theworldofdreams.com

I was visiting Empath Abbey the other day and found this transcription in a dusty tome in one of the bookshelfs. I was fascinated by this account and thought I would make it more public in case anyone else was interested:


I move slowly through the forest, feeling the rythym and sway of my brethren. The radiant light from above flows over us and every living thing absorbs and uses this gift in concert with the invisible air surrounding us all. The slope I am transversing is filled with cedar, oak and walnut. Their strong roots delve deep into the Mother and seek out nutrients and moisture. They are quiet and passive mostly, half sleeping and dreaming their ancient thoughts. Around and between the silent trunks are sphagnum mosses, varied lichens and spiderwort growing freely among the thick, rich loam that has built up from fallen leaves and twigs over the centuries.

Everything is right here, balanced and quiet, so I move to the lower slope where a trickling stream runs fluidly over water rounded rock. I pause and feel the steady beat of life around me. The stream runs through an open meadow that is alive with vibrant wilflowers. Baby blue eyes blink happily at the orb of light above as baby's breath mixes whitely amidst. The golden primrose nods in beat with the tiny scarlet phlox. There are so many different varieties of flowers here, mixing colors and scents into a heady aroma of life and beauty. I walk carefully past stands of proud larkspur that tower over clumps of rose angel and leave the tranquil meadow. Pausing in a quiet stand of elder, I gaze sightlessly o'er the hills before me and feel something awry. I move quickly now, homing in on the alien presence.

I hear the dreaded sound of man and break into a run. The sound of steel on wood is loud but nothing compared to the scream of the straight, young fir that shudders with each blow. The human lumberjack, yes they have a profession that does nothing but slaughter trees, swings his steel axe again in silver glittery arc that ends deep in the side of the fir. Another heart rending shriek and then I close in on the man with a silent rush. Grasping it with my long fingers, I lift it high into the air and grip as hard as I can. It squeaks annoyingly and I squeeze it, then squeeeeeeze it again hard! The horrid tool of destruction falls to the yielding earth as does the pulped body of the human. I shudder all over as I try to let go of this horrid anger, this unseemly rage that possesses me. It passes, as do the seasons, and I reach out to heal the fir but the damage is too great. I feel the agony as its fluids leak from the rudely hacked trunk and so I gently put it to sleep. This euthanasia I perform is done with total love and surrender, the spirit is sleeping and if the physical tree itself survives this horrible wound, then perhaps the spirit will wake someday.

Deep sorrow fills me as I stride heavily off until I find myself high in the hills, tall boulders all around. I move to a mossy glade next to a trickle of water that issues from a crack in the hill and root myself. I feel my toes stretching down into the Mother, seeking sustenance and salvation. The sun above passes over without regard and time passes as I become One with the Mother again. I dream of the beauty and balance of life here and weep at the rape of nature, evident in stone and cut wood cities that mar the landscape. How many lives were taken to build those monstrous things? How could any sentient being not refrain from the torture? I cannot comprehend, I can only nurture and protect what I know and love.

I do not blame the humans alone. There are plenty of other ravers in this world and I defend the Land against them all. To sense the need and wants of flower and grass. To hear the songs of flower and weed, tree and herb. To listen to the song of the spheres and the resonance of the Mother who had given all of us life. I know there are humans who can feel this balance and have an unusual perception for nature. I witnessed a druid named Lyl summon one of my brethren to protect her. I followed her and saw her love for nature, for all good living things. I saw her fight the evil creatures that care not for twig and stem. That gives me hope of a sorts.

But, I cannot and will not refrain from protecting my flock. I am a shepherd of the forest and always will be.