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Once upon a time, there lived a beautiful old woman. A dichotomous woman; the darkness of her clothing, slowness of her pace, and stillness of her presence, somewhat contradicted the depth of energy that enveloped everyone around her. She had a softness that belied her harsh stature, and a love that belied her wordless demands. She commanded respect from the townsfolk, whilst being the comfort they sought in the depths of their despair.

Every day she would walk the streets. Slowly but with purpose. The townsfolk would nod and smile politely. They wondered about her and her ability to make them see inside their souls. Whilst it made no sense to them, and sometimes it felt scary, they knew that that was her intention. They knew that in their darkness, she would be there to gather them into her soft bosom providing the unconditional comfort and gentle encouragement of a grandmother.

One day, she didn’t walk the streets. Her physical absence was noticed and yet in its place was something new. Something ethereal that the townsfolk instinctively knew was her. Missing her wisdom and guidance they went in search and found her walking in the fields. She still walked with purpose, but the brightness of her new clothing, lightness of her step, and the glint in her eyes, felt like the welcome arrival of a new guest at a special gathering. As they got closer, they could see she was singing to herself and scattering something across the fields.

She looked over to the townsfolk and smiled. Not the knowing smile of her eyes that they’d come to know, but a vibrant open-mouthed smile that stretched across her face like a toddler experiencing their first swing in their parents’ arms. They new change was coming. They could feel it, even at this distance from her. Her energy had shifted, and they knew it was aimed at them again. Something new to do, to feel, to create.

Follow me”, she said. She’d been silent for so long, they were a little surprised by her words.

Here, take some and scatter, just as I am”, she urged, as she stretched out her arm with her cloth sack full of seeds.

Such an array of seeds. Acorns for prosperity and longevity. Fruits and vegetables for nourishment and sweetness. Flowers for enjoyment and creativity. You name it, in this bag of goodness was all the seeds you could ever imagine.

The bag is limitless” the old woman said.

Every possibility you could ever conceive is within this bag. You just need to take them and scatter

The townsfolk looked at her with awe and excitement.

You won’t know how they’ll turn out”, she continued.

But if you tend to them, keep the ground watered and nourished, and let them be, they’ll do what’s needed.”

Don’t pick them too early. Just because you can’t see what’s going on underground, doesn’t mean they’re not growing just as they should”.

Now they looked at her with trepidation and confusion.

But she went on to reassure them. “Just as the past few months have been silent and still and you didn’t always know what was happening, you trusted me and allowed yourselves to be immersed in retreat.”

Trust yourself now, you know what seeds to scatter. There’s no need to overthink, or force. Just trust that the last few months has guided you to this moment. Here in this field with my outstretched arm offering you the seeds of possibility.”

With that, she turned into a beautiful maiden, full of youth and an energy that oozed creativity and confidence. The townsfolk knew she would go silent again but that she would still be with them. They would once again see her walking the streets, and for now, at least, she’d be blowing gently in their hair as she glided past them. She’d be shining warmth upon their faces from the sunshine in her eyes, and she’d be whispering her words of wisdom softly into their ears.

Follow me” she’d say.

The End.

The moral of the story

This is a story of Mother Nature, specifically of Winter and Spring, and the wisdom the seasons offer us if only we pay attention.

I believe that we each instinctively know what we’re here to create and bring to the world. That we are connected, through all the lines of history, to each other, our ancestors, and the earth. At the beginning of time, our connection was clear, but we’ve forgotten it over time. Or, our egos and minds have boxed it away somewhere in the pursuit of success and material wealth. We’ve become disconnected from it all to the point we “think” our instinct and intuition has gone. We find it hard to trust the whispers, to trust that our heart knows. But they haven’t gone, and the whispers are there to open our hearts to the rediscovery of who we really are. To reconnect us to our true nature and full expression.

The moral of this story is to trust that you know what seeds you want to sow. That you know how to take care of them and the ground in which they are growing. That you do have the capacity to let them be and to trust that exactly what needs to grow will grow.

A question for you to muse on

What are the seeds that you want to sow as you emerge into Spring?

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