Once upon a time in the not too distant past or, perhaps, just a little forward into the future that is coming towards us, there lived three creatures of unidentifiable origins.  They wandered forests, dug deep into the earth and traveled underground caves.  They mined gems and magic for their own pleasure.  Sometimes they slithered, sometimes they crawled, sometimes they were like ether, barely visible to the naked eye.  When they tired of the dark, infinite mystery of the deep earth they would swim into the vast waters and, with the great beings of the ocean, explore the sea floor and the edges of where the earth touched the waters, hearing the beckoning whisper to all who lingered at that touchstone where water and earth merged.  Diving deep, the three companions were never far from each other and as the oceans surrounded them with deep wisdom songs a wistfulness began to grow and hearts began to beat.  The thundering of their hearts soon took them into the sky, flying high above this earth, they soared.  Knowing no boundaries they visited other earths, other stars, other galaxies and still their heartbeats grew stronger and with their heartbeats they began to hear voices calling to them to descend, to take form, to arrive on earth as one being.  This they ignored for millions of light years, floating in space, exploring dark holes, discovering universes within universes and still their heartbeat grew stronger and stronger and louder and louder.  This was a call that could no longer be ignored.  Though they could still sense each other, feel the presence of other, over the thousands of years they had been formless their thoughts had become one and one heartbeat was louder than any other sound so, without knowing the how or what of the coming world, they began to fall. And they fell for another thousand years and in the falling they become one being, one heartbeat.  Form began to solidify and as they fell longer still, space around them began to be more solid.  They became she with hands and feet, with a yearning heart and still they fell – deeper and deeper into the mystery of forming.  They had been formless for so long that this coming into form needed time so that all the songs they knew could be included, all the dances they had danced could be part of the forming.  All the wisdom for the universes and the great ocean beings, the stars and the black holes where creativity began, all this needed to be part of this coming to earth, this coming to form.

As the falling continued, the swirling of universes began to recede and the earth became magnified and magnetic.  No longer choosing her own path she fell into earth, became earth for a moment, became the waters for a moment, became the forests for a moment, became all of humanity for a moment, became the silent deer watching for a moment, the soaring eagle, griffin, dragon for a moment.  Tumbling though all this her heart grew stronger and her breath steadied.  She found her feet, folded in her wings, and began walking. She didn’t know where; she wasn’t sure why but the one thing she did know was to trust her feet. And so, she followed and listened and walked into the future that was coming towards her from a past barely remembered but vital to her quest here on earth, vital to her survival, to her thriving, to her healing the wounds that she only now began to feel.  Her remembering would touch the ache in her heart and the magic in her hands longing to be expressed.  She needed to gather up all the scattered pieces of herself that she had forgotten in her long fall towards earth. And so, she walked out of the forest and into her life, her feet on her path, because she could walk no other.

She felt confused as she walked out of the forest, disoriented, overwhelmed with the task of finding her scattered pieces.  She wasn’t sure where to begin.  Following her sense of wonder and curiosity she stepped forward, following the path that rose to meet her.  As she walked, she began to softly sing a melody she remembered hearing long ago. Her path wound through meadows and soon she heard the sound of someone, something harmonizing with her.  And then she heard many voices rising to sing with her and soon found herself on the edge of a stream.  The singing continued quietly as she reached the water’s edge.  The water was flowing fast.  And when she stepped in she laughed with joy.  The water was cold and alive with the voices of all the great water beings she had met in her journey to this moment.  And what she didn’t know before she knew now as the water beings introduced themselves to her.  And gave their name into her keeping.  She heard the murmur of mermaids and the deep song of the whales. The water sprites flew up out of the water on a beam of sunshine, a thousand colors reflected. She listened to the many arms of the octopus and starfish, the whispering of an angel fish’s wings, and the floating wonder of sea horses.  The jelly fish pulsed in and out of her awareness.  And when she could absorb no more, hold no more, the water sang her to sleep as the teaching of all the names of the water creatures followed her into her dreams and filled her with the gift of water wisdom. When she awoke, she felt different and when she looked at her skin, she could see flickers of the great water beings alive, just under her skin.  She did not know what this great responsibility was that had been gifted her or what she was to do with it but trusted the path that was leading her forward.

The stream was singing and gurgling and humming, dancing and springing high into the air and caught her as she stepped into it and was swept away in the current.  Laughing with the movement of the water, a new song began to emerge and with that, the water set her gently on the further shore and murmured love songs as it continued on its way, caressing rocks, providing havens for all the water spirits ever named needing a safe harbor, for the world was changing and wasn’t as welcoming and kind as it had once been.

She, too, continued on her way and as she walked her path began to climb, higher and higher it went.  The air became a little thinner and she moved slowly so she could keep walking.  She could no longer hear the song of the waters as she walked up and up and up.  The air got colder and her path was soon covered with a soft blanket of snow which was swirling all around her, making a blanket around her shoulders to keep her warm.  The snow had a song to sing that included notes of the water song carried on a different melody – a melody of sorrow and of winged creatures, of night and shadowed times.  But it also sang of hope.  And the song of hope wove wings for her feet so that she might fly up the mountain top and meet those who were waiting to help her remember the creatures of the air.  As she reached the peak of the mountain she saw, high overhead, ribbons of starlings in a murmuration of such abundance that it seemed as if the whole sky was dancing for her. And it was.  As the sky danced she was lifted into the sky on the wings of an eagle, in the talons of a dragon, on the prayers of every songbird ever heard and knew her place, once again.  She was given the names of all the winged creatures ever seen and imagined and when she could absorb no more, hold no more, staggering under the weight of so much beauty, so much sorrow, the mountain opened its doors for her and she sank into a deep sleep where the teaching of all the names of the winged creatures followed her into her dreams and filled her with the gift of winged wisdom. She slept long for this was a heavy responsibility and she needed time to integrate it all.  And so the mountain kept watch while she slept and dreamed, crying out sometimes with the knowledge that was now hers.  The mountain leant her strength, bowing to her need and knowing there was little else to do as this was her chosen path.

When she woke, she felt different again and her heart felt heavier yet buoyed by the songs of many winged creatures singing together.  She knew this was another scattered piece coming home.  She still did not know what this great responsibility was that had been gifted her or what she was to do with it but trusted the path that was leading her forward. She felt older somehow and when she looked at her skin, there, just under the surface, flickered all that she had been gifted.  There were the great water beings with their gift of flowing and following, there were the winged creatures with their gift of knowing the sorrow of death and the dance that pulses at the very center of every breath.

When the mountain finally released her, her path was right there, under her feet.  Her bare feet sank into green carpets of moss and the trees over her head were full of the wind’s whispering.  But something had happened to her in the mountain and she couldn’t hear the wind, nor see the color of the moss.  She no longer trusted her path or herself.  She could barely put one foot in front of the other and thought she would just lie down for a minute.  Something kept tugging at her, nagging her and she knew there was something she was supposed to remember but what?  She had forgotten what all the rippling under her skin was, only that it made her look strange, different from those she had passed along the way.  Without noticing she was soon swept up in a mass of running chaos, a turbulent sea pressing forward towards a city.  She heard their names whispered to her, people, city.  She was like people and as she struggled to keep to her feet as the throngs pressed forward towards the city gates she heard another whispering, let go, surrender, don’t fight it, you belong here.  It didn’t sound right.  It was discordant and hurt her ears but she didn’t know what else to do and so she listened to the poisonous drip of those words and let herself be swept up in the sea of people.  The waters mourned as she stepped into the city, the winged creatures felt the depths of sorrow, but it was the mountain who grieved most deeply, for this was the daughter of his heart.  Her protection would be in her remembering, a journey that comes after the forgetting.

She wouldn’t be lost forever but what she needed now was to learn the ways of people – the names they had for things, for each other, the ways of the world through their eyes.  She needed to learn about the way people loved and came together and separated.  She needed to learn how far people were from themselves and the very land they grew from.  And she needed to come home to herself through the shadows.  She needed to forget so she could remember. As she was swept into the city she carried with her the gifts of all she had been blessed with under her skin but any awareness of it faded as she danced with the gypsies, walked through villages with no water or food, learned of the horror of war sheltering under the bodies of those slain.  She witnessed evil and incredible acts of generosity and goodness. She grieved when she lost a child and celebrated the birth of many.  She knew despair and deep love.  She knew the people’s names for themselves and the ways in which ownership and fences robbed people of freedom. She wandered around the earth, feet on the ground, seeing, listening, sensing and despair caught on every breath she took.  She lost hope.  She grew old. She forgot deeper than those who believed in her could have imagined.  Her feet no longer danced and her head was bowed low, eyes closed.  She didn’t see the stars falling at her feet.  She didn’t see the mountains grow up around her.  She missed the sound of the ocean whispering her name.  She didn’t notice how her tears formed constellations in the depths above her.  She couldn’t feel another who walked by her side take her hand.  

Before another cycle around the sun completed itself she began to dissolve into the mists that now shrouded the earth.  She longed to completely dissolve.  Her skin began to itch and the gifts beneath her skin, buried for so long now, began to come alive.  As they came alive, practically jumping out of her skin to get her attention, she became more solid again and knew her time wasn’t done.  She was tired and restless, confused and clear, waking up to sounds she hadn’t heard in a very long time.  She walked out of the city, knowing her time of living amongst people was over yet not sure of the path ahead but feeling trust nudge her in a direction.  She wandered out into the fields and further still until she came to a place on top of a mountain that seemed to know her, seemed to whisper her name to her. She sat down and listened, but could only hear vague murmurings though she strained to hear the mountains deep echoes and the waters joyful laughter and the winds moving grace.  Oh, how she missed the wind and all who flew on her.  All that she once knew remained elusive, just out of reach, but she was beginning to remember.  The markings under her skin slowed down, their task done for the moment.  She thought to build her last house here, on the mountain top, and see what she could see, hear what she could hear and perhaps, perhaps, touch the wounds of the world with her heart and become whole.

She began to build her house on top of these bones of remembered grief, grace, horror, sorrow, joy, laughter, births and deaths, hunger, misuse of power, harm done and harm received.   Every night it would fall down and every morning she would build it again. During the night, dreams of her time lived among people would fill her like an ache and during the day she let the sun warm her, the mountain under her feet reassure her, the wind ruffle her hair and when the rain came, she learned to dance.  When lightening flashed across the sky she let herself be struck by the fire and burn at the center of earth, becoming molten lava, forming mountains with her yearning.  Years passed.  She learned to build her house, not on the bones of the past, but with the gifts that were flowing towards her as she remembered her place in the greater cycle of life.  The gifts that lived and flowed under her skin, flowed out through her hands.  She began to tend the world with her magic.  As the world slept beneath a blanket of stars her hands would touch foreheads, her voice would join in singing lullaby’s, a special cake, made of gathered fruits and a dash of sunlight, would be delivered to houses in need of sweetness.  A blanket woven of the colors of sunrise and the joyful morning chorus of birdsong would find its way to sleeping children, carried by the wind to where it was most needed.  She would send kisses on a breeze to lonely hearts and would hold hands with the deep ache of loss. Time passed and she sank into the embrace of the mountain, becoming part of the deep echoes of a beginning that is only remembered now in stories that are told when the moon is full, the fire warm, and the children safe in the arms of the great mothers of this world. No longer scattered, she rests, her breath as slow as the forming of the mountain she has become, her gifts flowing into the world through the laughter of the clear running streams, the light capturing the colors of dragons flying high overhead.  She can be felt when a heart beats with love and when hands touch with care.  She will be known when kindness becomes the breath of the world.  Until then, it is whispers and moments of fiery passion lighting up the sky, it is singing with the wind and the birds, it is growing inside a forest of magic, it is walking in the world, rooted, head, heart and hands open.  It is walking the path of grace and grief, of remembering, remembering to look up, to open arms wide and, dance.