So welcome everybody to this story,
The first time I've written and recorded a story,
So bear with me.
But as we're about to enter liminal space and the space of storytelling and legends and archetypes,
Perhaps it's worth just taking a moment to really ground ourselves.
Sitting comfortably in a chair or lying down on the floor.
Just allow the breath to be at a natural,
Steady rhythm and depth.
Every time you exhale,
Allowing tension to leave.
Tension that may have stored itself in the shoulders or the lower back.
Let each vertebrae melt into the supporting chair or floor.
If you're sitting up,
Make sure the feet are flat on the floor.
If you're lying down,
Trying to connect as much of the body with the ground as possible.
Take a few moments to withdraw the senses inward.
Detaching from the sounds around you and just listening to the sound of my voice.
Closing the eyes gently,
Detaching from the space that you're in,
The sights around you.
Tuning more into your internal world and imagination.
Notice how the body feels and invite relaxation rather than demanding or commanding or being too attached to it.
Invite the body into a sense of ease and peace and relaxation.
As we transition into the world of storytelling,
Let's take a deep breath in.
Exhale any residual tension.
And then focusing on the sound of my voice.
Allowing what arises from the images and the narrative to just come before you without attachment.
The Hare's Gift,
A tale of Ostara.
The world lay in twilight,
Balanced on the edge of winter's stillness and spring's quickening.
The land,
Once locked in frost and snow,
Now hummed with an expectant energy.
The rivers,
Once frozen still,
Began to thaw and crack and melt into flowing water.
The trees stretched towards the pale sun,
Their bare branches waiting for the first rays of spring sunshine to coax life from their hibernation.
It was the time of Ostara,
The festival of the spring equinox.
A moment when light and dark held each other in perfect harmony.
Deep in the ancient woods,
A traveller walked alone.
Their cloak pulled tight against the last chill of winter.
They had wandered far,
Searching for something unseen yet deeply felt.
Searching for a change,
A shift,
A promise of renewal that they eagerly needed.
They sought to restore their internal balance after a long winter of retreat and reflection.
The forest path led into a clearing,
Bathed in a golden dawnlight,
Where the energy of nature seemed to concentrate into a shimmer,
Taking on a magical quality somewhere between waking and dream.
And there,
At the heart of this forest glade,
Stood a woman.
Unlike any the traveller had ever seen.
Her presence was radiant,
As though woven from the dawn light itself.
Her hair cascaded like strands of pure sunlight,
Her eyes holding the green of the unfurling leaves.
He recognised her instantly,
As Ostara,
The goddess of spring,
Standing at the threshold of the turning season.
At her feet sat a hare,
Sleek and wild,
Its ears twitching in the quiet.
It was no ordinary creature,
As it made no movement in fright,
But held their gaze with its two pitch black eyes.
The traveller felt a strange pull,
Some force of gravity pulled toward it,
As if the hare saw something in them,
Or some acknowledgement that they were meant to be here,
Now,
Meeting at this time.
The goddess stepped forward,
Her voice the melody of morning breezes and the dawn chorus of a thousand songbirds.
You,
Traveller,
Have come seeking something,
She said,
Yet to embrace it fully one must also understand the darkness.
For this is the lesson of the sun and the moon,
The dance of day and night,
Of stillness and motion,
Of endings and beginnings.
Like a flower you've been growing towards the light,
But have you fully embraced the dirt,
The mud and the soil that anchors you,
Or the darkness where you find your deepest rest?
Traveller,
Are you ready to receive that wisdom?
The traveller nodded,
Although they didn't really fully understand.
A star smiled and gestured towards the hare.
It regarded the traveller with curiosity for a long moment,
Before nudging something forward with its nose.
A single egg lay in the grass,
Its shell smooth,
Its colour shifting in the light,
As if the dawn sky had been painted upon it.
This is the gift of the hare,
Ostara said,
A symbol of what lies within.
For just as the earth awakens from beneath the frost,
So do you carry within you something ready to be born.
Hold it and listen,
It will show you what you seek.
The traveller knelt and cupped the egg in their hands.
At first it was cool against their palms,
But as they held it,
Warmth spread through their fingers.
Images began to swirl within its surface,
Reflections of their own dreams long buried hopes and desires not yet spoken.
They saw the roads yet to be travelled,
The choices waiting to be made,
The possibilities curled inside them like seeds beneath the soil.
They saw themselves as a child,
And then an adolescent,
And then the young adult that they had become.
They saw all the darkness and challenges they had faced,
The loss,
Illness,
Grief and despair,
The hopelessness and all the tears.
A voice,
Whether the hares,
The goddesses or their own whispered,
What you nurture will grow,
What you believe will take flight.
Honour the cycles within as you honour the cycles of earth,
But remember the power and wisdom of the darkness too.
Tears.
Tears welled in the travellers eyes,
Not of sorrow,
But of understanding.
They had wandered far,
Yet the answers had always been inside them,
Waiting for the right moment to emerge.
And as the legend goes,
Just as the hare had once been a bird,
Transformed to survive the winter,
Yet never forgetting how to lay the eggs of the past.
A star had knelt beside them,
Placing a gentle hand upon their shoulder.
Take this gift with you.
Today is but a moment,
Yet its lesson is eternal.
Darkness and light,
Fear and hope,
Death and rebirth,
They're not enemies,
But partners in the great cycle of existence.
Walk forward knowing that you too are part of this dance.
The traveller looked up,
The first true smile in a long while touching their lips.
They placed the egg carefully within their cloak and rose to their feet.
The hare,
This time startled a little by the movement,
Twitched its ears and bounded into the trees,
Disappearing into the dapple of light.
When the traveller turned back,
Ostara was gone.
Only the whisper of petals drifting on the wind remained.
But the world was no longer the same.
The air was warmer,
The earth softer beneath their feet,
And within their hearts something new had awakened.
A seed of possibility,
Ready to sprout,
Take root and bloom.
With the egg still nestled safely in their hands,
The traveller stepped forward,
Back to the forest path,
Ready to embrace the coming spring.
And then gently expanding your senses out of liminal storytelling space.
Focusing on the ambient sounds around you,
In the room that you're in,
From the adjacent rooms and buildings.
Beginning to wake the body with small movements,
Hands,
Fingers and toes.
Gently soften and move the jaw,
Moving the tongue lightly against the teeth.
Slowly,
When you're ready,
Opening the eyes,
Fully back.
Thank you for listening.
Bye.
