Tag: inspiration

What Happens to Dreams that we let die? – A Seed Woman Story

“Dreams are the seeds of change. Nothing ever grows without a seed, and nothing ever changes without a dream.”

~ Debby Boone

What Happens to Dreams that we Let Die?

(A Seed Woman Story)

She’d left those seeds in the snow, forgetting that they were ever real. Seeds left to die. So, for a thousand years they stayed there, lost to the world and frozen deep inside the death grip of snow as hard and mighty as glacial permafrost.

And for a thousand years her heart felt empty, devoid of hope or dreams. She wondered aimlessly through the gloomy woods in search of something that she couldn’t quite remember. At night, she slept long dreamless sleeps under dark moonless skies with no stars to guide her back home. No hearth could warm her soul. No rain could wash away the sadness that permeated her life. For the longest time, emptiness became her name.

Until one day – and that one day always comes – when she heard a whisper in the icy winter wind. Something called her name. It called her to come North. With nothing to lose and nothing to keep her where she was, she gathered her old cloak, a treasure intricately woven from woodland moss and elderflower petals by the generations of women who came before her. She put on her sheep skin shoes and set off on her journey to the far off lands in the North.

She walked for 7 days and 7 nights across frozen meadows and snow covered hills, the whisper in the wind guiding her along the way. She walked across the frozen lake and up narrow mountain paths, until she reached a black bear’s cave.

A voice echoed from inside the cave.

“Come in Moss Child,” it said. “Come rest a little while. You’ve travelled long and far.”

Weary from her journey, she entered the black bear’s home. She sat down by the fire and for the first time in too many years, she felt a space inside her heart warm.

Great mother black bear brought her a jug of warm honey mead. It smelt of spring – pink rose petals dancing in the wind, delicate white strawberry blossoms smiling at the sun, woody green rosemary twigs singing to the bees and the fresh aroma of climbing thyme after the first spring rains. She drank the honey mead slowly, savouring each sweet and delicious sip. When she was done and her belly was full, her body warm and her heart alive with new buds of hope, she laid her head on mother black bear’s lap and drifted off to sleep. And of course, for the first in too many years she dreamt a thousand dreams.

She dreamt of catching butterflies and shooting stars in a net and gathering herbs in her grandmother’s ancient foraging basket. She dreamt that she was walking through a forest in bloom, picking buttercup flowers with her future daughters. She dreamt of swimming with the dolphins and planting seaweed gardens at the bottom of the ocean floor. As she slept and dreamt of many things for all the times her deep sleeps had been dreamless, the mountain snow began to melt. The wild Earth was waking up. Primroses and snowdrops pierced through the earth. Birds returned to the trees and the moon returned to the sky. No one really knows how long she slept for, but when she finally woke from her slumber, the black bear and her cubs had long left the cave and were making their way into spring.

The scent of wild roses greeted her when she stepped outside of the bear cave and she knew immediately that the world was a different place. She breathed in a long and deep breath of fresh midnight mountain air. She held her breath for long time and as she did, shadowy places inside of her that had long been shut away began to return to life. She exhaled with a big sigh, relieved to release a thousand years of darkness from the corners of her heart. Overhead, stars danced cheerily around their midnight moon queen. Somewhere in the midnight forest the owls called to each other.

Her journey was not over yet, for when the wind picked up again, this time carrying the stories of the new season, it asked her to walk further still to the high upper reaches of the mountain. She obliged and continued up narrow rocky paths following the map of the wind. She walked until she felt something call her to stop on a mountain cliff ledge still covered in snow. She stood in the snow, her delicate little footprints slowly melting away behind her. Looking out into the valley below, the silver forests and melting meadows glowed in the luminous lunar light. She could feel the sacred essence of the quiet land resting in its midnight stillness. Somewhere in the valley wolves howled to the moon.

She felt something at her feet. She looked down and noticed a small brown leather pouch rising slowly through the melting snow. It seemed familiar. When she picked up the pouch and ran her fingers over it, she knew that it was hers. She started to remember. It held something that she lost in the snow many centuries ago. She untied the string and pulled the pouch open.

 And there they were…a thousand tiny seeds.

Healing seeds.

Flowering seeds.

Magical seeds with a powerful dream locked in each.

She breathed her warm breath over them, whispering:

“Hello. Remember me?”

The seeds began to sing in response, each one offering its own sweet song. As they did, she remembered more. She remembered who she was and what she’d lost and what had now been returned to her once more. Thick beads of salty tears rolled down the soft skin of her delicate cheeks. And as her tears dropped to the muddy earth beneath her, the last remaining shards of darkness melted from her heart.

She took off her moss cloak and laid it at her feet. One by one, she kissed each seed and the dream it held, and then planted it in the moss. One by one, each seed kissed her back, grateful for the promise of new life. By the time that the last seed was planted, the moon had sunk to the horizon and the sun was peeling the night sky open. She stood for a long while, watching the sky wake up. New colours spread across the breath-taking forests and meadows in the valley. In the distance, the once frozen lake glistened like an ocean of liquid gold. She felt so much joy in her heart. Finally, after all this time all was right within her.

She walked down the mountain enveloped in the soothing caress of the early morning sun. She couldn’t help but smile and sing. She sang old songs, ones that her mother taught her in her youth. And as she walked and sang, the sun touched the seeds and they began to sprout. They weaved their roots into her moss and elderflower cloak, and from each seed grew a plethora of beautiful dreams. These were her dreams. Forgotten dreams that she’d thought she had let die. As she discovered, the truth is that dreams, just like seeds frozen for thousands of years in permafrost, never really die. They may sleep and lie dormant for what feels like endless time, but when the ice melts and they are rediscovered, all they need is a little care to be nurtured back to life.

What dreams have you let die? They are never lost. You can breathe the gift of life back into them if this is what you choose.

dreams left to die

The Traces We Leave Behind

On our morning walk through the fading cosmos fields, I heard the pied crows crying out from the trees in the distance. I couldn’t see them, but their call was clear as it rang out across the blue sky. These crows have shown up quite often lately, as if to call the winter in.

The dryness of the cooler months is announcing itself – the grass is turning brown, the deciduous trees have lost their leaves and the autumn flowers are dying back. Summer’s rain is a distant memory and in its absence I try to find new things to love in the present season.

wild tales cosmos

We passed some crab apple trees while walking near the dam. Crab apples in their prime where blushing in beautiful deep shades of orange.

crab apples

I discovered a trace of something interesting underneath the tree. There appeared to be wild hare droppings alongside the fallen fruit in the grass. Tiny bite marks on the crab apples on the ground confirmed their presence. It was a lovely surprise to come across traces of their elusive little souls because I love knowing that there are little touches of wildness even in the city.

hare droppings

crab apple bites

The discovery sparked thoughts about the traces that we leave behind. The little pieces of ourselves left forever in the spaces we have moved through. The traces we leave in each other’s lives and hearts. The stories that mothers and grandmothers leave their daughters with are all traces of themselves.

What traces do you leave behind in your own life stories?

And one question that always comes to mind is – What traces are we leaving on the Earth?

I wish I could be as gentle as elusive wild hare, leaving behind only subtle traces of myself and gifts for the Great Mother who feeds me, staying within the balance of things and helping to keep it in check. It’s a sad reality that humanity has built its legacy off upsetting the balance, disrespecting the cycles Nature and raping the Earth.

I try in my little ways, as many of us do, to be thoughtful, responsible and to keep my footprint as small as I can. At times I wonder if this will ever be enough. Perhaps it won’t. But I choose to remain hopeful, rooted in inspired action and involved in creating solutions. All efforts, however big or small, count for something. They feed into a collective movement geared towards restoring our relationship with the Earth, a movement that demands different ways of doing things. This is how progress is made. One little step at a time. The more we add our little voices to the mix, the louder that collective voice becomes. With persistence, that voice inspires change and the right kind of action.

So I hope that the traces I leave behind will reflect all these things that I carry in my heart. I pray that I find ways to leave behind a trail of petals that touch, inspire and heal those who I meet along my path – delicate heart-shaped petals that are imbued with love and good intentions. And should they fall on futile ground, may they turn to dust and return to the Earth as a nourishing gift for all that she gives me.

What are Your Vibe Triggers? And How Can You Make More Space for Them

My morning is a dreamland of silver raindrops dripping from the glossy green trees. In the midst of the Sunday morning stillness I am comforted by its soothing sounds…drip, drip, drip…

There’s been an extra air of magic about all weekend. Perhaps it’s the residue of the energy set in motion by Friday’s equinox, eclipse and new moon. On the equinox, I spent some time outdoors with my husband.

Walking, exploring and breathing…

We gathered acorns, pieces of mossy bark and the little bits of Nature from the floor, all to make an autumn inspired altar next to my writing desk. Its taking shape slowly, I still want to add some candles. But in the meantime, I’m enjoying the uplifting energy that it brings to my work space.

Creating this altar reminded me that the natural world is my biggest ‘vibe trigger’, for Nature brings me back to my heart-space, to my truth and immediately shifts my energy to a more positive, high vibrational space. So having plants, feathers and little pieces of her magic near me triggers a deeper connection to the Earth, together with a flow of vibrant higher energy.

What are your vibe triggers?

By ‘vibe triggers’ I mean things that bring you back to the essence of your inner wilderness?

What takes you out of the entrapments of negativity and puts you in a space where you emanate good vibes?

The word trigger often has negative connotations. It’s commonly associated with ‘strange vibes’ people or places give us, or things that set us off, things that put us in a bad mood, revive unhealthy old patterns or open old wounds. But over a year ago, while creating lunar inspired altars for each moon phase (as part of a course that I participated in), I began to see just how the little sacred spaces that I created activated soothing or inspiring vibes that triggered something positive in me and around me each time I saw them or meditated near them.

In Wild Essence, I describe vibe triggers as “points of focus that help to keep stimulating the wild energies…little reminders or things that you surround yourself with to activate your essential self.” (or positive energy in general) Depending on what your needs are they can be entry points into a space of deeper being or simply things that activate positive emotions, feelings and good moods.

When I think of vibe triggers, so many things come to mind:

Connecting with Nature. Mantras. Creating sacred spaces. Nourishing meals. Meditation altars. Filling my home with candles and vases of beautiful flowers. Walking by the water in the moonlight. Watching sunrises and sunsets. Falling asleep to the sound of rain falling. Writing soulful words. Reading inspiring passages, poems and prose.

What do they look like for you?

Whatever they are, I hope that you find ways to explore them and make space to accommodate their inspiring vibration in your daily life wherever possible, as often as possible.

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