On a magical misty morning walking to work through the woods, loving all the cobwebs, I heard, “You are made of green flesh and green bone. A changeling nature child.”
Then I realised that is what happens when you put babies out in their prams in all weathers and leave them to cry (as my mother and countless others did.) The fairies and green spirits come and claim them and nurture them and whisper old truths in their ears and make them laugh in forgotten dreams.
And so I became a changeling child and nature claimed me as her own.
(Picture from The Story of the Root Children by Sybille von Olfers – 1906)
As I travelled the Dark rose up before me. A Dragon, a bird or both. Its wings spread to cover my path and all my sight. And it had sight too, cruel piercing eyes that can see Souls and eat them if desired. I stood small in front of it and marvelled at the beauty of the wings, the patterns, their movements and their power. The Dark settled before me and when I looked once more I could see the eyes had changed. No longer cruel they looked into me and puzzled over what they found.And then the Dark became less dark, as mist it rose, grey it became, then shreds it was before the rising sun.
I blinked and considered the loss of the Dark and what I had found within it.
The Trees are Guardians.
They ran with the Goddess on the first morning. They hold the power and the knowledge, they grow it from the Earth and breathe it to the skies. They are a living bridge between Earth and Sky. They are the Ones of knowledge, the Ancient Knowing Ones who smile on us.