Mushrooms

She felt to visit the forest of yin. As she stepped into its dappled embrace, the woodland path seemed to beckon her.

On she walked, twisting and turning, effortless and drawn. Eventually she came to grandmother willow. Sunlight broke through here in places, so the ancient willow had patches of flowers at her base.

The girl sat in a sunbeam, the sweet scent of bluebells all around her. She loved blue flowers, so calming to her soul.

In the hazy rays she heard a soft song. Following the notes she found a small gathering of mushrooms. They were soft tawny brown, almost tinged with pink. Their colours were perfect, she felt. The colour of a warm hug. The song felt the same. In her mind the mushrooms sang of the medicine of allowing the shadows. The beauty of standing back from the crowd so as not to be trampled. The beauty of being delicate and the joy of not standing out.

There was a quietness to their being. Unlike a flower they didn’t exist to attract.

She sat by their side, allowing their medicine to sink into her soul, singing “it’s OK to stand back, take time out, melt away, be delicate, allow your shadows, their shadows, the shadows. Growth occurs in shade”.

The forest of yin was made for such as these and those who hear their song. She exhaled, lay back and allowed the song to draw her deeper. This was today’s gift. The spirit of mushroom x