*

Jennifer’s story was an amazing entry for the Daphne Contest! She takes us on a shamanic journey where Daphne herself, joined by other gods and spirits of the Otherworld, offer lessons on love in connection with the idea of the chase and surrender. When I read Jennifer’s story, I suspected she had some experience in spiritual work and shamanism herself, and that’s just the case! You can read more about her spiritual work on her website.

You can find Jennifer on Amazon, at her website, on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Goodreads.

*

Shaking the Tree
A Bree MacLeod Story

by Jennifer Lynn

*

Bree MacLeod’s fingers traced slow circles around the hide of her Walton’s bodhrán. Her gaze softened as her eyes tracked the thin wisps of smoke, spiraling gently skyward from the incense burning on the altar before her. She had lit it as an offering, a gift to honor the Sacred. She breathed in its musky scent and a door cracked open within her.

“Blessed is the Mystery,” she whispered.

The droning from the hide washed through her. Closing her eyes, she exhaled and settled more deeply into the cushion she used for client journeys. As her eyes slowly opened, her gaze drifted over the wooden rim of her drum and she considered the woman seated opposite her. Shadows spilled across the petite frame, obscuring the contours and details of the round face.

Daphne, Bree reminded herself mentally. Daphne O’Shea.

“Hunted.”

The word reverberated from the Otherworld and ached through Bree. Her breath caught in her throat and she forced herself to inhale.

“Let it be, mo Ghrá… my Love,” a voice—feminine, ancient, loving—rippled through Bree. “Come… Let the waters carry you.”

Bree smiled as the resonant voice of the goddess Bríghid, her Otherworldly Teacher and the mother of her lineage, echoed and dissolved into the droning of the drum. The low, moaning sound reverberated through Bree and her body swayed. She rocked in an unseen tide and her vision blurred. With a breath, her training engaged and the door within her poured open. Rushing waters cascaded around her, pulling at her consciousness. Exhaling slowly, she closed her eyes and spilled with the waters into the Otherworld.

* 

A river carries her. Swift and clear, the waters run between deep, earthen banks. Coursing with the tide, Bree’s awareness rushes. Freed of form, at one with the waters, she flows. As her soul sluices and churns bank and riverbed, her consciousness spans the river and she realizes—she is alone.

“Allies be with me.” Her call ripples the waters.

A gentle presence enfolds her. Steady and fatherly, it whispers reassurance. “Trust. You are safe. I will carry you to her.”

A song washes through Bree. Peaceful and soothing, it sings an undulating promise of Love. Exhaling deeper into the waters, she drifts in its tender murmur.

“Come, Raven Child.”

Bree smiles. She knows that voice. “Mother Gaia.”

A hand hovers before her. Drawing up her awareness, Bree reaches outward and reclaims human skin. Her outstretched hand makes contact and a motherly touch enfolds her own. White light flashes. Bree closes her eyes against the brilliance and the cool comfort of the waters recedes.

Opening her eyes, Bree finds herself standing. Fully human once more, her feet rest bare upon soft, green earth. Before her, a beautiful laurel tree rises out of that earth and basks in spilling sunshine. Bree drops her gaze and sends it travelling up the tree. Nine broad roots emerge out of the dark, loamy soil and curve upward to birth a thick trunk covered in grey bark. Graceful branches stretch outward, lifting countless grey-green leaves into the streaming sunlight. Bree inhales sharply. For a moment, ghostly arms hover within the branches.

“What is this place,” she wonders aloud.

“This is the answer your client seeks.”

Bree shifts her gaze toward the resonant voice. Mother Gaia stands to her left, brilliant green eyes watching her.

The earth goddess gestures toward the laurel tree. “This is Daphne.”

Bree considers the radiant tree. This is Daphne O’Shea?

The branches of the tree shimmer and sway. Bree turns her head but no wind rustles her hair or cloak. As her gaze falls again upon the dancing limbs, the bark shivers and a being, gossamer white, steps out of the trunk.

“You misunderstand, Raven Child,” the Tree Spirit walks toward her. “I am not your client. I am Daphne.”

Bree frowns and glances over her left shoulder. Peering through the Veil, she can see her client, still sitting on the lavender floor cushion in the den of Bree’s thatched cottage in Kildare. The white light of Bríghid’s loving shelter enfolds her like a halo.

“Hunted.” The Otherworldly word aches through Bree, echoing until it dissolves into her client’s voice. “My relationships always end badly,” the woman laments. “What is wrong with me? Why must I always run away from love?”

“My client is named Daphne.” Bree faces the Tree Spirit. “Daphne O’Shea.”

“Quite fitting,” Mother Gaia nods.

“She is aptly named…” The Tree Spirit places her hand upon her heart. “…After me.” Blue eyes gleam through the dappling light. “She runs because she knows—” Daphne gestures toward her laurel tree. “Love will change her.”

“Love always changes you.” Mother Gaia’s voice washes over Bree as she observes Daphne’s tree. “Love rebirths you into a new form. If it is True Love, it sets you free and restores your Truest form.”

“You see,” Daphne’s gaze catches and locks with Bree’s. “I was not always a tree. I was born of the river.”

The fatherly touch of the waters washes through Bree and her eyes widen. “Penieus…” She exhales the words as a whisper.

Daphne and Mother Gaia nod.

Awe spills through Bree and she bows. Daphne, the Greek Naiad, she marvels silently. Daphne, the beloved of Apollo. Daphne who, running from love, became the laurel tree. “Peace be upon you, Lady.”

Rising from her bow, Bree finds herself bathed in the glinting blue of Daphne’s eyes.

“He was true to me, in his own way.”

“Apollo?”

The former Naiad nods. Walking closer to her tree, she runs her fingers through her leaves. “In the end, he honored me, made my leaves into a crown of excellence.” She stands staring at her trunk, then reaches to touch a well-worn spot in the grey bark. “He used to come and sit with me. He would tell me his dreams, whisper his hopes to me. Nights he would spend nestled at my feet, sharing all the details of his day.”

Letting her hand fall back to her side, she lifts her gaze toward the sun lowering overhead. “Had he wooed me thus, it might have been different. We might have had a chance.” She drops her gaze and faces Bree. Daphne’s blue eyes churn dark and stormy. “Instead, he chased me. He forced me to run.”

Daphne shakes her head. “I wanted only the Wild. I thrived with the hunt, until I became the hunted. Then, all that mattered was my freedom.” She lifts her gaze back to the lowering sun. “But it might have been different, had he honored my Wildness and shown me his own tenderly.”

Mother Gaia sighs. Bree turns her head toward the goddess and voices rush past her. Daphne’s voice. Mother Gaia’s. Snippets of endless debates stream through her and Bree wonders if this is an old conversation.

Daphne looks at Mother Gaia and offers the earth goddess a wan smile. “Can a river truly love the Sun and be loved by the Sun in full freedom?”

The image of a stream glistening in the sunlight fills Bree’s awareness. She sees the river, bathed endlessly in the loving sun. Day after day, the heat of that lover’s touch caresses the waters and night after night, the river runs smaller and more shallow than the day before. Slowly the river shrinks, until it disappears completely—evaporated, consumed in the touch of its lover. Its light extinguished, only darkness remains.

Light spills through the darkness, like sunlight dappling through leaves. Bree blinks and Daphne stands before her. The Naiad, now Tree Spirit, runs her eyes up the trunk of her own tree and along her branches.

“Perhaps we had a better chance this way.”

Bree considers the laurel tree before her. She can see the sunlight spilling down to kiss its limbs, the grey-green leaves drinking in that loving radiance. A gentle humming washes through her as the tree quivers with the joy of photosynthesis.

“Certainly a tree can drink the Love of the Sun more freely,” Mother Gaia murmurs.

Daphne nods slowly, then looks at Bree. The blue eyes glisten with unshed tears. “Perhaps I was too young to see Love, to hear its thrum of Wildness. Perhaps if he had let me see himself, see the Love that he is, that he offers. If he had honored my Wildness, met Wildness with Wildness…” She sighs and runs her fingertips down the bark of her tree. “But, then I would never have stood at one with the Wild. I would never have felt the robins nesting in my arms, or heard the first cries of newborn chicks. I would never have known the relief and gratitude of the owl, hovering in shelter from the storm. Nor witnessed the delight and joy of bear cubs at play.”

She lifts her face again to the Sun. “I would never have understood—All things need Love to thrive.”

“Is this what you would tell Daphne, my client? Lady, is this your answer to her?” Bree watches the Tree Spirit gaze tenderly at the Sun. Tears spill slowly down Daphne’s cheeks. Then Daphne lowers her gaze to Bree.

“And this. Any hunt promises only to destroy its participants. For only Death—not Love—comes with the hunt and claims its bounty in the running.” Daphne shakes her head. “She must give it up. If she is ever to truly know Love, she must give up the hunt.”

The Tree Spirit drops her gaze to the ground. Sighing softly, she walks toward the trunk and stands with her feet nestled upon two roots. Bree draws breath to speak, but hesitates. Daphne rests her head against the bark of her tree, then turns suddenly.

She casts blazing eyes upon Bree. “It is true—Love will change her. But she must welcome that change. She must let Love woo her, let Wildness honor Wildness. Only then will Love set her free.”

Daphne steps backward. The Tree Spirit’s toes touch the bark of the laurel tree. Shimmering gossamer white, they sink into the trunk, followed by one radiant leg, then the other. As Daphne’s torso disappears into the trunk of her tree, Bree steps forward.

“How? How may Daphne, my client, give up the hunt and choose to woo and be wooed? How may she embrace Love?”

Daphne’s face hovers just below the bark of the tree. Pieces appear to rise and fall as she replies. “She must remember this always—All things need Love to thrive. All beings are Love embodied and all Love deserves to thrive.”

The bark snaps into stillness as the face dissolves into the trunk. Bree looks up as the branches sway, but no breeze disturbs her hair. The grey-green leaves rustle above her and, for a moment, she can see long, thin fingers stretching just below the skin of the branches.

Bree walks up and kisses the bark of the tree. “Thank you, Lady,” she whispers. “Blessed is the Mystery.”

Placing her bare feet carefully to avoid stepping on the roots of the laurel tree, Bree takes three steps backwards, then turns. Mother Gaia raises open arms to her.

“Come, Raven Child,” the earth goddess smiles.

Bree approaches and places her hands into those of Mother Gaia.

“Come, he would speak with you.”

Tender warmth enfolds Bree’s right hand as the earth goddess wraps Bree’s hand in Her own. Together they walk, hand in hand, toward the river. As they draw near, the waters churn and spill upward into the flowing form of a man.

“Penieus…” Bree exhales.

The water spirit, father of Daphne, places a streaming hand over his heart and bows. “Peace be upon you, Raven Child.”

“Peace be between us,” Bree replies, offering a bow of her own.

Rising to stand face to face again, they finish the ritual greeting together. “Now and through all time.”

Bree smiles. “Do you have a message for my client?”

“And for you.”

“For me?” Surprise ripples her voice.

Penieus nods. “What father would not be proud to see his child the beloved of a god? Yet, I knew—Daphne enjoyed the hunt too much. She could not allow Love to reshape her. Your Daphne is the same. So, Raven Child, are you.

“Welcome the reshaping and allow Love to reveal to you who you truly are. Let your Wildness be your strength and hold you centered in your soul. But let the Wildness of another meet your own—peacefully, honestly, tenderly. Then where the two touch, the nurturing milk of Love will flow.”

Penieus smiles. “Love blossoms only between equals, between those who choose to thrive and wish for their lover to thrive as well.”

*

“I don’t trust people enough to allow them to woo me.”

A tear slipped down her client’s cheek and Bree nodded. “As Daphne said, you must give that up.”

Blue eyes flashed from the shadows obscuring her client’s face. “What if I can’t? What if I don’t want to?”

Waves of fear rolled off the woman before Bree, buffeting her awareness. Bree exhaled. “Do you want to know Love in this lifetime?”

The woman’s chin quivered, then dipped.

“Then you must approach Love and loving differently.” Bree lowered her gaze and leaned slightly forward on her cushion. Her eyes searched amongst the shadows for those of her client. Blue sparked before her, then vanished.

“How?”

“Allow Love to approach you peacefully.” Bree watched the dappling light drift across the woman seated on the lavender floor cushion opposite her. “Instead of hunting out what you desire in another and pursuing it ruthlessly, seek it first within yourself. Cultivate your own unique beauty and learn to live in it. Learn to love it, to nourish it, to want it to thrive. Then, see the beauty others cultivate within themselves. Celebrate that beauty. Call Love to you by encouraging the beauty of others and of yourself to grow equally.”

The candle flame sputtered on the altar and Bree paused. Flickering harshly, it sent wisps of dark smoke billowing skyward. As the flame dimmed once more, Bree called silently to her Otherworldly Teacher. Goddess Bríghid, help her, please.

Blue eyes blazed before Bree as Daphne O’Shea exhaled. The candle flame shuddered, then steadied. Bree sat in silence, waiting, her eyes fixed on the shrunken flame. Slowly, it stretched upward. When it gleamed again in full brightness, Bree lifted her gaze to meet Daphne’s.

“When you find someone who can do this with you, equally and peacefully, you will know Love.”

*

Bree strolled along the slowly curving lane, her square-toed boots pressing gently into the moist, Kildare earth. As a breeze caught and pulled at the edges of her black hair, she lifted her gaze and smiled. Lowering overhead, the sun spilled golden-red on its journey westward.

Peaceful night, Apollo.

Bree’s stride shortened until she stood staring at the fading light. Red stretched into the darkening sky like branches and an image of Daphne’s laurel tree flooded her inner vision. Shimmering before her, familiar gossamer white fingers caressed a well-worn spot in the grey bark of the trunk.

“He used to come and sit with me. He would tell me his dreams, whisper his hopes to me. Nights he would spend nestled at my feet, sharing all the details of his day.” Daphne’s voice echoed through her. “Had he wooed me thus, it might have been different. We might have had a chance.”

Cool air rustled her hair and Bree shivered. The grey bark of her vision wavered and dissolved into the setting sun.

“She’ll be waiting for you,” Bree breathed into the twilight.

A solitary golden beam lanced through the growing darkness, then was gone. Bree smiled and pressed her hand to her heart.

“Blessed is the Mystery.”

Her breath hovered on the air and Bree pulled her favorite black fleece jacket more tightly around her. Still shivering in the growing cold, she stooped to zip it closed. A gentle warmth spilled up her legs and wrapped her in its Otherworldly blanket. As she straightened, brilliant green eyes caught her.

She inhaled sharply. “Mother Gaia.”

“Hello, Raven Child.”

Bree bowed her head to the earth goddess, then returned the emerald gaze. “I am surprised to meet you here,” Bree gestured to the earth around her, “on Éire’s Isle.”

Mother Gaia laughed softly. “I knew Eirene, and her two sisters, long before the Olympians drove her out of Greece.”The goddess tilted her head. “You could say we are old friends.”

“Is that what brings you here tonight? An old friend?”

“It is,” Mother Gaia smiled. “But not Eirene.”

Bree shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“I know.”

Mother Gaia lifted her gaze and stared into the sky. Following the goddess’ gaze, Bree watched a small patch of scarlet draining into darkness.

“If Apollo had been more like Fergus, perhaps he would have won Daphne.”

“Fergus?” Bree turned startled eyes to the earth goddess. “What does Fergus Sinclair have to do with this?”

Still staring into the deepening night, Mother Gaia smiled.

Hazel eyes sparkled in her awareness as the deep, resonant laugh of her friend rumbled through Bree. Exhaling softly, she closed her eyes to the darkening Kildare night and fiery red hair flamed into view.

“C’mon MacLeod,” Fergus’ voice drifted from memory, “Time for some food.” As the vision flooded, Bree watched a younger, nearly exhausted version of herself look up from the pile of medical books she had been hunched over for days. Lost in her studies for the upcoming board exams, Bree had forgotten to eat. Fergus had brought her coffee and a much needed home cooked meal.

Crimson light flooded and receded to reveal a pair of Cardinal’s baseball tickets. The words “Opening Day” stretched in looping, white letters across the stubs. He had purchased the tickets as a gift, part of his master plan to educate her about his city. Bree watched herself look up at Fergus’s smiling face. “You said you wanted to see Saint Louis at its best.”

The sparkling sunlight behind Fergus faded to night. Despite the cool, evening air, they were seated outside on the patio of Café de Lys. “So,” his face fell serious as he raised his porcelain coffee mug, “what do I say? Happy Samhain?”Bree heard herself laugh gently and reply, “Blessed Samhain.” How many hours had they sat in those chairs discussing the nature of life, death and the Mystery? They had met through a colleague, another practitioner of the healing arts, but the Café was where their friendship truly began.

Gwen’s Café.

Bree opened her eyes.

Fergus had been there for her then, too. He came to the hospital just to drive Bree home. He even stayed with her that night, rocking her on the couch and listening to her repeat over and over, “DOA.”

“He loves you.” Gwen’s voice echoed from the Otherworld into the Kildare night. “Trust in Love again.”

Tears welled in Bree’s eyes, blurring her vision. She was so tired of crying. She had marked the past year with weeping—every fire festival, each turning of the moon. Still, sorrow hunted her. Staring into the darkness, she shivered and let her tears fall.

Warmth enveloped Bree as Mother Gaia enfolded her in loving arms. “All things need Love to thrive, Raven Child, including you.”

*

End

*

© 2018 Jennifer Lynn. The content of this article, except for quoted or linked source materials, is protected by copyright. Please contact the author for usage.

 

 

SUBSCRIBE