Julie’s Heart Healing Story
The Woodcutter, The Witch and The Well
(written after the Healing Chamber of the Heart Workshop on the Soul Writer Membership)
It is true that in order to know love we must first know loss?
Our heroine was a witch and storyteller. Her heart had felt many losses and she wondered if she’d ever love again.
Had she even felt love before? What is love? What is it to love? The men she’d loved, who’d said they loved her. Did they really? If you love someone you don't treat them like that. Or maybe you do? Love is an odd concept really. She knew, of course, about familial love. Of tribal love. Of love for her kin: her father, her mother, her elders and the wider tribe. And she had known the greatest love of all – for a child.
But when it came to romantic love, she was unsure. She’d had many lovers. But you don't just leave someone you love at the side of the road with a baby and another on the way. Do you? The father of her children was an itinerant, living the free life of a rover. He just couldn't do it. He abandoned her right there at the roadside one day. Just walked away.
You don’t threaten and frighten someone you love. You just don't. At least not according to her moral compass. And you especially don’t do it if she’s the mother of your children. You don't make her fear the worst thing ever – to have her children taken away from the warmth of her loving care. You loved her … didn't you? What about all those other men who’d said they loved her? She felt used, disrespected. There was always someone else put before her. She wanted to come first for a change.
She was reflecting one day how she’d love to meet someone nice and experience real love. Her children were nearly at the age of independence, and she wanted companionship.
She’d heard about love spells. She knew she was the creatress of her life. So with happy optimism, she grabbed a stick and drew a huge heart in the dirt outside and carefully and deliberately wrote the words “REAL LOVE” and drew the outline of a baby – for she yearned for another child. Then she forgot all about it….
Sometime later, on a beautiful day in late November, her good friend, Sara suggested they take a walk through the magic Greenwood forest that lay on the outer edge of the settlement. Sara was a Wise Woman, a crone. Together they used to walk and tune into the higher energies of the forest.
The damp autumn afternoons were giving way to crisp, short, wintry days. The two women usually had a good natter, but today they walked separately. Back in those days of community living, of witches and healers, warring tribes, outlaws living in the Greenwood, clans and division of all types, these women were the Peace Weavers. They were the ones who built alliances and smoothed things over.
They both lived on the edge of the settlement, not physically, for the Witch Storyteller was always right at the heart of the village. She had always felt like a lone wolf, doing her own thing, singing her own song, a hermit. Sara a sociable crone, a relationship builder and counsellor.
The women went for a walk one day, as they always did when something needed resolving - a problem, a question, maybe they wanted to just talk and get inspiration from the forest. They usually knew the answer by the time they returned to the quiet warmth of their own hearths.
As they walked that day, they felt magic in the air. The days were getting shorter and soon they would be celebrating the solstice and the return of the sun. As they walked up the winding path that led from the lower beech plantation (the most liminal, beautiful and magical space in the forest) they came across two men.
One of the men was sawing off some wood from a big fallen beech tree while the other was exercising his dog for hunting. The Woodcutter was dark and handsome with long curls of black hair - longer even than the Witch's hair. As soon as he saw our heroine he knew something would happen between them. He knew they would marry or have a child together. He knew deep in his heart.
Sara had met the Woodcutter once before at a village gathering. She thought he had a good stable energy and so introduced him to her friend the Witch Storyteller. They talked about nature and wild foods. It had not gone unnoticed by the Woodcutter that when he first saw the Wise Women they had been picking Wood Sorrel.
Usually, the Oxalis acetosella is eaten in the spring but it had been a warm autumn, and the plants were having a second growth. It tasted good – sour like lemons.
The pair both loved to forage and gather, eat and cook wild foods. But they were different in many ways. He was all gentleness and peace. Our heroine was a WARRIOR WOMAN. Could their hearts learn to beat in time with one another?
It was another few months before their paths crossed again. The Woodcutter came to till the earth in her garden. He cleared a big patch of land covered with brambles. It was a huge mess, and she was impressed with the speed he worked.
They fell in love quickly. Too quickly, said some local gossips and concerned friends. But the Moon and the planets were favourable and love was in their charts. Back then people did not mess around either. Just like in the old folk songs, people used to fall in love straight away and often got married the very next day.
In no time at all, they were blessed with a child. A special child.
The couple shared their love of plant lore and he loved to listen to her knowledge of wildflowers. They loved simple pleasures. He told her how he loved that she could find such joy in these small finds of nature while they were out wandering and gathering. And she loved that in him too.
They had many adventures - discovering new and ancient places. Old springs and water sources that had been abandoned for centuries. Wells, caves, icehouse tunnels, ancient trackways, and magical forests. They felt blessed to live in the forest settlement.
One summer solstice he took her to a cave. There, they muttered healing incantations for their special child as they held their baby boy in their arms. A child borne of healing heart centred energy. He was a boy with special powers. Back in those days these special ones would often not survive past infancy. So, the couple were worried. Their son with beautiful almond shaped eyes, wide open smile and all the love and laughter you could imagine, was looked upon by the tribe as a changeling from the fairy realm.
Although he struggled to take his mother's milk, his birth heralded good fortune for the tribe and he was accepted. Many riches and land were bestowed upon the Woodcutter and the Witch Storyteller. A grand new home and large fortune came to the Witch but alas she had to move far away to the next village in order to have them. It was a condition of the Magic they had made in the cave.
She was troubled in mind. Oftentimes the Witch would “whittle”. Not the same kind of whittling that her lover, the Woodcutter, did but the kind of whittling that we’d now call worrying or ruminating.
She did not desire to be married. She could not. It was against the tradition of the tribe for a witch to marry. But she loved the Woodcutter and she whittled and worried about his feelings towards her. She was still uncertain.
After a while it became apparent, they were doomed lovers. But still they enjoyed one another's company. They often wandered together when the moon was full and could guide them with her light. And one day, or rather one night, she took him to the Secret Healing Well that lay at the edge of the settlement.
The water was gentle, crystal clear and trickled from sandstone rocks. It was the place where such heroes as Robin Hood would have drunk. The Woodcutter and the Witch walked there one dark night to take their child to the healing waters.
It was almost like the earth was holding its breath, as the full Moon rose a bright orange colour over the valley.
The Witch took the silver chalice that was chained to the rocks by the water source and drank three gulps of the cool healing water – one for her, one for him and one for their child.
Months passed and their boy began to thrive. He no longer struggled to take his mother's milk, but was now growing stronger each day. With his growing came wisdom for his parents. And healing too. Together they became strong.
The Woodcutter reminded her of this story in the years to come and they visited the Magic Healing Well on the Solstice every year to renew their blessing – for them and for their son.
The Woodcutter wished for her to do well in her creative pursuits, in the things she loved doing. He supported her in her role as the village bard and Witch in pursuit of her songs.
The Witch sang as she drank the magic water, and knew in her heart this was love.
And all will be resolved when it comes to pass
All is well
And all will be well
At the well
By the full moon.