Three maidens/women/crones sit at their work. They are creating together, spinning, weaving, and cutting. Or so it seems, though if there is a cloth it is unlike anything you are familiar with. Everything about this scene shifts and changes according to unseen whims and circumstances. They even seem to shift amongst themselves changing faces as easily as shuttles and yarn.
Their names swim in and out of your consciousness: Chlotho, Lachesis, Atropos, Laima, Karta, Dekla, Orddu, Orwen, Orgoch, Urdr, Verdani, Skuld and many others. They are the Fates, the Moirai, the Norns, the Wyrd Sisters, the children of Anake, Necessity. They are above the tortured machinations and drives of either men or gods. They are the apportioners of all life and legend. You are wise to approach with cautious awe. As with most children of human kind you assume that they are going to impart some piece of information about your destiny. This may be true in parts, but they are never so direct as to say so. Instead you find yourself the witness to another’s story. Not an individual person, but a greater entity of a unified system. They begin to spin/continue to weave/silence and end the tale of a Forest. You are invited to observe and perhaps take from its destiny a key to yours.
Lost in a Wood of Three Trees
When the Forest was born there was a joyous cacophony of quiet sounds. Plant and animal corpses decomposing into the soil, seeds bursting to follow their mission to seek the sun, rain whispering nourishing encouragement to all who had need of it, while the rocks held congress over which was the best way to become the bones of this new creation.
The cacophony gradually became more structured and soon height and light played different parts in the tune. More life from fungus and lichen to mammals and insects moved in fleshing out the orchestral sounds. As in any wilderness adorned with residents, life and death began to make an appearance as a recurring harmony. Soon some of the residents gave the Forest a nobility, a mystery, and a history of magic and wonder. The forest was amused, and went about it’s business of greening as it had always done. Colors, smells, shadows, and sounds culminating in a great layered symphony of now.
Here we shall leave the Forest, amused and new, before it had time to know the discordant notes of ambition, power, and fear. Just know that all of what was to come began one morning as a quiet cacophony…
Going Through a Forest and Seeing No Firewood
The craftsman went into the woods. The day was bright, the air cool, and the rustles on the forest floor were of his own making, the residents having sought their slumber soon before his arrival.
Eyes touched, searched, and eventually found what was sought. Everything was perfect in their eyes. The height, the girth that would yield strong heartwood, the whorls, knots, and branches that would lend to unique and interesting figuring marks in the wood. Having found the object of desire, the craftsman left a painted mark on it’s bark, and a graphite one on a map.
The craftsman left the woods having an exact idea of what they would create from the wood of the tree, but with very little thought on what the woods would create with the tree’s absence.
The Forest itself marked the passage of the predator shaking silently with deep ancestral memories of axe and blade. The Tree prepared itself by greeting the sun, caressing the wind, and planting it’s memory in the earth.
The Forest Will Answer You in The Way You Call To It
Once the planet was covered in these creatures. They gave us the very substance we need to breathe and be alive. We housed them and others of their kind. We lived in a balance and harmony of exchanged uses and needs. Warmth, shelter, food, and beauty were all shared gifts. It was within their nature and ours; together we flourished.
The balance was damaged when they no longer came to us for what was needed, or even for what was wanted. They hunted us and others we homed to diminish their fears, build their empires, and fight their wars.The day came when through their treatment of us, they destroyed themselves.
There are a few places where we can go to be around them, pockets where they still survive more by accident than design. We go to visit the dream of our wildness. In the dark we can pretend we are still a part of one another…