Storykeeper, she says.
I am the storykeeper.
The wisdom-sharer. The legacy holder. The tale-spinner.
I am the storykeeper.
Not because I think so. Because the faeries told me so. “Write”, they urge me. “Walk between the worlds. Share with us.”
Two days past, I dove within the roots of an oak tree.
I traveled to the middle of the Earth, and sat beside a pond. My totem approached me.
“Joy” said the hummingbird. “Feel it. Speak it. Live it.”
“That which does not bring you joy is not worthy of your time.”
They welcome me back, and call me Druidess. They wrap my shoulders with a dark mossy green cloak, gently placing the hood over my head. It becomes my crown. Three Druids give me Morganite. It is sacred, they say. Its use and purpose to me, I do not yet know. But I hold it close.
The ocean suddenly whispers behind me. The forest stands before me.
Paddling a canoe, I find peace on the flowing river waters. I find a long-forgotten pathway, and revisit my home.
An ancient sacred village. I was a healer there. A Medicine woman. They called me Druidess. They saw the Goddess within me. The moss drapes and creeps gracefully over the sacred tablets. Three symbols are engraved upon them.
Protection. The eye of the Gods watch over me, and their shields shelter me.
Life. The ever-flowing spiral of life, sacred and protected – as above, so below.
Wisdom. Ken -The light of knowledge. Within me is all that ever was. Is. Will be.
The Faerie folk have missed me. My heart has ached for them. They were momentarily forgotten, but never lost.
They dance in circles, leaving rings of gold in the grass at my feet. They play pipes made of stardust and diamonds. Their drums, once toadstools, keep the rhythm.
We dance around the fire. The Elves are near, and they return to me the books of Druid teachings. I remember the time before time, when the Elves schooled the Druids.
“Welcome, Druidess. Time to be.”
They speak without voice or movement. They are my companions. They forever have been. The Elvin priestess draws the sleeves over my hands, and reminds me to protect them with cloth, always. “Your most powerful tools”.
“Your hair must be long, to protect your ears. They are sensitive, and must only hear the word of Love”
“Your feet must be bare, to feel the heartbeat of the earth”
“Your cloaks must be free, to allow for movement and flow.”
“We walk by your side. You are initiated once more, in this body and this era. It is time to be.”
“Speak, and they shall listen. Write, and they shall read. Act, and they shall follow. Be, and they shall be set free.”
Time to return from whence I came, but my heart feels heavy.
I want to stay, but I know I cannot.
It is time to be.