Once, in a valley surrounded by high mountains, so high that snow could be seen on their tops all year round, there was a small village. Several huts, structured in a perfect circle, surrounded by green and abundance. Exactly in the center of this circle was a small fire pit. The flames of Fire, dancing in it, day and night.
Not far from the circle of huts, there was a vast waterfall, carrying the waters of the melted snow down to the valley. The waterfall stood tall, and its roar carried from a distance.
The valley was full of life—little creatures and larger ones, winged and four-legged, crawling, and many, many butterflies.
Only one grandmother lived there—her and many, many children of love. Together, they collected food, brought water, cooked, and took care of their mutual needs. They played and laughed, knowing the moment.
One day, when fall was about to arrive. And the leaves were already changing their colors, the grandma took her walking stick, and walked to a viewpoint, from where she could see the waterfall, and the huts, and to the far. She sat quietly. The children all knew it was not a time to intrude. She closed her eyes. She took deep breaths of the valley’s healing air. Sensing the sparkling of the water sent to her by the waterfall. She felt calm. And within her calmness, within her vision, she prayed for a knowing of what was next… she asked for guidance for each of her children.
She sat and sat, and the sun shifted and went down. And the moon was coming up. And still she sat. Quietly. And morning came, and with it a light shower of rain. And still she sat. And days passed, and then some weeks. The children brought her food and built a shelter around her. They waited.
One morning, dark clouds emerged. The children knew a storm was on its way. When they went up to see how grandma was doing, they saw tears coming down her cheeks. The tears created streams, and the streams became rivers. The river rose and took the dark clouds directly to the sea. The sea of life. The sea of the living. The sea of all. The sea of the void.
Oh, then, the sun emerged. And the danger of the storm has passed. And grandma felt stronger and more alive than ever before. She rose and started to dance, and with her the children. They danced down the mountain and around the huts. They danced around the fire and by the waterfall. And while they danced, they washed away any pain they carried, sadness, or loss. They nourished themselves with the warmth of Fire, the sparkle of Water, the touch of Wind, and the Love of Earth. Until they all felt whole and fell into a sweet sleep, knowing the moment.
Healing stories are a magnificent and fun tool, connecting and bridging worlds.
Would you like to learn how to share a heart story with the child(ren) in your life? Enjoy my free guide: How to craft a healing story for your child 🙂
Learn more about mythical healing stories here.
