that to get a visceral sense of the sad heaviness of which I speak).

Conventional investigators might not do this, but I am Veronica Mars and so the next thing I do is call into the well: “Um, hi—!”

I’m met with an echo. “Hel-oh-oh-oh.”

I can now deduce at least two things. Thing 1: the well is very deep—the sound of hello bounced many times—but not bottomless. Bottomless does not bounce. Thing 2: there IS something in there. It’s not nothing. Nothing would not have echoed ‘hello,’ when I’d said ‘hi.’ Duh. Easy peasy.

I sit down at the edge of the well and get comfortable. I feel no sense of danger. Clearly IT, whatever it is, wants me to know it is there but it couldn’t, for whatever reason, come right out and answer me directly. As I sit there I feel sadder. It is all I can do not to fold up into a heap and weep the night away. But I am Veronica Mars. I am not the well. I am here on my client’s case: I want to understand the well. It would not help for me to become it.

“Hello, Sad.”

I hear nothing back but the feeling gets even stronger. I continue: “You must be very sad.”

“I’m not Sad.” I hear this bit in my head, not out loud. Actually, I hear it more in my throat, which feels all chocked up. As a mood detective I know that emotions are often felt in the throat, chest and belly areas.

The voice from the well goes on: “Sad and I are related but I’m much older. I’m what Sad gets when it’s big and grown up.”

“Like grief?”

“Yes.”

“Hello, LikeGrief.”

“Say, who are you? And why can’t I see you?”

“Oh sorry. I’m Veronica. Veronica Mars of Mars Investigations and Mood Detective Services.” I pull off my invisibility cloak as I say this. It’s only polite to let myself be seen. Plus, I sense no danger.

“Hello, Veronica. Why are you here?”

“I’m here to investigate a case for my client, Heidi.”

“Ah, Heidi…” his voice trails off.

“You know her?”

Right then LikeGrief actually chuckles a bit. “Of course. I’m hers.”

“You’re hers?”

“Yes.”

“Hey, do you mind if I dangle my legs over your side here while we talk?”

“I don’t mind but you may not want—“

“EW!”

“I was just saying—”

“EW! What IS that!”

“I was about to tell you. Those are the protectors of Heidi’s fear. They dress up all gnarly and nasty because they want to keep her from seeing through her fears and feeling me. Don’t worry, they’re all show, really… “

“Show and slime!”

“Yes. But harmless. They’ve been sending decoys and keeping Heidi in a general state of distraction watching a certain detective show and eating popcorn… That’s why I’m talking to you with your inside your head voice rather than out loud. I saw you up there and wasn’t sure how I was going to contact you without waking them up. I’m glad you picked up on the echo thing. ”

“Piece of cake,” I shrug.

We sit in silence for a long spell. Some of the clouds have cleared and I see a sprinkling of stars and a waning moon above.

“Say! Aren’t you Veronica Mars from the show that Heidi has been losing herself in for weeks?“

“Exactly. She was smart to hire me, our Heidi.”

“So then… wait! Heidi does want to know what’s happening?”

“Yes. She just needs some help. And not just any help, mind you, only the best. Say, can you tell me who those nasties on the edge of your well are decoys for?”

“A powerful belief.”

“A belief?”

“Yes, a belief Heidi’s been nursing. You know how people have thoughts?”

“Yes.”

“Nothing harmful about thoughts, they happen all the time… they scroll across people’s minds constantly… But sometimes people hang onto a thought and won’t just let it scroll by… they get all ‘attached’, you could say… And when someone gets really attached to a thought, it becomes a belief. Nothing wrong with beliefs either, of course, except they make it hard to keep one’s mind open and to stay curious. Even harmless beliefs tend to obscure full vision. It’s always good to be aware of one’s beliefs.”

“Beliefs can hurt?”

“Well, what people do and don’t do based on what they believe can hurt—“

“What belief of Heidi’s are we talking about here, do you know?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to tell me? Or did I come here and get my feet slimed up for nothing?”

He chuckles and then is quiet for awhile before answering. “I wouldn’t usually do this, but seeing that Heidi hired you and really wants help with this, I will. But I’m not going to say it. And I’m not even going to write it out loud. I’m going to write it for you across the screen of your mind’s eye. You’ll see it there. And then you and Heidi can decide what to do.”

“Thank you so much. I appreciate it.”

I close my eyes and then LikeGrief writes Heidi’s belief across my mind’s eye. It is like watching a movie. Something like the writing on the wall—mene mene tekel… I can see the slimy fear-guards in the margins of my mind and for a moment I feel the intensity of how hard things have felt for Heidi and I shudder.

“OhGod, can I open my eyes? Are you done? Oof! That’s a big one. I will talk to her about it. Hey, thank you so much for your help. Do you need anything from me?”

“Oh, I’d just love for you to get Heidi to come see me. I can help her. And, the thing she is forgetting (because, I know she knows this!) is that once she’s with me, allowing the feeling of me in her body, the whole thing will change. I can’t predict how, but it will. She knows that, but she’s forgotten. You might remind her, yes?”

“I’ll do my best. Thank you so much. Do you have any hints for getting this slime off my legs?”

“Matter o’ fact I do. One of Heidi’s potions will do great.”

“Oh! Which one?”

“Night Queen. She ain’t afraid o’ no ghosts.”

And with that I wave and I’m off. Heidi and I have much to talk about.

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