Beloved Goddess,
I don't remember how old I was that day when I ran away from home and wandered aimlessly through the forest; and found you at the base of an old tree. My mind had been troubled by some now forgotten childhood hurt. Hot tears blurred my vision when I first saw you there. I had to blink and brush at my eyes before I could truly believe what I was seeing. You were so old, I thought, and wrinkled...
I thought you were an illusion, or just a delicate branch growing from that magickal tree. Startled, I let out a little cry when I realized you were a woman. You smiled and hushed me with a invitation:
Come here, child. Sit with me a moment.
You sat there draped in thick brocade silk, white with an aura of peacefulness rooting you to the earth with a strength I could feel in my own body. Offering me much needed refuge, I obeyed and quietly knelt before you.
The wind blew through the trees with the sound of the distant past; like a hundred unrecognized voices all a 'whisper. Gently, it soothed my tangled thoughts, teased strands of my hair and took hold of the hems of my dress as we talked of tree rings, forgotten memories, lost records and history.
You said:
Honor alone cannot provide proper perspective for the innocent. There is much that the wheel of time has set in motion, much you will never understand. Nonetheless, be aware, it is always attempting to steal, control and manipulate life, and both the past and the future. Hold on to your innocence, child. It is precious and always the price demanded.
We were both so tender hearted, then. I remember how we cried together: me mourning the loss of my innocent dream of how life "should be" (it all felt so unfair!), and you mourning those who have died in senseless wars.
What a pair we were that day, the maiden and the crone. You dressed in white, grounded, but reminding me of a fleeting cloud- your voice and touch light as air. Me, wearing a pale blue sundress, my long hair wild... untamable, feeling shy, scattered and so insecure. I would have grasped tightly to anything lasting and true, but despite feeling the weight of the world upon my shoulders, I knew it wouldn't stay for long... Tomorrow always released me from the worries of the day before. Though, I didn't know what would become of you.
All these years later, and I still remember the kindness you showed me. The way you patted my hand and brushed tears from my cheek. The way you shoo'ed me off:
Run along home, now. You're a young girl, not an old woman. Run with the wind. There will be time enough to grow roots when you're older.
Some years later, I remembered you and the wisdom you'd shared... and I wrote this in my diary:
Is it really death that I most fear? Or, the mystery of not knowing what, if anything, will follow?
Maybe I am more afraid of dying- not of death itself. Afraid of letting go... being forced to constantly let go and accept change. Having to release what is known to leap blindly into the vast unknown of it all.
Maybe, just for today, I will stop being afraid, and let go of expecting that anything will ever remain the same!
You were so wise and experienced, and seemed to fear nothing at all. You taught me that day to honor the sacred cycles- to embrace death as part of the holy process, just as beautiful and important as life...
Then, you handed me a dried up leaf, brittle and brown, and said:
You are a supple green leaf, just as this one was once... Now it is old and has fallen from the branch to which it clung- the only life it ever knew was attached to this tree.
Crush it between your fingers, and it will crumble to the earth and begin to nourish the roots of this old tree..
I am this brown leaf. I do not fear death. I, too, was once young, like you. Soon, I will disappear from sight to become one with a greater purpose, my true home.
When you see the tree leaf sweet green leaves next spring, remember me... Listen for my voice in the rustling of the breeze. I will die, child, but I will be here, waiting for you to return and remember me. Waiting for you to come and sit with me again beneath this tree.
I have never forgotten you, Nakisawamie-No-Mikoto. I can still hear your voice and see into the depths of your eyes. I can still feel your touch on my skin and your kindness in my heart. Only please, don't forget me.
Thank you.
-Yours devotedly
