A Tale of Provision Mixed With Magic

Last updated on: October 7, 2024 at 6:14 am by Tricia Gates Brown

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A Tale of Provision Mixed With Magic 2024-10-07T06:14:50-07:00 Tricia Gates Brown

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needs are met

{Photo by Derek Kreider for Scopio; needs are met}

In 2006, in a time of precarity and despair, some magic happened upon me. Shortly before, as I expressed to a friend heartache about a lost relationship, she said, “Sometimes you don’t get what you want. You get what you need instead.” A few months later, as I was working on building a cottage in the woods, I realized what I needed most was a home. And a home transpired.

First, the land. It was the first property I looked at as I sought a homesite for a cabin/cottage. Some may advise against buying the first thing you see; but I trusted my intuition, my guides, to direct me. And they did; to a triangle-shaped slice of Northwest coastal woods—three and a half acres; the property had a small level landing near the road for building. While the broader neighborhood was developed the year I was born, 1970, and while someone had long ago leveled the building pad near the road, the lot had remained otherwise untouched, with three homes built around it on a rural dead-end. Seemingly, the land had waited for me—a place with sun dancing on deer trails, through vine-maple and alder leaves; the ground carpeted with sword and deer fern between broad swathes of salmonberry. Evergreens that towered over the woods included hemlock, cedar, and spruce.

The lay of the land allowed for only a small cottage, which, in any case, was all I could afford. So I secured financing (this was just prior to the 2008 housing crash and recession), enlisted a builder friend, and commenced to actualize my dream with the help of sweat, tears, sore muscles and good allies. To save money, I completed with help many of the house’s finishing touches, such as cabinetry, floors, and paint. Perhaps this was why the place became so imbued with magic and spirit. It was a labor of love involving multiple generous hands.

When the house was finished and the last coats of paint dry, and when my 15-year-old daughter and I moved in, the magic had only just begun. I have written about it in several places, including in this column and in my memoir.

needs are met

{Casa Luna, by Tricia Gates Brown; needs are met}

In time, I started sharing the space with others. It was where my daughter’s close friends most liked to hang out. When I would travel, I’d invite acquaintances to come use the space for retreat, and a number took me up on the offer. I began to build a garden. Though the mostly shady site was not suited for vegetables, it gradually evolved into a profusion of texture and color. An enormous 100-year-old Western red cedar sat just beyond the kitchen window, home to rotations of chipmunks and bee colonies.

There was nothing fancy or extravagant about the place. That is the thing about magical spaces. They do not need extravagance. Only a spirit of love and generosity that moves willing hearts the moment they enter. And not everyone had a willing heart. Occasionally someone would come by who seemed to have no appreciation for the diminutive space, the art and color, the simplicity. But those who got it, truly got it.

One of my friends commented that it always felt like Christmas at my house—no matter the time of year. Another commented that at the house she experienced her first good night’s sleep in months. The magic sometimes wore off on those who entered. I named the place ‘Casa Luna’ (Moon House) as I had long adopted the moon as a symbol for my grandmothers; and the place felt like a gift from these women who wished my best.

I now have friends in their own seasons of precarity and struggle. Often, I find myself wishing them their own Casa Luna. That is what I pray for them, envision for them. I pray them Casa Luna magic. I pray them a place to thrive and rest and express and grow.

Recently, I published a poem about my little house in the river valley. In conclusion, I share it below.

May your own Casa Luna find you.

______________

Casa Luna
2007 – 2019

Split of a thunder egg.
Wrinkle in time.
The crease in these mountains

that opened and let me in.
Steep auditor of dreams:
Become what I will make you.

Vermillion, chartreuse, gold—
creek waters singing down
the vale. Listen:

Everything needs tenderness.
Everything needs rest.

Wren, winner of a 2022 Independent Publishers Award Bronze Medal

Winner of the 2022 Independent Publisher Awards Bronze Medal for Regional Fiction; Finalist for the 2022 National Indie Excellence Awards. (2021) Paperback publication of Wren , a novel. “Insightful novel tackles questions of parenthood, marriage, and friendship with finesse and empathy … with striking descriptions of Oregon topography.” —Kirkus Reviews (2018) Audiobook publication of Wren.

Progressive Christian

Relationships and Religion

Home and Religion

About Tricia Gates Brown

Tricia Gates Brown is an everyday theologian working as a writer/editor in Oregon's Willamette Valley, mainly editing and co-writing books for the National Parks Service and Native tribes. After completing an MA in theology then a PhD from the University of St. Andrews in 2000, she continued to pursue her studies—energetically self-educating in theology, spirituality, and the emotional life. She is also an Ordained Deacon in the Episcopal Diocese of Oregon. Tricia is also an art quilter, ceramicist, and poet. You can read more about the author here.

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