The Wishing Well Story
I had a wishing well outside my house when I was younger, from ages 3-18, I believe. A red one with a handle that you could turn in order to pretend like a bucket was actually going down into the depths of the earth to scoop up some delicious rejuvenating cave water. Two years ago, as I was helping my cousin remodel his house in North Omaha, I decided to make awishing well out of scrap wood for the yard. Like most things I create, this well was thought-through in stages. We had bricks outside that I started stacking in circles piled on top of one another. Then I decided I would use wood to form a similar base. I cut all the wooden pieces about the same size as the bricks and screwed them stacked together one-by-one; I found some 1x material to use as the sill and then built a crooked little topper that crowned the whole ensemble.
On August 28, 2014, I placed the wishing well on the front stoop of my cousin's house after his sudden and tragic passing. A month later, I moved the wishing wellinto a friend's garden before moving to Minneapolis to continue my next leg of schooling. I left North Omaha with a stronger sense of fear and despair in my heart than I have ever experienced before; all piled in right next to all the joy and love that I am so fortunate to have been surrounded by since birth. This spring, about 18 months later, I went looking for my wishing well. I was told that the garden which it had been left in had been on an abandoned lot which had recently been demo-ed for reconstruction. This, as much as I was interested in continuing work on the well, I found quite fitting and rather comforting, so I put that thought down until it resurfaced a few weeks ago at a festival.
One of the finely crafted exhibits at this weekend art festival was a timely reincarnated version of my crooked little salvaged well; except that this wishingwell was not only elegantly laced with a human-scaled flower walkway but was meant to be a place to hold one's written reflections, joys, and grievances. And so, after standing next to this well in awe of my own journey through grief ... in awe of the sheer time grief takes out of and makes into our lives, I took a moment to read other peoples wishes, thoughts, comments, and reflections. I wrote a note to the carriers of wishes in this well and decided to file my past away, to the extent that anyone really can, and I smiled as a wish I had forgotten making was coming true.
The spirit of the wishing well is a profoundly centering and consuming force and I thank the well makers for emboldening that force. It was in this place and time that I was gifted the opportunity to write down a few simple words within a crowd of artisans and creators that helped me put away my self-blame. From birth to death, the cycle continues, and my grief-released appreciation is unbounded.
Sent with love by Jess and Lady dog.
Joy Spreading Since 2007