A Gift Received
By Contributing Author/Artist Carl Franz
By Contributing Author/Artist Carl Franz
My daughter offered up the wooden bowl towards me, cupping it in both hands.
“I saw it at the car boot and I thought it would go well in the garden.” she explained.
Inside the bowl lay a magical desert scene of plump green succulents.
“It’s beautiful, thank you Emma.” I said, accepting the hovering gift. I looked down at the perfectly round domes of fleshy leaves bubbling out of a bed of smooth pebbles and one wedge shaped rock.
“You’re right of course, it will look lovely in the front garden,”
Emma's ocean-deep eyes peeped over the rim. Twin moons rising over the miniature world.
“She was a really nice lady. I was only browsing.” she explained. “I might not have bought it but she was so nice. And only wanted a couple of pounds, and then she gave me a discount too.”
Together we found a raised flat stone near the pond where it would catch the sun.
Later I returned to look at the bowl again. I thought I had seen something in the little desert, something sparkling.
I crouched down to get a closer look. I had not been mistaken, the tiny flickering lights were still there.
I watched them, entranced.
My third eye focused in on two shimmering light-creatures. They balanced momentarily on a leaf. Another made its glittering weightless existence known as it danced, wild and carefree, over the pebbles nearby.
All three fully aware of my presence.
I wondered how the little stowaways had fared inside the bowl. It must have been a bumpy ride to and from the car boot sale.
However the beautiful creatures seemed completely unharmed. In fact they were obviously very happy with their relocation.
Their unconventional arrival was certainly intentional but I suspected more than wanderlust for a motive.
Fascinated, I settled down into a more comfortable position on the path.
My third eye dilated further, allowing me to merge deeper into the enchanting little garden.
An unknown kindred spirit had left her story here in the care of the elementals.
A narrative written through the imprints of tender fingers gloved in mindfulness and delivered to me through the hands of my own daughter.
Intrigued, I allowed myself to drift into the story. The high vibrations carried me over the smooth pebbles towards the inviting shade of a podgy sap-gorged leaf. The cool soil below invited me in and I became a swimmer under the surface of her garden.
Rolling to look upwards I saw the pebbles floating above me. They were now transparent. Through them I saw at last the creator of my Lilliput landscape.
She was bending over me.
Her hands were busy and almost autonomous through experience. Gentle thoughts flowed from her, pouring her peaceful nature down into the bowl.
A pool of compassionate introspection filled it to the rim, reflecting her kind round face.
Her eyes held concentration but not without some effort. Her lids were heavy, demanding rest. But she was used to ignoring fatigue.
I sensed there was something more than overwork sapping her strength.
I reached deeper; searching. The usual old emotional wounds were not the cause. They had been accepted into her life long ago. She had absorbed them into the soft cool earth as tenderly as any succulent.
Her fingers brushed over all the garden's fruits, bitter and sweet alike, with equal care.
Healing them; releasing guilt, anger and resentment.
Still, there was something draining her. Something physical.
The sharp-edged rock came into focus. It cut into the blue summer sky like a scalpel.
Strands of shadow rooted it into the earth.
I followed them down. They broadened and darkened with depth.
I breathed the Reiki light through me into her in an effort to lighten the burden of her condition.
I channelled as much universal energy as I could in one session.
Returning, I stumbled upon well hidden depression. A thief come to dine on opportunity.
I worked on her once more.
This seemed to bring much better results.
I began bringing in the higher vibrations. Inviting her to the light which was there and only waiting for a chance to help.
She responded with a sleepy smile.
I smiled too. We had met at last.
I resolved to visit her more often. I would be passing by her beautiful bowl garden again in the morning, and the next...
About the Author:
Author and artist Carl Franz lives in the beautiful countryside of Yorkshire, England.
A Reiki master and dream interpreter, he enjoys communing with nature and adores cats.
Through his art and writing, he describes the spiritual experiences encountered during his daily and nocturnal travels.
He regularly contributes to his local magazine 'Howden Matters' and also features in
www.ascensionnow.co.uk in addition to other websites in America and Germany.
To view his art and short stories please visit Carl's website;
or contact him on Twitter @mishkasbear