A Feast of her Beauty

She lived at the end of a cobblestone road. In Provence or Tuscany or tucked away in the Americas. It’s hard to say…it could have been anywhere, anytime. She was a purist: raw materials + love = food. But it was so much more. This was her medicine. She healed herself with the creation of it and healed others with the dispensing of it. The wooden bowls, soft woven napkins, copper kettles – artisans and their wares were her tools. And the edibles – plucked from the earth, the Great Mother herself. She was an artist, a chemist, a builder…the food her medium.

But it was not really food per se. Yes, it was something to eat on a plate, she knew enough to make it look as though it was from this world…but there were magical properties in there. Things not listed in the recipe. She’d peer into your soul and see what you needed: nettle tea, kohlrabi, black kale, walnut oil, a blessing said in silence that she’d quietly spread on your thick, crusty bread.

She’d distract you with her beauty – blond tendrils and bright red lips. Always those lips. Less seduction, more a metaphor…a bull’s eye. She saw through her mouth. Some say the third eye is on the forehead, her’s lay just below her nose. And she really would see you, and know what you needed and add her own particles of love and light. Then she’d transfer all of that that into your mouth under the guise of, “here honey, you look hungry.”

She was right, those who came to her, who were brave enough to make the long trek, often without knowing why, were starving. But their bellies ached for more than basic sustenance. She practiced an ancient primal tradition…cookery, alchemy, or perhaps something more primitive and maternal: a mother bird feeding her own young – mouth to mouth. A kiss.

And the experience would kiss you, make love to you, your entire body from head to your barefoot toes. The aromas, the colors, the light, the beauty. Your body welcoming – opening to – everything she had to offer. Because when you arrive, you have no idea what the potion of the day will be. She doesn’t either. But you make the trek, you climb the hill, get your heel stuck in the stones, pull it back out again, feel the warm wind pulling you higher, and higher, until you reach the belly of her soul, realizing you’re actually on the path to find union with your own.

Jill Lurie for Jules Blaine Davis

River Flower

Two travelers – both wanderers – were hiking the same forest, though they didn’t know the other was there. One came from the city, full of hustle and bustle. And the other came from the country, full of farms and small town life.

It’s hard to say why they both had travelled so far to the forest floor, at the exact same time. But they did, and so it is.

What were they looking for? What were they in search of? Peace. Pure nature. Beauty. All of these things, yes. As well as something that was an invisible internal compass that led them to the exact same spot at the exact same time, though neither had planned on being there. At least not consciously.

One came from the north and one came from the south. Though it took them a few weeks to travel that deep into the forest, really, they’d been travelling their entire lives, and just didn’t know it. Somewhere in the middle of all the verdant trees and curious wildlife and crystal blue sky they came upon the very same river.

A magical river.

Let’s just say that if you could picture the perfect place, at the exact right moment in the ideal setting, you’ve barely touched the surface of what they found.

Because what they found was not just a river, but the exact same Source that also flowed inside of the other. There was a moment of instant recognition, and the travelers realized that the very same substance that – at its core – flowed inside the river also flowed inside of them, and between them. Like having a rare blood type and finding not only a flowing source of it from the earth, but in another.

It was a beautiful moment and both of the travelers were overcome with what they’d found. The river itself, and of course each other. In that space they were able to witness their own bodies disappear and become total union with the forest and with the water that was the very essence of who they were and where they came from. In other words, they knew the other was there, in physical form, but all they could see was light.

It was magical.

And for a short period of time, they were able to dance and play by that river and drink it up completely. It changed them. It magnified the magic and beauty inside of them which had perhaps gotten dimmed by life in the city, and even life in the country.

They shared everything there. Their stories, their lives, their pain, their dreams. Nothing was held back. This journey, and its ultimate destination was so much more than they could have ever imagined! It changed them and filled them up with Life and perhaps memories of a time long ago, before they were even in their bodies, when they were the river itself or at the very least, nothing but light.

But while forest time may be eternal, human time does move on, and the travelers each had to get back to life in the city and in the country. You can’t exactly live by the river forever!

Each tried to leave first. But it was hard. Who would want to leave such a beautiful place? The city dweller would say, “I’m going now,” but would not really leave. Then the country dweller would say “Now I truly am going,” only to come right back.

You have to understand that when you find the Source that flows through you, and someone else who carries that exact same blood, it is very, very hard to go. For a brief moment, it can feel nearly impossible to walk away.

But they were running out of food, and the season was changing and the forest was getting too hot to bare, and really, it was time to go.

They said their farewells and expressed their gratitude to the forest and nature spirits for gifting them such a magical reunion with themselves, the River and each other. It was an unexpected gift, one that left them full of love.

But sometimes gifts of such immensity can be hard to receive or understand. And, for some reason, all that beauty can quickly turn to pain and confusion.

Alone at night and during the day the travelers would think of the river and each other, and feel nothing but emptiness and despair. What was in one moment so perfect and pure, had the potential to become nothing but anguish.

Luckily, for some reason they each had pulled a stone out of the river to carry with them, without the other one knowing. And thank goodness they did, because the river started talking to them through that stone, though they were far away from the forest and from each other. Does this seem impossible to you? Trust me, stranger things have happened…

The travelers, each to themselves, would think, “Why has this happened? I will never find that same river again, nor the one who shared the same Source as me. I felt so full. And now all I feel is empty.”

And the river would speak to both of them: “My dear children, a human’s journey is the hardest to travel. Because your entire life you perceive yourself as separate, individual, alone. But in fact, you are connected all the time. That was the beauty of you coming together – to know me and each other.”

And the travelers would speak similar feelings to the River – though one was in the city and one was in the country: “But now all of that is gone. You are gone, my companion is gone and I feel worse than before I even began this journey.”

The river would get quiet during these moments when the travelers’ hearts were closed and full of sadness. There is no entering into another’s heart when it is closed.

A heart must be open and brave to know itself fully and to receive that much LOVE. The river knew this, and knew that sometimes silence is the best medicine, even if at first it is painful.

Because inside the quiet was chance to reflect on the fullness of what had taken place deep on the forest floor. This is exactly what the River had hoped for. Because in the silence, once the travelers pushed past their fears, gorgeous revelations were shown to them, but they had to be willing to sit in the fire first.

Time went on, and, thankfully, the sadness and bitterness softened and the travelers’ hearts began to open, each in their own way, in their own time, as it was meant to be. It was like a flower exploding in their chest and all they could see was the beauty inside of them and around them. Which seemed really peculiar, because not too long ago, all they could see was pain.

Life is funny like that.

And with the explosions of their hearts – one in the city and one in the country – they realized that a seed had been planted in each of them beside the river. Was it in the water they drank? Or inside the stone they carried? Maybe it was something so much deeper that happened in the painful silence between them without them even realizing it. Mother Nature can be sneaky in how She makes a heart bloom.

And when they felt their heart flowers open fully (never to close again) they each wept with tears that were happy (with a tinge of missing the other – they were human after all), only to realize that the tears were the river itself running through them.

They were the river. They had been all along. They’d just forgotten.

And they quietly used those heart-achingly gorgeous flowers to add beauty to their own lives, and to the lives of those around them – in the city and in the country. And it’s no surprise to know that a happy hive of bees emerged in their hearts, pollinating the blooms inside them, doing a dance between them, forever.

Mama Abeja

Mama Abeja lived in a small town that was so tiny it was often left off the map. This suited her and her sisters and mother and aunties just fine – they rather enjoyed living in seclusion, knowing people would find them when the time was right. When they were ready. She was surrounded by creative, strong women and she was amused when her own mother would evade questions about the exact location their home: “We live near the trees where nature is our teacher and children run free.”

Yes, Mama Abeja was born into a family of beautiful graceful women artisans. They made everything by hand, and worked with nature, the animals and loved to prepare and eat delicious food. They would harvest colorful jewels from their vegetable patch, eggs from their hens, flowers from their gardens and fresh water from the small river that ran right next to their beautiful home.

But it was Mama Abeja who was in charge of collecting the honey for their sweet cakes, pies and medicines that they would share with each other, and the occasional traveler that came through. Abeja had a sense of adventure, and her favorite thing to do was to collect the wild, sweet honey from the numerous trees that surrounded her magical home, and grew deep within the forest. She knew that each nectar looked different and tasted faintly of the flowers that the bees had visited. Mama Abeja spent many childhood hours walking through the forest, deciding which tree to climb. She was a real bee charmer.

This sometimes did worry her mother, who would say “Abeja, can’t you just stay close to home and tend the hives here.” But that’s when her abuela would quickly interrupt and say, “Abeja, you go as far as you need, we’ll be here when you get back and we will make delicious cakes with your honey!”

So, she’d grab a basket and about six or so glass jars and head out into the forest, usually at sunrise. She’d walk by each tree and listen quietly to the hum of the bees. They would talk to her and tell her if their tree hive was ready for her to collect a bit of their sweetness.

The forest spirits loved Mama Abeja and watched and listened as she walked through the land. They’d hear her quietly saying, ”Ready…not ready,” as she stood before each majestic tree, deciding if it was time for her to climb its limbs to collect the honey, or keep walking until being shown where to go.

At the end of the day, when the sun was setting, her basket would be full of different colored amber liquid and she’d run home to her ama and abuela and they would cook a huge feast. It was heaven!

But no matter how much light was escaping the sky, she never went home before visiting the one tree she loved the most. She saved her favorite for last. It was the farthest from her house, but well worth the hours-long walk to get there. She would sit at the base of its trunk and listen to the sound of the nearby river and the rustling leaves and the hum of the bees and to her, this sounded like music and poetry all wrapped into one.

She was not a writer, nor was she a musician – she had too much energy to sit down and compose those things! She created lasting beauty in her own way, but she always thought it would be magical to turn the sounds – and love – of her magical bees and tree into a song or a written word. And when she’d climb each tree and commune with the bees, she would hear the bees sing songs to her through their humming, and would ‘read’ the poetry of the trees as her hands touched the roughness of their trunks, almost like reading Braille.

As Mama Abeja got older she found love and started a family of her own. She was shocked when she had not one but two sons. Since she came from a family filled with so many women she assumed she would be surrounded by sweet daughters to help her collect honey, make delicious foods and hum with the bees.

Well, that is now how things went, and Mama Abeja had to use all of her energy and patience and will to try to wrangle two such wild young boys. They wanted to conquer the forest, rather than just live peacefully within it. Tearing down trees, pulling and throwing stones from the river, hunting. You get the idea.

Abeja’s abuela, who was quite old at this time, would just smile as she watched all of this unfold. Abeja found all of these antics distressing, but her abuela found them to be amusing.

“One day they will be ready,” abuela thought to herself, “though today they are certainly not ready!” And she would laugh as she watched her great grandsons rebel against everything their mother was trying to teach them about the forest, their traditions, and, of course, the bees.

Years later, the boys grew into handsome young men, and would bring eager young women home to the small house by the river to meet with Mama Abeja. Naturally, the ladies were very taken with the entire experience. The gardens, the flowers, the delicious meals made with love served on beautiful dishes, the fresh honey, and, of course, the magical forest. Mama Abeja was the crown jewel of all of this magic, and sometimes the brothers were not sure if the young women they brought home fell more in love with them, or with the experience of such rare, simple beauty that flooded the air around Mama Abeja. She wove all this magic together so effortlessly.

The brothers would bring the young women out into the forest, down the river trail and often to the most majestic tree – Mama Abeja’s favorite. They loved many women out there, who willingly and happily gave themselves and their bodies to so much beauty. It was a happy exchange.

But there was one woman who was not like the others. She eagerly walked the forest floor with the younger brother after a heavenly meal with Mama Abeja, one full of laughter and love. The brother took the woman to the magical tree and thought that she would offer her body to him as all of the others had.

But she would not.

This puzzled the younger brother, who was expecting things to go another way with the woman. “I don’t understand, why you have travelled so far with me if we aren’t going to be lovers,” he said to the young woman.

“We are lovers, and this forest is full of more love than you can even imagine. Don’t you understand, Pure Love can only come from inside, and is a ritual expressed through creativity, as with the artisans of your family. Have you missed what your mother and aunties and abuela have shown you all this time? They make food from the earth and the honey, baskets and arrows from sticks and needles…has all of this been lost on you? ”

The younger brother hadn’t thought of it this way. His entire family was so full of women, that he’d taken to the wild ways of his older brother, without giving much thought to his actions. He loved his mother, his Mama Abeja, but instead he’d followed his brother’s trail.

“It seems to me that if you really sit with all of this infinite beauty, you will understand that every time you hear the bees or swing from a tree branch or drink from the river, you are making love with the Purest Source and that source enters into you and gives you Life, which you then share through your passion. But it doesn’t have to be a physical passion; it can be doing what you love, and sharing it with others. That is the most divine exchange, because it endures. There is no end to it.”

He’d never thought about it this way, but it seemed that perhaps this is what Mama Abeja had been trying to show him all along, he just wasn’t ready.

The young woman said to the younger brother: “Your mother has taken to the bees, their magic and their honey, is there nothing in this entire forest, in which you’ve grown up, that you’ve taken to? I don’t mean conquered from the outside, I mean taken inside and transformed, the way your mom climbed trees in her youth to collect honey and then turn it into cakes and treats and medicine to soothe your family.”

The brother sat for a moment, and then blurted out, much to his surprise, “I want to be a story teller, but I don’t think I have anything interesting to say, and I think the people might misunderstand my life. So today, I know I’m not ready to share in this way.”

“That’s perfect,” said the woman, “What about your brother, is there anything here for him?”

The younger brother paused for a moment, he hadn’t thought of his brother. Then he said, “He has always loved music, but he is so busy conquering things and finding ways to use his power, that I don’t think he can hear what’s speaking to him on the inside. The inner music that wants to come out. So, I guess he’s not ready either.”

The woman spoke: “It’s okay not to be ready, but if you have a desire, and it is meant to be, it will come around when the time is right.”

And with that, the brother and the woman lied down together under Mama Abeja’s tree and felt the warmth of the sun trickling down through its leaves cover them like a blanket as the bees swarmed around above in its branches, doing dances and singing songs, ones that would forever live inside and flow between their hearts, even if they were never physically united.

Many years passed and Mama Abeja felt her body catching up to her, and realized that soon it would be her time to go back into the Mystery. Her boys were grown, though no less wild, and she felt happy with a good life lived.

She went on her last and final walk to her favorite tree, way out at the end of the forest, and it took her all day to get there. She marveled at the river, the forest animals that had been her friends and at the beautiful blue sky overhead.

She needed to go tell it to the bees, as they say.

She sat under her favorite tree and explained to the bees, and the tree, that she knew she would be going soon, but that she was still worried about her sons. “They are always still searching, in women and in places outside of themselves, because they haven’t found True Passion inside of themselves, let alone a way to share it. I always thought that one day they would be ready, but now I’m not so sure I’ll see it in my lifetime.”

The tree and the bees loved Mama Abeja very much and they wanted to help her and her sons in any way they could. They worked out a plan together, and explained it to Mama Abeja:

The bees spoke first. “We would gladly come down from this tree and live in a man-made hive so that the brothers could start a bee business and make money from our honey.

The tree spoke next: “Abeja, I will gladly give my body, as you are about to give yours, so that the sons can use my wood to make these hives. And they will be very successful and have a thriving business.”

Mama Abeja was brought to tears. The bees and the tree loved her and her sons so much that they were willing to sacrifice everything for them.

“You have offered the sweetest and most generous gift,” said Mama Abeja to the bees, “But I cannot ask you to leave the home you love to go live in a home that constricts you, to make honey for profit instead of for love.”

She spoke next to the tree: “You offer all that you are for my family, which is Love beyond measure, but just because I am leaving this body, doesn’t mean you should leave yours. I cannot condone this.”

The bees and the tree would not take no for an answer, and explained that there was a trinity between them and Mama Abeja and that her time to go was also their time to go. They wanted to go with her. And so, after a long discussion with many ideas going back and forth, Mama Abeja, the bees and the tree worked out a plan for the sons after her passing. Their inheritance, so to speak.

Once it was all settled, a leaf fell from the tree with a dot of honey for Mama Abeja to bring to her lips, and she knew it was time to begin the long walk home under a midnight moon. She was happy. It would be up to her sons now…

On the night of her death there was a great storm, and all of the forest shook and trembled as Father Sky came down with immense intensity and vigor. The sons were at Mama Abeja’s side and watched her slip into a peaceful last sleep, though the wind and rain outside was anything but peaceful. Mama Abeja was over 90 years old and she was happy to return to the earth, her true Mother. She was ready.

The next morning as an honor to their mother, the two brothers took the walk out to Mama Abeja’s favorite tree with bouquet of her favorite yellow roses – an offering. They were shocked to find that after the storm, of all the trees in the forest, Mama Abeja’s tree was the only one that had fallen over. It lay on its side in one perfect piece – totally whole and undamaged. The brothers could not believe their eyes. They had lived their entire lives with this tree, and their mother, and now both were gone.

At the base of the massive trunk, which lay on its side like the shape of a flower or sunburst, there was a tiny jar of amber colored honey with a small note attached. The younger son handed his brother the jar as he read the note out loud.

“Find your passion inside, and do with me as you please,” was all the note said.

For some reason, at that moment, a memory passed into the younger brother’s awareness and he thought of the one woman who would not give herself to him all those years ago, lying under that tree. She’d asked him what his true passion was in life, and he’d told her he wanted to write stories. And she’d asked about his brother, too, and he’d told her that his brother loved music. But at that time…they were not ready.

And so, beyond all logic or reason, the younger son knew, at that moment, in the deepest place of his heart, that his brother was meant to carve beautiful instruments from the trunk of the tree, and that he would take the left over shavings to make handmade paper upon which he would write the magical, bittersweet story of his life.

It was an epic, beautiful tale, though a long road to get there. And in their own ways, the offering of the tree allowed the brothers to finally come Home to themselves and become artisans and creators of beauty, like their ancestors, just as Mama Abeja always knew it was meant to bee.

Crystal Canyon

I’d like to dedicate this story to my grandmother Gertrude, who would have turned 99 today, an avid reader who loved prose…and adventure…in all forms. I posted the beginning of this story last week, and the rest has ‘landed’ over the past couple of days. I hope you will enjoy with a nice cup of tea.

“Crystal Canyon”

Part One

A very long time ago two twin fairies were born inside a crystal canyon. It was a beautiful day, a gorgeous day for celebration and the fairies, elves, elders and nature spirits held a great party for three days and three nights after the birth. The twins thrived inside the canyon, beside the beautiful flow of the river that offered The Great Mother her morning drink, and below the white clouds of the heavens that were soft beds for the angels that sang them to sleep at night. Yes, the twins lived and played deep inside the canyon.

But after three years together, for a reason that is unclear, though highly speculated about, they were abruptly separated and had to live their lives alone, though somehow knowing that another piece of themselves was out there, somewhere, playing, dancing, living Life. They did not know the other existed, but somehow they did know.

The grandmother fairies had their reasons, and decided that together, too much power – and mischief – would exist and so they needed to put each fairy into a different pocket of nature. Their time to be together would have to happen much, much later.

One sister was brought into the flower realm and the other sister was brought into the land of the trees. They both worked in communion with the natural world, sharing their energy, their light and love with the other living parts of the earth. They were sharing love with each other, though they didn’t know it.

The flower fairy was drawn by – or guided to – the lavender fields where the bees played, and the heady scent of the blooms wafted through the air and filled one’s soul with peace and happiness. There the flower fairy made garlands, posies, tinctures and lavender tea. She met friends, helped heal those who came across her path and slept on a bed of soft blooms, with the stars twinkling overhead at night. Her sister, from far away, could smell the lavender wafting from the canyon. Though she didn’t know where the source came from, it smelled familiar.

The tree fairy was drawn by – or guided to – the Jacarandas far on the other side of the canyon. Every year the stoic trees would put on a display for all to see. But most could only see and enjoy with their eyes, which still provided quite a sense of beauty. But, the lavender fairy – her long lost sister – from far away, could hear with her heart…and would listen to the sound of little bells ringing early in the morning – the sound of the Jacaranda blooms dancing with the air. The sound was familiar to her lost sister (a lost language?) though she didn’t know where the source came from.

The two fairies did not meet again. Don’t be sad, they each had long, happy, joy-filled and colorful lives. They danced with nature and other fairies and even with a few humans, too. When they were old, and satisfied with a good life lived, they each knew it was their time to go. They happily offered back their tiny bodies to The Great Mother.

You aren’t surprised to learn that they died on the very same day, are you?

The spirits took their tiny bodies, one from the Lavender flower fiends and one on the branch of a beloved purple Jacaranda tree and decided to return them to the canyon at the very site of their birth. The elders, with the help of all the fairies, dug a hole very deep, deeper than you could imagine, and filled it with silks and flowers and a little tambourine (just for fun) and covered the bodies of two sisters with fresh mountain soil, flower petals and a little water from the river. They truly were resting in peace. And within moments of their bodies being buried, a soft rain came. Almost like Nature herself watered a seed being returned to her own body. It was beautiful.

A long, long time passed. Longer than you can imagine, and would you believe that above the spot where the fairy twins were born – and buried – a field of rare Lavender-colored Lupine grew each spring? And even more beautiful than that, is something that the elders themselves could not quite believe: deep within the earth, under the Lavender Lupine, the bodies of the twins grew together into a magical stone – a precious, magical amethyst.

The amethyst was very beautiful, one of the most beautiful stones in the earth, but no one could see it buried so deep within the ground. The fairy elders, once again up to their mischief, knew that no human would dig so deep for such a stone, let alone believe that it even existed. So, the elders put a spell on the stone and decided that one day, when the time was right, the stone – of its own accord – would break into two halves – a red half and a blue half – and that those pieces would rise to the surface.

But the elder fairies did not ‘finish’ the spell, this was part of the fun for them…the not forcing, the letting things take their natural course…as it is needed…just to see what happens…

So, just as planned, at the ‘right’ time, a small earthquake was felt across the canyon and into the land, but really, it was just the amethyst breaking into two pieces and rising to the surface.

This was cause for great celebration in the fairy world! The fairy children had heard of the story of “The Amethyst Stone” many times, but now it was actually happening…

The next day the fairies hid behind the blades of grass, the leaves, the flowers and some even watched from above in the trees waiting to see what would happen. Just then two human twins ran laughing through the canyon, playing in the open space, marveling at all of Nature.

But there was one spot – in the middle of all that purple – where a single blue flower grew and a single red flower grew…out of the very same plant!!

The children were young, but they were old enough to understand this was an auspicious sign. The boy reached for the blue flower – he wanted to pick it.

“Don’t pick it!” his sister squealed.

But then she was overcome by the beauty of the plant as well. She reached for the red flower…she couldn’t help herself.

“Don’t pick it!” the brother yelled. He was simultaneously drawn to and repelled by the lure of such a magical flowering specimen.

The children were taken to distractions – as children often are – really, they are not distracted at all…just playing. And at the end of a perfect day in the canyon, as the sun was setting, the twins went looking for the flowering plant, but it was nowhere to be found.

They looked at each other, completely bewildered. Where could it have gone? It was here earlier today when the sun rose…was it not?

They poked and prodded around, but could see nothing. Then, since they were barefoot, they each stepped on something smooth at the same time, something that surged a sweet energy up through their feet, through the crowns of their heads. The boy looked under his foot to find a sapphire and the girl looked under her foot to find a ruby.

The stones were magical. Not because a perfect, flawless sapphire and ruby are priceless, but because the twins could feel and see the magnetic power of the stones.

They each reached to pick up what was under their feet, and this time they did not instruct the other to refrain. Instead, they cradled the gems in the palms of their hands, and the stones sparked like the shooting stars which were beginning to appear in the evening sky overhead.

“We hold the magic of the heavens,” one said to another.

“Now what do we do with it?” the other whispered.

The twins heard a voice, and they thought it was their grandmother coming to look for them and take them back home to the nearby farm where they lived.

But it was not their grandmother.

The voice was that of the canyon nymph – not quite human, not quite deity and not quite fairy. She was somehow all of these things.

And she said, in the most gentle and exuberant voice:

“Dear children, you have come early! We did not expect you so soon, so young, so eager, so hungry. You have found the stones we have left for you, but you, sweet ones, are not yet ready to understand their power and meaning.”

The children were not offended as adults would have been. To them, everything is a game, a time to play, so when the canyon nymph held out her hand to retrieve the stones back from them, the twins did so without hesitation.

They each placed their stone in her cupped hands and watched with awe as bright golden light filled the bowl-like shape of her palms and the sapphire and ruby gems were turned into tiny pieces of rose quartz.

“Here,” the nymph said as she handed one stone to each of the twins, “take this rose quartz, go on the journeys of your lives, and then come back to me. You will know when the time is right. It could take you one day, one year, or an entire lifetime. Only you will know, but you each have to get there on your own. And when the time is right we will turn this quartz back into the sapphire and ruby, and then you will see some real magic happen!”

Naturally, the children were captivated and accepted the small pieces of rose quartz with glee. A magical adventure! How marvelous. Their entire lives would be a quest to find out the meaning of the stones, and what would happen when they were meant to come back together, with the stones and the canyon nymph, and all of the wonderful things that would happen in between.

The canyon nymph watched from afar as dusk settled in and the children were met by their grandmother, and taken home to a warm meal and a warm slumber. Each, alone in their beds, glided into a beautiful sleep with visions of blue sapphires and red rubies melding together to form a gorgeous purple amethyst forest filled with lavender crystals, flowers and trees. They awoke the next morning, reached for the pink stones still under their pillows, excited to ask the other if they’d had the same dream….

Part Two

You didn’t think that was the end, did you? That life would go on and the twins would remain young forever?

Yes, in the beginning, it was magical. The twins spent many years, as children, playing and dancing and creating beauty with those little stones.

They took them everywhere, they were a part of them, and they felt the magic from the tiny pieces that once came from the earth, and were bestowed to them from the hands of the canyon nymph. The sister wore hers around her neck and the brother kept his in his pocket, but neither ever told anyone about the sapphire and the ruby, or the nymph, or the dream about the purple forest.

The stones were there when they planted the fields, built forts, dug holes, listened to the birds and watched the stars come up at night. Sometimes the stones would get lost: in the soil, under the bed, or in an old sock. But they always came back. The stones to the children and the children to the stones.

They always came back.

They kept the stones close while they did the things they loved, and especially when life got a little hard or confusing, as it occasionally can for children. The stones provided a sense of comfort and beauty, a memory to track back to and a mystery to keep the days and nights interesting. Life for the twins felt full and happy.

But the twins got older, and as you may know, things get more complicated for humans as they grow older. Life feels easy for the fairies and nymphs and elders and spirits – like it is for children – but it is not so easy for grown-ups. For some reason or another, they forget. They forget where they come from, and they forget about the magic. And sometimes they have to spend an entire lifetime, or at least many years, tracking back to the very thing that was once there – so out in the open, and free – in the beginning.

Which is what started happening to the twins. As they got older, it seemed the world was telling them that it was not ok to just enjoy life. To do something simply for the beauty of it. Not for money, or for credit or for anyone to even notice, just for themselves and the way their hearts felt full when doing it, even when the other one wasn’t around.

The girl dreamt of adventure, but her first love was the farm where she grew up. She stayed close to home and took to the land and the bees. She spent endless hours tending to the hives and working with the queen and her colony. She painstakingly collected the honey and put it in little jars as gifts to her grandmother, her brother and her small circle of friends. The grandmother watched with pride.

But outsiders would say things, like, “Why are you doing that, such a waste of time for no money.” You are getting older now and need to start thinking about reality”.

The brother heard similar stories. Not from his grandmother, but from Life in general. He was a dreamer, a traveler, and would take to many adventures that cost him much time and heartache, but which ultimately helped him grow. People did not understand him, but his life was not necessarily his choice, at least not in the early years, where as he grew, his connection to the canyon – the place where his soul was birthed – sometimes was harder for him to see.

The fairies, from their realm, watched all of this unfold. They had seen it so many times like this, but they had hoped these twins would be different. Human life is so hard, they thought.

And they watched with sadness as the sister went her way and the brother went his way. Two sides of the same heart, the same canyon, the same flower and the same crystal. As children they always felt connected though they existed in two bodies, but now, as adults, the sadness came because they couldn’t feel the connection within their own hearts. They had forgotten.

Many, many years went by and the sister and brother lived their lives as best as they could. The brother still on his adventures, far away, and the sister close to home, making a life and creating her world around her. They both were finding their way, trying to track back to a place of simplicity in their lives, in themselves, though, in their adult lives, this was hard to express or convey this to others, let alone, sometimes, to themselves.

The sister stayed on the farm with their grandmother, with all the colors and the Life there, and the brother travelled – far away. To India, Tibet – to the places where the colors made his own heart feel at home – marigolds, bright silks, prayers and silence that filled him with love and pain.

In the brother’s absence their grandmother died. Many years had passed, after all.

Don’t be sad. She lived a very full and happy life. Her only sadness was feeling the heavy hearts of her grandchildren, the separation they felt. Modern life is hard, she thought, that’s why she kept things simple for all of her days. People thought she was isolated, but to her, her life felt full. She was often misunderstood, but was truly happy in her own heart.

The sister nursed her until her last breath and it was beautiful. And when it was time to begin again and clean out her grandmother’s belongings, the sister found a beautiful box hidden in the bottom of her grandmother’s drawer.

She opened the box to find an endearing little collage of old artifacts from her childhood years. Photos of the twins on the farm, little notes she had written to her grandmother, a few pressed flowers, some (very) old honeycomb….and…the little pink stone.

Would you believe she had completely forgotten about it?

This brought back a flood of emotions. The death of her grandmother was hard enough, but now she realized how far she had gone from the sweet innocence of her childhood. It was a bittersweet time, because while she was so sad for the passing of her grandmother, it was because of her passing that ultimately brought her back to the stone. After all, she never would have been sorting through her grandmother’s possessions otherwise.

She made the quick decision to go find her brother and see what would happen when she brought the stone to him, hoping, by some miracle, he’d held onto his. Though she knew it was far-fetched, she hoped he still carried his in his pocket like when they were children. She thought of the canyon nymph, and her excitement grew as she imagined how her life would improve when she was reunited with her brother and the stones were brought back together, as the nymph had instructed them to do.

She packed up her entire life. Her entire life. And began the journey, back to her brother, to make hear heart whole, and to give her life meaning.

It took her a very long time find him, and she had many doubts along the way. Much pain, joy too, and definitely adventures like no other. She kept looking, kept hunting.

And then one day, as if by accident, there he was in the middle of the road in a far away land, where she didn’t even know the language. She recognized him immediately and they embraced like two children in the middle of a field of wildflowers.

“How did you know where to find me!” the brother exclaimed.

“How did you know I was looking for you?” the sister answered.

“Of course I knew you were looking for me! I’ve been praying every night for you to come and find me and deliver to me what I’ve asked for,” he responded.

The sister was overcome with joy. So much so that she shrieked and danced and cried and felt her body shiver with wonder and delight. It was true, she thought, that day in the canyon, she hadn’t imagined it, something really magical really did happen there. She just knew it, and now it was all happening…or so she thought.

The brother and the sister talked and talked and talked. They had their own language, as many twins do. There was much to catch up on since it had been many years since their last visit. It was a non-stop conversation. Did they speak for six days, six weeks, six years? The words of joy and pain were nonstop. They spoke in tongues and entered a different realm together. She spoke about her life on the farm and he spoke about his travels around the world. It was fascinating to hear how different their paths had been, and yet they were so similar. So open, so free, so wild each in their own ways. It was a magical reunion, the two parts of the same whole.

There was enormous love between them and an indescribable sense of relief that they had found the other at the perfect time, each sending some message out to the other to finally be brought back together. It was like their bodies, or their hearts, were some honing device back to each other. They were twins, after all.

They had talked themselves silly, and now it was the moment of truth – the true reason they had been brought back together.

She let her brother speak first, conjuring up all the thoughts in her head of them bringing the stones together, coming Home, and the magic that the canyon nymph had promised. She expected nothing short of a miracle…

She could barely contain herself as he began to speak:

“Did you come with the money?”

The sister was shocked. And confused. And dumbfounded.

“I come with no money,” she responded.

“Then how can I continue my travels?” he said.

He asked a second question: “Did you come with beautiful women for me to love and admire?”

“I travelled alone, with no female friends or companions. You were the only one I was looking for,” she responded.

“Then who am I to love and receive affection from?” was the brother’s response.

A third question left his lips: “Did you come with medicine or herbs to take my pain away?

“I have come with no such things,” she told him.

“Then how can I soothe this lonely heart?”

The sister spoke: “I came only with myself and this stone and a desire to find you and your stone, and to become whole again. For both of us to track back to where we began. To go Home.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about. How can I continue my journey with no money to purchase what I desire, no women to give me what I desire, and no medicine to fill the space between what I desire and cannot have?”

The sister was shocked. So much so that she could barely speak.

“Have you forgotten about the stone, the canyon, the sapphire and the ruby?”

“I may faintly remember what you speak of, but I’m not sure. I am so entrenched in mastering this world, I cannot think of fairies and nymphs and canyons and crystals. If you don’t have what I am looking for, why have you come?”

“Because what I’m looking for is to become whole again, to find the other part of my heart. I came to find you.”

“I don’t understand. Your heart is whole, intact, exactly as it is. It breathes life into everything you do. Why on earth would you think you had to travel for so long, across the entire earth, to make your heart whole when it beats inside your chest and has done so since the moment you entered this world – with or without me?”

Her brother may have become preoccupied with earthly delights, and shunned the magic of the canyon, she thought, but his words rang true. Very true. She felt foolish. How foolish!

There she had been, searching, hunting, looking, seeking, wanting, longing, for the very thing that was with her every moment of her life. Inside her own body – beating and giving Life to everything she ever had, or ever would do!

Her brother had left, her grandmother had passed, she’d even forgotten herself, but her heart had never left her, even when she had left it, or doubted or stop believing in its wholeness, needing to travel around the entire world in search for what was always there.

This was a very painful thing to realize, almost too much for the sister to accept. It was a bittersweet pain, because while she was happy to understand that the very thing she wanted was already there, she now realized she was addicted to the hunt and to a belief that what she wanted was just out of her reach.

Humans are funny like that. Just ask the fairies.

They keep pushing. Never satisfied. Creating problems – need, lack, worry, when in fact there is none. They are whole from the very beginning…they just forget.

So, in perfect human form, the sister kept pushing because she was not yet ready to receive the gift of her own heart, the most basic human right – to feel wholeness – still felt like too much for her to receive.

“But what about the stones?” she said to him. “We are supposed to do something with the stones, are we not? I know I didn’t imagine the nymph, and the sapphire and ruby underfoot, which the nymph turned into this rose quartz, the very stone I hold in my hand. Surely we are meant to do something with this, are we not? Do you not still have yours?”

The brother would not answer her question directly.

“Perhaps the magic in the stones is real. I cannot say for sure. If it is, it probably would look different to each of us.”

The sister was not really listening, “But don’t you want to know? I’ve travelled this far for this long with this stone in hand, won’t you take that one last step with me and we can know for sure what all of this is about?”

The brother and the sister were so similar, but still very different. For the brother, just seeing her was enough magic for him, to know that while she didn’t bring money or women or medicine, she showed up for him, at the perfect time. He had called for her, and she came. That was enough proof for him in magic, his work was now overcoming the physical world.

And so he’d had enough of his sister. He loved her, but she talked too much, and pressured him too much, and would not leave well enough alone.

And he needed to be left alone, for reasons that the sister could not understand, but which she ultimately chose to respect, even though she really, really didn’t want to.

And why didn’t she want to? Because while she was never truly fearful of not finding her brother, a needle in a haystack, she was petrified of having to go back Home by herself. To do the work, alone, inside, without looking anywhere else but in her own chest, her own heart.

They said their goodbyes and the brother handed her a small pouch of seeds:

“You are a farmer, it’s in your blood. Go to the land where we grew up, and plant these seeds, so you will be happy.”

“I will only plant them the day you come home and we can live together as a family on our grandmother’s farm. Otherwise I don’t want them,” she told him.

He laughed – they were so similar. “You are very stubborn,” was his only response, and their visit came to an abrupt ending, which was just the beginning of the sister’s very long journey home.

Part Three

During her travels back to the farm, the sister felt exhausted, disappointed and lost. She’d traveled for many, many weeks to get back to the land her grandmother had left her and so many times, during her journey, she had considered turning around and finding her brother again, her twin, and setting up a life near him, as they had been as children. But she knew that this would be yet another distraction, a diversion, and that he would not have her anyhow. He wanted no earthly attachments, the least of which a needy sister…

The minute she stepped foot back on her land, she felt a shift, a small opening. The first night back was bittersweet. She knew, somehow, it was the beginning of a beautiful new life, a life back into her own wholeness, but she also felt loneliness like never before. For the first time in her life, she had to rely – fully – on herself and not on anyone or any dream to define her or make her feel whole. She needed to know the wholeness and beauty in her own heart, and find ways to share that with others.

She drifted to sleep and had a curious and magical visit in the middle of the night.

The canyon nymph found her in her dreams. It was beautiful.

“Hello my child,” the beautiful nymph said. They were in the middle of a gorgeous garden, full of flowers and trees.

The sister was overcome with emotion, she was crying in the dream, in her sleep.

“Why the tears, Love?”

“Because I knew that you were real, but I haven’t seen you in so many years, in decades in fact.”

“In the realms where I come from, we do not measure in years, as you humans do. We come when the time is right, when we are needed, or when you ask. And so it is this evening.”

“I must admit, I feel equal parts bliss and bitterness with you.”

The canyon nymph was not offended. She understood how hard it was to be in a human body, to forget.

“Please explain,” she said to the sister.

“You made a believer out of me. So many years ago, I witnessed a flowering plant with two different colored flowers turn into precious gems. Then I watched those gems turn into rose quartz in the palm of your hands. Then I listened with awe as you told me to go grow up, live my life and find my path and that you would turn the quartz back into the sapphire and the ruby, and I’d get to see the real magic.”

“Yes, that’s what I told you. And it is all true.”

The sister got angry: “How can you say that! I spent years travelling in search of my brother, to find him, and the other half of the stone, so that the real magic could begin, as you told me to do.”

“That is exactly true. I told you to grow up and find your own way. And did you?”

The sister had a temper: “How dare you! How can you even ask that! I travelled across the entire world. Gave up everything in search of the very thing you told me to do. And it got me nothing. I’m right back where I started from.”

“I never asked you to search across the entire world. I never told you to give everything up. And I never told you that what you sought your brother held. I simply said that once you’d found your path, a real transformation would occur. Humans are so literal, but in the fairy world we speak more in metaphors, which are never misunderstood there. When I spoke of the crystals coming together – becoming whole – I meant in your own heart, not between you and your brother, or you and anyone or anything else for that matter. I am sorry that you did not understand the meaning of my words, and yet, everything that has happened is still perfect.”

The sister, still in her dream, thought about this. And it was true. The canyon nymph had never told her that she and her brother needed to do the work at the same time or even in the same way. She simply instructed them to do the work, period. She had misunderstood. So foolish. But at least now she knew, and she could dig deep the path of her own heart, finding her own way.

“I must go soon as the sun will soon rise, but before I leave you, do you have any more questions for me?”

In her lifelong search for answers, the sister found herself in the rare position of not having any more questions. Not a single one.

“Good,” said the canyon nymph, “Then I have just one message for you.”

“What’s that?” asked the sister.

“Your grandmother has asked you to go plant your field.”

The sister awoke in a puddle of tears, but they were happy tears. Bittersweet. She’d found her brother, and was set free by him and she’d been visited by the nymph, and set free by her, and she’d received a beautiful message from her grandmother.

Now it was time to get to work.

She spent the next few years bringing the farm into its full glory.

It was magical. And early in the morning, or late at night, she swore she could hear – or even see! – little fairies running across the land, playing in the trees, making mischief and keeping her company. Perhaps that was her childlike heart speaking to her.

If course she’d never tell anyone about the magic of the fairies, but it’s true that her crops were the largest and most delicious, and her flowers the most beautiful, of all the neighboring farms.

Some time went by, and eventually she did hear from her brother. Every so often a letter or postcard or small gift would arrive on the farm. She loved those moments, but knew they were so few and far in between, that she could not count on them, only be happy when they arrived. Though it was hard at first, she learned to accept them without holding on too tight. This was a first for her, and it felt good. In his absence, he helped her grow.

He’d kept travelling, living life in his way, in a way that she didn’t understand, but which taught her about unconditional love and acceptance. She tried to push away thoughts of resentment that he couldn’t be the way she wanted. In his inability to connect with her the way she expected, he’d sent her back home, which is when her real journey began. He’d given her a real gift, though at the time she didn’t know it.

Since she had no address for him, she would just think of him and send him love. Which was probably better, because it allowed her to focus on her own tasks and her own life. Sometimes when she’d picture him, she’d see a little humming bird whiz by, and she wondered if that meant he was thinking of her, too, or if it was just the fairies playing tricks on her again. Either way, it was a beautiful moment.

She never opened the small pouch he’d offered her the last time she saw him – the seeds he asked her to plant. She still held out a glimmer of hope that he would return to their childhood home and they would plant a small patch of land she’d kept vacant – together.

But that is not the way it went – he continued to stay away. And she was probably better off for it, because it caused her to just keep digging in her own soil and in her own heart. As the canyon nymph had said in her dream, the reunion with her twin was a metaphor.

Slowly, over time, she began to embody the union within her own heart – a coming together of the two sides of her own soul – and it felt like ecstasy, like a small, private miracle. In his unwillingness to walk the path with her, as she had wanted, he taught her to look inside of herself. He’d given her an immense gift indeed. The fairies, from afar, were happy.

Time passed. How much? It’s hard to tell, but enough for the longing to ease and a sense of self satisfaction to enter into the heart of the sister. It was not always perfect, but she knew that she was on the right path when most days she felt wholeness in her own heart. The days of looking outside of herself became few and far between.

In short, she came to know herself, her own heart, and she was happy.

And with each year that she became more whole, her happiness grew, and farm thrived more and more beauty was created. So much that people started taking notice of her land, even when she wasn’t asking to be seen. Visitors would come, out of the blue, just to sit with her flowers or mingle with the crops. Many spring and summer parties were held out on the land with food, music and dancing.

Of course, the fairies loved this. They always loved a good party! But mostly, they were just happy that the sister was happy, and had found (or created) a sweet life for herself, in spite of so many moments of pain, doubt or looking in the wrong direction. They knew it was hard to be human, but they were proud of her for pushing forward, even when she didn’t want to.

It was spring and the sister was getting older. She’d had many celebrations on her land but none was so beautiful as the garden festival that she held one year in the middle of her rose garden. It was April 1st, April Fool’s Day, a perfect day to celebrate her own foolishness and laugh at all of her mistakes, and all of the things she’d done well, too.

She thought of the wholeness in her own heart, and fondly remembered the sapphire and ruby of her childhood, and was inspired to create a magical oasis of red and blue flowers. She selected only the perfect roses, ranunculus, poppies, delphinium and cornflowers. It was spring, after all, and there was abundance and beauty all around.

The festival was magical, and she knew in her heart that she’d come Home to herself. Life was simple and beautiful and shared with people who understood and appreciated her quiet, simple offerings.

At the party, one guest stood out more than any other – an old woman wearing a beautiful flowing dress and fresh flowers in her silver hair. She reminded the sister so much of her own grandmother that she almost couldn’t believe the resemblance.

After the party, the woman approached the sister.

“In all my years, I cannot remember having as much fun and experiencing as much beauty as I have today on your land. So simple, so perfect!”

“I’m very pleased you’ve enjoyed yourself,” the sister humbly answered. And she meant it.

“But may I ask you a question?” the woman continued.

“Of course” said the sister.

I notice that you have one small area near your house that is not yet planted. A magical garden could grow there. Why have you not filled that space with beauty, as you have done everywhere elsewhere on your farm?”

The sister thought for a while. The truth is that was the space she’d left vacant in the hope that her brother would come home and that they would build a beautiful new garden together, like they had as young children with their grandmother. She realized that this vacant spot signified a tiny sliver in her heart that would not fill itself with itself. She was still waiting, still not fully giving herself to her own life.

“I have decided today, this moment actually, that it’s time to finally fill that space with beauty!” the sister exclaimed. She was delighted with herself, quietly proud to reach this last hurdle back Home, back to herself, fully. She laughed to herself, why had it been so hard to embody herself completely? So foolish, indeed.

“Then these seeds should come in handy. I’ve saved them from my very own garden, and brought a few for you today” the woman told her, and she handed her a small pouch.

At that moment, for some reason, the sister felt something bloom in her chest. An explosion of love. Like a flower that had been holding back its last petals all these years finally opened to its full beauty.

“I’d love to plant your seeds, thank you for bringing them.” And her heart fluttered along with her entire body as the words left her lips. The woman smiled and then walked away…”I guess I better let you get to, it then,” she smiled.

That night the sister felt as whole and she ever had in her entire life. She’d created the perfect, authentic life for herself, one of simplicity and beauty. She understood that true happiness came from feeling the wholeness of one’s own heart, and that it could never be given to her, not even from her own twin.

The next day she took the seed pouch that was given to her by the old woman, and decided, finally, to take the pouch that her brother had given to her when they parted ways, and use the seeds to plant her field, as he had asked her to do so long ago.

She made a perfect breakfast, a hot cup of tea and took herself out to the small garden near her house that had remained empty for all of these years. She thought of how far she had come and was filled with gratitude for her willingness to keep pushing forward in her life, even when things didn’t make sense, even when the pain or doubt felt too great.

She sat right in the middle of the soil and felt the warm earth cradle her body. She thought of the canyon nymph and the fairies and felt like a little girl again as she simultaneously emptied the contents of both pouches in her hands, delighted and awestruck to realize her palms were filled not with seeds, but with the brightest, most radiant, gorgeous and sparkly handful of sapphires and rubies you could ever image.

She held the stones in her hands and looked up to the sky – in awe – and felt her heart explode and take flight, as never before, and land in the lavender forest she’d only dreamt of as a child, though her human body was very much, and very happily, planted at back at Home.

by Jill Lurie April 1, 2012

Crystal Canyon

“Crystal Canyon”

Part One

A very long time ago two twin fairies were born inside a crystal canyon. It was a beautiful day, a gorgeous day for celebration and the fairies, elves, elders and nature spirits held a great party for three days and three nights after the birth. The twins thrived inside the canyon, beside the beautiful flow of the river that offered The Great Mother her morning drink, and below the white clouds of the heavens that were soft beds for the angels that sang them to sleep at night. Yes, the twins lived and played deep inside the canyon.

But after three years together, for a reason that is unclear, though highly speculated about, they were abruptly separated and had to live their lives alone, though somehow knowing that another piece of themselves was out there, somewhere, playing, dancing, living Life. They did not know the other existed, but somehow they did know.

The grandmother fairies had their reasons, and decided that together, too much power – and mischief – would exist and so they needed to put each fairy into a different pocket of nature. Their time to be together would have to happen much, much later.

One sister was brought into the flower realm and the other sister was brought into the land of the trees. They both worked in communion with the natural world, sharing their energy, their light and love with the other living parts of the earth. They were sharing love with each other, though they didn’t know it.

The flower fairy was drawn by – or guided to – the lavender fields where the bees played, and the heady scent of the blooms wafted through the air and filled one’s soul with peace and happiness. There the flower fairy made garlands, posies, tinctures and lavender tea. She met friends, helped heal those who came across her path and slept on a bed of soft blooms, with the stars twinkling overhead at night. Her sister, from far away, could smell the lavender wafting from the canyon. Though she didn’t know where the source came from, it smelled familiar.

The tree fairy was drawn by – or guided to – the Jacarandas far on the other side of the canyon. Every year the stoic trees would put on a display for all to see. But most could only see and enjoy with their eyes, which still provided quite a sense of beauty. But, the lavender fairy – her long lost sister – from far away, could hear with her heart…and would listen to the sound of little bells ringing early in the morning – the sound of the Jacaranda blooms dancing with the air. The sound was familiar to her lost sister (a lost language?) though she didn’t know where the source came from.

The two fairies did not meet again. Don’t be sad, they each had long, happy, joy-filled and colorful lives. They danced with nature and other fairies and even with a few humans, too. When they were old, and satisfied with a good life lived, they each knew it was their time to go. They happily offered back their tiny bodies to The Great Mother.

You aren’t surprised to learn that they died on the very same day, are you?

The spirits took their tiny bodies, one from the Lavender flower fiends and one on the branch of a beloved purple Jacaranda tree and decided to return them to the canyon at the very site of their birth. The elders, with the help of all the fairies, dug a hole very deep, deeper than you could imagine, and filled it with silks and flowers and a little tambourine (just for fun) and covered the bodies of two sisters with fresh mountain soil, flower petals and a little water from the river. They truly were resting in peace. And within moments of their bodies being buried, a soft rain came. Almost like Nature herself watered a seed being returned to her own body. It was beautiful.

A long, long time passed. Longer than you can imagine, and would you believe that above the spot where the fairy twins were born – and buried – a field of rare Lavender-colored Lupine grew each spring? And even more beautiful than that, is something that the elders themselves could not quite believe: deep within the earth, under the Lavender Lupine, the bodies of the twins grew together into a magical stone – a precious, magical amethyst.

The amethyst was very beautiful, one of the most beautiful stones in the earth, but no one could see it buried so deep within the ground. The fairy elders, once again up to their mischief, knew that no human would dig so deep for such a stone, let alone believe that it even existed. So, the elders put a spell on the stone and decided that one day, when the time was right, the stone – of its own accord – would break into two halves – a red half and a blue half – and that those pieces would rise to the surface.

But the elder fairies did not ‘finish’ the spell, this was part of the fun for them…the not forcing, the letting things take their natural course…as it is needed…just to see what happens…

So, just as planned, at the ‘right’ time, a small earthquake was felt across the canyon and into the land, but really, it was just the amethyst breaking into two pieces and rising to the surface.

This was cause for great celebration in the fairy world! The fairy children had heard of the story of “The Amethyst Stone” many times, but now it was actually happening…

The next day the fairies hid behind the blades of grass, the leaves, the flowers and some even watched from above in the trees waiting to see what would happen. Just then two human twins ran laughing through the canyon, playing in the open space, marveling at all of Nature.

But there was one spot – in the middle of all that purple – where a single blue flower grew and a single red flower grew…out of the very same plant!!

The children were young, but they were old enough to understand this was an auspicious sign. The boy reached for the blue flower – he wanted to pick it.

“Don’t pick it!” his sister squealed.

But then she was overcome by the beauty of the plant as well. She reached for the red flower…she couldn’t help herself.

“Don’t pick it!” the brother yelled. He was simultaneously drawn to and repelled by the lure of such a magical flowering specimen.

The children were taken to distractions – as children often are – really, they are not distracted at all…just playing. And at the end of a perfect day in the canyon, as the sun was setting, the twins went looking for the flowering plant, but it was nowhere to be found.

They looked at each other, completely bewildered. Where could it have gone? It was here earlier today when the sun rose…was it not?

They poked and prodded around, but could see nothing. Then, since they were barefoot, they each stepped on something smooth at the same time, something that surged a sweet energy up through their feet, through the crowns of their heads. The boy looked under his foot to find a sapphire and the girl looked under her foot to find a ruby.

The stones were magical. Not because a perfect, flawless sapphire and ruby are priceless, but because the twins could feel and see the magnetic power of the stones.

They each reached to pick up what was under their feet, and this time they did not instruct the other to refrain. Instead, they cradled the gems in the palms of their hands, and the stones sparked like the shooting stars which were beginning to appear in the evening sky overhead.

“We hold the magic of the heavens,” one said to another.

“Now what do we do with it?” the other whispered.

The twins heard a voice, and they thought it was their grandmother coming to look for them and take them back home to the nearby farm where they lived.

But it was not their grandmother.

The voice was that of the canyon nymph – not quite human, not quite deity and not quite fairy. She was somehow all of these things.

And she said, in the most gentle and exuberant voice:

“Dear children, you have come early! We did not expect you so soon, so young, so eager, so hungry. You have found the stones we have left for you, but you, sweet ones, are not yet ready to understand their power and meaning.”

The children were not offended as adults would have been. To them, everything is a game, a time to play, so when the canyon nymph held out her hand to retrieve the stones back from them, the twins did so without hesitation.

They each placed their stone in her cupped hands and watched with awe as bright golden light filled the bowl-like shape of her palms and the sapphire and ruby gems were turned into tiny pieces of rose quartz.

“Here,” the nymph said as she handed one stone to each of the twins, “take this rose quartz, go on the journeys of your lives, and then come back to me. You will know when the time is right. It could take you one day, one year, or an entire lifetime. Only you will know, but you each have to get there on your own. And when the time is right we will turn this quartz back into the sapphire and ruby, and then you will see some real magic happen!”

Naturally, the children were captivated and accepted the small pieces of rose quartz with glee. A magical adventure! How marvelous. Their entire lives would be a quest to find out the meaning of the stones, and what would happen when they were meant to come back together, with the stones and the canyon nymph, and all of the wonderful things that would happen in between.

The canyon nymph watched from afar as dusk settled in and the children were met by their grandmother, and taken home to a warm meal and a warm slumber. Each, alone in their beds, glided into a beautiful sleep with visions of blue sapphires and red rubies melding together to form a gorgeous purple amethyst forest filled with lavender crystals, flowers and trees. They awoke the next morning, reached for the pink stones still under their pillows, excited to ask the other if they’d had the same dream….

Part Two

You didn’t think that was the end, did you? That life would go on and the twins would remain young forever?

Yes, in the beginning, it was magical. The twins spent many years, as children, playing and dancing and creating beauty with those little stones.

They took them everywhere, they were a part of them, and they felt the magic from the tiny pieces that once came from the earth, and were bestowed to them from the hands of the canyon nymph. The sister wore hers around her neck and the brother kept his in his pocket, but neither ever told anyone about the sapphire and the ruby, or the nymph, or the dream about the purple forest.

The stones were there when they planted the fields, built forts, dug holes, listened to the birds and watched the stars come up at night. Sometimes the stones would get lost: in the soil, under the bed, or in an old sock. But they always came back. The stones to the children and the children to the stones.

They always came back.

They kept the stones close while they did the things they loved, and especially when life got a little hard or confusing, as it occasionally can for children. The stones provided a sense of comfort and beauty, a memory to track back to and a mystery to keep the days and nights interesting. Life for the twins felt full and happy.

But the twins got older, and as you may know, things get more complicated for humans as they grow older. Life feels easy for the fairies and nymphs and elders and spirits – like it is for children – but it is not so easy for grown-ups. For some reason or another, they forget. They forget where they come from, and they forget about the magic. And sometimes they have to spend an entire lifetime, or at least many years, tracking back to the very thing that was once there – so out in the open, and free – in the beginning.

Which is what started happening to the twins. As they got older, it seemed the world was telling them that it was not ok to just enjoy life. To do something simply for the beauty of it. Not for money, or for credit or for anyone to even notice, just for themselves and the way their hearts felt full when doing it, even when the other one wasn’t around.

The girl dreamt of adventure, but her first love was the farm where she grew up. She stayed close to home and took to the land and the bees. She spent endless hours tending to the hives and working with the queen and her colony. She painstakingly collected the honey and put it in little jars as gifts to her grandmother, her brother and her small circle of friends. The grandmother watched with pride.

But outsiders would say things, like, “Why are you doing that, such a waste of time for no money.” You are getting older now and need to start thinking about reality”.

The brother heard similar stories. Not from his grandmother, but from Life in general. He was a dreamer, a traveler, and would take to many adventures that cost him much time and heartache, but which ultimately helped him grow. People did not understand him, but his life was not necessarily his choice, at least not in the early years, where as he grew, his connection to the canyon – the place where his soul was birthed – sometimes was harder for him to see.

The fairies, from their realm, watched all of this unfold. They had seen it so many times like this, but they had hoped these twins would be different. Human life is so hard, they thought.

And they watched with sadness as the sister went her way and the brother went his way. Two sides of the same heart, the same canyon, the same flower and the same crystal. As children they always felt connected though they existed in two bodies, but now, as adults, the sadness came because they couldn’t feel the connection within their own hearts. They had forgotten.

Many, many years went by and the sister and brother lived their lives as best as they could. The brother still on his adventures, far away, and the sister close to home, making a life and creating her world around her. They both were finding their way, trying to track back to a place of simplicity in their lives, in themselves, though, in their adult lives, this was hard to express or convey this to others, let alone, sometimes, to themselves.

The sister stayed on the farm with their grandmother, with all the colors and the Life there, and the brother travelled – far away. To India, Tibet – to the places where the colors made his own heart feel at home – marigolds, bright silks, prayers and silence that filled him with love and pain.

In the brother’s absence their grandmother died. Many years had passed, after all.

Don’t be sad. She lived a very full and happy life. Her only sadness was feeling the heavy hearts of her grandchildren, the separation they felt. Modern life is hard, she thought, that’s why she kept things simple for all of her days. People thought she was isolated, but to her, her life felt full. She was often misunderstood, but was truly happy in her own heart.

The sister nursed her until her last breath and it was beautiful. And when it was time to begin again and clean out her grandmother’s belongings, the sister found a beautiful box hidden in the bottom of her grandmother’s drawer.

She opened the box to find an endearing little collage of old artifacts from her childhood years. Photos of the twins on the farm, little notes she had written to her grandmother, a few pressed flowers, some (very) old honeycomb….and…the little pink stone.

Would you believe she had completely forgotten about it?

This brought back a flood of emotions. The death of her grandmother was hard enough, but now she realized how far she had gone from the sweet innocence of her childhood. It was a bittersweet time, because while she was so sad for the passing of her grandmother, it was because of her passing that ultimately brought her back to the stone. After all, she never would have been sorting through her grandmother’s possessions otherwise.

She made the quick decision to go find her brother and see what would happen when she brought the stone to him, hoping, by some miracle, he’d held onto his. Though she knew it was far-fetched, she hoped he still carried his in his pocket like when they were children. She thought of the canyon nymph, and her excitement grew as she imagined how her life would improve when she was reunited with her brother and the stones were brought back together, as the nymph had instructed them to do.

She packed up her entire life. Her entire life. And began the journey, back to her brother, to make hear heart whole, and to give her life meaning.

It took her a very long time find him, and she had many doubts along the way. Much pain, joy too, and definitely adventures like no other. She kept looking, kept hunting.

And then one day, as if by accident, there he was in the middle of the road in a far away land, where she didn’t even know the language. She recognized him immediately and they embraced like two children in the middle of a field of wildflowers.

“How did you know where to find me!” the brother exclaimed.

“How did you know I was looking for you?” the sister answered.

“Of course I knew you were looking for me! I’ve been praying every night for you to come and find me and deliver to me what I’ve asked for,” he responded.

The sister was overcome with joy. So much so that she shrieked and danced and cried and felt her body shiver with wonder and delight. It was true, she thought, that day in the canyon, she hadn’t imagined it, something really magical really did happen there. She just knew it, and now it was all happening…or so she thought.

The brother and the sister talked and talked and talked. They had their own language, as many twins do. There was much to catch up on since it had been many years since their last visit. It was a non-stop conversation. Did they speak for six days, six weeks, six years? The words of joy and pain were nonstop. They spoke in tongues and entered a different realm together. She spoke about her life on the farm and he spoke about his travels around the world. It was fascinating to hear how different their paths had been, and yet they were so similar. So open, so free, so wild each in their own ways. It was a magical reunion, the two parts of the same whole.

There was enormous love between them and an indescribable sense of relief that they had found the other at the perfect time, each sending some message out to the other to finally be brought back together. It was like their bodies, or their hearts, were some honing device back to each other. They were twins, after all.

They had talked themselves silly, and now it was the moment of truth – the true reason they had been brought back together.

She let her brother speak first, conjuring up all the thoughts in her head of them bringing the stones together, coming Home, and the magic that the canyon nymph had promised. She expected nothing short of a miracle…

She could barely contain herself as he began to speak:

“Did you come with the money?”

The sister was shocked. And confused. And dumbfounded.

“I come with no money,” she responded.

“Then how can I continue my travels?” he said.

He asked a second question: “Did you come with beautiful women for me to love and admire?”

“I travelled alone, with no female friends or companions. You were the only one I was looking for,” she responded.

“Then who am I to love and receive affection from?” was the brother’s response.

A third question left his lips: “Did you come with medicine or herbs to take my pain away?

“I have come with no such things,” she told him.

“Then how can I soothe this lonely heart?”

The sister spoke: “I came only with myself and this stone and a desire to find you and your stone, and to become whole again. For both of us to track back to where we began. To go Home.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about. How can I continue my journey with no money to purchase what I desire, no women to give me what I desire, and no medicine to fill the space between what I desire and cannot have?”

The sister was shocked. So much so that she could barely speak.

“Have you forgotten about the stone, the canyon, the sapphire and the ruby?”

“I may faintly remember what you speak of, but I’m not sure. I am so entrenched in mastering this world, I cannot think of fairies and nymphs and canyons and crystals. If you don’t have what I am looking for, why have you come?”

“Because what I’m looking for is to become whole again, to find the other part of my heart. I came to find you.”

“I don’t understand. Your heart is whole, intact, exactly as it is. It breathes life into everything you do. Why on earth would you think you had to travel for so long, across the entire earth, to make your heart whole when it beats inside your chest and has done so since the moment you entered this world – with or without me?”

Her brother may have become preoccupied with earthly delights, and shunned the magic of the canyon, she thought, but his words rang true. Very true. She felt foolish. How foolish!

There she had been, searching, hunting, looking, seeking, wanting, longing, for the very thing that was with her every moment of her life. Inside her own body – beating and giving Life to everything she ever had, or ever would do!

Her brother had left, her grandmother had passed, she’d even forgotten herself, but her heart had never left her, even when she had left it, or doubted or stop believing in its wholeness, needing to travel around the entire world in search for what was always there.

This was a very painful thing to realize, almost too much for the sister to accept. It was a bittersweet pain, because while she was happy to understand that the very thing she wanted was already there, she now realized she was addicted to the hunt and to a belief that what she wanted was just out of her reach.

Humans are funny like that. Just ask the fairies.

They keep pushing. Never satisfied. Creating problems – need, lack, worry, when in fact there is none. They are whole from the very beginning…they just forget.

So, in perfect human form, the sister kept pushing because she was not yet ready to receive the gift of her own heart, the most basic human right – to feel wholeness – still felt like too much for her to receive.

“But what about the stones?” she said to him. “We are supposed to do something with the stones, are we not? I know I didn’t imagine the nymph, and the sapphire and ruby underfoot, which the nymph turned into this rose quartz, the very stone I hold in my hand. Surely we are meant to do something with this, are we not? Do you not still have yours?”

The brother would not answer her question directly.

“Perhaps the magic in the stones is real. I cannot say for sure. If it is, it probably would look different to each of us.”

The sister was not really listening, “But don’t you want to know? I’ve travelled this far for this long with this stone in hand, won’t you take that one last step with me and we can know for sure what all of this is about?”

The brother and the sister were so similar, but still very different. For the brother, just seeing her was enough magic for him, to know that while she didn’t bring money or women or medicine, she showed up for him, at the perfect time. He had called for her, and she came. That was enough proof for him in magic, his work was now overcoming the physical world.

And so he’d had enough of his sister. He loved her, but she talked too much, and pressured him too much, and would not leave well enough alone.

And he needed to be left alone, for reasons that the sister could not understand, but which she ultimately chose to respect, even though she really, really didn’t want to.

And why didn’t she want to? Because while she was never truly fearful of not finding her brother, a needle in a haystack, she was petrified of having to go back Home by herself. To do the work, alone, inside, without looking anywhere else but in her own chest, her own heart.

They said their goodbyes and the brother handed her a small pouch of seeds:

“You are a farmer, it’s in your blood. Go to the land where we grew up, and plant these seeds, so you will be happy.”

“I will only plant them the day you come home and we can live together as a family on our grandmother’s farm. Otherwise I don’t want them,” she told him.

He laughed – they were so similar. “You are very stubborn,” was his only response, and their visit came to an abrupt ending, which was just the beginning of the sister’s very long journey home.

Part Three

During her travels back to the farm, the sister felt exhausted, disappointed and lost. She’d traveled for many, many weeks to get back to the land her grandmother had left her and so many times, during her journey, she had considered turning around and finding her brother again, her twin, and setting up a life near him, as they had been as children. But she knew that this would be yet another distraction, a diversion, and that he would not have her anyhow. He wanted no earthly attachments, the least of which a needy sister…

The minute she stepped foot back on her land, she felt a shift, a small opening. The first night back was bittersweet. She knew, somehow, it was the beginning of a beautiful new life, a life back into her own wholeness, but she also felt loneliness like never before. For the first time in her life, she had to rely – fully – on herself and not on anyone or any dream to define her or make her feel whole. She needed to know the wholeness and beauty in her own heart, and find ways to share that with others.

She drifted to sleep and had a curious and magical visit in the middle of the night.

The canyon nymph found her in her dreams. It was beautiful.

“Hello my child,” the beautiful nymph said. They were in the middle of a gorgeous garden, full of flowers and trees.

The sister was overcome with emotion, she was crying in the dream, in her sleep.

“Why the tears, Love?”

“Because I knew that you were real, but I haven’t seen you in so many years, in decades in fact.”

“In the realms where I come from, we do not measure in years, as you humans do. We come when the time is right, when we are needed, or when you ask. And so it is this evening.”

“I must admit, I feel equal parts bliss and bitterness with you.”

The canyon nymph was not offended. She understood how hard it was to be in a human body, to forget.

“Please explain,” she said to the sister.

“You made a believer out of me. So many years ago, I witnessed a flowering plant with two different colored flowers turn into precious gems. Then I watched those gems turn into rose quartz in the palm of your hands. Then I listened with awe as you told me to go grow up, live my life and find my path and that you would turn the quartz back into the sapphire and the ruby, and I’d get to see the real magic.”

“Yes, that’s what I told you. And it is all true.”

The sister got angry: “How can you say that! I spent years travelling in search of my brother, to find him, and the other half of the stone, so that the real magic could begin, as you told me to do.”

“That is exactly true. I told you to grow up and find your own way. And did you?”

The sister had a temper: “How dare you! How can you even ask that! I travelled across the entire world. Gave up everything in search of the very thing you told me to do. And it got me nothing. I’m right back where I started from.”

“I never asked you to search across the entire world. I never told you to give everything up. And I never told you that what you sought your brother held. I simply said that once you’d found your path, a real transformation would occur. Humans are so literal, but in the fairy world we speak more in metaphors, which are never misunderstood there. When I spoke of the crystals coming together – becoming whole – I meant in your own heart, not between you and your brother, or you and anyone or anything else for that matter. I am sorry that you did not understand the meaning of my words, and yet, everything that has happened is still perfect.”

The sister, still in her dream, thought about this. And it was true. The canyon nymph had never told her that she and her brother needed to do the work at the same time or even in the same way. She simply instructed them to do the work, period. She had misunderstood. So foolish. But at least now she knew, and she could dig deep the path of her own heart, finding her own way.

“I must go soon as the sun will soon rise, but before I leave you, do you have any more questions for me?”

In her lifelong search for answers, the sister found herself in the rare position of not having any more questions. Not a single one.

“Good,” said the canyon nymph, “Then I have just one message for you.”

“What’s that?” asked the sister.

“Your grandmother has asked you to go plant your field.”

The sister awoke in a puddle of tears, but they were happy tears. Bittersweet. She’d found her brother, and was set free by him and she’d been visited by the nymph, and set free by her, and she’d received a beautiful message from her grandmother.

Now it was time to get to work.

She spent the next few years bringing the farm into its full glory.

It was magical. And early in the morning, or late at night, she swore she could hear – or even see! – little fairies running across the land, playing in the trees, making mischief and keeping her company. Perhaps that was her childlike heart speaking to her.

If course she’d never tell anyone about the magic of the fairies, but it’s true that her crops were the largest and most delicious, and her flowers the most beautiful, of all the neighboring farms.

Some time went by, and eventually she did hear from her brother. Every so often a letter or postcard or small gift would arrive on the farm. She loved those moments, but knew they were so few and far in between, that she could not count on them, only be happy when they arrived. Though it was hard at first, she learned to accept them without holding on too tight. This was a first for her, and it felt good. In his absence, he helped her grow.

He’d kept travelling, living life in his way, in a way that she didn’t understand, but which taught her about unconditional love and acceptance. She tried to push away thoughts of resentment that he couldn’t be the way she wanted. In his inability to connect with her the way she expected, he’d sent her back home, which is when her real journey began. He’d given her a real gift, though at the time she didn’t know it.

Since she had no address for him, she would just think of him and send him love. Which was probably better, because it allowed her to focus on her own tasks and her own life. Sometimes when she’d picture him, she’d see a little humming bird whiz by, and she wondered if that meant he was thinking of her, too, or if it was just the fairies playing tricks on her again. Either way, it was a beautiful moment.

She never opened the small pouch he’d offered her the last time she saw him – the seeds he asked her to plant. She still held out a glimmer of hope that he would return to their childhood home and they would plant a small patch of land she’d kept vacant – together.

But that is not the way it went – he continued to stay away. And she was probably better off for it, because it caused her to just keep digging in her own soil and in her own heart. As the canyon nymph had said in her dream, the reunion with her twin was a metaphor.

Slowly, over time, she began to embody the union within her own heart – a coming together of the two sides of her own soul – and it felt like ecstasy, like a small, private miracle. In his unwillingness to walk the path with her, as she had wanted, he taught her to look inside of herself. He’d given her an immense gift indeed. The fairies, from afar, were happy.

Time passed. How much? It’s hard to tell, but enough for the longing to ease and a sense of self satisfaction to enter into the heart of the sister. It was not always perfect, but she knew that she was on the right path when most days she felt wholeness in her own heart. The days of looking outside of herself became few and far between.

In short, she came to know herself, her own heart, and she was happy.

And with each year that she became more whole, her happiness grew, and farm thrived more and more beauty was created. So much that people started taking notice of her land, even when she wasn’t asking to be seen. Visitors would come, out of the blue, just to sit with her flowers or mingle with the crops. Many spring and summer parties were held out on the land with food, music and dancing.

Of course, the fairies loved this. They always loved a good party! But mostly, they were just happy that the sister was happy, and had found (or created) a sweet life for herself, in spite of so many moments of pain, doubt or looking in the wrong direction. They knew it was hard to be human, but they were proud of her for pushing forward, even when she didn’t want to.

It was spring and the sister was getting older. She’d had many celebrations on her land but none was so beautiful as the garden festival that she held one year in the middle of her rose garden. It was April 1st, April Fool’s Day, a perfect day to celebrate her own foolishness and laugh at all of her mistakes, and all of the things she’d done well, too.

She thought of the wholeness in her own heart, and fondly remembered the sapphire and ruby of her childhood, and was inspired to create a magical oasis of red and blue flowers. She selected only the perfect roses, ranunculus, poppies, delphinium and cornflowers. It was spring, after all, and there was abundance and beauty all around.

The festival was magical, and she knew in her heart that she’d come Home to herself. Life was simple and beautiful and shared with people who understood and appreciated her quiet, simple offerings.

At the party, one guest stood out more than any other – an old woman wearing a beautiful flowing dress and fresh flowers in her silver hair. She reminded the sister so much of her own grandmother that she almost couldn’t believe the resemblance.

After the party, the woman approached the sister.

“In all my years, I cannot remember having as much fun and experiencing as much beauty as I have today on your land. So simple, so perfect!”

“I’m very pleased you’ve enjoyed yourself,” the sister humbly answered. And she meant it.

“But may I ask you a question?” the woman continued.

“Of course” said the sister.

I notice that you have one small area near your house that is not yet planted. A magical garden could grow there. Why have you not filled that space with beauty, as you have done everywhere elsewhere on your farm?”

The sister thought for a while. The truth is that was the space she’d left vacant in the hope that her brother would come home and that they would build a beautiful new garden together, like they had as young children with their grandmother. She realized that this vacant spot signified a tiny sliver in her heart that would not fill itself with itself. She was still waiting, still not fully giving herself to her own life.

“I have decided today, this moment actually, that it’s time to finally fill that space with beauty!” the sister exclaimed. She was delighted with herself, quietly proud to reach this last hurdle back Home, back to herself, fully. She laughed to herself, why had it been so hard to embody herself completely? So foolish, indeed.

“Then these seeds should come in handy. I’ve saved them from my very own garden, and brought a few for you today” the woman told her, and she handed her a small pouch.

At that moment, for some reason, the sister felt something bloom in her chest. An explosion of love. Like a flower that had been holding back its last petals all these years finally opened to its full beauty.

“I’d love to plant your seeds, thank you for bringing them.” And her heart fluttered along with her entire body as the words left her lips. The woman smiled and then walked away…”I guess I better let you get to, it then,” she smiled.

That night the sister felt as whole and she ever had in her entire life. She’d created the perfect, authentic life for herself, one of simplicity and beauty. She understood that true happiness came from feeling the wholeness of one’s own heart, and that it could never be given to her, not even from her own twin.

The next day she took the seed pouch that was given to her by the old woman, and decided, finally, to take the pouch that her brother had given to her when they parted ways, and use the seeds to plant her field, as he had asked her to do so long ago.

She made a perfect breakfast, a hot cup of tea and took herself out to the small garden near her house that had remained empty for all of these years. She thought of how far she had come and was filled with gratitude for her willingness to keep pushing forward in her life, even when things didn’t make sense, even when the pain or doubt felt too great.

She sat right in the middle of the soil and felt the warm earth cradle her body. She thought of the canyon nymph and the fairies and felt like a little girl again as she simultaneously emptied the contents of both pouches in her hands, delighted and awestruck to realize her palms were filled not with seeds, but with the brightest, most radiant, gorgeous and sparkly handful of sapphires and rubies you could ever image.

She held the stones in her hands and looked up to the sky – in awe – and felt her heart explode and take flight, as never before, and land in the lavender forest she’d only dreamt of as a child, though her human body was very much, and very happily, planted at back at Home.

by Jill Lurie

The Soil & the Seed: A Short Story about Love

One day, the seed and the soil were at a standoff. Don’t laugh: you were once new to this earth, too.

They first found each other on the edge of an open field. The soil was freshly laid across three acres in the warm sun. Though it came from a mixture of ancient earth and beautiful rich compost, it still had much to learn about the world. It saw its size and potential, and thought it knew very much, but in fact, it knew very little.

The seed was also young but wise beyond its years. It was jovial, ready to embrace life and all that it had to offer – fearlessly and with wild abandon. Set out in a worn old tin pail, the seed knew there was great adventure ahead.

When the two saw each other for the first time they immediately recognized each other. They saw a piece of themselves in the other. The soil had a faint memory of once being a seed. And the seed had a faint memory of once being the soil.

But in their current forms, they were quite clear on the jobs they were set out to do. The soil was meant to nurture, create a home and be a vessel for the plants and animals that needed to come through and begin a new life. This time around, the seed wanted freedom and expression. It wanted to experience itself through its immense growth. It wanted to witness its own roots deep below the surface, and see its branches reach for the sky. And it wanted to taste its own fruit.

When the soil and the seed revealed to each other what they were longing to do, they quietly knew that between each other, there was a beautiful garden meant to grow. But in the merging, that meant they would no longer be able to see one another, as they had been. In their separateness they could witness one another, but would never merge to their full potential. They had to be willing to go into the darkness. But the soil had never stretched to receive that type of seed, to have that much faith. And the seed had never trusted soil to simultaneously contain and expand it.

So they were at a standstill, watching each other from afar, a beautiful but unrealized garden in each of their hearts.

Of course, this gave the elders and the fairies and the garden creatures cause for a good laugh. They knew about the garden: its magic, its secrets, the need to go into the void. But it was the unassuming old grey bunny who had compassion, and who, in the middle of the night, whispered a story of a glorious garden full of fruits and flowers and honey, just loud enough so that both the soil and the seed could hear it, though they each thought that they were dreaming.

An awakening occurred. The soil woke up and knew what had to be done. And the seed woke up, and knew what had to be done. But still, the soil was scared. It loved looking at the seed from afar, inside that bucket and questioned: “Seed, if I plant you in my garden, I won’t be able to see you with my eyes. How will I know you are still there?”

The seed also had concerns: “Soil, I need to be free, and if I allow you to fully consume me, can I trust that you will give me enough space for both my roots and branches to reach all the places they need to go?”

The soil thought of the beautiful garden in its heart, and it decided that creating that haven was more important than the fears of not seeing the seed, as it was, as they had been. There would be new life, new growth and beautiful new flowers on the horizon, if it was willing to experience the essence of the seed in its heart, instead of clinging to its form in that old bucket.

The seed also thought of the beautiful garden, and decided that it could trust the soil to encourage its fullest potential – and that it would be supported every step of the way, even through summer droughts or spring downpours, or when its roots weren’t growing fast enough.

So, as they say, the moment of truth had arrived.

The seed spoke first because it knew that the soil – so grand and impressive on the surface and so hesitant on the inside – still wouldn’t go through with it. Said the seed: “You are not going to be happy, but today is the day that I must leave you, in order to merge fully with you. It’s time to go into the darkness of each other, so that we can one day meet again in the sun.

The soil became sad: “But then that means I won’t see you.”

The seed answered: “Yes, but you will come to know me fully, not with your eyes, but with all the parts of you, if you open up to me. There is a beautiful garden about to take root in your heart, and between us, if you trust me to know where to go.”

The young soil spoke: “This is hard for me because I know you as one form, and you are asking me to recognize you in another.”

The seed spoke next: “I’m asking you to embrace what you already know is true, and possible, and meant to be, and to move towards the garden in which I will find you, even though your fears make you doubt this is possible.”

And with that, the elders decided enough speaking had taken place. Time for action. The sweet wind, full of orange blossoms and spring jasmine, began to rise. And the nosy animals hiding in the background became giddy and wild. They squawked and squealed and flapped and fluttered.

And in that excitement, the union was unstoppable. The soil rose to meet the seed, and the seed rose to meet the soil. They went into the darkness, the silence, the gorgeous mystery. They said goodbye to begin anew.

And on that hidden site, a heart-achingly beautiful garden, once tended by a happy old lady, has resided ever since.

Author’s note: as I penned this story this afternoon, my house became filled with bees.
Photo of Tasha Tudor by Richard W. Brown