Field of care

A ghost rose in front of me this morning and gave to me a “field of care.”

Yes, this is going to take a little explaining.

It’s apparent to most people who talk to me, follow my blog, or generally interact with me in one way or another that Loki writes the stories through me. I’ve said before that I’m not clever or funny enough to write his stories. I’m glad he chose me to be his author.

And I’ve often said that I trust the process of writing. Again, I’m just not clever enough nor do my plans ever work out as I make them, so there is no way I could have plots come together like they do. I’m always trying to get words down rather than make them up.

With all that out of the way, let me get to what happened yesterday at the convention.

I was talking to a lady about Diane Wynn Jones because she had a Calcifer shirt on. She told me she had ready the book, Howl’s Moving Castle. So we chatted for a bit. (PS come see me today at FanX Salt Lake)

This morning, I was wishing that I’d mentioned Enchanted Glass to her, another book by Jones which was published shortly before her death. It was probably one of the last books she saw. In Enchanted Glass, the main character inherits a “field of care” from his grandfather. Throughout the story he spends time walking around his field and overcoming obstacles. Only once he has full accepted his “field of care” does he come into his full power.

Here’s where the ghost comes in.

So there I was drying off from my shower and thinking about Enchanted Glass and this conversation yesterday when I felt a power rise up around me. I suddenly realized that in Jones knowing that death approached, she was passing on her “field of care” to other writers.

Artists understand, sometimes intuitively rather than consciously, that they have not only their own family lineage, but also have one with other artists in their field. The stand in a line with artists of the past behind them and artists of the future ahead of them.

The grandson saw his grandfather’s ghost handing him a piece of paper.

I felt Jones’ ghost handing me a book.

Tears rose in my eyes as I felt it all come together for me.

I have come into my “field of care.” I hope I do her honor.

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