Shanti - The Keeper Of The Trees

1:00:04

1:00:04

Shanti - The Keeper Of The Trees

by Chrissy Ortner

Rated

4.8

Type

guided

Activity

Meditation

Suitable for

Children

Plays

24.7k

Shanti loves to connect with the forest animals and has learned the secrets of stillness to draw them close. On the night of the two moons, Shanti is called to the forest to learn the secret of the Grandmother tree and how we can all heed her call. A 26min story for relaxation and insomnia fades into gentle music. Chrissy Ortner is a clinical hypnotherapist, storyteller, musician, and lover of forests. It is her wish that we deepen our connection with nature to protect and preserve it for all.

Meet your Teacher

Melbourne, Australia

Meet your Teacher

Melbourne, Australia

Transcript

Welcome. This is your special time to wriggle and then relax. To listen and dream. To wonder and learn how to connect to yourself and all the amazing creatures that live on this beautiful planet. Tonight's story is about Shanti and how she learnt to call all animals to her just by quietening her mind. But first it's time to wriggle yourself into the most comfortable position. Noticing the feel and weight of the covers. Moving your pillow into the most comfortable position so that your neck feels supported and your head is nestled gently and it feels like it's resting on the softest of feathers. You might even like to explore which side feels best to lie on. The left, The right, Lying on your back or lying on your tummy. And whichever feels comforting is the most perfect position for you right now. And it's easy to let all the muscles in your face stretch with the biggest yawn and then relax. Allowing your arms and legs to stretch and relax and noticing how good it feels to let all the muscles in your tummy, Back and hips find the most comfortable position for stillness. And this stillness is very important to how Shanti learnt to call the animals to her and learnt to listen to the trees. And as you find that stillness in your body now, You might find that it feels heavy and warm and comforting. Or perhaps you'll find that it feels light and pleasantly cool. And whatever it is, It's perfect for you. As you listen to Shanti's story, You'll find it easier and easier to drift off into the deepest of sleeps. Knowing how to relax your body and your mind. Finding the perfect position to be comfortable in. And not so long ago, In a very small village, Lived a young girl called Shanti. She was born to the sound of birdsong, The rhythm of music and the feel of the wind through her hair. The oldest had taught her when she was very, Very small, How to sit still in the forest. Breathing slowly, Eyes calm and very still. Listening to all that the forest sang. Smelling the fruits and leaves and flowers. And feeling the gentle beat of her heart. All the birds and animals were curious. What was this strange still creature? And as they came close to her, She remained silent and still. As they crept closer and closer. And until she felt fur or feathers or butterfly wings touching her feet, Her face or her hands. But Shanti couldn't sit still for too long. Her legs longed to run and jump. And her arms ached to stretch and climb into the trees and chatter with the monkeys that swung so high. She loved to screech and laugh from the treetops at the villages far below. And when the nights were warm, Shanti would sneak out of the hut and into the forest that towered over her garden. She'd sit still, Entranced by the sound of the wind through the trees. The insects chirping and the smell of the earth. She would wriggle her toes into the dirt, Digging little furrows. As her eyes grew heavy, Just like yours, She'd stretch herself out. Looking up at distant stars through the branches of trees. Until breath, A slow breath, Her tummy would rise and fall with the sound of the wind. And with each in-breath, She'd pretend she was breathing in the colours of the leaves. All the colours of the seasons. First a deep red colour that warmed her body. Then a beautiful orange that relaxed and calmed her. Gold was Shanti's favourite colour, And she pretended it made her shimmer in the moonlight. And finally all the shades of green that she knew so well. Pretending she was sinking deep into the forest floor, In a huge pile of leaves, Still and silent as the colours flowed in and out with each gentle breath. Warm, Calming and relaxing. And Shanti would yawn and stretch and snuggle down even deeper. Drawing a cotton blanket over her arms and legs. Feeling its weight and relaxing even deeper, Just as you are now. Shanti's mother always knew where to find her. She'd been a child of the forest too. She knew all the calls of the birds and animals. Shanti's mother, Chiraya, Would sing to Shanti each night. Each night was a different song. A song from her heart that combined the sounds of birds, The song of the earth and her deep love for her daughter. Go to sleep beautiful, Go to sleep now, She would sing. And on those warm nights, When Shanti slept to the sounds of the night, Her mother would bundle her up in the blanket, Hold her gently to her chest and creep back to their hut, Barely making a sound. She would lay Shanti down on the softest of beds and she'd continue her singing late into the night. And perhaps you could pretend that you could hear it now, Listening with soft ears, The gentle sounds all around you, Whispering you to sleep just like Shanti. Chiraya would waken before dawn with the first calls of the birds and sing in the sweet rays of sunshine to mark the start of each new day. It's time to rise, Wake up with the birds. And on those beautiful mornings, She'd prepare sweet mango and papaya for breakfast, Shanti's favourite forest fruit. Shanti's father was the keeper of the trees. He was respected in the village for his wisdom and kindness. And each day he took seeds or young saplings out into the forest farm. At the centre of the forest was a clearing and at its centre was the giant banyan tree, Whose branches reached to the edge of the clearing. This is the grandmother tree, The tree of enlightenment, The tree of all knowledge, He'd tell Shanti from when she was still a baby, Cradled in his arms. If you listen long enough, She will tell you the secrets of the world, He would say. Twenty grown-ups, Holding hands, Could just about encircle the banyan tree. Shanti longed to climb high into its big branches, But she knew it was forbidden. The banyan tree was hollow, And the old people would often sit beside it, Singing softly to its leaves. Shanti longed to be able to do this, But she knew she must wait until her father gave his blessing. As the keeper of the trees, Janu looked after the tree, Bringing it water each day in a wooden bucket. The banyan tree was the centre of their world, And few ever ventured beyond it. The night before Shanti turned thirteen, There was a strangeness in the air. The wind whipped the trees, And clouds scuttered past the moon, And the sides of the heart began to tremble. Chiraya pulled her shawl around her tight, And told Shanti to stay inside. Shanti hugged her father tight, And he whispered, It's the night of the two moons. Tonight will bring strong dreams. We must get to sleep before the magic passes. Chiraya let some incense, And its sweet smell filled the heart. The smell of sandalwood, Cinnamon, Cloves and honey. Shanti could feel her mother stroking her face, Soft and gentle. Sleep now, Beautiful. Sleep now, She said. Shanti snuggled down into the comforting warmth of her bed, Stretching and yawning, Just as you are now, Feeling that softness of the pillow on her cheek, And the warmth of her breath in the air. Slow and steady breaths mingling with the sweet smells of incense. You are love. You are sleep. You are love, Chiraya whispered. And Shanti listened to the sound of her breath, The gentle rise and fall of her chest, And the sounds of all the forest creatures rustling nearby. And perhaps it was a dream within a dream, Beneath the magic of those two moons. But Shanti stirred to the whispering of her name. Shanti, Come here. She heard a voice that was somehow silky and smooth, Like water dancing over rocks in a stream. The air was still and cool, And she crept out into the darkness, Wrapping her shawl around her tightly. She startled as an owl flew from the trees, Screeching out at her. And then, She sat and looked at the twin moons. They were amazingly beautiful, Each a perfect crescent facing each other. The owl flew on, And Shanti scrambled around, Trying to find somewhere comfortable to sit. Shanti was bewitched by the two moons. She sat still and calm, Her face turned upward, Marveling at the way the clouds scuttered across the sky, One minute covering a moon and then the other. And as she sat still, Breathing slowly, Just as you are now, She heard a rustling coming towards her. Shanti had learned to trust the sounds of the forest, And as the rustling grew closer and closer, She recognized the smell and sounds of a small monkey. Shanti held out her hand, And was suddenly amazed when she felt its hand in hers. The monkey chattered noisily, And pulled on her fingers. Shanti laughed. But the monkey became even more urgent, Pulling her fingers and chattering, Trying to lead her away. Shanti stood up, And instantly the monkey ran, Bounding over the rocks, Hiding behind trees, Then jumping out and chattering again, As if saying, Follow me, Follow me. And then she heard that soft, Silky voice once more. Come, Shanti, Come. I'm waiting for you. The monkey ran on, And Shanti scrambled over rocks and branches, Stumbling in her haste, As it led her further and further away from the path she'd walked all her life. And in the half-light, She saw the monkey leading her to a rock ledge, Just above her face. Why have you led me here, She wondered. And suddenly she heard the monkey answer in her thoughts, Reach up, Open the chest. Shanti pulled herself up, Twisting vines that clung to the rocks, And when she reached the top of the ledge, She saw a small cave, Just big enough to hide a tiny wooden box. And via the light of those two moons, Shanti lifted the lid. At first she saw nothing, But as she felt inside, Her hands grasped a smooth, Flat stone. She held it up to the moonlight, And saw that it was glowing. In the centre of the stone was a beautiful engraving of the banyan tree, And as Shanti held it, She felt a strange vibration that started in her fingers, Travelled to her heart, And shot down to her feet. The longer she held it, The stronger the feeling became, Until it felt like the ground beneath her began to tremble. It was then that she heard that soft, Silky voice calling her once more, Come Shanti, You must hurry now, It's time. Shanti ran towards the voice, Who are you? She called, Even more curious now. Come quickly, She heard, I'm waiting, It's time. Shanti pushed her way through thick vines and thorny bushes. The voice continued to call her, And at last she found herself standing breathless in the clearing, Before the huge banyan tree. Shanti now realised that the whispering voice was coming from the tree. Welcome, Said the tree, I'm so glad you've come, I've been waiting a long time to talk to you. If you look carefully, You'll find a way to climb up and into the very centre of me. Shanti circled the tree, There was a well worn path around it. She looked up, And thought she could find an opening in between a couple of branches. Climb now, Encouraged the voice, Close your eyes, Let my voice guide you. Shanti reached out, Her hands on the rough bark. The stone in between her fingers glowed even brighter. As she swung herself onto the first branch, She could see that the tree was hollow inside. And as she swung herself down, She realised she was in a huge chamber. The chamber was lit by the moonlight that streamed in from the opening above. Shanti shivered. She reached down and touched the smooth walls of the tree, And was surprised to discover that intricate maize had been eaten into the walls by insects over hundreds of years. Shanti's fingers traced the maize that twisted and turned, And spiralled in on itself. When she finally reached the centre of the maize, Hundreds of fireflies lit up the hollow. The tree whispered, All this well, I have chosen well tonight. Sit down child, Make yourself comfortable. You have been chosen to carry the message. Shanti nestled into a bed of leaves, And as her elders had taught her, Tuned into the beating of her heart, The sounds and smells of the forest, And the comforting warmth of her shawl on her shoulders. And as she closed her eyes, She noticed the sound of wind flowing into the hollow, And out through some of the branches. The wind grew stronger and stronger, Sending the leaves flying around her, And with it came a low rumbling noise, A shrieking and moaning. And with that noise, Through eyes closed tight, Shanti saw the beginning of creation, As if she was floating high above it. The earth turning in space, The movement of sea and land, Mountains and ice, Volcanoes erupting, And islands forming in turquoise seas. And with it came the forests and birds, All the animals and sea creatures spiraling down in a flurry of light, Carried by the sound of the wind. And suddenly the roar of the wind was still, And the leaves settled. Shanti took a slow deep breath. Now, Said the grandmother tree, I must ask you for help. I am old. It is time for my seeds to be carried far and wide, So the forests will be strong, And all earth's creatures will survive. Dig down into the earth at the heart of me. Take all the seeds you can find. They must be planted in places the moonstone leads you to. And you must sing my song into the earth, That they may grow and continue the cycle of creation. Let it flow on the whispering wind to children far and wide, That they may join you as a keeper of the trees. Outside is a branch to the banyan tree, Fallen and hollow. It will continue my song so that all may hear. My song is the earth, The air, Fire, Water and spirit. The sound of creation, Strong and clear, Just like the wind has blown through me. Seeding the seeds of all creation. Now go my child, And blessings upon you, Your love and your kindness, Your infinite wisdom, The love that connects, Beats in your heart. Shanti felt calm and clear. She climbed out of the hollow, And in the clearing before her lay an old branch. It was hollowed out by insects, Water and wind. The branch felt heavy as she carried it over her shoulder and out into the forest. Shanti had with her a pocket full of banyan seeds, And the moonstone was guiding her way. And there in a clearing she planted the first seed by a stream. And guided by the voice of the tree, And the moons above her, The banyan tree sang out the songs of creation into the world. And maybe you'll hear her tonight in your dreams, Playing the songs of creation out across the land. Calling you to the wild places where there's magic and stillness, In the rocks and the hollows and the sounds of the wind. The keepers of trees are dreaming and planting. The keepers of trees are sowing the seeds. And as you rest and dream within dreams, The forests are sharing their wisdom with all who will listen. You too are moon-blessed, You are starlight, You are love and you are light. And each breath will carry you further through the forest, Sowing the seeds, The keeper of trees. And each night as you dream, Connecting to animals, Silent and still, Listening to breath and trees. Silent and still, Listening to the sounds of creation, The sounds in your heart and the sounds all around. For you are starlight and you are love, You are moon-blessed and you are light. And you carry the wisdom of forests in your heart, Sowing the seeds, You are love and you are light.