This is a story I do not often share. It was born through contradictions, light and dark polarity and poppies, tears and stars. Sometimes a scar carves you a new story. Sometimes the path to ecstasy is through hell. All I know, is it took time to return.
Despite it happening waaaay back in 2002/2003, the scar of it unmade parts of me, which were composted. new seeds were sown, both the wild ones and the cultivated ones.
Apples are a blessing, and sometimes a curse, and depending on which side of the story one stands on, there can be freedom, poison, rotten cores or truth in them. Sometimes they cause us to fall in the very best or the very worst ways. I am grateful for apples, the color red, Wolves and girls wearing red capes.
Red poppies and red Oak trees.
Sometimes a story pulls you down and under and swallows you whole.
This story has trouble being told on its own because it pings to so many other stories. It has a lot of skin, muscle, flesh and hidden crevices. It also has a lot of teeth.
Some stories are magical realist in nature. This story really has a quality of magic and that of the otherworld. And it has its share of human vulnerability, human pain, human suffering and human awakening.
It is one of 3 bigger than life stories that I have danced with. It connects to the other two stories indirectly and in a more non linear way, which perhaps, is why to tell it, would require a diving even further into the past. it pings to something even more mysterious and dark, bloodline and storyline and memory line. We might think that we are seasoned only by the most recent ancestral stories that we can remember. But there are other stories that have traveled under the soil and penetrated into deeper layers of earth and mnemomic and chthonic memories. We are a living breathing nesting doll of stories. Crack one open and others say hello. I am here too.
All this to say, once upon a time and not quite here and not quite there, there was a girl woman who accidentally found herself in the realm of the Fae.
Much by chance. Much through the crisis of initiation.