Yesterday I walked into the foundations of Alexander’s farmhouse and barn foundation a dozen times, and each time I found something new, something I had not seen before. There is no doubt in my mind that these are messages left for me for reasons and ways beyond my understanding and limited comprehension. As I walk through the foundations, I am gripped by dreams, feelings, emotions, images that are powerful, beautiful, sad and sometimes disturbing.
What could this bottle I found this week mean? How could it be there in this debris for 200 years and not be buried or hidden, when countless people – scavengers, farmers, neighbors, kids, bikers, hikers, have been here? Why didn’t I find them before? Why are they in plain sight? Are these things being left for me? Are they messages, and if so, what are they? I brought Lenore with me, and she is getting comfortable getting closer, although she will won’t go into the foundations. Alexander is coming to life for me in that farmhouse. So is his wife, and even his three small children. It make sense to me that he is wandering the woods looking for them, as that is what I would do, that is what any loving spirit might do. And there is the grave marker, coming back today, cleaned. A wonderful story, an imaginative feast, awakening me on so many levels. Dark but not dark, not really, not really scary but enchanting. And sometimes, scary.
I drove up to see Queen Ida, who I wrote about the other day and she knew the story well, as I suspected, and told me more. About Alexander’s family holed up in an awful winter, dying of the fever that swept through the area and decimated many farm families. Alexander has been seen all around the area, she said, all the old-timers knew about him. You can let him go, she said, that is what the messages are about. They are offerings, talismans, pleas left for me, a writer and the owner of the land now. I am thinking on that. I went out with Lenore and shot a silent video – my words are not necessary – showing the barn and the farmhouse remnants and foundations. You can share the story with me, use your own imaginations and instincts and fill in your own words. I’ll finish the video later today and put it up on the site write more about what Ida told me.
The story has gripped me, Alexander a seed perhaps, a radioactive and spiritual jewel planted in my imagination, stirred suddenly to life for reasons I have not quite yet grasped. Or maybe I have.