Oh dear. I woke up this morning and Walking Bear was strutting around the house ………….. He wasn’t soapstone any longer, he was flesh and blood and fur. He was also pretty pissed off he’d been trapped in soapstone for the last 20 years or so ………. he can’t remember when he was carved into that shape.
He’s not a belligerent bear, in fact quite the opposite. His purpose on this Earth is to heal. He’s been trying to put one of those feet forward FOREVER and is so relaxed now that he can actually move.
He does scare Maggie. After all, she’s always been a cat, never a sculpture magically found in a piece of soapstone in a community in a place called Nunavut now. She’s never lived with people, first a really crazy Spanish lady who claimed to be a countess and now with a lackadaisical American family who doesn’t pay him a whole lot of attention, but does give him pride of place all alone on the coffee table.
He gets dusted now and then. He’s shaking off the dust now, walking around, thinking about attempting the stairs. He’s stiff from all the years trapped in the stone.
He looks at me, this weird human who’s also never been immortalized in stone. He asks me what my purpose in life might be, challenging me as if I may not have a good enough reason for existing. I shock him by replying.
“My purpose is the same as yours. I’m on this Earth to help people heal.” He walked back to the coffee table and climbed on top and sat down.
“So, you don’t need me?”
“Oh yes, I need you. There’s too much healing to be done for just one entity. I could use your help.”
He smiled, got down off the coffee table and started walking around again.
“What do you want me to do?” he said.
“Heal whatever you can,” said I.
“Let’s start with you,” said Walking Bear. “I think that might keep me quite busy.”