by Carolyn Carceo
I sit back, close my eyes, and try to visualize a comforting, safe place, and I find it. It is somewhere I remember from childhood - a deep, cold, still mountain lake, reachable only by long hiking trails, a grass and sand beach only here, the lake rung by an old mixed forest, erupting in a riot of early summer colors, the forest surrounded by an unbroken ring of mountains, green-carpeted with an occasional splash of color, their bare tops glistening like gemstones under the noon sun. I see a single oak tree on the forest's edge, providing a solid backrest; I sit, the sun warming my face, and I feel myself relax, sinking deeper into this scene, leaving the real world behind. I am calm, my mind open, my senses more alive - the tree scents are strong and varied, the slight breeze cool and invigorating, the sounds of the local animals separate, distinct, and quite clear. But I never hear him coming - dark gray, long, lean, with intelligent eyes, he sits before me, and I hear his voice in my mind. "Now, we will..." my guide, this wolf begins, and today's lesson starts.
Carolyn Carceo lives on the north shore of Massachusetts (with Shadow and her sister Blizzy).