Stories

I also write short stories/fairytales and am in the process of writing a longer book. Fairytales can work on your subconcious; the plants, animals and stones mentioned in the stories all have a deeper meaning, as those of you who know more about indigenous cultures and alternative healing methods will know. It isn’t necessary for you to completely understand the stories for them to have an effect on you and your archaeic aspects.

I write your very own, personal fairytale for your inner child. Below are a few examples.  Do contact me if you are interested.

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The Bluebird

Once upon a time there was a princess who lived in a castle that was so huge it had a room for every day of her life. The princess wasn’t happy, she would live each day and at night, before she went to sleep, she would lock the door to the day and throw away the key. She had come to do this because she believed it was the only way she could survive. In her long past she had lived so many sad and scary things she had learned to forget them, by throwing away the key and shutting the door on her memories and letting them sink into oblivion.

But the princess was sad, she had shut the doors on the good memories too and now she had no access to them. She feared that if she found the keys she would be overwhelmed by her past and the feelings she had never lived through. She knew something had to change – her body had become fat and she felt a tightness in her and if she felt into it, she knew it came from all those pent-up feelings of fear in her. Her stomach ached and her teeth were clenched in a permanent attempt to grit her teeth and bare it all.

Sometimes a window to a room would open and a secret would come out and she would panic and flap around and not know how to cope with the feelings and the worries that escaped. But what could she do? “Trust” said a voice to her early one morning – a phoenix flew in at her window. A big bird, with an ugly beak but a coat of multicoloured feathers. It fluttered to the windowsill of her bedroom and landed on the floor with a letter in its beak. She stretched out her hand and tentatively took the letter. She slipped her finger through the flap and pulled it from the envelope. It was pretty, of softest pink and the paper felt smooth and gentle to her touch. Little flowers adorned the paper and it was sealed with the softest ribbon of pink and gold tied in a tiny bow, flattened by the envelope.

The phoenix put its head on one side and looked at her with a beady eye as if to say “Go on! Open it!” So she undid the bow and opened the letter and out flew thousands of tiny butterflies: golden and pink and purple and all colours of the rainbow and with gold dust on their wings and they fluttered into the room and danced in the moon light that seemed like day. And thousands of petals and tiny flowers fell from the letter into her lap and a scent of roses and lemon came to her nose and she smiled gently.

The letter had been written by a gentle hand in dark reddish, purple ink and as she looked at the words it was as if she could hear a voice. The soft and gentle voice of her Fairy God Mother; “Dear Darling” the letter said. The words touched her heart and made her want to cry. “Dear Darling   I cannot take your past from you, nor can I make undone the things which have come to pass. But they are gone with the wind and you alone create your new life. Daily. As you get up in the morning you can open your window to the new day, stretch out your arms and embrace it and all it has to offer. You can say “Come to me day! And bring me joy and love and moments that I may be loving and giving. May I live today using my gifts to help make this world a better place” And the day will respond and the makers of the day know you are there to take part in the glorious dance of life. Say “Please help me heal and soothe myself and be soothed by the healing elements and let the past loose its power over me. Let me love life again and help others to love theirs. Protect me so I can protect myself by being the love and the beauty in the world”.

For my dear, as you go into the world, so does it come back to you. Love and embrace the beauty of the moment and you will find beauty in the darkest times. Even if it is just a tiny wisp of hope in a breath. A tiny wisp of hope may feel tiny, but it is greater than all the darkness around it and it opens the door to peace. Peace that surrounds you, asdo all these flowers at your feet and butterflies in your hair. A permanent, never-ending peace that is at the centre of your cells. The fear and the despair are only layers of crust beyond, behind, above, below, around the peace and your essence of love.

Do not stand at the window and fear the day or fear may come your way. Breathe in the fresh air, let the bells of the church set alight your tones in your heart, the tones of perfect harmony, and resonate with that. Then problems may come your way but you will know you have the solutions in your heart. Then tears may come to your eyes and sobswrench your heart but you will know they are of yesteryear and just need to be aired. And I will be standing over you and watching over you with my fairy wand and I shall be smiling and stretching out my hand and shall always be there to guide you.”

The princess looked up from her letter and thanked the phoenix for bringing it to her. She offered him some water from the glass by her bedside and got him some seeds from the bread roll she was to have for her breakfast. He smiled and ate them and then she watched as he slowly turned to fire and out of the centre of his burning feathers there emerged a tiny bluebird that flew gently up into the air as if caught by a light breeze. It floated to the window and flew off, up and up and  up into the now dawning sky, further and further till it was a mere speck in the distance.

The princess turned to the letter in her hands and read on: “Where ever you go my child, I am with you. Give me your fears and worries and I will help you to transform them. Where ever you go my child, I am here to hold your hand and comfort you, to laugh and dance with you through this glorious life and the myriad of emotions that will wash and fill your heart. I am with you on the darkest night as the stars above the clouds shine in the darkness. I am with you in the deepest seas of your emotions and wash you and cradle you on the waves. I am with you, emanating from the trees – I am your roots, I am your stem,I am the flow of life coursing up through your veins. I am here my dear.   Your Fairy God Mother”.

The princess carried on living in her castle of many rooms. Sometimes the bluebird would come and sit at the windowsill and sing the sweetest song. The notes would wander from its beak and float through the room and nestle themselves here and there amongst the books, between the pretty things on the shelves and under the cupboards. They were the sweetest notes imaginable and somehow they got caught up, and twisted and turned between, and threaded themselves into, the very threads of the materials the things were made of. And later, when the bluebird had flown and silence once again reigned over the castle and all its many rooms the princess would move something in a room and a tone would escape and the sweet sound would ring in her hear and remind her of who she was. They were such quiet and subtle tones that she could hardly really perceive them but they were there and moved her and she would smile.

Sometimes she would wander across the castle halls and open a room and the Fairy God Mother would stand beside her, her wand in her hand, as the memories caught up in the room flew out and danced around her. Sometimes she would delight in them and dance with the children and moments that came to life and sometimes she would start and her Fairy God Mother would hold her hand, wave her wand, and the memories would transform into butterflies and peacocks and flowers. And that, which belonged to the princess would stay and some memories would go to the window and fly off and disperse into the sunlight and warmth of the air. Then the princess would stand at the window and watch them go and her heart would feel lighter and warmer and she knew everything was well. Then a tone from the bluebird would escape from between the pages of a book or from between the dust monsters under a cupboard and would dance with the air and the sweetest music would come to her ears and fill her heart. The past was the past and the present the present and the future wasn’t yet.

Each room in the castle was filled with dust which would sparkle if the sunlight caught it. And if you looked very closely you could see that each speck that danced in the rays was really a tiny butterfly with gold dust on its wings with the bluebird’s song caught between them. And the gold would glitter and shine and the tones sing and the spaces of seemingly nothing were filled with a music that cleared the air and transformed the world into the place it really was.

 

The Whale Song

Once upon a time, not so very long ago, there lived a little girl and a little boy. They lived together with their parents by the sea shore in a small house of brick, with white shutters at the windows which could be shut to keep out the strong winds that blew in from the sea. There was a white fence all around the garden. Not much grew there, just a few grasses and brave sea thrift but the sand would come in from the beach and form new beds every time the wind blew – which was very often.

The little girl and boy collected shells from the shore and would decorate the ever changing sandy beds. They made sculptures out of driftwood and sometimes they would make a sea mermaid with long seaweed hair or a castle with a real drawbridge and turrets and windows.

Life by the sea was never boring and they never tired of looking at the clouds which came scudding across the sky or watching the seagulls playing on the thermals or throwing themselves into the wind. They collected crabs from the beach and had crab races and took their nets to the water to catch shrimps for tea. Sometimes, if they were lucky, their friend the seal would come and swim by the shore and once they were really lucky and had swum with the seal – playing follow-my-leader in the waves.

Once a huge whale had come by and they saw the enormous tail like a strange bird rising up out of the water and splashing down again, churning the water to a white froth. The little girl knew that whales can sing, and she was sure that she heard tones in her ears from the whale. Her brother said she was stupid but she didn’t let that bother her and knew she had heard something very special. She longed to hear the song again and often she would go out to see if she could hear the strange, haunting melody but no matter how hard she strained her ears she heard no whale song. The waves whispered to her as they rushed up on the pebbly part of the beach, the seagulls cawed, but no whale could be heard.

One day however, the little girl was alone at home. Her father and brother had gone out fishing and mother was at work. The little girl laid the table for tea with a red and white gingham tablecloth and some flowers from the fields beyond where the wind didn’t blow as strongly. Then she went down to her favourite rock which was made just like an armchair only a bit harder and she sat and looked out to sea and wished. “Oh dear”, she said. “I wish, oh how I wish I could hear the whale sing again” and she felt thoroughly cross that her wish didn’t come true. She shut her eyes and wished – “I wish I wish I wish..,” “If you don’t stop wishing you won’t hear” said a voice at her feet. The little girl jumped and looked round but there was no one there so she thought she had imagined it and carried on feeling cross. “And if you feel cross nothing nice will some of it. You need to ‘feel’ that the whale is singing and not fill your head with grumpy ideas.” The little girl was astounded. The only living thing she could see was a crab sitting on a pebble that was nearly the same colour as himself. He was cleansing the sand off of his pincers and his tiny tentacle eye things waved around and looked at her quite sternly she thought.

“Excuse me” the girl asked. “Did I hear you speak?” “Yup” said the crab. “I didn’t know you could talk” said the little girl. “Well with all that chattering it’s no wonder – you couldn’t possibly hear for starters” said the crab. “But as you heard the whale sing I guessed you could hear me talk too, so I tried and tried and voila! – here you are talking to me!”. “You speak French too!” the little girl was surprised.   “Only a bit” answered the crab, and although he was only a very small crab it seemed to the little girl that he was puffing out his chest to show he was quite proud of speaking French. “Vous parlez Francais avec moi?” she asked. The crab’s chest went down noticeably. “You should listen to what I say, instead of trying to be clever” he retorted somewhat crabbily. “Oh yes! What is it you were saying?” she asked. “I said,” said the crab “I said, you should stop being grumpy or your wishes won’t get answered. And then empty your head of wishes and ‘poor little mes’ and too many other thoughts or you wont hear if there’s a continual chatter going on in your head. That’s the problem with you people. Thoughts chatter on and on in those heads of yours leaving no space for answers, but,” he added, not unkindly, “ You can’t be that bad or you wouldn’t be able to hear me now. You have potential. But if you want to hear the whale sing you need to harness those thoughts. Feel your wish come true and keep on harnessing those thoughts”.“How do you mean ‘harness’?” the little girl inquired. “And what do you mean by ‘feel the wish come true’?” “Harness your thoughts means practice, practice every day to watch your thoughts. Learn to listen to yourself thinking and say STOP each time silly or repetitive thoughts fill your head.”
“That’s easier said than done” the little girl sighed. “I know, but it’s worth it and you are young – you are doing it now or you wouldn’t be able to hear me. Ask the big conker tree up on the hill to help you.”Sorry, what?!” she asked. “The tree up there – he knows how to help you – just ask him and he’ll help. And as to feeling your wishes, don’t keep saying ‘I wish, I wish’ and go all grumpy because your wish isn’t fulfilled, but put yourself into the feeling of what it is like to hear the whale sing. Feel your heart jump for joy, feel the tones call to the memories in your body. Smile and know you are hearing and you will”.

It sounded a bit odd to the little girl, but then so was talking to a crab, so she thought she’d try it. She let her mind wander to the tree on the hill where in autumn she would gather conkers with her brother. Now it was late spring time and she knew it was covered with funny candle-like flowers. Quite suddenly the little voice which was telling her she was mad to talk to a crab, that the crab was silly and couldn’t speak French, that the whale would never come … quite suddenly the voice ceased. Then the little girl wished “I wish I can hear the whale sing.” “Good!” said the crab “Can is better than could – coulds don’t happen so easily. Now go on – feel!”
And the little girl let herself imagine the whale was out there singing to her. She imagined with her heart, she imagined with her hands and clapped with joy, she imagined with her mouth and smiled. She pretended she was laughing and her heart was turning over like last time and that her ears were hearing.

And then slowly, majestically, out at sea she saw a huge shape appearing. Silently, slowly up out of the gentle waves there appeared an enormous tail – once, twice, thrice. The little girl smiled and clapped her hands and then there came a sound to her ears that was sweet and haunting and moved her heart, just like she had imagined only much more so and she listened to the song of the whale.

“There!” said the crab. “What do you think of that?!” “Oh thank you!” cried the little girl. “Next time it won’t be so easy” said the crab. “I was right by you helping but practice your harnessing and you will start hearing things you never dreamed of. Watch your breathing, don’t forget to breathe! And watch those thoughts: silly thoughts, nasty thoughts, ceaseless worries – learn to discern which thoughts have a point and need to be responded to and which are out of place, bad or just simply silly.”
Somehow the little girl was quite terribly moved – the whale song, the sight of the enormous beast on the sunlit water and these warm, friendly words of advice. She thanked the crab again and again quite profusely. “I would hug you if I could” she cried and the crab looked quite chuffed. “Now run along and keep practicing” he said.

Later when the little boy had come back from fishing the little girl told him all about it – she could tell he didn’t quite believe her but was jealous at the same time-he would have loved to hear the whale too.“I don’t think there is much point in being jealous” said the little girl. “Wish too… let’s practice”. And they sat by the sea shore and practiced and practiced harnessing their thoughts and feeling their wishes. And lo and behold one day, not long after, the whale came again and sang to both of them and touched them deep down in their hearts and somewhere beyond. And the little girl and boy learned to hear.

The Sycamore Tree

Once upon a time, in a land not far from here, there lived an ogre. He was a sad and lonely ogre, as indeed most ogres are, for the people of the land were scared of him and did not like him and there were no other ogres about to warm his heart and share life with. His loneliness made itself known in that he became meaner and meaner and worried the people in the valley below his cave on the hillside so much, that the wise ones decided to have a meeting to discuss the problem. Not just a meeting amongst themselves, but one where they invited the wise men and women of the neighbouring towns and from further afield than that.

And so it came that one weekend in July, when the sun was at its hottest, the people gathered. The folk of the town knew how much they needed help from others, as they themselves were at their wits’ end and could not see beyond the end of their noses. So the group of wise people sat around a large circular table in the conference hall and the mayor of the town began to speak. “Welcome one and all” he said “I am so grateful that you have come to help us in this matter”. The wise ones nodded gravely and some had slight smiles upon their lips. “As you know we are plagued by a wild and dangerous ogre who savages the countryside, he eats our cattle and destroys our crops. He chases the children home from school and instills fear into all of us. We cannot sleep, we cannot laugh, we cannot live like this any longer.”

One of the visiting wise ones raised his hand, waited for the mayor to nod at him, and then asked: “He chases the children home from school?” “Yes, indeed” replied the mayor. “Has he ever done anything to one of the children?” “No, no, he just goes after them, it is very worrying for we live in fear of our children’s lives.” “Hmm”. Several of the wise ones from other towns nodded and “hmmed” too. The wise ones of the town looked around and wondered what the hmms meant.

“May I ask why you are hmming?” asked one of them. “You cannot see,” said the wise one who had raised his hand before. “It is good that we are here to help you see your blind spot. I see a lonely ogre who is seeking the comfort and love of ones who might help him – the children.” The townsfolk looked surprised and frowns appeared upon their foreheads. “He is lonely!” said one incredulously. The words hung in the air and no one spoke. “He is lonely” repeated a wise lady from a neighbouring valley. “You need to look into your hearts and see where you are lonely, where you don’t let others into your lives, where you don’t hear the pleas of others. The ogre is a reflection of this. If you were to go out into the fields and woods and commune with nature, if you were to go, hand in hand, with one another and yourselves, then the ogre would feed from your compassion. He would not need to destroy your crops nor eat your livestock, he would not run after your children searching for nourishment. He feeds on your despair”

There was silence. “He feeds on our despair? Could you tell us what that means?” “He feeds from your worries, from your loneliness and it is making him violent. If you eat unhealthy food it does you no good – you need healthy food and healthy thoughts and healthy emotions – the ogre feeds from your emotions and derails, for your emotions are derailing. You are the lonely ones.”

The mayor of the town had tears in his eyes as did many of his people. They sat in silence and the wise ones from other places sat quietly too, their hands in their laps, and waited.

A bee flew in through the open window and distracted the group. It flew around and buzzed loudly into the silence. There was a vase of flowers standing in the centre of the table, a beautiful arrangement of hot coloured summer flowers; of bright reds and oranges, white and yellows. The bee buzzed from flower to flower and disappeared into some of them, its rear end left sticking out and its feet busy collecting pollen. Finally, heavily laden, it made its way to the open window and in rather clumsy flight, for its basket was so cumbersome, it flew from the room. Someone sighed. “I have the most terrible stomach ache” she said “I ate badly today, I ate too much and unhealthily. The food is lying in my stomach, undigested, and I feel sick.” “Same here” said another of the townsfolk, “and here” “and here”…

“When did you last look into each other’s eyes?” asked a wise lady from the town by the sea. She had come the furthest to this meeting, riding on horseback for three days and nights to be with them today. “I cannot remember” said the mayor with a tight voice “I cannot remember. It pains me to, so I no longer do it” “You really would do well to open up to each other and learn to love one another and yourselves. That is the answer to your problem.”

The wise ones of the town were very disconcerted and confused. They had expected to hear ways of getting rid of the ogre, of how to kill him or capture him, of how to send him away. Something, anything, but not this. They frowned and frowned. “Excuse me” said the lady who had said she felt sick and dashed from the room, followed by a few others. They came back a while later looking green and wobbly kneed and sat down perspiring, with drops of sweat forming on their foreheads which they wiped away to reveal their ever deepening frowns.

“If you frown much more” laughed one wise visitor gently “you will fall into the crevices of your own foreheads!” Some frowns increased but a few people managed to smile at this. “Why, when the answer is love, do react like this?” he continued. There ensued a deep silence which filled the room and you could almost hear the ticking of the brains of the townsfolk as they tried to work that one out. “I am not sure they will find the answer themselves” said the lady from the sea. “They need our help. They are caught up in their beliefs of love and how to get it and what it is and indeed they are scared to love and be loved for the emotions of the past are imprinted in their cells, rage through their veins and fire their brains and bodies in turn, to dance in circles. They need our help.” “Indeed!” “Indeed!” nodded the other visitors and looked solemn and smiled at the same time.

The townsfolk were sitting huddled in their chairs, they looked neither left nor right, they looked scared some of them, some looked tired – oh! So very tired. A few looked hopeful and a few, well of a few of them it was hard to read their sentiments, for they were hidden below years and years of pain and suffering and they were numbed.

“I should like to offer you a song” one wise visitor took the initiative and stood up from his place at the round table. He withdrew a penny whistle from his rucksack and started to play a haunting melody which reminded the listeners of whale song, the music then turned into a jig and several people found themselves tapping their feet in time to the music. When it ceased the shoulders of the townspeople had dropped a bit.

Another visitor got up. And I should like to show you some gold” he said. Some frowns which had lessened increased again and eyebrows were raised. The visitor went over to the open window and with a sweeping gesture he indicated to the view outside. “Gold!” said one bitter townsman “I see no gold! I see fields trampled down by the feet of the ogre. I see parents hurrying to school to help their children home. I see no gold.”

“I see a sycamore tree” said one visitor, “I see flowers” said another.”I see clouds scudding across a clear, blue sky” added another. “I see a stream bubbling and gurgling over white stones,” “I see a dog sleeping in the shade of an oak tree,” “I see a wood beyond and lush green,” “I see a well of finest, clearest water”, “I see beautiful buildings”, “I see butterflies” and the person who said this laughed because at that precise moment a beautiful Red Admiral butterfly fluttered in at the window. It danced through the room till it, too, came to land on the flowers, where upon it rested and opened its wings and the sun came through the open window too and shone directly onto the wings of the butterfly.

“Look, perceive” came the gentle voice of the lady from the sea.” The colours! The patterns! The shine! See how it quivers very slightly! See the beauty!” the visitors all smiled and some laughed quiet, joyful laughs, some of the townsfolk found their frowns relaxing and that they felt lighter but there was still a heavy feeling in the air. “Inhale” said the lady from the sea “let your eyes wander and rest on one thing after the other and inhale. Try and rest your weary minds and just inhale with your breath, with your eyes, with your heart.”

After a while one quiet voice said “I am so scared. I am panicking” the sea lady came and rested her hands under the quiet voice’s shoulder blades. “Breathe” she said quietly “breathe” and the person breathed and began to relax.

A wise man, who had so far not spoken but to tell of the sycamore tree, stood up with a book in his hands “See this book as your past” he said and he flicked through the pages. Something made the people of the town wince. “And now” said the man “watch me” and very slowly and deliberately he shut the book and as the pages between the covers met he snapped it shut and the sound, as quiet it was, seemed to fill the room before it disappeared into a silence that encompassed everything. “Listen to the silence” said the man with the book “listen to the silence and beyond” and the people sat and strained their ears and heard nothing. “I hear nothing” said one frustrated townswoman. “Exactly! Listen! And breathe. All sounds come from here, all sounds go to here. Infinite silence.“ They sat quietly until one tall man said “but I hear a voice.” The sycamore man smiled and nodded, “would you like to tell us what it says?” The tall man shut his eyes and listened to the silence once more “open up your hearts beneath the sycamore tree.” “What a ridiculous thing to say” exploded one wise one from the town. “I think rather not” said the sycamore man. “Does anyone else hear anything beyond the silence?” “I think I do” said the mayor feeling a bit silly. The sycamore man tilted his head slightly, smiled and raised his eyebrows as if to enquire what. The mayor lowered his head and listened. “Go to the hill at night and look at the stars” he smiled a wide smile. “Would you like to share with us why you are smiling?” asked the sea lady. “As a child I went with my grandfather on new moon nights to gaze at the stars… it was a moment of profound inner peace and I felt his warm hand in mine and we stood side by side and gazed at the stars and played a game who could describe how far away they were. We would say such funny things but my grandfather would always end by saying in a gruff voice and with his hand on his chest “they are right here in my heart, by you”. The mayor wiped tears from his face and sat down somewhat moved.

They all sat in silence again. “I hear nothing” said one woman sadly. “Look about you” suggested the lady of the sea, “where do your eyes some to rest?” The woman turned her head this way and that and her nervous eyes finally came to rest on a piano standing in the corner. She looked at it for a while, obviously fighting with some inner thoughts and then she got up, ran her hand over the shut lid, leaving a trail in the dusty surface. The cleaning lady cringed. The woman tentatively opened the lid and ran her fingers over the black and white keys. She played one note and it rang out into the stillness. Then she pulled out the stool from underneath the piano, sat down and rested her fingers on the keys. She sat there for so long, “don’t forget to breathe” came the gentle voice of the sea lady. She breathed and then started to play. Some of the listeners gasped and caught their breath. They had never heard her play, nor had they ever heard anyone play like this. It was music of the highest quality, from the highest spheres. It conjured up pictures of mountain streams and vast prairies, of dancing elves in the moon light, it wove patterns of brambles and ivy, it drew butterflies dancing through the room and at the end there seemed to be sunlight bursting from through a cloud in the sky. The people were all sitting with their eyes shut but at that moment they felt their faces being warmed and the light in the darkness of their eyes glowed red and gold and as they opened their eyes the sun really was shining from behind a cloud and now lighting up the whole room in a golden glow. The tones of the piano sank in to the silence beyond and once again all were still.

“I hear a voice in me” said a man. “It is the voice of a child. It is saying ‘please let me out’,” he smiled and grinned. “Excuse me” he said “I need to go for a bike ride.” Those who knew him looked startled for he had never been seen to move in any other way but with a slow, slurping footstep and a walking stick in his hand. The man walked out of the room with amazing agility and the others heard him give a short laugh and then him whistling in the corridor as he went in search of a bike.

“What was all that about?!” asked someone. “I think his inner child has got through to him” smiled the lady of the sea” “I think so too” said the sycamore man.

“If you will excuse me” said one woman “but I too, must go. I need to talk to a friend before it is too late” and she got up and left. A minute later she could be seen through the window, she was taking the path to the hospital, set some way up the hill behind a group of trees. “She is going to Joe” someone said. “Yes” the others agreed. “She is going to Joe.” And they explained to the visitors “they had a massive argument years ago, used to be the best friends you can imagine, now Joe is dying, it is good that she is going to Joe”.

“I would like to go to my husband too” one woman hung her head “but he is long gone with another woman. I have no place in his life but I would like to find peace with him.” “Then send it from here!” said the sycamore man, “send it from here”. The woman smiled and after a short while she said “the book is closed” her face radiated and she looked quite, quite different. “Why you look really pretty!” someone exclaimed! “By gosh you do!” laughed someone else. “Welcome back into the land of the living!” said the sea lady smiling.

“I should like us to go and stand under the sycamore tree” said a man who had been very quiet. The general consensus was obviously to follow as they all got up, pushed their chairs back and went out, across the short cut grass of the village green and they gathered around the tree.

They stood in silence till the sycamore man spoke. “I should like to invite you to connect with this tree” he said in a very soft and gentle voice. “Imagine your feet growing roots which intertwine with its roots and mingle with those of the others standing here. Imagine you too, are a sycamore tree, with the power of the earth running up through your veins, imagine a crown above and all around you, like the foliage of this magnificent tree. Let us breathe as one, as a wood of sycamores and let us connect with the greater spirit of this sacred entity”

Some of the people hadn’t a clue what he was getting at but they got the bit about the roots and followed his instructions even though they didn’t understand them. The man with the whistle started to play again and everyone else held hands. It was a solemn moment. As the song finished the man laid down his whistle and held hands with the people on either side of him and somehow, from somewhere, a warm glow seemed to spread through the bodies and hands of the people standing there rooted into the earth with the sycamore tree. It was an amazing feeling of warmth, of love, of understanding, of peace. It filled their hearts and toes and minds and they all started to smile at one another. “I feel mighty good!” said the mayor. “So do I!” laughed the others. There was a tinkling of a bicycle bell and someone rode by, laughing and waving – “good gracious!”

The church bell began to toll. It went on and on. “Someone has died” they said. “It will be Joe” said the mayor. “He has found peace. How wonderful, it was high time” and they all smiled a sad smile and sent out a silent prayer. A bird flew up from the roof of the hospital and they watched it, the sun shining on its wings, till it disappeared in the vast blue expanse of the sky. “There he goes” someone said. And nobody laughed.

Then the mayor remembered his duties and turned to the wise ones who had come to help. “May I express my profound gratefulness to every one of you” he said. “Without you we were blind. We called to you for advice on how to rid us of the ogre, we expected violent solutions and were honoured with these gifts. We were so hungry and we did not know. We were shut off from the world of love. I see nature all around me, I see loving smiles and friends, I feel the wind in my hair and, dancing in the spaces between, I perceive a depth so deep and profound it moves me to tears and fills my heart with hope and joy and assurance. I am so, so grateful” he stopped as tears caught in his throat.

“But what of the ogre?” someone said. “What of him?” came a voice very loud and deep voice and from behind the conference hall came the ogre, with a soft and gentle stride “Who talked of me?” The voice of the person who had spoken nearly dried up but then they suddenly found themselves talking: “Why hello ogre, welcome to our midst. Would you like to join us for lunch? We have something to celebrate.” If the ogre was surprised he didn’t show it. He smiled a big, wide smile. “May the children come?” he asked. “Indeed!” laughed the mayor, “The children must come too. Send someone to the school house and say there is a half day off and lunch is on me!”

Later, when the wise ones were sitting in the garden of the biggest restaurant in the town, and the children were playing games with the ogre on the lawn, one small child came up to the mayor and slipped its hand in his. “I am so glad you have woken up” it said. “I am so glad. I was never afraid of the ogre, I was worried about all of you big ones though.” The mayor looked down at the tiny hand in his and squeezed it gently. “I know, I know” he said gruffly “but it is over now, the book is shut and we are awake.” There came a big cheer from the lawn “hooray!” cried the ogre in a voice that shook the ground and the children laughed and the boys threw their school caps in the air and all the children cried “hooray!”

The lady from the sea mounted her horse and silently slipped away from the scene. No one but the small child saw her go. “Goodbye” it called softly “Goodbye my dear” she answered and rode back to whence she had come.

For Your Information:  Sycamore is a noble tree and its appearance is a sign that there is energetic nourishment about. It is the sacred tree of ancient Egypt, especially the goddess Hathor. Sycamore is a reminder to build on old gifts and to express them in new ways. A Sycamore staff can open communication between the conscious and the subconscious mind. It can strengthen your life force and opens the way to receive intuitive and spiritual gifts from the universe. Sycamore holds the knowledge of the laws of abundance and how to utilize them to your greatest benefit. It has knowledge of the hidden treasures of Earth. Sycamore awakens feminine intuition and opens us to the energies of love and Nature. It encourages us to draw upon Nature for health, abundance and inspiration.

 

 

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