Post by Sheyna Moonwolf on Jul 4, 2015 2:05:53 GMT
In real life, my name is Karen Marion, and I'm an artist. I share my home with a greyhound, four Italian greyhounds, and my elderly (but healthier than me) mother. I spend about half the year here in Maryland, and the rest of the time I'm at my shops at the Carolina and Arizona Renaissance Festivals where I display (and sometimes manage to sell) my fantasy quilt art.
My character is a wood elf with blond hair, grey eyes, and hide armor. She carries a wooden shield and a wood club with a stone "knocker" on the end. She looks like what she is ... a woodsy wanderer, at home with animals and in the wilds.
Sheyna Moonwolf (wood elf druid)
I’m told that I was born under a full moon, in the middle of a bitter winter’s night. I’m told that it was a very difficult delivery. That my mother held me for a few minutes before her pain undid her, and I was taken from her dying arms. I’m told that my father was inconsolable, and would not look at me. That the midwife took me into her own arms, and walked away to the window with me, so that my father could grieve for his wife.
I’m told that there was a pack of wolves pacing the tree line. And at their head was an enormous grey dire wolf. I’m told that he stared at me through the window, and that, silent, I stared back. I’m told that he approached, followed by his lesser cousins. That we stared at each other for many minutes, while quiet weeping in the background kept my midwife from turning away. I’m told that I reached my tiny hands out toward the dire wolf, fingers wiggling in a newborn approximation of welcome, and that the dire wolf sat back on his great haunches and howled.
My father never got over the loss of my mother. He was distant, and I never truly knew closeness from him. How could he? Instead, our neighbors helped to raise me. They played with me, they showed me love, and they did their best to fill the void. But I always knew that I was not completely welcome in my home. My father could not get over the fact that I came in exchange for a great loss.
And so I roamed the woods. I knew the animals better than my father. And whenever I caught a glimpse of a great dire wolf I wondered whether it was related to the one who greeted me through the window at my birth.
I eventually got my answer. My father had been particularly distant that morning, and I’d retreated to a small, sacred grove that lay abandoned in the deep woods. I’d found it several years before and loved it for its beauty, serenity, and its deeply spiritual feel. Each time I came I cleaned up a bit more of it, moving plants out of the cracks in the standing stones and replanting them nearby, gently rehoming the spiders who dwelled in the altar, and in other small ways revealing its beauty without damaging the nature that had grown up to obscure it. I felt more at home there than anyplace I’d been.
That day, I was sitting in meditation near the altar when I felt the presence of an Other. I looked around, and there he was. The mighty dire wolf. Grey in color, he stood calmly watching me. I felt no fear at all. I felt only awe at this great being who honored me at my birth. I wasn’t certain how I knew that it was he, but I knew. And I gently smiled at him. He sat back and howled, and then he began to … to ripple. I cannot explain it in any other way. His body came out of focus, rippled, moved and changed. And a man was standing in his place. Tall, grey-haired, an elder of great wisdom. He smiled back at me, and said, “My child, you have done well here. The spirits are greatly pleased. It is time to begin your teaching.”
___
Since that time, I have studied with Wolfe for many years, and visited Druid Isle several times.
My character is a wood elf with blond hair, grey eyes, and hide armor. She carries a wooden shield and a wood club with a stone "knocker" on the end. She looks like what she is ... a woodsy wanderer, at home with animals and in the wilds.
Sheyna Moonwolf (wood elf druid)
I’m told that I was born under a full moon, in the middle of a bitter winter’s night. I’m told that it was a very difficult delivery. That my mother held me for a few minutes before her pain undid her, and I was taken from her dying arms. I’m told that my father was inconsolable, and would not look at me. That the midwife took me into her own arms, and walked away to the window with me, so that my father could grieve for his wife.
I’m told that there was a pack of wolves pacing the tree line. And at their head was an enormous grey dire wolf. I’m told that he stared at me through the window, and that, silent, I stared back. I’m told that he approached, followed by his lesser cousins. That we stared at each other for many minutes, while quiet weeping in the background kept my midwife from turning away. I’m told that I reached my tiny hands out toward the dire wolf, fingers wiggling in a newborn approximation of welcome, and that the dire wolf sat back on his great haunches and howled.
My father never got over the loss of my mother. He was distant, and I never truly knew closeness from him. How could he? Instead, our neighbors helped to raise me. They played with me, they showed me love, and they did their best to fill the void. But I always knew that I was not completely welcome in my home. My father could not get over the fact that I came in exchange for a great loss.
And so I roamed the woods. I knew the animals better than my father. And whenever I caught a glimpse of a great dire wolf I wondered whether it was related to the one who greeted me through the window at my birth.
I eventually got my answer. My father had been particularly distant that morning, and I’d retreated to a small, sacred grove that lay abandoned in the deep woods. I’d found it several years before and loved it for its beauty, serenity, and its deeply spiritual feel. Each time I came I cleaned up a bit more of it, moving plants out of the cracks in the standing stones and replanting them nearby, gently rehoming the spiders who dwelled in the altar, and in other small ways revealing its beauty without damaging the nature that had grown up to obscure it. I felt more at home there than anyplace I’d been.
That day, I was sitting in meditation near the altar when I felt the presence of an Other. I looked around, and there he was. The mighty dire wolf. Grey in color, he stood calmly watching me. I felt no fear at all. I felt only awe at this great being who honored me at my birth. I wasn’t certain how I knew that it was he, but I knew. And I gently smiled at him. He sat back and howled, and then he began to … to ripple. I cannot explain it in any other way. His body came out of focus, rippled, moved and changed. And a man was standing in his place. Tall, grey-haired, an elder of great wisdom. He smiled back at me, and said, “My child, you have done well here. The spirits are greatly pleased. It is time to begin your teaching.”
___
Since that time, I have studied with Wolfe for many years, and visited Druid Isle several times.