The moon is full today, it grew and reached its bursting point in the middle of this afternoon.
The sky is grey today, soft and full of rain.
At the fullest moment of the moon I walked the path to Faery land… up the hill and down the hill, past yew and crops and daisies seeking sun in vain… I walk and weave and sing and tread carefully down paths muddy with welsh weather… until I cross the two streams before the Faery tree.
Over the style and I turn to my left, and the Tree, both living and dead, reaching up and down, struck by lightning but still standing, awaits me.
The sun and moon are in the sky, the air is warm but the wind is cool. It whips around the field, I see it moving branches, plants, clouds overhead, and yet it caresses my cheek so softly.
I approach the Faery tree, and in its side, the creviss, both dark and pale, I feel myself drawn through.
I weave through the branches, low and high, some living, some dead and, after leaving an offering, find myself sat at the base of the tree, where the trunk splits opening into the earth.
And I open, breathing deep. And the colours of the world shift. And I see a dark round door which i cannot help but open. And it opens onto stars! A narrow path winds, the only solid thing, through the starry sky.
I walk the path until I fall and fly and land upon the ground. I meet someone, who whispers words to me, words I must not share. And I know that I must court Nature like a lover, treat her well, treat her softly, earn her trust.
I return and thank the tree, full of delight and calm understanding.
And I walk home again.
The next step: Faery light – A Trance
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A poem inspired by my experience:
(As it came, no editing)
The Falling Tree
The tree, half and half it stands,
Half here, half in the faery lands.
Struck by lightning, blackened here,
And palest cream of heart-wood there.
Half this great tree touches the earth,
Half reaches up to starlit hearth,
We know, my circling friends and I
That here lies a gateway to the sky.
An offering poured we sit and wait
And before us we now see a gate.
A gentle pull upon its ring
opens it to stars that shine and sing.
The path to faery stetches far
A tight-rope weaving past many a star
And we step out, with balance pole,
Wondering how far goes the hole.
Halfway along and such a wind
The tightrope, loosened, starts to swing!
And one by one…
Hearts skip beats.
Past stars and further.
Past our own limitations.
And a laugh peals from each pair of lips,
As we recall, each of us a Witch!
The balance pole swung round beneath,
We ride it soaring, over dale and heath!
Eternity has ceased to be,
The land below now field and sea.
Each witch lands softly, smiling hard,
To see her witch-queen wait ahead.
Her touch, her words, to each a gift,
The very sight of her a lift
To weary spirits tired of light,
Each one enchanted by her night.
And we return, by broom and rope
And close the gate, like normal folk
We each leave by a seperate way
Walking quietly back into the day.
So if a friend you often see
Is cheered one day, and blames a tree,
Perhaps you might now have an inkling,
Of which falling tree your friend is thinking.