The story below is one which filled my thoughts as I painted the Elder Tree.. I will reveal the whole painting at the end of the series of these short stories. Parts of these paintings I revealed on this post. My thoughts may take up several posts.. I know how many do not like reading Long posts, but I know those who are meant to read, will read.. Thank you ALL in advance.
The Woman could no longer breathe in all the intoxicating poisons the world threw out. She became overwhelmed with the fumes of other people’s thoughts. Her senses overloaded by the barrage of vibrations that poured forth in her daily world which over spilled into her dream-state. Even the radio had hourly interruptions sending her mind into the dark corners she did not wish to visit, as yet more darkness crept into her sanctuary.
Walking was her usual relief, but the winter chill set her mind on another escape.
She slid the vinyl record from its sleeve and lifted the arm of the player into position as she gently lowered the needle into the groove… The familiar strains immediately soothed her aching mind. She let out a long low sigh.
She breathed in deep and deeper still. She closed her eyes for a moment as if in a ritual then she reached for the paint brush which she dipped into the clean water. The drawing which had emerged the night before as the clock she had glanced at had the unearthly hour of 03:33. Numbers which she was well used to seeing in triplicate. Their symbols yet another reminder that she was being guided and had some wise masters to help guide her along her pathway.
The night before she had drawn a tree. This was no ordinary tree, It was an Elder. And she had been drawn into its womb. She sat now with paint loaded upon her brush and as the paint spread into the paper, so too did her mind sink deeper and deeper.
She found herself sinking into her design, right into the Earth Mother where all seeds are sown and all knowledge is born. And so, her painting took root.
It was as if the Elder came to life, the Elder’s aged wisdom speaking to her heart. She was told once again of the ‘Standing Ones’ the ancient Tree Tribes whose huge forests had covered the land.
The Ancient Elder took her down within the roots showing her how deep they twisted and reached out mirroring her canopy, as above, so below the Elder began.
Before long the woman saw the many worms wriggling as she painted the twisting roots, roots that twisted and held the fabric of the Earth Mother together. Some strong, some weak, but all part of the whole. Her brush began to paint something not in her drawing, but its shape was clear.. It was a Mole..
“Good”, said the Elder, “you see the Mole and the worms, and you see even though they need no light, how precious are these to our Mother, for they enrich the soil. Without the Worms the soil would be lifeless, but sand”. The Elder continued telling the woman what she already knew, but the woman listened intently as the Mole took shape.
She watched as in her mind she saw the many worms taking the Elders and all the Standing Ones fallen leaves pulling them underground.
The Elder explaining that nothing was ever lost, “As we shed our load, it prevents us from toppling over and breaking under the weight of storms. We Stand in unity together in every storm, learning to bend and bow our branches. Knowing that the elements can take down the most rigid and strongest among us. It’s the strength of our roots which keep us anchored and grounded” said the Elder
“ We shield one another, as we stand together in times of great storms. We know some of us may fall, but in our centre grows the strongest matriarch our Mother-Hub tree, she protects our young seedlings. So our tribe goes on, growing outward from its centre from its heart.”
The woman took in all that was said as she continued to paint and mix the colours upon her pallet. And as the Elder grew in statue upon her paper and took deeper form, so too did she see the many miracles which this wonderful old tree Elder had witnessed throughout time.
The stories held her imagination as the Elder began once again to tell the story of Mole.. A story she had once read but barely remembered its detail. Yet now as she painted in detail the story rose before her in her mind.
“Now I will tell you about a time in the Very Beginning,” said the Elder. “ When your tribe lived in a world of darkness, beneath the Earth. Your tribe knew of no other world and so knew nothing but darkness. Until one of you asked if there was more to the world in which you lived. Mole was revered for his skills in tunneling and so a man asked Mole if there were something other than the world they lived.” The woman continued cleaning her brush in the water, choosing another colour as the Elders trunk grew up from the roots as other images formed in her mind that had now embedded themselves within the trunk.
“ Your tribe had never seen the light of day, but they knew Mole went close to the surface for it was Mole who allowed the air they all breathed into their underground world.. Air that we Standing Ones breathe out and create, so that you Humans can breathe it in”.. The woman listened intently to what was to come next.
“ Mole told the people beneath the Earth to follow him, asking them to form a line right behind him. And as he dug his tunnel, he passed back the earth and rocks to the Human, who in turn passed it back and so on. Thus they all moved through the tunnel putting the debris behind them. At last the Mole led them to the surface, each emerged, blinking and squinting to the brightness of the sunlight. Some of your tribe didn’t like the brightness and wanted to return to the depth of the earth.. But because Mole had instructed all to pass back the soil the tunnel had been filled in and there was no return.” The Elder paused as the woman cleaned her brushes with a tissue..
“ Mole was to become known as ‘The Pathfinder’ his gift to man was the Sunlight and Wind which the Human tribe had not experienced before. Mole is one of the caretakers of our Earth Mother, he does not judge another by what he looks like, for he is blind to Bias. Instead Mole relies upon his own gifts and senses, through touch, smell, and feeling the vibrations and changes around him. He knows before any other creature the rumblings and stirrings within our Earth Mothers breast. He knows when an earthquake is coming and he feels the eruptions and so knows of our Earth Mothers pain”
The Elder stopped speaking, She smiled at another triple number appeared 11:11am. The music on the player had long ago stopped. She looked down at the Elder upon her paper. Mentally thanking the Standing Ones for the gifts, they gave.
The woman stood, and stretched her limbs satisfied with her work and saw how there as if by magic other animals had been woven into the roots. But those stories were for another session when the paints would bring their stories to life.
©Sue Dreamwalker 2017.