In October 2016, I was given the story you are about to hear, knowing it was a part of something much bigger. I have told this story in a darkened basement, in the midst of a Moroccan market place, to hedgedwellers and skyflyers, and now, dear Substackers, to you. It is an ending of sorts, but also a beginning. For the next year and a day, because of course, all the best of witchery is often held within the spell of one year and one day, we will excavate a little more of this bigger story. It may appear for us in the middle of the night, or when the noon day sun shines through a dusty window. The moon might have wandered out of our sight, or be at its brightest. For who can know the way of a thing that lives outside of human linear time. With this in mind, the fragments of tale that arrive will not be in the expected beginning-middle-end format but as and when that particular part wishes to make itself known. Beseeches and offerings will, of course be made, to the One who first gave me the story all those years ago and we can only hold our collective breaths that she will answer and grant us the priveledge of more. So, join me as we begin, with this Winter Solstice New Moon, the cycle that will call forth the ash and bone of the mythic…
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In October 2016, I was given the story you are about to hear, knowing it was a part of something much bigger. I have told this story in a darkened basement, in the midst of a Moroccan market place, to hedgedwellers and skyflyers, and now, dear Substackers, to you. It is an ending of sorts, but also a beginning. For the next year and a day, because of course, all the best of witchery is often held within the spell of one year and one day, we will excavate a little more of this bigger story. It may appear for us in the middle of the night, or when the noon day sun shines through a dusty window. The moon might have wandered out of our sight, or be at its brightest. For who can know the way of a thing that lives outside of human linear time. With this in mind, the fragments of tale that arrive will not be in the expected beginning-middle-end format but as and when that particular part wishes to make itself known. Beseeches and offerings will, of course be made, to the One who first gave me the story all those years ago and we can only hold our collective breaths that she will answer and grant us the priveledge of more. So, join me as we begin, with this Winter Solstice New Moon, the cycle that will call forth the ash and bone of the mythic…
On a spontaneous whim one rainy Saturday morning, Tom began to read a storybook to me through whatsapp voice notes. A storybook that he had not quite got round to reading before. You know the type - you skim the illustrations, grab it on impulse, then on returning home it sits patiently in the ‘waiting pile’, sighing to itself at the wonder the book knows it contains within its interior. And oh my, what a storybook it was! I argued with it, questioned it, took offence to it and peered dubiously at it. I also marvelled at it, gasped with awe at it, surrendered with delight to it and ultimately fell into a spellbound swoon. How could I not want to share such a tale and such a teller with you! So, here for your listening pleasure is the story of Eemook as read by Tom…
Eemook’s story is from The Sea Lion written by master storyteller Ken Kesey and illustrated by Neal Waldman, published in 1991. It is described by the publishers as an original tale that takes its inspiration from the Indigenous Peoples of the Pacific Northwest. The Peoples include the Chinook, Salish, Coast Salish, Kwakwaka’wakw and the Tlingit. More information can be found at https://www.nativehistory.info/pacific-northwest-native-tribes-culture/
And as an extra bonus I wanted to share a stunning short film by Jules Guerin entitle A Shaman’s Tale - https://julesguerin.tv/a-shamans-tale
Tom lives in a small cottage in the Bay Area of California where he designs and maintains gnome friendly gardens that incorporate native plants, which are also friendly toward birds and bees. He is a part time astrologer who loves viewing the night sky from the desert. His recent interest in giving voice to story has emerged along with a rekindled interest in song. It has been helped along from having had the events of his life lovingly mirrored back to him as story, and the gentle encouragement of his uncensored voice.
Find out more about his interactions with the plant people at tegardendesign.com
With love
Elizabeth of the Faerytale Apothecary
The Faerytale Apothecary
In October 2016, I was given the story you are about to hear, knowing it was a part of something much bigger. I have told this story in a darkened basement, in the midst of a Moroccan market place, to hedgedwellers and skyflyers, and now, dear Substackers, to you. It is an ending of sorts, but also a beginning. For the next year and a day, because of course, all the best of witchery is often held within the spell of one year and one day, we will excavate a little more of this bigger story. It may appear for us in the middle of the night, or when the noon day sun shines through a dusty window. The moon might have wandered out of our sight, or be at its brightest. For who can know the way of a thing that lives outside of human linear time. With this in mind, the fragments of tale that arrive will not be in the expected beginning-middle-end format but as and when that particular part wishes to make itself known. Beseeches and offerings will, of course be made, to the One who first gave me the story all those years ago and we can only hold our collective breaths that she will answer and grant us the priveledge of more. So, join me as we begin, with this Winter Solstice New Moon, the cycle that will call forth the ash and bone of the mythic…
