Hi,
I'm Glenda Cedarleaf.
And tonight's bedtime story.
Is about Earth's magical transformation from winter.
Into spring.
It's about the mystical divine connection that encircles us.
Always.
Through beautiful poetry written long,
Long ago.
Claire is guided by a playful and wise fairy.
Who helps her remember this deep place.
And connection.
So as you get ready for the story.
I invite you to begin settling into your bed.
As you welcome your heart.
Into the sacred space.
Of silence.
Perhaps imagining that you are breathing in the sweetest freshness.
Spring air.
Feeling yourself tasted deep down through your mouth and throat.
Flowing into your body.
Cleansing all that is ready.
To be released.
Exhaling any distractions and tension.
And then once more,
Inhale.
And connect with that renewing,
Life-giving air.
Nourishing and supporting you.
Slowly now,
Another exhale.
Feeling your body begin to let go.
As you wind down.
Wind down.
And relax.
Knowing there is nothing that you have to do.
No place that you have to go and with each full breath Your mind and body can now settle.
Into this restful place.
Where you can simply receive this story.
So let's begin our journey.
Into the beauty of spring.
And the powerful divine connection that gives meaning and perspective.
To the mystery of being a human.
Living in a body.
On planet Earth.
We start with this poetic invitation into spring.
Hungry for spring I bent my head The perfume fanned my face.
And all my soul was dancing in that lovely little place.
There I saw green banks of daffodil.
Slim poplars in the breeze.
And meadows with their glittering streams.
And silver scurrying dance.
Home in nature.
What a perfect place.
And so thick were the blossoms sat.
And so divine the scent.
That all I could be.
Was perfectly.
Content.
Claire's deep hibernation was coming to a close.
As she sensed into an anticipation of springs unfolding.
Just today she could hear spring returning.
With the celebrative song of the birds.
And the rhythmic chorus of the peepers.
New life unfolding all around.
Forsythia bushes were beginning to blossom in their yellow.
Pink and white buds filled the branches of the dogwood and pear trees.
Claire loved knowing that even in the midst of all the unpredictability in the world.
And in her life.
She could trust.
That spring was returning.
As she noticed through the kitchen window the daffodils sprouting up through the ground.
Clear thoughts.
What must it feel like for these bulbs who have been cocooned underground?
To break through the soil.
And open to a whole other world of light.
And warm.
And sky.
Color.
And sound.
Breathe.
And scent.
To see spring.
Unfolding just outside her window.
Was poetry for her soul.
Claire sat at the kitchen table.
Sipped her tea.
And then closed her eyes.
In this quiet space,
She recalled.
Treasured memories of springs from the past.
One of them.
In her mind's eye she could now see herself back in school.
On one of those days when it seemed that everyone had spring fever.
Wanting nothing more.
Than to be outside running free.
It was clear.
That sitting at a desk and studying was not what the spring ferried.
Was calling Claire and her classmates to do.
Like a creative muse,
This spring fairy was calling everyone to come out and play.
To discover and learn about the world outside of the school building.
She remembered like it was yesterday.
Her sense of freedom and excitement.
When she hopped on the bus.
And wrote it all the way to the end of the line.
Where she could walk along the shores of Lake Michigan.
Gaze across the horizon.
Listen to the sound of the lapping waves.
And breathe in the smell of the water.
As Claire sensed into this excitement she found herself now visualizing this muse.
This spring fairy coming to join her.
In watching the unfolding of the season.
And this inspired her to find her poetry notebook.
And search for her favorite quotes about fairies.
And here is what she found and as the seasons come and go here's something you might like to know There are fairies everywhere.
The woods are full of fairies.
The trees are alive.
The river overflows with them.
They are in the air playing games.
Singing through their busy day.
So listen.
Touch.
And look around.
In the air and on the ground.
And if you watch all nature's things.
You might just see a fairy's wing.
Come fairies,
Take me out of this dull world for I would ride with you upon the wind.
And dance upon the mountains like a flame.
Claire was curious and open to this fairy energy.
So even though it was a cool morning,
She decided to walk outside barefoot.
She loved being able to once again feel the contact of her feet with the earth.
As her toes sunk into the soft grass.
Now she was grounded.
And fully present with her body.
And the Earth.
Supporting her.
She stood there for a while just taking it all in.
And then,
The next thing she knew.
.
.
She was headed out to the collared patch.
The fairy had inspired her to lay right down in the middle of the garden's soft dirt.
Claire surprised herself and did just that.
As she lay on the ground.
A sense of calmness filled her heart.
She looked up at the sky.
And saw the birds soaring above her.
The sun's rays warmed her face.
As she breathed in the smell of the moist soil.
And then she turned her face to the collard plant just beside her.
She began to examine its roots.
And then admiring its beautiful dark green voluptuous leaves.
Claire was filled with such thankfulness.
Not only for the beauty of these plants.
But also for how they provided nutrition all through the winter.
For her and her husband.
When she then rolled up onto her knees.
She could see deep into the center of the plant.
And for a moment.
She thought a fairy's face was looking up at her.
Perfectly framed by the collard leaves.
After this delightful immersion in the garden.
Claire decided it was time to rest in her hammock.
So she settled into its coziness.
And began to rhythmically sway back and forth.
Back and forth.
As the birds and peepers serenaded her.
She drifted into the place between awake and asleep.
And in this dreamy state.
The spring fairy did return.
Claire could see her so clearly now.
She had long brown hair that covered her shoulders.
She had pointy ears.
Her dress was made of layers and layers of green leaves.
What a sight to be seen!
And then Claire heard the fairy call her name.
And then motioned for her to come be with her below the magnolia tree.
And there below the tree.
Was a table and chairs.
The table was covered with one of Claire's favorite lace cloth.
On top of the table.
A generous spread of tea and fruit.
And rolls.
Magically appear.
Claire and the fairy sat there together.
They breathed in the fragrance of the moist sweet air.
And then settled into their tea party.
Sipping a very special kind of tea.
Given to Claire.
As a gift from a very special person.
It was a tea made of large dried lotus flowers.
That gracefully unfolded into beautiful blossoms.
As the water rehydrated them.
Sew for several hours Claire and the spring fairies savored the rolls and fruit and tea.
And enjoyed the afternoon sunshine.
And eventually,
The fairy whispered in Claire's ear.
I have a gift for you.
Since you love poetry,
I have gathered even more beautiful writings.
That I would like to share with you.
All of them were written so long ago.
They have timeless wisdom.
And I believe these words will further help you.
Feel renewed connection.
With the divine.
And the hope.
Of spring.
The first piece she read was from the Bible.
The 23rd Psalm rewritten in the Feminine.
By Bobbie McFerrin.
The Lord is my shepherd.
I have all I need.
She makes me lie down in green meadows.
Beside the still waters,
She will lead She restores my soul.
She writes my wrongs.
She leads me in a path of good things and fills my heart with songs.
Even though I walk through a dark and dreary land.
There is nothing that can shake me.
She has said she won't forsake me.
I'm in her hand.
Claire thanked the Fairy for sharing this beautiful reassuring passage of comfort.
And protection.
It reminded her of a dream she had many years ago.
In this dream she was lying on the ground dormant.
As if she was close to death.
An old crone woman appeared and leaned over her body.
The old woman held a huge crystal hanging on a ribbon.
The crystal resembled a large bubble.
As the crystal dangled above Claire's body.
She was healed.
That dream was especially memorable for Claire.
And she often went back to it for reassurance.
For just like the 23rd Psalm.
It was a reminder that she was truly never alone.
And that there was a force beyond her comprehension.
Always there.
Especially during the darkest times when she couldn't see her way through.
The same force.
That enabled those daffodils.
To break through the ground.
And open to a whole new world of beauty.
On the other side.
Claire told the fairy about the dream.
And the fairy smiled.
It was a gentle and knowing smile.
And then,
She went on to read the next poem.
To the coming spring.
Even though winter has clouded your spirit.
Know that I am here.
I now come on airy wing.
With busy fingers spilling baby leaves on all the bushes.
And a faint green down.
On ancient trees.
And everywhere.
My warm breath.
Soft with kisses.
Stirs the wintry air.
Waking us to unimagined blisses.
My lightest footprints in the grass are marked.
By painted crocus flowers.
And heavy-headed daffodils.
While little trees blush faintly as I pass.
The morning and the night I bathe with heavenly showers.
And scatter scentless violets on the rounded hills.
Drop beneath leafless woods,
Pale primrose posies.
With magic key in the new evening light.
I am unlocking buds that keep the roses.
The purple lilac soon will blow above the wall.
And bended boughs and orchards whitely bloom.
I have returned.
To bring you out of winter's gloom.
It was so clear now to Claire that the fairy was a messenger.
There to help her understand.
That this yearning for spring was actually a yearning for reassurance.
Reassurance that spirit was always there.
Guiding her.
During the dark days.
This messenger spring fairy was helping Claire to once again really feel this presence.
As the wondrous splendor of the season of rebirth.
Unfolded.
The fairy was able to sense into this insight that was coming to Claire.
She looked deep into her eyes.
Held both of Claire's hands and said,
Yes,
You are so right.
I am your messenger.
And now I have a poem that is just what you need to hear.
It's called.
All is Spirit and part of me.
All is spirit and part of me.
I am sway of the rolling hill.
And breath from the great wide plains.
I am born of a thousand storms.
And grow with the rushing rain.
I have stood with the age-long rock and flowered with the meadow sweet.
I have fought with the wind-worn furs.
And bent with the ripening wheat.
I have watched with the solemn cloud.
And dreamt with the moorland pools.
I have raced with the water's whirl.
And laying where their tool mold cools.
I have risen with cold grey dawn.
And flamed in the dying day.
For all is spirit and part of me.
And greater lover none can be.
Tears now rolled down Claire's cheeks.
As she felt Spirit's presence deep within her.
The illusion of separation had once again dissipated.
She was in this moment.
Present with an awe-inspiring recognition.
Of tea.
Love.
Celebrating a sense of oneness with herself.
With the fairy.
And most of all with Spirit's powerful protection.
The spring fairy silently pointed to another book.
This one was large and embossed.
Its pages had become yellow and a bit dry.
The title of this book was written in a large ornate script.
It was called.
Gitanjali The fairy asked Claire if she'd like to hear this final reading for the day.
Explaining that this piece would be the longest.
And also the deepest.
She smiled and whispered,
It's a beautiful love poem.
To the Divine Spirit.
And even if you fall asleep while I read to you.
All the beautiful words.
Will still speak to you.
In your sleeping mind and heart.
Way deep inside.
Claire knew then without a doubt she was meant to hear these words.
So she eagerly nodded her head.
And then settled into her chair.
To await the voice.
Of the spring fairy.
And I know this is nothing.
But your love,
Oh,
Beloved of my heart.
This golden light that dances upon the leaves these idle clouds sailing across the sky.
This passing breeze.
Leaving its coolness upon my forehead.
The morning light has flooded my eyes.
This is your message to my heart.
Your face is bent from above.
Your eyes look down on my eyes.
And my heart has touched your feet.
The same stream of life that runs through my veins.
Night and day.
Runs through the world.
And dances in rhythmic measures.
It is the same life that moves in joy.
Through the dust of the earth and numberless blades of grass.
And breaks into tumultuous waves.
Of leaves.
And flowers.
It is the same life that is rocked.
In the ocean cradle.
Of birth.
And of death.
In ebb and in flow.
I feel my limbs are made glorious by the touch of this world of life.
And my pride is from the life throb of ages.
Dancing in my blood this moment.
Seasons come dancing.
And pass away.
Colors.
Tombs and perfumes pour.
In endless cascades.
In the abounding joy.
That scatters and gives up.
And dies every moment.
I was not aware of the moment.
When I first crossed the threshold of this life.
What was the power that made me open out into this vast mystery?
Like a bud in the forest at midnight.
When in the morning I looked upon the light,
I felt in a moment.
That I was no stranger in this world.
And that the inscrutable without name and form.
Had taken me in its arms.
In the form of my own mother.
So let all the strains of joy mingle in my last song.
The joy that makes the earth.
Flow over in the riotous excess.
Of the grasp.
The joy that sets the twin brothers life and death.
Dancing over the wide world.
The joy that sweeps in with the tempest.
Shaking and waking all life.
With laughter.
The joy that sits still.
With its tears.
On the open red lotus of pain.
And the joy that throws everything.
It has upon the dust.
And knows not a word.
Let this be my parting word.
That what I have seen is unsurpassable.
I have tasted of the hidden honey of this lotus.
That expands on the ocean of light.
And thus,
I am blessed.
Let this be my parting word.
In this playhouse of infinite forms.
I have had my play.
And here have I caught sight of the formless.
My whole body and my limbs have thrilled with this touch who is beyond touch.
And if the end comes here,
Let it come.
Let this be my parting word.
I dive down into the depth of the ocean of forms.
Hoping to gain the perfect pearl of the formless.
No more sailing from harbor to harbor with my weather beaten boat.
The days are long past when my sport was to be tossed on waves.
Now I am eager to die into the deathless.
Where I shall take this harp of my life.
I shall tune it.
To the notes of forever.
And when it has sobbed out its last utterance.
Lay down my silent harp.
At the feet.
Of the silent.
The spring fairy now closed the book.
And together she and Claire sat in silence.
Claire was at peace.
She thanked the fairy for being her spring messenger of hope.
The fairy smiled.
And shared this final quote from LM Montgomery.
The world calls them its singers and poets.
And artists.
And storytellers.
But they are just people who have never forgotten the way.
To Fairyland.
And with those words.
The spring fairy waved goodbye to Claire.
Until next time,
She said.
And Claire knew that she could trust.
That the spring fairy would indeed return.
Claire went back out to her hammock.
Serenaded by the lullaby of the peepers.
Breathed in the sweet spring air.
Feeling at peace knowing that Fairyland was all around her.
Made glorious by the touch of this world of life.
As its golden light danced upon the leaves.
While clouds sailed across the sky.
And the passing breeze cooled her forehead.
And that is the end of our story.
And I wish you more and more precious moments of connection.
With the beauty of spring.
The message.
Of the fairies.
And the divine spirit that resurrects us back.
Into hope.
And healing.
And I wish you now sweet dreams.
Good night.
