Photo credit: Adventures in the Wild
The Elders relied on her for guidance and placing her tokens in the hollow, she knew The Spirits would come to supply the answers she sought.
Animals stopped by to graze, never afraid of her presence here.
Even the babbling brook alongside greeted her with its gentle lullaby.
She lay back and let the magic begin.
Her mind drifted as she was lifted high into the tree tops by invisible hands.
The breeze kissed her eyelids like a tender lover, her hair ruffled by caressing strokes as it whispered above her head.
Mother Nature ruled this velvet greenland, providing Freya’s bed when she was troubled.
This was a sacred and secret place, passed down to her by generations of Seers and Prophets.
In sleep, her worries were addressed by words of wisdom and kindness. Problems were resolved in this perfect sanctuary, where Silence spoke volumes to her confused being and thoughts, siphoning out irrelevance and uncertainty, concentrating on what mattered.
Freya was laid gently down to awaken feeling refreshed and renewed.
As she gracefully walked back to her village, the Forest Spirits smiled at the sun bringing forth the warmth of another day. Their Daughter would pass on their messages of hope.
In response to Michael’s post re Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie and Tale Weaver