The Trefoil Muse

Ahead the mountains were coming together; a ridge joining the long arc of the ice-topped northern range was closing in on the eroded southern highlands, which had become sharper, higher and icier, until they were separated by only a narrow gorge.

Elsa stood in the center of it all, despondent; blindly oblivious to the magic about her.  Crisp air bit at her face and forced wayward tears from her vacant eyes while icy fingers tousled and knotted her hair.  Three crows perched on a west facing tree-line where they silently observed the morose woman. She ignored them.  To her, crows were just a stark reminder of heart wrenching days, weeks, months and hell; years of loss. 

Birth, life, death, rebirth… she’d dealt with too much death.  All of the loss – change she corrected herself; had left her empty – hollow.  Nothing of her old self remained.  Even the grass around her was dead.  Extreme summer heat and lack of moisture resulted in massive forest fires. Any greenery not devoured by fire lay neglected and clung desperately to life as it choked on ash and smoke among the charred remains of a once vibrant forest. Yet, there ahead of her hidden in the narrow gorge lay a stretch of green land.  It felt as if she had travelled a lifetime to arrive at this spot and start anew once again.

Elsa gazed about with grainy red eyes.  The smoke made her eyes burn like they’d been scalded.

Fires on the northern range continued.  They’d caused enough smoke to smudge the land of negative energy for months.  No rain, no sun, no air and extreme heat had kept Elsa imprisoned inside her home until nervous exhaustion sapped the last reserves of her mental and emotional strength.  She no longer saw her home as a safe haven; instead she saw it only as a cage.  Inside that cage, any semblance of a hopeful creative spark had been mercilessly snuffed out.  She was simply empty.  Still, her heart kept beating which surprised her. Blood coursed through her veins, pulsing, ebbing, and surging to the rhythmic beat of its cadence. She was strong – too strong and too determined; she could not give up on life.  The will to live drove Elsa to escape her plight, to search for the mythical Promised Land with the golden apple. That is why she stood here – at the center of it all; despondent; hollow and oblivious. The journey had been a long, arduous one but Elsa strode stubbornly forward in her quest toward a better existence. Elsa loathed the thought of a life filled with stagnation, boredom and lack of abundance but the devastation she’d travelled through had been a nightmare which caused her to frequently question the sanity of her decision. 

‘What would she tell others about this journey?’

Under better conditions, on a day with fewer horrors and more rest, someone would surely know what to say.

Unfortunately, Elsa was struck mute at the devastation she saw before her.  A tear slipped from her burning red eyes and rolled down her cheek.  She swiped at it absently with the back of her hand.

Elsa startled as the silence around her erupted into chaos.

 “I hear something in the woods crashing toward me!”

A flurry of crows took to the air and cried out a warning but it was too late for Elsa.  A large grizzly had her by the back of the neck and was shaking her ruthlessly. 

Death in the wilderness can be violent.  Of this wild fact, Elsa had been aware. This however, was not the ending she had envisioned for herself in the cycle of death and rebirth. Now she realized – too late it seemed – that when her wheel of life continued, it would be within the contents of a Grizzly’s hollow, empty stomach. 

Elsa felt her life ebbing away.  The dry parched earth drank greedily of her spilt blood.

With her dying words she spoke to the great bear which had dared take her life into its own, “Next to the stone grows an ancient apple tree laden with golden fruit.”  

“Go there.  Enter into the great mystery; you will live a fruitful life.  Never again will you be hungry and you will become wiser than you ever imagined.”

Elsa felt the shift of energy when it happened.

Rain fell from the heavens as if angels wept.  Much needed moisture drenched the scorched, charred landscape and revitalized parched yellow grass. Air became clear. Magical tears gave birth to new life in the forest as two lives once separate melded.  The Grizzly – a great bear; now one with Elsa disappeared into the forest’s vast nothingness. He is on a quest toward a stone. Next to it grows an ancient apple tree laden with golden fruit – or so the tale has been told.

Keepers of the Stars say, if one were to look toward the Heavens, they would find a Great celestial Bear to the north, still searching for Elsa’s golden fruit.  The bear has become very wise. If you find yourself lost or hollow, it will help guide your way home.

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