Stories have been told from the beginning of time.
They have many purposes.
To entertain,
To educate,
To pass on wisdom,
To provide therapy.
They stimulate our imagination with the use of colourful images,
Sounds and metaphors.
Our imagination can be used as a path into meditation.
To an internal place of peace,
Calmness and clarity.
From this place,
Within our unconscious mind,
We can change our lives.
The right story at the right time can heal emotionally,
Physically,
Mentally and spiritually.
Especially if the conscious mind is unaware that any learning,
Belief changing or re-patterning is occurring.
The conscious mind will just see the story,
While the unconscious mind can use it as a template for positive change.
We can use stories to target specific concerns,
For example fears,
Phobias,
Anxieties,
Weaknesses,
Illnesses and create new ways of seeing and thinking.
So,
Now sit back.
Close your eyes and enjoy the story.
Just enjoy it without trying to analyse it.
And let it weave its magic.
The flower wanted to become immortal.
Once upon a time,
There was a flower called floret.
It wanted to become immortal.
It was a tiny part of a large tree.
Insignificant,
Beautiful and symmetrical.
Burnt red and brown but lost in the wholeness of the tree.
A long time ago,
One morning in spring,
It had started as the first small bud on a mature tree that grew on the banks of the gently flowing stream.
Floret had grown and blossomed into a perfect flower.
It was much admired by all who saw it.
Beneath the tree,
The stream opened into a deep pool called pond.
Crystal clear.
Softly murmuring and peaceful.
Floret would look down,
Trying to see its tiny reflection in pond.
It was lost amongst all the other leaves,
Flowers and branches of the tree.
Each day,
Floret spent hours looking for itself in pond.
Not seeing life around it.
Not noticing the seasons pass.
Not enjoying being one and part of the whole.
Unaware of the changes in itself.
Not seeing its beauty.
Its aging.
Hanging on to its place in the tree.
Pond was very aware.
She changed with the seasons.
Encompassing all above,
Below and around it.
Sensitive to the slightest change.
She reflected everything from the slightest breeze to the darkest storm.
Observing.
Reflecting.
Moving with time.
Flowing but never changing the essence of herself.
Many of the other flowers had moved on,
Allowing the fruits of the tree to mature.
The fruits and the autumn leaves were starting to fall.
Floret determinedly hung on to its existence.
Pond noticed floret.
She saw how mistaken and foolish it was.
One day she called out to it.
It's time to go home.
Floret was startled out of its self absorption.
What do you mean?
It asked.
It's time to let go.
Time to leave.
It's time to play your part in the cycle of life,
Replied Pond.
Floret trembled.
Fearful.
Let go.
Leave.
All this time it had held on to the dream of being significant,
Immortal.
Let go.
I can't.
I haven't made it yet,
It whispered.
Let go,
Urged Pond.
Slowly Floret edged to the brink of awareness.
A beam of sunlight reflected off Pond and shone on its petals,
Illuminating its colours and textures.
It felt its radiance.
Suddenly it felt an inexplicable urge to leave.
Home was calling.
Was there more?
Floret let go.
Down,
Down it floated soft and gentle.
Down.
Down.
Floret lightly landed on Pond.
Ripples radiated out into a myriad of circles and patterns,
Creating a beautiful kaleidoscope of colour.
Catching the sunlight.
Reaching out and touching everything.
Pond gathered the flower into its gentle fur and released it into the stream of life.
Part of the next cycle.
Oh,
Reed Floret.
Realisation washed over it.
It understood.
It was beautiful.
It would always be beautiful,
Whatever form it took.
One,
But part of the whole.
And significant.
Immortal.
Just sit for a moment or two.
And let your unconscious mind and all the cells of your body absorb the story.
Don't try to analyse it or judge it in any way.
Let it be what it is.
A story.
