UA-52565790-16 Forest Folk - Saga Kraft

Episode 16

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Published on:

25th Nov 2020

Forest Folk

Welcome to Saga Kraft: myths, fairytales, legends stories, comfort us, inspire us and heal us. Please join us. As we share stories, both old and new, more than anything, we are open to the story and it's unfolding at times. It may be one story told by one person at times it's the same story told through three different voices.

In the end, we go where the story takes us and we invite you to follow. I'm Sea, a writer, artist, and storyteller. I'm Betsy, a medium and teacher of mystery traditions. I'm Gabriella, an artist and practitioner of folk magic. We are magical bear in training today. We're talking about green people and forest spirits.

This is Betsy, and I definitely want to. Invite and invoke and evoke the green man, the green God himself with gratitude. And I want to thank all of the spirits that support this God also. And I'm grateful for the week that I spent with this God and I invite saga to be present as well. And thank you for these stories.

And this is Gabriela. And I would like to invite the spirit of the old way, send the spirit of the wild and the blessings of the wild and to forest and the trees and for the balance and the nurturing that came with those times. And even though we may feel disconnected from those times, I think we can bring them through in our stories and in our devotions.

So I'm very grateful to have also spent it. A week with the being that I'll be speaking about. And I give thanks to that being and to other beings from this land. And I give thanks to saga and the two other storytellers I'm with today, this was C and I would like to thank everyone and, uh, really appreciate and dedicate this to.

Relationship all of our relationships with one another, maybe globally be well even more than globally. Can they wait, cosmologically be in perfect right. Relationship compassionately treating one another.

So, um, my story is about the green man and the location of the stories in some unspecified. Kind of Celtic British or Britannic proton landscape, the small family of three left their village just after first light, neatly dressed. Two of them were carrying maiden baskets. The third held the hands of the older two.

They maintained a presence of decorum walking at a measured pace nodding to other early rising villagers as they made their way along the single track road heading towards the forest. All of them were silent as they passed the graveyard in the early morning, gray shadow nearby. The first rays of the rising sun lit the equal armed cross on a pedestal in the church yard.

Spinning light rays in all directions. The young man looked at his partner, Ellen in the suddenly vivid light with a flicker of anxiety. She smiled reassuringly and said, it's a blessing in audit and then smiled at the small girl between them as she took a couple of skipping steps at the word blessing.

Nearing the end of the village out on the open road, they were completely illuminated in sunlight. They Quicken their pace. I had lay the smaller road that led into the great forest is fast track. The forest had been a source of life for the villagers, for the entire lifespan of the village. It provided would have many kinds for furniture and homes as well as firewood and charcoal.

Hunters found game animals, birds, and even river fish in the forest. Why is Vogue like Ellen went to the forest for several reasons, including plants from medicinal and culinary purposes. So nominally Christian, for some time, Ellen went to the forest to honor the green man of the forest as her ancestors had done for centuries.

She thought of the green man is one of her ancestors for that matter as had her mother before her, until lately the village had kept its connection to the old ways and customs long held in this part of the world. The advance of Christianity was changing. That belting fires were still that in many areas, but fewer belting babies were born.

Nine months later, Ellen herself was one of these children. It was not a secret. Her daughter Sotia was also a child of Belton, but this was a secret. Her generous and kindly new husband UN had agreed to claim Sasha as his own child from previous visit to the village. He was returned to the village. Years later, had reunited them and made an honest woman of her.

The villagers said it gladly claimed both wife and daughter, this visit into the great and ancient wood was one of Thanksgiving for the scenario. Ellen had explained to him that it was no villager that had impregnated her, but the green God himself, she told him this before she wed him, giving him a chance to back out her mother, the wisest stuff, the wise folk had looked you in the eye and said, this is our way.

This is absolutely true. And for us, it is a blessing. It was well past bell belting. They walked for some hours, going from sparkling early summer sunlight to send Apple trees to shade, the voids, they loosen the ties and fastenings of their clothing letting down their hair and becoming freer and more relaxed.

All of them felt the changes around them as they moved deeper into the forest. Bird sounds, lessons, leaves, rustled, and branches move slightly. The light changed and changed again. Helen began to speak out loud to small folk who were unseen, but becoming more obvious in their own ways were coming to him with thanks.

We wish to enter the sacred Grove. We bring all of you offerings. Let us enter please. It's Ellen soar, Shah, and UN prayed silently for some time holding firmly to both you and on her daughter sorta felt fluttering in her heart and in her tummy. She had begun to notice the changes. As soon as she entered the forest, this was her first time to be so deep in the bast woods, the light was changing all around her, becoming a deep and water agreeing she could hear her heart drumming in her ears and felt it beating in her chest.

As she gazed around, she could feel her eyes sliding sideways, or was it the forest that had just moved sideways? Her mother heaped, a great sign and letting go of each of them, give them a little push forward. We're allowed to enter. Do you accepting, but nervous surprise a path appear that wound around a little pool that he knew had not been there a moment before the water bubble, gently smooth rocks minded.

And before he knew it, he was kneeling like the others as they wash faces, hands and hearts. Ellen drew out a bundle wrapped in cloth and removed a little cake from it. She placed this on one of the rocks by the pool with Def precision and a murmur prayer. Don't look in the pool too long. She said to them, you might see something.

If you do you and lifted his case, Sosa's eyes widened. She had seen something. Her mother gave a little shake of her head, gesturing her to go forwards. C'mon she said. They walked three times around the little pool and continued on the path, going deeper into the woods. Do you feel started Ewing? Yes. Set Ellen quickly cutting him off.

She inclined her head Sorscher with a little shake feel. What said sore? HSA. I feel fluttery. We do to set her mother, but she and UN felt was a bit different than that. Desire stirred sharply in them. Elon's cheeks became Rosie and UN's face began to show a little bit of the strain as he concentrated on walking path forward.

Sasha slippery from them. Skipping ahead on the path, Ellen, and you and wrap their arms around each other. Is this the God whispered you in? Yes, this is his gift. Eventually they entered a Glade in the wood. Nothing was manmade here to indicate a place of holiness. The living plants and trees in the Glade woke together a feeling of Hallows and peace.

The Glade was empty, but not empty. It was hard to tell if something had just happened here or was about to Ellen felt the twin powers of love and lust as an almost anguish. So piercing where they in her core. Sasha. I'm going to put out this rug for you to sit on and this basket holds the picnic lunch for you to enjoy your new Papa.

And I are going into the wood together, stay here and don't wander. We'll be in earshot of you if you call and we won't be gone long, she kissed Sotia on the head. She pulled you in and a blanket with her further into the forest steps and eventually into a shady Bauer together. They knelt. And then lay on the ground, branches rustled around them and stone sank into the earth would need them to give them a soft bed in the Glade social began to set out her lunch.

She looked around and went to a plant nearby with big glossy leaves. She made a little curtsy to it. As she had been taught. May I have a few of your leaves, please? I'll use them as dishes. The plant leaves released and felt easily into her hands. She gasped and then smiled many thanks and blessings for sharing your goodness.

She took the leaves, setting them on a pattern on the rug and set out some bread and cheese. One of these places is for you. My green God. She called out, come and join me. She pulled a jug from a basket and Uncorked it pouring a little meat into small cups. Me to mellow your heart and fill it with song.

She plays berries out red for the blood of all life ritual words, spoken ritual response. I will little Sotia. The voice was deep and mellow and a bit agent sounding the green God appeared before her looming over her small form and then seeming to learn less. So. He was the deep green of forest with the Oak and Tanya Browns of wood.

His hair was curling and wild as was the look in one of his golden eyes has other Iowa's serene and glowing like liquid honey. He was tall and well-made those spare and how to skin a little light leather. This is a feast. He said, my mother and I made it for you. Her eyes Shaw. Um, it seemed the most natural thing in the world for him to appear and to share this meal for you with thanks for my new Papa and for the goodness that life has brought to us with your help.

As he sat with her, the little blanket group, big enough to accommodate him, he took the cup of need, which first looked quite little in his large ham and then seemed to be just right. He drying. His eyes they're golden. And he smiled at the child. Plus at me, it is a valuable gift. He ate the berries from the green leaf is curling hair waved as leaves and vines of different types grew out of his wild Maine.

As he ate the bread and cheese, the products of good farming blended with green prosperity. As flesh grew young and supple looking the oaky wooden colors shifted to a light. Clearer green, your love renews me, my daughter and your company delights. He reached into his green robes and drew out a glistening golden object.

It was an Oak leaf, broach, cunningly, and lovingly shaped. He pinned it onto her dress at the shoulder and then took her little hand. She felt the humming of his blood. Through her hand, she was aware of the forest floor, the sky beyond the canopy of trees and always the green. She saw the seasons unfold spring to summer, summer to autumn thrifting and dying leaves of autumn to winter, the ice and cold bareness of winter, making it slow way to spring.

Again, she saw the tireless service of this God in his births, deaths and rebirths. She felt total trust that continued to eat and to talk though, she did not later remember much of what they spoke about. What she did remember was that she began to see images and stories of girls like her and women like her mother, many girls, many women, some boys, some men, and always the green God, this family of his one after another.

Aging and dying and his descent with them into the earth only to rise again. She saw his sadness and his Joyce and his total trust. It seemed like it was an age that they spent together. It seemed like it was quite a moment. She knew that she had been one of those little girls, one of those women, again and again.

She knew that just as he was about in service. So was she, the sun had barely moved in the sky before Ellen and UN Rebecca relaxed and soft faced from love. The shaded green Bower had held them and provided them a privacy outside of time. They stepped from that space back into the Glade and saw him. You, his eyes grew big at the side of the green God in all his levy splendor come and meet him.

My love said Ellen, they stepped into the clearing and bowed low before the God. The God looked on them kindly as Ellen introduced her husband, be welcomed to my family, said the God, and then gesturing to Soraya. He said she has renewed me. Whatever this life holds for her prosperity is hers and yours.

Dear Ellen at one, and the same time, all but you and raised their hands and made a sign of the circle in the air. So it is, and so it always up

and now they'll hear from seeing. It all began with the seed, a small thing that holds infinite power. My great-grandmother had a name. It has long since been forgotten, replaced by a thousand monitors. My grandmother had a name, it washed away suspended in drops of eternity. My mother had a name. It sunk into the earth echoed in ancient caves.

I have a name for now. My great-grandmother lived in eon alone, dreaming of her mother's heartbeat, contracting, expanding, circulating undisturbed until one day. When a butterfly on a planet whose name cannot be spoken in a human voice, flapped her wings and seated this world. And my great-grandmother held space.

So my grandmother could ascend. She earned her place at the eternal table. My grandmother exuded raw power tossing and turning her dream lucid when limitless options for all creation. Until one day when one grain of sand fell in love with another, and they built a life together and my grandmother held space.

So my mother could ascend. She earned her place at the eternal table. My mother stood still having awakened. She lived her life as an ascetic, quiet and strong, solid earth in a storm until one day. When a fallen star lit up, her world penetrating her unmoving ground and the globe shook with their union and my mother held space.

So I could ascend, she earned her place at the eternal table, my downs with my sisters alive and engaged. I thought myself past sleep past dreams connected. Until one day when two flowers tumbled together, spinning and twirling as they fell and they vowed to remain in freedom and relationship moving around the domain, untethered and I held space.

So you could ascend. I have earned my place at the eternal table. Life is not a given a birthright or a destination. Life is the reception of the unexpected and embracing of the same so that a new world can be born. And when it is, you must move over. You must hold space. So your children can ascend you too.

Must earn your place at the eternal table. It will begin with the seed, a small thing, a thing that holds infinite power. That was one

once upon a time, there was a void and every day, this void would ebb and flow dreaming of its mother's heartbeat until one day, when a butterfly on a planet whose name cannot be spoken in a human voice, flapped her wings and seeded this world. Because of that, the tides began to roll and mountains began to ascend as the internal fire of earth burst forth because of that forest screw to their current expression, where we birthed the liminal is one of whom made his way through the mirror.

And on that day, humans learned to deny death, deny life afraid of the being who can only be seen from the corners of their eyes. But one day, one day soon, another seed will grow and next Gabriela, thank you both for such beautiful stories. My story is about an old forest in Poland, where some of the oldest forests of the world still roam.

This is his story. I do not know who first came into being me or this forest. I can not remember existing outside of it, nor can I imagine not feeling every sound, creature or tree that gave the forest life. I have been known by many names, even though I come from a time long before naming, I come from a time when everything was connected.

Hundreds of voices blending together to form one song. Even humans were as much part of the song as any other bird or tree, but this is a story of another world long gone from a more recent memory that humans could enter my forest feared and respected me wise. Women intently listening to my whispers would come together, healing and poisonous plants for their remedies.

Hunters and gatherers brought me offerings in exchange for a successful hunt, bountiful, Berry harvest, or protection from wild beasts. If they lost their path. And tonight they knew me as the terror or the great blessing, the story of gifts. And we lived in harmony for centuries, centuries, past that people changed.

They didn't know, always bring me offerings and their demands grew higher and more driven by greed than hunger. They stopped fearing me. They brought a new priest who claimed to dominate over nature and cut down ancient blessing trees and contaminated healing, streams, fools. They thought they could take from me as they pleased without honor or understanding of balance.

So I hid the beast from them. I covered patches of berries and mushrooms from their reach and infested all paths with Hornets and pests to keep them from returning. And this was a welcome departure. Our relationship was no longer in balance. The names they called me changed. Also, I did not care for these new names for, they did not match the truth of my being or my power, but that is the cycle of the old and the new one dissolves to contain the other.

And as people's beliefs changed, my power also shifted to respond to a different rhythm. An older, deeper presence where I could safely reside. I was able to retrieve deeply into the overgrown forest cooling and creeks and ageless Moss blending with my lush surroundings. I disappeared for years and years falling into a blissful slumber.

Oh, how I love to sleep. One day I was awakened by a most piercing high-pitched scream. It was a dangerous scream. An impending death cry. Alarming me to rattle the trees and roll the earth and response only a human could make such a sound. And I would only hear it. If the impending death was met with an equal force to resist it and called a higher forces of nature and destiny to challenge the sentence.

I extended my gaze to show me all parts of the wood, to share with me the birds and what they were seeing and where the source of the cry was. I saw human child, a girl. She was crouched down in a clearing, covering something even smaller than herself. While a pack of young wolves surrounded her greedily.

I focused on my census on the situation until it was clear. The girl was holding onto a small Brown rabbit. It's heart beating wildly in her protective grasp. The wolves were not hungry, but bored and enticed by the smell of fear from a human. A creature they have never seen before, and I couldn't blame them, but because devouring, this child was not part of keeping them fed or alive.

I was well within reason to intervene with one swoop of my will. I drove a powerful wind to move one of the biggest branches into the clearing to swing wildly over the pack. This Helling wind was so loud and sudden that it scattered dozens of birds across the sky. Darkening it for a brief moment. The Wolf's ears perked up.

They stopped their advancing the child immediately. The pack leader, sensing my presence and my intention abandoned his feral pursuit and left the clearing quickly. And his brothers followed the girl watched wide-eyed. She didn't pass out from fright at the horrific sound I made, she released her hold on the Brown rabbit and set him down on the grass.

The creature didn't take any time, acknowledging its protector and darted for the bushes. The girls stood up. She can dirt off her skirt and rubbing a scraped elbow. She looked around slowly and then with a severe stillness, she listened becoming one with the air rounder, almost a blending, an entirely I couldn't help but pay attention.

She was most intriguing. And as I paid attention to more solid, I became maybe even visible to some eyes. And this little thing had the uncanny ability to gaze and see in between and was looking right at me, even though she had no idea what she was saying. I wondered which one of my shifting shapes she would settle on a massive tree with a face, a horned beast on two legs, or maybe a tall, hairy man with red, glowing eyes.

However, I appeared to her, she was not afraid master of the wood less shit. My great-grandfather told me about you. She talked one of her scalp knees behind the other and bowed her head. Thank you for protecting me from the wolves. You surely saved my life and that of the rabbit. It's been a long time.

Since somebody has uttered one of my older names, she reached into the pocket over apron and took out a small round honey cake. She held it out in front of her with very stained hands. That's all I have. I hope it's an acceptable gift. She stood there looking hopeful and slightly uncertain of what should happen next.

After a long while she laid the cake down on the ground, turned around and ran off rather quickly there, it was soft, white, sweet smelling honey cake. It's been an even longer time since I have been given an offering. This might change things slightly and most inconveniently since I have given up on humans, hopefully since this one was so small, she wouldn't really count.

She would surely forget about this adventure and grow to an age when reason would blur this memory of me forever from her mind. But as part of me feared, she was back the next day. She brought more cakes this time. The thing about offerings is if given freely with no expectation or less the result, they mean relationship.

They mean the heart of exchange. She didn't ask anything of me. She came here because she loved my wild wooden path and felt safe under the thick arches of the forest canopy. She would fall asleep on the Moss nestled between the thick roots of one of the blessing trees. That's still remained by my own protection.

I was mesmerized by this insignificant, frail little creature becoming more and more accustomed to human form. I could enter her dreams, her thoughts since she loved the wild forest berries, I would show her where the best patches grew or where to spot a family of deer grazing peacefully. So she could watch.

But you didn't come here for the berries or the deer watching alone. She came here because she was lonely and felt so strange outside of my forest. I didn't understand that distant world. She showed me in her dreams, but I could sense that she didn't really feel comfortable there nor did she belong in it.

I began to show her more things of my world and the hidden secrets of its power. She often cried and response to what I showed her. Which were impressions memories of how my world was long ago when everything was connected, she cried because she longed for this connection and oneness. She cried because she knew she would be forever changed by the weight of this wisdom.

And there was no going back. Also, she wept for the trees that were cut and the streams that have dried up after contamination. I could not feel the sorrow myself. I was outside of emotion, but somehow a part of me softened at the sadness. She held on my behalf. And when I softened, I realized that she and I longed for each other and the dreaming forest I recruited to called her summoned her.

I summoned her with the same song that kept me in my slumber. Many years went by and the girl grew up. But never forgot me or my forest. Her visits became fewer as she got older, but I knew it was not of her doing, but the world she came from and its necessary demands. She always came back after some time.

And one of those times she arrived with a smaller human child, even smaller than she was when we first met. As soon as the small one could talk, she called me by one of my old names. If I could feel joy, I possibly would. But instead I started sharing with the small one, just like I shared with her mother, all the forest memories and wisdom.

I knew I shared because they knew how to listen.

Both of yours were lovely as was fourth, but they were all lovely. Thank you. I loved again, the interweaving between all of them too. The most fascinating thing to me, I have to say was this week I had a burning need to make honey cake for the first time in my life and had to make do it as an offering.

It's kind of terrible. My first attempt at honey cake. All you have to do is say that it's the most beautiful, wonderful cake you've ever made an offer it. On that load. I was walking in the woods today and a shaft of sunlight caught a little Brown bunny who was eating green things on the edge of the forest.

So I remember thinking, Oh, what a perfect picture, what a perfect image. And here's the story about that, buddy? Yeah, that bunny was, was, uh, was like the butterfly and the seed and the rainbow circle. Once again, I'm, I'm beginning to be less and less surprised at how we see and hear these stories that are and how the connected they are.

And I believe she even said something about relationship and the earlier prayer about exchange and relationship and all of that was here today. And that sense of the path of evolution also, and my sense of the green man and your story and Gabriela and mine of being in a transition time or having just been through a transition time and what that being, how that being would face a transition.

But also what shifts in them when people come and remember the old ways as well. So that was, that was really beautiful. And the way that you described it in your story, I feel the same way about your story, Betsy and the connection and the remembrance, and regardless of, of time and what religion takes over, there's a certain rhythm and a certain song.

And some people. That can never be stifled because it's that seed and it's the seed. And it's the earning of the seat at the eternal table that I feel like you see where we're talking about as well, which honors both the old and the new. And that some kind of action is what also, not just a consciousness, but action involved with consciousness allows us that seat at the eternal table as well.

Yeah. Yeah. All of them having so much devotion in them, just the idea of devotion and relationship. It was lovely. And I'm struck by the trust of the little girls in the more extended story of accepting what's happening. Um, but also in knowing in a way, their place in the story as well, and how to converse with a God.

I wish that I had been taught as a child. How to converse with a God. Don't you think you were though? I feel like, I think we all were, we must have, we must have heard the song or we wouldn't really care to write these stories. And I don't know, for me writing these stories just moves me into such a place of resonance and, and love of all that's remained.

Yeah, I feel like we all had, we got the memo. I felt like both yours were so beautiful the way they worked perfectly together. It's almost like it was the same scene from different times or a different land, but the forest spirit was there. There was a forest spirit of everyone. So I mean, one of the things that I found fascinating.

In listening to both of yours and in spending the week and finding what aspect of the story that the green God wanted me to share. That sense of who has gone before and how they contribute to what unfolds now. And that was a powerful observation for me to be aware of. So if it's true that I was like that little girl, then somebody.

Helped me with that. Somebody in earlier generations set me up for that as I would hope for each listener, that they would have somebody in their lineage who helped to set them up for this as well, to be able to just converse equally with a God and to share their lunch. That's really beautiful. That is beautiful.

It also strikes me when you say that about her being left alone in the field. And how people who have been left alone in the field are more likely to actually converse with the God or how loneliness can bring on that inspiration to talk to the great outside the great would the path you're on, how not belonging to one place will open up the door and a pathway to that other place that these people are probably more acquainted with.

Anyway. And if they were comfortable in a different world, this one wouldn't be as enticing or soothing to them. So I feel like it's that element as well. Once there is that lack of connection from nature and from balance from offering and sacredness that's well put, and I am also thinking about how in.

In your story, those God, or the spirit of the wood warmed up to the girl as even though he didn't really necessarily want to. And I think there's so much truth in that, but it occurs to me of what it would be like to find the gods of the elements that were the most related to, or the part of the world that were the most connected to, and to.

Revive communication with them and to bring them perhaps reluctantly, but nevertheless, to bring them to the table in this time, when so many of us are hoping to help support nature and the environment to these little girls, I think have a lot of wisdom for us. I think that's beautiful and fabulous.

Thank you. I tell you, I don't want to run out and do that now. You have the honey cake. Exactly. A good honey cake can go a long ways and see, what was it like for you to think about the seat of the eternal table? I just love that those words are so empowering. Some beautiful. I don't, no, that's just what kept coming to me.

So I think I just want to use the first bit. I didn't know, I thought one, but not the other, but didn't know which one. So it was strange to me that, yeah, the same imagery just coming back. I liked them both together. Honestly, I feel the same, I think because we're getting to see these different glimpses and to have four, instead of three glimpses, one voice different, you know, three voices, different glimpses, sometimes more than one.

Well in this hot end of July, early August, I feel like spending a week with the green man cooled me down a lot. And your green men was very sexy. I have to say, yes, I'd love to be left alone with him in the field that he time. Well, I mean, on that note, it was interesting to see that she was his daughter, but she could very well have become his lover too.

And the absolutely sense of normality that, that held for her, for her mother and her grandmother and et cetera, it definitely felt natural for that to be on the menu at some point down the road. And not weird, at least not from my perspective. And also, you know, I imagine even on an energetic level that keeping the blood lines topped up, like that kept a connect, you know, a connection with people who allowed the green man to have, or the green God to have a connection with people at that higher level of communication, because they were literally part of him.

Yeah. I can really say that. Oh, Oh, that would be advantageous. It becomes less about family and how we understand family and more about lineage, connection and magic, which is in a different spectrum altogether. Well, and interestingly enough, and this story in your story about, see the green man didn't really have any part in raising the children.

So he becomes that divine intervention, the divine seed that maintains the magic, maintains the connection to the wild and to nature and maintains that best where human man comes in to be the father. So even that is a wonderful way of, of looking at that. Um, and to have that extended sense of family. And to know that the true patriarch of the family is a God and not a storm God, a green God.

Beautiful, well, unlikely, lonely, be weird in context to sort of the regular worlds and the consensual reality of the regular world. But out of that context, It's just normal to make a honey cake and to enjoy it with your divine father and to bless the harvest while you're at it, which was the sense is it could be a big celebration.

It could be a private celebration, but every, every offering and every time when it's received means that the blessing of that green God goes out into the world. And Gabriela, is this a version of the God, a well-known version of, of forest God in Poland? It is, he is certainly a being that, uh, in, in this current time, I don't know how many people would call him a God.

They would probably call him the guardian of the forest. But he is someone that shows up and is known to people who pick berries and mushrooms and go hunting. And there's a lot of folklore and superstition around things that are appropriate in the forest and things that are not appropriate in the forest, making loud noises, being aware of what's around you.

And because he is a spirit that can take so many different forms, there are very different versions of what he looks like. Uh, that's why even in the story, you know, he could be anything. He can be anything at any time and he can shift his consciousness from one place to another, all within that forest.

And every forest has one. So he's of a particular geographical location, but the name Les, she means literally means of the forest and means a forest guardian. And he is a well-recognized being guardian, both loved and feared can equal balance. His name's spelled L E S Z Y. So that would be the, that would be the Polish spelling.

There are other spellings of other Slavic languages that are slightly different, but it's pretty much that they sound very similar, less or less shy. Lushy thank you. Absolutely. So what is the story? These stories inspire into the week for us, for honey cake offerings. We're going to go offer more. Honey cake.

Well, I'm inspired to dream about or put it out there that I would like to know more of the regional gods or goddesses that have been connected with, by my ancestor line and who might I be able then to connect with and to begin to make offerings, whether honey cakes or meat or something else entirely, those are both beautiful.

For me, I'd like to dream of hope. I'd like to turn my longing for the old ways and to hope that they have remained and that they will carry us through whatever we need to go through and remember that without that relationship and without the connection to the sacred and to things bigger than we are, nothing really matters.

So I'm going to stay hopeful in my longing for the green world. That's beautiful. I think I'll adopt that too. You and honey cake, definitely. Honey cake.

Special thanks to the fantastic Zoe Magik for her phenomenal editing skills.

Show artwork for Saga Kraft

About the Podcast

Saga Kraft
Myths, stories, and how to use them.
Welcome to Saga Kraft.

Myths, fairy tales, legends: Stories comfort us, inspire us, and heal us. Please join us as we share stories, both old and new.

More than anything, we are open to the story and its unfolding. At times, it may be one story told by one person. At times, it’s the same story told through three different voices. In the end, we go were the story takes us . . . and we invite you to follow.

We are:
Sea, a writer artist and storyteller.
Betsy, a medium and teacher of mystery traditions.
Gabriela, an artist and practitioner of folk magic.
We’re magical fairy godmothers in training.

May our stories meet yours.