Some years ago when the moon fell. I was just a small thing, living in my small unique world of play and fantasy.
I would play and sing and dance and share with those who cared for me, until it all changed. A cloaked figure visited me in a dream and gave me a choice: green or red. I looked at this figure and refused to give an answer. For the world was so much more than green and red; I felt the world in hues of violets and lilacs. So I ran under the bed into the darkness, otherwise called: the realm of the unknown.
Then the downward spiral began into a world of chaos, difficulty, hardship and misunderstandings.
One day, I was chewing on a piece of carrot. It got stuck. So I coughed, swallowed, wiggled my tongue, to try to get it out. My parents panicked. And while my mother was on the phone to the emergency hotline, my father swung me up, and gave me a hard punch in the solar plexus. The piece of carrot came flying out. But with it came my soul.
So I picked up my soul and put it in a golden trapezoid and buried it to the east side of the Great Faerie Tree.
Another day I was in kindergarten and two boys took one arm each and began to fight over me, at the time I had not the strength to make them stop, they just pulled and pulled until my wings broke, helpless I was. Fighting was not my way, it never was, but through adversity I had to learn to keep this gentle part of me safe.
So I picked up my wings in my helpless arms and put them in a cyan hexagon which I buried in the north side of the Great Faerie Tree near some Forget-Me-Nots.
On a day several years later, I had a school assignment to print my feet onto a page. My father took the page and said you have flat feet like your mother with a tone of ridicule and superiority. I looked at my feet and did not see what was wrong with them. And neither did I understand why my father would say such things in a cruel and hurtful way.
And then I felt the foundation crumble from under my feet. So I picked up what was left of my soles and put them in a lavender handkerchief; then buried the folded triangle to the south of the Great Faerie Tree by some chamomile.
One sunny a day, I was in the house tracing a drawing of a happy fool dressed in green sitting under a tree; then quite proud of the result. My mother was having one of her not-so-great days, picked it up and with many other things and put it in the large green bin outside. Then made it quite clear that I was not to retrieve it. But when she was busy in the garden, I snuck to the front and took the drawing out of the bin.
But laying next to the page was my heart which I carefully wrapped in some oak leaves and buried it to the west of the Great Faerie Tree.
Little by little more and more of me was buried around the great tree, until I was nothing but an empty shell.
Then some time past and the great faerie tree was no longer being tended to. The weeds had grown very high and mighty. And the world grew dark and solitary. And I had a lot of time to myself. So I started to pull out the great weeds, hacking, pulling, twisting and bending. One by one the weeds came out with thick roots deep in the earth suffocating the great tree and stealing all her water.
And with each root came a little shape, package, wrap and all the little treasures I hid from the world. Carefully opening up each one. Each one of these treasures came with a story, a poem, a picture and a song.
With this blog I share a few of these treasures.