A friend called M

I have a friend. We call her M. An affectionate, diminutive of her name. A shortened form of the name she was given when her lungs first took on air. And she let out her earliest cry into the world. Announcing her arrival. Claiming her existence. M really suits her. It is perfectly her. As most nicknames are.

It started because she started signing her name this way. Some of us do. Sign off with just a single letter. The first of our name. An affectionate way to end a text or email. Or a Whats App message or two. She thought it was very James Bond. And so it is. And so she is.

She is just like the character M in the James Bond movies, played by Dame Judi Dench. At times she has an energy of fierceness about her. Like a great lioness. Protective. Determined. And like Fleming’s M, in many a scene of her life, her eyes hold the steel resolve of her decisions. She is brave. Courageous. But perfectly human and vulnerable inside. This dichotomy beautifully illustrated by the words of the fictional M.

‘My husband was a great lover of poetry, and, um, I suppose some of it sunk in despite my best intentions. And here today, I remember this, I think from Tennyson. "We are not now that strength, which in old days moved Earth and Heaven. That which we are, we are. One equal temper of heroic hearts, made weak by time and fate. But strong in will, to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."’ M.

She holds the eighth (or eleventh, depending on the deck) Major Arcana Tarot Card, Strength, up her sleeve. The card once known as Fortitude. Illustrated with a woman and a lion. Predicting triumph. Conclusion to temptation or a major life problem. Through strength of character. She forgot she was holding it for a while. Forgot her self-belief and vitality among the shadows of life. But I have seen her remember. I saw it in her eyes.

When M has to, she means business. But just like her fictional counterpart, she is nurturing and kind. The archetypal mother figure of all who cross the threshold of her home. Be it animal or person. She opens her heart to them. Sees them and understands their needs. She revels in this caring. It would seem. It comes easy to her. She sees because she has the eyes of an artist. Who paints her world in colours and the soft stroke of brushes on the canvas of her soul. Walking barefoot in the garden. She trusts what needs to be done.

Unlike the M on the big screen, our friend M has long flowing hair. And when she wears it down, it flows over her shoulders like gentle ocean waves falling vertically from the sky. With this soft mane comes a gentle knowing energy. And with dirt under her nails she draws from the garden soil the essence and spirit of mother earth. Of harmony and balance. Of changing seasons. The ancestral mother of all life. Nourishing, supporting and forgiving. A well ordered structure. Allowing for self sustainability. With the home of spirits dangling from her ear. There is transformation, liberty and a fertility of ideas afoot.

M of the James Bond films is full of mystery. And so is our friend M. This is what makes her such delightful company. And such a great person to be around. I am grateful to have met her. To watch her gently unfold and show herself to us and the world. She will do great things.