Willow Tree of Wisdom

This is the story of a sad little girl who found comfort and love amongst the flexibility and playfulness of a very special willow tree.

My Oak was right next door to the house I grew up in and therefore alittle too close for comfort. But my Willow was only a bicycle's ride away to the Duck Pond.

I found my Willow tree quite by accident. I had either run away from home or was once again seeking that pot at the end of the Rainbow (not because of the treasure but because I wanted to see the "little folk"). The ducks were off somewhere and not the least bit interested in me. I gazed into the spring fed pond and felt something tugging on me to move off the rock and go into the forest. Being but 9 years old, I hardly could explain this "gut" feeling but went along with it anyway.

I cautiously entered the forest that was odoriferous with mold, mud and mildew of the earthen leaves from winter. I found myself winding up a narrow path that obviously had not been intended for the public. There was a sudden silence of the birds as I veered off the path and spied a most magnificent tree. Its boughs swayed graciously in the winds and gently stroked the pond below.

I approached the tree with complete reverence as if it had beckoned. Now I realized it had. I found a niche that I could crawl up into if the tree let me. It welcomed me with great warmth.

While I wiled away the hours in the comfort of my Willow I was safe. Its branches sang as they swayed in the dancing sunlight. During this time it was as if I had become a battery recharged by the flexibility of the willow. Life wasn't as complicated anymore.

I was okay. I could go home with the knowledge that I was protected.

My Willow instructed me to return whenever I was in need and I did for the next 30 years.

After my first marriage failed; I began another spiritual path. I realized I was meant to worship and learn from Nature as I had when I was a child. So I returned to my Willow tree. I was 28 years old. Much of the lusciousness of vegetation I remembered that kept me hidden from the rest of the world had deteriorated. But my Willow tree was still there ever-waiting for my inquisitive mind. I spent a lot of time with my tree during this period of pain. I began bringing special friends to it that knew how to communicate with Nature. Hours were spent musically listening to the quacks, the croaks, and the swishing of its silver leaves.

Winter had set in and with it all the holiday hoorah with family finaglings and fights. It was Thanksgiving and my friend KT and I just decided to dump the family fiascoes and celebrate on our own.

Again, I felt that tug I had originally felt by the pond when I was nine years old. KT and I drove across town to the Duck Pond knowing my tree had something to give me. When I came to my tree I sensed that it was in its twilight years and had something quick to impart to me.

There laying at its gnarled trunk and almost in perfect order was a full limb from the tree broken off. We examined it to discover the limb yielded: a dowsing stick, a wand and then the future Yule log. KT and I returned home to get the necessary implements for the ceremony. Thanking my Willow graciously we removed the limb.

My Willow tree had given me my first magical tool--the Willow Wand.

The next 10 years or so were spent working my way to my recovery path.

I am now 38 years old. I have spent the decade basically in decadence. I finally remember my spiritual path that always guided me. I returned to my Willow.

This time my Willow was all but gone. It wept no more. But faintly it told me I would have to make way for a new tree. I was ready. My tree told me to go to the West end of the pond to find my new tree. My Willow's time had past but not without once again giving to the group its branches for the Willow Moon ritual.

The new Willow tree had an added attraction; there were faeries awaiting my arrival. I had a direct link to the UnderWorld. I had found the "little folk" as well as some mighty big ones too. It was at this new tree that I was told to "let go" of the Duck Pond as a sacred place for myself. It was time to pass it on. As I was leaving the spot here approaching me was the newest member of Ivy Grove. This synchronicity verified my interpretation.

This ends the story of My Willow Tree but I need to tell one other synchronous story related to this.

This is about the Willow Wand.

In 1981 I declared publicly I was practicing the Wiccan faith as identified by StarHawk. My Willow wand was my tool for the South. It went nearly everywhere with me for years until the disease of alcoholism started to veer me off my spiritual path.

When I returned in 1990 I picked up where I had left off before the abyss descent. My Willow wand and me started practicing healings for both earth and folk. Then when I started to track down the Wand man to find my Oak wand I had a vision. The vision was that at the New moon in December I was to burn the Willow Wand and then consecrate the Oak Wand. That New Moon was what some Celtic traditions call the Nameless Day, December 23, 1994.

Ivy Grove met that Full Moon and all members wove threads of letting go with colorful balls of yarn around the Willow wand. Each member had something they needed let go of their past. For me, it was obvious the Willow had healed me of my past hurts and the Oak would now sustain me for the future.

It was very hard to do this ritual because the day it was ordained to happen my friend, mentioned in the Feline friends, after surrender to treatment; died from the disease of Alcoholism. The ritual went on as planned. It was just me and my Willow wand. The vision had told me to have it burn from the middle first then break and put the two pieces together for the rest. Nature does imitate the soul. I didn't want to let go of my friend who had passed on. He had also shared the tree with me. It took some time before the Willow Wand to finally catch fire. The hearth then became an inferno as if a phoenix had risen. (Peace, Harry).

The Oak Wand was dedicated and stones that I had charged with renew energy were given to all the members of Ivy Grove for Winter Solstice. A chapter in my book had been closed and a new one began.

A poem to my Willow Tree (written by me when I was 20)