Rising Earth Creation Myths
Shamanic  Fairy  Tales

from   The  Goddess   Who   Dove

Creation Goddess closed her eyes.
She embraced the jewel of her being.
The jewel of her pure, breathing being.
I love you, the Goddess said, to the jewel of breath,
and she felt her breath awaken and come alive.

Her breath rose and fell like the waves of the Sea.
The Goddess fell in love with
the jewel of her pure, breathing being.
She sat upon the crystal, breathing deeply.
Falling deeper and deeper in love with the jewel of breath.

As Creation Goddess fell
deeper and deeper in love with the jewel of breath,
she began to see the colors inside herself.
I love you, the Goddess said, to the jewel of seeing,
and she saw the colors awaken and come alive.
They were the colors 0f Sky, the colors of Sun, the colors of Moon,
the colors of Stars, the colors of Earth, the colors of Sea,
the colors of the jewels of her being.
The Goddess fell in love with
the jewel of her pure, seeing being.
She sat upon the crystal, seeing the colors inside.
Falling deeper and deeper in love with the jewel of seeing

from  The   Weaver and the  Fairies

After showering the Weaver with its blossoms, the golden tree became still. The Weaver stood under the tree enveloped in the fragrance of the golden flowers. The golden tree began to sing. At the end of its song, which was filled with messages, the tree told her, “Now that it is time for the door between fairy and villager world to be opened, you will go on a journey. Always remember you have the blessings of Gaia, the blessings of Sea, the blessings of Sky, Sun, Moon, Planets and Stars!”

The Weaver sang softly to the tree, “I love you. Thank you. I have received all you have told me and more.” She gently touched the golden loom covered in flowers. She put on her blue cloak and went into her garden. The sky was the color of dusk, though it was still morning. A cold wind blew from the village. She looked into the Forest with longing eyes, wishing she could see the fairies. The Weaver called to the Doves, and they came to her. She spoke to them in low, tender tones, and then, they flew off.

She began walking to the fields. As she neared the fields she saw all the villagers. This is strange, she thought. Why is everyone here, even the children? They seemed to be picking things from the fields.  As she got closer the Weaver saw that what they were picking were actually jewels….

from  The  Bird   Who   Dreamed

One day, the Bird was listening to the silence filling the cave, when she heard a beautiful sound. Then, she heard another… and another… and another, till the cave was filled with beautiful sounds. The beautiful sounds came so close, she could feel them breathing upon her. She could see their sparkling light. Softly, they caressed her wings. They told the Bird, “Through your listening, you have called the song of the beautiful sounds to you.” The Bird plucked one of the feathers from her breast, to touch the beautiful sounds. But as she reached with the feather, the feather fell from her, and drifted into the shadows of the cave. And the beautiful sounds drew back.

From that day on, though the Bird lay on the floor of the cave, dreaming and listening to the song of the beautiful sounds, falling more and more in love, longing to be filled with the song of the beautiful sounds, she felt more and more separate. There was a darkness now, between her and the beautiful song. The Bird whispered to the song of the beautiful sounds, “My voice is not beautiful like yours. I cannot sing. What can I do? What can I do to be filled with the beautiful sounds? What can I do to sing the beautiful song?” The song of the beautiful sounds was silent.

But one day, one of the Bird’s feathers fell from her, and shone like white fire on the ground. It brightened the cave, and for the first time the Bird opened her eyes. She saw an opening in the cave, a door. The Bird rose. She walked across the cave and through the opening. She found a spiraling path and began to follow it, upwards through the mountain

from    Awakening of the  River  People 

All at once, Siphilmire was embraced by a lush realm of fertile, sensual, darkness, a humming aliveness of fertile, growing things. A stream of wild, magnificent, fragrance flowed to her deliciously.  When her eyes accustomed themselves to the forest and she could see, she looked up. She saw the trees holding in their highest branches, orb-like flames, like dancers carrying candles lit by the moon and stars. She saw reflections from these flames flickering in the lower branches and the trunks of the trees. As she felt the waves of her breath rising through her feet, she looked down and saw, a color she’d never seen. The color, magenta. It glowed at the bottom of the trees, like an emanation.

As she looked, this magenta color flooded her hips and for a moment she shook, sensing the rushing of breath rising in waves from the roots of the trees. The trees were softly, gently undulating. The forest was dancing in ecstasy as it breathed. The trees were making love with these flames. The woman wanted to dance with the trees. She wanted to dance with the flames. The  secret and hidden dreams within her heart beat fast. The radiant seeds within her womb trembled. Her feet pulsed. She would find the source of the stream of wild, magnificent fragrance flowing through this lush realm of fertile, sensual, darkness, this aliveness of fertile, growing things. Though she nor any of the River People had ever been in a forest before…though she was surrounded by a gathering of great unknown beings….Siphilmire felt strangely at home.

She felt the forest wanting to dance with her. Had she unleashed a particular set of steps inside the forest, when she’d awoken tonight, bathed in the light of the moon and stars, beside her beloved? This night when she’d awoken and her heart had spoken, and she’d said yes!

“Yes!” she said, sighing in pleasure, her feet humming with the immense, mysterious forest earth and she began following its path.