This is a story about a boy who wanted to be loved. Sol kept waiting for the day when someone would see him — truly see him. The waiting got so long, he even tried deciding that it was not to be. It can be hard to keep waiting with a hopeful heart.
But before we get into all that, let’s go visit the fabled Garden-Citadel*.
From far off, the Citadel looks like a round-topped hill. A path winds up its slopes in one continuous spiral to the pinnacle of the keep. If you start at this fort’s great outer gates, you’ll have to pass through eight more portals, before you get to the stronghold: the dwelling-place of the Sovereign*.
Let’s walk up the spiralling path now, and marvel at the lush spread of the gardens on either side. Notice the fountains encircled by simple wooden seats; peek into the gazebos with their billowing gauze curtains; suffer the curiosity of not being able to follow the branching-off footways into enclosures you can only guess at.
As we near the topmost tier, the Mastermind comes rushing round the corner, a notepad tucked under his arm, the Twelve Master Keys to the Citadel dangling off his belt. He hurtles down the path towards a tall gaunt-looking figure, all knees and elbows, clad in a formidable suit of armour.
‘That was uncalled for!’ rings out the Mastermind’s first volley.
‘Yeah, well, you should throw out all the riff-raff hanging around here.’ The Champion is ever-ready for a bout of fisticuffs — verbal ones will do in a pinch.
‘You know I've got too much to do as it is! And now Sol has got it into his head that he’s in love, and he’s panicking like crazy, and…’
‘Would you like a blanket?’ the Nurturer calls up the path. He’s labouring under a tower of quilts and shawls, with a portable kitchen on his back, ready to decant a hot brew at a moment’s notice.
‘What’s this latest nonsense?’
The Nurturer seems none too pleased with the Mastermind’s greeting. ‘Don’t you notice anything? The garden’s been looking peaky. It’s too dry. And too cold. Some of the leaves look like frostbite. I’ve checked the pipes, and they seem fine. So I’m thinking we should go see if the Wishing Well’s in good order.’
The Mastermind’s voice is shrill. ‘The Wishing Well is fine! Stop chatting gibberish!’
‘Hey, who’s that?’ The Champion’s long bony finger is pointing up at the keep’s parapet. ‘I’ve seen this odd-looking fellow before, hanging about where he shouldn’t be.’
‘Why didn’t you stop him?’ The Nurturer, amid his restless bustle, somehow finds time to mind about other people’s duties.
‘That’s the weird thing: I couldn’t catch this ghost, it seemed to melt through walls. If he’s got into the keep…’
‘You should go check. It’s your job to keep the Garden secure!’
The Champion gives the Nurturer a dismissive stare. ‘I know my job. I’m heading up to Level One right now.’
‘No! You mustn’t!’ The Mastermind seems peculiarly flustered.
‘What’s up with you? Why shouldn't the Champion go to Level One?’
‘Uhm… there’s nothing wrong with the Wishing Well.’
Up on the castellated walls of the Sovereign’s stronghold, a hooded figure in a sweeping cloak passes swiftly.
‘There’s the ghost again! I’m gonna catch him this time!’ The Champion starts off at a trot.
‘I forbid it! And anyway, Level One is locked.’
Shocked silence.
The Nurturer recovers first. ‘Level One has never been locked before, not to us. What do you mean, locked? Go and unlock it!’
‘I… I haven’t got the key.’
‘You rotten liar! You’ve had the key ever since —’
‘Yes. But I’ve been searching for it since this morning and —’
The gates to the keep swing open.
‘The Wishing Well’s blocked up.’ The Lover speaks mournfully, picking her way delicately down the gravelly path.
‘The Wishing Well’s blocked up.’ The Lover speaks mournfully...
The Lover’s noble features have not graced the Citadel’s slopes for many months. She’s hardly stepped out of the protective cocoon of her turret, even to walk in the fragrant gardens of the keep.
‘I knew it!’ The Nurturer sounds triumphant, but there’s fear in the mix.
The Champion scowls. ‘So your fusty antiquities museum hasn't gobbled you up, Miss High Art! You’ve been holed up in your ivory tower for weeks!’
‘Your opinion of Mirador Pleasant is of no interest to me. You’re a philistine.’ The Lover sighs. ‘I was the one who locked Level One. I took its key off the Sovereign’s master ring. I needed time to think without interruptions. Time amid peace and beauty.’
‘Did you see the Wanderer up in the stronghold? We saw someone on the parapet.’
‘I’m not sure. I saw someone, yes. But I couldn’t make out any of their features. It might be the Wanderer. Even so, the Wishing Well bothers me more.’
‘Perhaps we should ask…’ The Nurturer scans the others’ faces.
The Champion sputters. ‘Go on, say it! I’ve had enough of this pussy-footing around. We all know it.’
‘The Sovereign left me in charge, so we will all stick to the plan.’
The Champion remains defiant. ‘So you keep saying, Strategist. But I have my doubts.’
‘I’m just trying to keep things well-ordered and —’
The Lover’s slow drawl glides across the scene. ‘And now the Wishing Well has dried up. Your deputising for the Sovereign isn’t going all that well, Strategist.’
The Strategist hangs his head. Suddenly, the burden of trying to fill the Sovereign’s shoes is etched into his face. ‘I’ve done my best to keep the show on the road. But without the Sovereign… Ask me to mastermind any kind of plan, no problem. I can run an event for 10,000 people, no sweat. Or a major Hollywood movie, I can get it organised in a jiffy. But without the Sovereign giving me a clue on the direction… She hasn’t talked to me for ages, and without her steer —’
Ask me to mastermind any kind of plan, no problem... But without the Sovereign giving me a clue on the direction…
‘There’s worse. I’ve been looking for the Sovereign and she’s not in the keep.’ The Lover bites her lip, as if there’s more on her mind.
The Nurturer begins to tremble. ‘We need to find her. None of us know how to fix the Wishing Well. The Sovereign’s the only one. And with the Wishing Well out of action, the Garden —’
‘The Garden is in trouble — yes, we know,’ snaps the Strategist.
Each of the four is alone with their apprehensions and misgivings. Their shared home is in danger, but that doesn’t mean they suddenly trust each other. Even the Strategist, ever-keen on getting things organised and co-ordinated, is too pre-occupied to propose a plan.
They stalk off to look for the Sovereign, each in their own way.
Come with me now into the keep. I have a hunch they’ll all end up drifting to the Wishing Well.
The Well’s shaded alcove is normally a place of sighs and whispers. You can hear a murmur and a soft regular thump which might remind you of the sound of a heartbeat.
But today, the Wishing Well is silent. The absence of its hum feels eerie.
The Nurturer arrives first, looking deflated and dejected. A few minutes later, the Champion troops in.
‘Anything?’
‘Zilch.’
The Strategist comes in puffing. ‘The Sovereign must have gone beyond the confines of the Citadel.’
The thought terrifies them. Beyond the Citadel’s perimeter wall lies the Enchanted Forest, vast beyond measure. They say it’s the domain of the Wanderer, a mysterious archetype who seems to come and go like the wind. No one can be sure whether the Wanderer is friend or foe — wild, like the Forest, there’s no knowing which way the Wanderer will see things.
No one can be sure whether the Wanderer is friend or foe — wild, like the Forest, there’s no knowing which way the Wanderer will see things.
The Citadel inhabitants don’t generally venture far beyond the Citadel’s great gates. Whatever could have driven the Sovereign to do it?
The Lover is twisting her lace-trimmed lawn handkerchief. ‘The Sovereign came to see me yesterday.’
‘And?…’
‘And I gave her the brush-off. I’d found some beautiful old paintings by El Greco, and I couldn’t wait to unwrap them, so…’
‘She tried to speak with you?’
The Sovereign had grown silent and dejected over the recent months. The Strategist stepped in to cover the Sovereign’s duties, but feeling useless only made the Sovereign fold in on herself even more.
‘Yes. I’m sorry! I was distracted —’
The Strategist cuts the Lover off. ‘Someone will have to go into the Enchanted Forest to look for the Sovereign.’
The four archetypes glare at each other in silence.
‘Any chance that “someone” could be you?’ The Nurturer’s voice is uncharacteristically caustic.
‘I can think of reasons why it could be any of us. And reasons against each, as well.’
‘I should go. The Sovereign needs my protection.’ The Champion stands up resolutely, but her voice is shaky.
The Nurturer bursts out. ‘I can’t go! The false unicorn plant is very delicate. It won’t last long if I take my eye off the medicinal herb garden.’
‘It can’t be any of you. It needs to be me.’ Three heads turn towards the Lover. ‘The Sovereign came to see me, and I think I know why: she needed to be seen with the eyes of love. And I didn’t have it in me.’ The Lover speaks calmly as big translucent tears roll down her face. ‘She left this note.’
The Strategist darts to grab the paper out of the Lover’s hand. He reads aloud. “I’m sorry. I’ve let you all down. I’m supposed to hold it all together. To bring us together as a team. I couldn’t find a way to do it. Towards the end, even the stronghold of the keep, the last refuge under siege, no longer felt like home. You’re better off without me.”
The Lover nods. ‘As soon as I found the note, I ran through the keep, but she was already gone.’
‘But how will you find your way in the Forest?’ The Nurturer sounds genuinely concerned.
‘Your devoted care has been unwavering, dear Nurturer. And Champion, you’ve been unstinting with your loyalty and courage. You, dear Strategist, have lit up the Citadel with your mastermind brilliance. But I… It is love’s particular power to reach beyond itself to touch another. To see where others don’t or can’t. I could have seen the Sovereign’s struggles with the eyes of love, and reached out a hand of solace. But I was too preoccupied with my own comfort. I wanted everything to be exquisite, perfect… yet, the whole time, I was overlooking something vital: I’m not just the recipient of beauty, I am its creator, too.’
‘What are you saying, Lover?’
‘A Lover’s role is not just to receive love — I want to be love, too. After all, the song says “find me somebody to love.” And I have found folks to love — you, and you, and you. And that’s so, so lucky for me. Hiding in a turret is not what love is about. And now it’s time I went forth, to see if my love can find the Sovereign, too.’
A Lover’s role is not just to receive love — I want to be love, too.
The truth of the Lover’s words trickles into their bellies as the warmth of her heartfelt appreciation melts away old calloused gripes.
The Champion takes a step forward and unbuckles a leather strap slung across her breastplate. ‘Here, take my pauldron. It’s padded on the inside, so it won’t chafe.’
‘What would I want with a piece of armour?’
‘Don’t worry, it’s mostly heavy-duty leather. It won’t weigh you down much.’
‘I’m honoured, Champion, but —’
‘I, too, have not been at my best. I’ve been tetchy and unsure, jumping at shadows. I’m no good at knowing which battles to pick and which to leave alone. I need a nod from the Sovereign, I’m lost without her.’ For a moment, the Champion looks away. ‘I’ve been striking at random. If I go into the Forest, I’m scared I’ll start fighting trees and all manner of daft stuff, like Don Quixote… Please accept this pauldron as a gift from me. I want you to know that — to feel that — I’m with you, wherever you tread.’
‘Thank you, Champion. I will wear your gift with pride.’
‘Yeah, alright. You want the underarm strap snug but not too tight. You’ll soon get used to it.’
The Nurturer rises, pulling a neat bundle out of his enormous pack. ‘This is my wet-weather cloak. It will keep you warm, however soggy and cold the Forest gets.’
The Strategist is the last to speak. ‘We’ve all been… not on our best game. I miss the Sovereign as much as you do. I will set up a beacon on the tallest tower, so you can always find your way home.’
Before they part, the Champion places a hand on the Lover’s shoulder. ‘Watch yourself out there, the Wanderer can be a tricksy so-and-so.’
The three archetypes gather to wave at the great gates as the Lover, buoyed by fond and generous gifts, sets forth into the daunting vastness of the Enchanted Forest.
We will tiptoe after the Lover, so we can see how she goes about finding the Sovereign in the unexplored wilderness. So far, she has only the lantern of her love to light her way. She will have to tolerate the brambles tearing at her clothes and the branches sweeping low to dishevel her hair. It’s as if the Forest isn’t minded to leave her alone. The Lover gives these trifling details hardly a thought. Her mind is bent on her formidable task. She wraps the Nurturer’s wet-weather cloak tighter around her, as if it could protect her from the trials ahead.
Trials ahead
Sol’s inner world is torn apart.
So many potent voices,
each tugging their own way.
How to find what will unify this inner community,
so that Sol’s inner life can flourish,
and allow the good things coming into his life
to sink in and feel real?
Will the Lover meet the Wanderer?
Will she manage to find her way in the Forest?
Most of all, will the Lover find the Sovereign and persuade her to return?
All will be revealed in the Letter 12!
If this Letter stirred your curiosity, here are a few places to continue:
Exploring the Garden-Citadel
→ Letter 4: The 9-Level Citadel
Meeting the Sovereign archetype
→ Letter 10: To forgive yourself
How the eyes of love can build your faith in others valuing you
→ Letter 7: To be seen with the Eyes of Love
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