THE MAGIC SHOES: 20) INARI
Monster Monday Madness
Outside on Cecil Court, my watery eyes are snagged by something shimmering in a window display. I am drawn to it—and my magic shoes oblige me.
The mauve-colored shop is called Christopher St. James: Specialists in Film & Theatre Jewellery Design.
Upon closer inspection, their window is filled with miniature Christmas trees made of metal frames with sparkly, multi-colored gems.
I enter the shop and approach its proprietor, who is lounging behind a desk.
“What are those Christmas trees in your window?” I inquire. “I’ve never seen anything quite like them.”
“Rhinestone trees,” he says. “From Czechoslovakia. Pretty, aren’t they?”
“And more colorful than my shoes!” I exult.
The proprietor ambles over to the display, picks one up and stands it on his desk.
I am quickly mesmerized by the glittery rhinestones… and… a few seconds later… I’m standing in a forest freezing my butt off. And no wonder, because snow is everywhere around me, on the ground and weighing down the limbs of countless tress in every direction.
I spot a clearing in the distance with a cabin. Seeking warmth and sanctuary from the biting cold, I hurry past the towering pines toward it.
A woman answers my door knock with a quizzical look on her weathered face.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” I say, almost pleadingly. “I’m lost—and very cold.”
Her piercing gray eyes seem to take pity on me. “Come inside,” she says softly. “My name is Elle. Elle Jarvinen.” Silver hair cascades over her shoulders like a glinting river of ice.
Through shivering lips I introduce myself and enter the modest rustic cabin, built entirely with logs. This tall, lean woman—in her sixties, I’d guess—leads me to a hearth, its firewood generating the heat I need to stave off frostbite.
Elle disappears for a couple of minutes and returns with a tray holding two simple wooden cups. She hands me one. “Here, drink this,” she says. “It will warm you.”
I study the steaming hot drink.
Elle notes my hesitation. “Chaga tea,” she says with the hint of a smile in her eye.
I tilt my head, unfamiliar with the name.
“From the Chaga mushroom that grows on birch trees in our forests,” she explains. “The forest offers strength. It will restore you, ground you.”
I bring the cup to my face and breathe in an earthy scent. The tea tastes of vanilla and wood.
“We have many interesting mushrooms in Inari,” says Elle.
“In where?”
“Inari.”
“Where on earth is Inari?”
Elle studies me with curiosity, perhaps straining to understand how someone could not know where they are.
“We are in Finland,” Elle says slowly, her voice steady. “The northern region. Lapland. Are you lost?”
I nod. “Sort of.”
Elle tilts her head. “If you do not know where you are, then where do you think you were going?”
As warmth from the tea spreads through me, my mind considers a way to explain. “Well… I was in London. And then I was… here.”
Elle’s gaze doesn’t waver. A knowing smile pulls at the corners of her mouth. “It seems the forest wanted you here.”
“The forest?”
“The forest is the spirit of this place. It calls to those who need it.” She pauses, letting the words settle between us. “You may not know the reason quite yet, but the forest…” she trails off. "The forest has its own wisdom. If you listen, the forest will speak—and tell you. Perhaps it will be an ancestor who has waited a long time to be heard.”
“Been there, done that,” I mumble, glancing down at the tea.
“Perhaps you’ve come to witness the secrets hidden beneath the snow,” Elle murmurs, lifting her cup thoughtfully, her gaze drifting out through the window.
“What kind of secrets?”
Elle turns back to me and smiles. “When you finish your tea, I’ll show you.”