Journey in the Woods
Journey in the Woods
By
Berta Moonchild
© October 1, 2005
There was a time, about 200 years ago, when life was slower-paced. We would sit and weave our word-webs around our hearthfires, spinning yarns and stories for education, for entertainment, and for spiritual fulfillment. I know I was there, then, I feel it in my bones, in my spirit, in my memories.
The old woman sat in her chair, telling us of the old times, of her childhood, of times long ago. As she spoke, she stirred her pot of soup over the fire. We were circled ‘round her feet, near as we could get so we could hear her over the life-noises in the house. Near as we could get to the fire, to stay warm and be cozy. As she spoke, I was drawn into her stories, and I KNEW it was about me…I just KNEW.
I was walking in a wood near a stream, picking herbs and flowers, talking to the trees. As I wandered along, I could hear the song in the brook singing sweetly high and then low again. Water eddying in the deeper pools, and fish jumping at the flies buzzing over the water at the sluggish spots. The murmur was ever present, lulling my senses, sending peace through my mind.
I sat down on a large mossy rock near a tree to listen. The herbs were fragrant in my hands, basil and thyme, with yarrow flowers dotting the bunch here and there like bright eyes. I breathed deeply of the fragrance, and closed my eyes, leaning back against the tree for support. The air was warm but there was a breeze, and I was protected from the direct sunlight by the canopy above me. It was so relaxing, so comfortable, peaceful, sleep-enducing.
Far-off, I imagined I heard pounding as of a heartbeat, or was it hoof-beats? It was a steady sound, not distracting, but was growing louder as it neared me. A soothing sound, rhythmic, calming. Another sound joined it—was it laughter, or tinkling bells? Through the woods it came, heading for me from farther along the stream. I caught glimpses of color ahead, and movement. A party of something approached. I watched as they neared, listening for sounds of danger. Yet, I felt at ease. This was not something to fear, I knew that instinctively.
My curiosity was soon satisfied when the party reached the clearing just beyond the trees where I sat. People dressed in soft greens, browns, oranges, and colors of the forest. They had provisions as for a feast, and they seemed a merry people. I saw no horses, but they had a small pony-cart they pulled, one man on each tongue, and within the cart were three women. The first was lovely as moonlight. She was dressed in a simple garment of pale blue-grey, and her hair was titian, so light as to be translucent. She wore flowers in her hair, and carried a small flute in her hands. Her skin was opalescent, and her smile was lively. As the second woman turned, I could see that she was bright as the sunshine, with hair as red as flames. She wore a gown of warm yellow, and her skin was softly tanned. She carried a small harp in her lap. When she smiled, it was as though the sun came out. The third woman had skin as white as ivory, and her hair was dark. Her eyes were wise as the ages, and her smile was serene and knowing. Her dress was dark as the Earth and the sky, yet I could see sparkles as of light on water, or stars in the nightsky. She carried a small box on her lap--no not a box but a drum.
The three women alighted from the cart, and settled on some large flattened rocks near the upper edge of the clearing, by the ferns around the base of the trees. Other women and men scurried about, setting out blankets, bringing out baskets of food and carrying or leading children. A fire was kindled in the clearing, and everyone seemed to be going about preordained tasks. The children sat upon blankets near the three women, who began to play and sing softly.
I was curious, and felt a bit like an eavesdropper, but I wanted to get closer. I stood up and smoothed my skirt, and walked quietly to the lower end of the clearing. Not knowing how to proceed, I stood there for a moment just watching. A woman carrying a satchel noticed me and beckoned me to follow. She was smiling and nodding, and did not seem at all distressed by my sudden appearance. I decided to follow.
She led me to the blanket with the children, where other women were beginning to gather. She bade me sit and join the company. Not knowing what else to do, I offered her my bundle of herbs and flowers in thanks, and sat down near the edge of the cloth. Now men began to stroll over and take their ease, as well.
The women around me smiled and were friendly, so I soon felt more at ease. I watched the children, sitting and listening raptly to the three women playing. The other women near me were taking out their needles and knitting as we listened. I could hear the fire crackling behind us, and could smell food warming near the flames. I guessed this was a celebration of some sort, for it did not seem likely that they would wander into the clearing of a normal day.
As the three women sang and played, a story began to unfold in my mind. Of the sun and the moon, the Earth, and seas. They sang of beginnings and endings, and stories yet to be seen. I had a sense of mingling, mixing, and weaving in their story. Of time past, and time future. Of endless time. Yet, I knew that they were teaching us as they sang. They were the storytellers. The Maiden, the Mother, the Crone. The Norns who spin and weave our lives, who measure and cut what is to be. Yet, they were like us, not ethereal. I could see it and feel it. They were the teachers, the leaders, the life of the tribe. Yet they were there always.
As the afternoon passed and the shadows of the trees lengthened, the ladies stopped playing and took refreshment with us. A blessing was made to the Goddess and the God, and then we were allowed to eat. There was mead, and the best bread I ever tasted. Honey, butter, and cheese. Warm soup from the firepot, and apples. The people talked as they ate, and the children laughed and were merry. Everyone enjoyed the simple and hearty meal. I began to wonder if this was real, I wondered how they could be so welcoming without question. It was as though I were part of their group, not a stranger who wandered in by chance.
After we ate, the Ladies played a little livelier, and a circle dance ensued. We started slowly, weaving around the clearing. The music played faster and faster, and we were almost running as we danced merrily around the fire. I laughed so hard and felt so warm and loved and at home. I knew it was a gift to me. Something I would treasure in my spirit, in my heart, in my soul for eternity.
Something tickled my neck, and I opened my eyes to see a spider alighting on my shoulder. I was startled, for I had been dancing just a moment ago. I blinked and rubbed my eyes, and here I was upon my rock by the tree next to the brook. Yet, I no longer had my bunch of herbs, they were nowhere to be seen.
As the old woman ended her story, she clapped her hands and laughed, saying, “You children run along now”. As I wandered off, I looked back and saw her picking up her sewing box—or was it a drum?
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