Welcome to Saga Kraft. Myths, fairy tales, legends: Stories comfort us, inspire us, and heal us. Please join us as we share stories, both old and new. More than anything, we are open to the story and its unfolding. At times, it may be one story told by one person. At times, it’s the same story told through three different voices. In the end, we go were the story takes us . . . and we invite you to follow. We are: Sea, a writer artist and storyteller. Betsy, a medium and teacher of mystery traditions. Gabriela, an artist and practitioner of folk magic. We’re magical fairy godmothers in training. May our stories meet yours.
Betsy Bergstrom, Gabriela Sarna, Sea Gabriel: Saga Kraft
Sea: Welcome to Saga Kraft: myths, fairytales, legends, stories comfort us, inspire us and heal us. Please join us as we share stories both old and new. More than anything, we are open to the story and it's unfolding. At times it may be one story told by one person, at times it's the same story told through three different voices. In the end, we go where the story takes us and we invite you to follow. I'm Sea, a writer, artist, and storyteller. Betsy: I'm Betsy, a medium and teacher of mystery traditions. Gabriela: I'm Gabriella, an artist and practitioner of folk magic. Saga Kraft: We are magical fairy godmothers in training.
Sea: Welcome to Saga Kraft: myths, fairytales, legends, stories comfort us, inspire us and heal us. Please join us as we share stories both old and new. More than anything, we are open to the story and it's unfolding. At times it may be one story told by one person, at times it's the same story told through three different voices. In the end, we go where the story takes us and we invite you to follow. I'm Sea, a writer, artist, and storyteller. Betsy: I'm Betsy, a medium and teacher of mystery traditions. Gabriela: I'm Gabriella, an artist and practitioner of folk magic. Saga Kraft: We are magical fairy godmothers in training.
Sea: Welcome to Saga Kraft: myths, fairytales, legends, stories comfort us, inspire us and heal us. Please join us as we share stories both old and new. More than anything, we are open to the story and it's unfolding. At times it may be one story told by one person, at times it's the same story told through three different voices. In the end, we go where the story takes us and we invite you to follow. I'm Sea, a writer, artist, and storyteller. Betsy: I'm Betsy, a medium and teacher of mystery traditions. Gabriela: I'm Gabriella, an artist and practitioner of folk magic. Saga Kraft: We are magical fairy godmothers in training.
Sea: Welcome to Saga Kraft: myths, fairytales, legends, stories comfort us, inspire us and heal us. Please join us as we share stories both old and new. More than anything, we are open to the story and it's unfolding. At times it may be one story told by one person, at times it's the same story told through three different voices. In the end, we go where the story takes us and we invite you to follow. I'm Sea, a writer, artist, and storyteller. Betsy: I'm Betsy, a medium and teacher of mystery traditions. Gabriela: I'm Gabriella, an artist and practitioner of folk magic. Saga Kraft: We are magical fairy godmothers in training.
Sea: Welcome to Saga Kraft: myths, fairytales, legends, stories comfort us, inspire us and heal us. Please join us as we share stories both old and new. More than anything, we are open to the story and it's unfolding. At times it may be one story told by one person, at times it's the same story told through three different voices. In the end, we go where the story takes us and we invite you to follow. I'm Sea, a writer, artist, and storyteller. Betsy: I'm Betsy, a medium and teacher of mystery traditions. Gabriela: I'm Gabriella, an artist and practitioner of folk magic. Saga Kraft: We are magical fairy godmothers in training.
Sea: Welcome to Saga Kraft: myths, fairytales, legends, stories comfort us, inspire us and heal us. Please join us as we share stories both old and new. More than anything, we are open to the story and it's unfolding. At times it may be one story told by one person, at times it's the same story told through three different voices. In the end, we go where the story takes us and we invite you to follow. I'm Sea, a writer, artist, and storyteller. Betsy: I'm Betsy, a medium and teacher of mystery traditions. Gabriela: I'm Gabriella, an artist and practitioner of folk magic. Saga Kraft: We are magical fairy godmothers in training.
Sea: Welcome to Saga Kraft: myths, fairytales, legends, stories comfort us, inspire us and heal us. Please join us as we share stories both old and new. More than anything, we are open to the story and it's unfolding. At times it may be one story told by one person, at times it's the same story told through three different voices. In the end, we go where the story takes us and we invite you to follow. I'm Sea, a writer, artist, and storyteller. Betsy: I'm Betsy, a medium and teacher of mystery traditions. Gabriela: I'm Gabriella, an artist and practitioner of folk magic. Saga Kraft: We are magical fairy godmothers in training.
Sea: Welcome to Saga Kraft: myths, fairytales, legends, stories comfort us, inspire us and heal us. Please join us as we share stories both old and new. More than anything, we are open to the story and it's unfolding. At times it may be one story told by one person, at times it's the same story told through three different voices. In the end, we go where the story takes us and we invite you to follow. I'm Sea, a writer, artist, and storyteller. Betsy: I'm Betsy, a medium and teacher of mystery traditions. Gabriela: I'm Gabriella, an artist and practitioner of folk magic. Saga Kraft: We are magical fairy godmothers in training.
Sea: Welcome to Saga Kraft: myths, fairytales, legends, stories comfort us, inspire us and heal us. Please join us as we share stories both old and new. More than anything, we are open to the story and it's unfolding. At times it may be one story told by one person, at times it's the same story told through three different voices. In the end, we go where the story takes us and we invite you to follow. I'm Sea, a writer, artist, and storyteller. Betsy: I'm Betsy, a medium and teacher of mystery traditions. Gabriela: I'm Gabriella, an artist and practitioner of folk magic. Saga Kraft: We are magical fairy godmothers in training. . Betsy: Our stories this week are about theNorse goddess, giantess, Skadi, known to be a goddess of winter, known to be a very strong lady deity. she's a ???? goddess. A wild one. I hope you enjoy our stories, and I'm going to begin. Sleep started out deep and fulfilling. The kind of sleep that occurred after physical exhaustion. The pull to sleep had been enormous, after her body worked hard in the dark of the Northern night for hours. Her birch and bone shovel, carried in on skis along with her pack of provisions, finally lay at rest beside her after helping her dig a cave in the dense snow. Her pack, bottomless, had provided furs to wrap up in after she had cut boughs from a spruce tree to line the bottom of the cave. She had pulled out kindling, and a pan for cooking a stew from creatures of the north. Having eaten reindeer many times, she knew the signature and she had made her body into a reindeer to travel across the snowy landscape. Her senses were so immense and intense in that form, she had felt herself honing into informational fields that guided her. It was compelling enough that only her ability to focus with an almost brutal single mindedness allowed herself to make the wrench that freed her from the reindeer form when she had made it to the mountain of her choice. Or rather the mountain of the the mountain’s choice. It had been calling her for sometime, but exactly why she wasn’t clear. That would come. For now, she was where she needed to be and it was some undisclosed time of actual night, not just the night of afternoon or morning that is part of the long winter day. She slept again. It could have been for an instant, it could have been for a year, she wasn’t sure and relaxed into not caring. This was why she was free. So that she could just move through her life and just be. To choose her moments and her days. She listened to the sounds of snow settling over her. It wouldn’t dare to fall in on her, but it did by its nature settle as crystal patterns morphed. She honed in on snow patterns on the surface outside, crystals clear and exquisite. Like her, she thought without vanity. The snow inside the cave was compacted and formidably strong. Also like her. She listened to her blood moving in her body, to the sound of her breath, her digestion also audible as the reindeer stew slowly digested. Not so very long asleep then if she was still digesting. She slept again. A high pitched sound disturbed her. It was flowing and singing in waves and in her minds eye colours began to form and dance in waves of green edging in cherry red. The aurora was beginning and from the size of the waves would be vast and memorable. She checked in and found the pull to sleep was less and more manageable. She pulled her woollen tunic on and her boots and slid into her fur coat, wrapping a woolen and fur scarf around her sleek blonde hair and her long swan like neck. The cold did’t really bother her, but habits were habits and her furs and wools allowed her to comfortably remain outside for as long as she desired. Again, choosing to have choice. She exited the cave and gasped at the enormous display of curtains of waving and flowing green banded with cherry colour. Offshoots of silver and gold flowed in other directions...
Sea: Welcome to Saga Kraft. Myths, fairytales, legends, stories comfort us, inspire us and heal us. Please join us as we share stories both old and new. More than anything, we are open to the story and it's unfolding. At times it may be one story told by one person. At times it's the same story told through three different voices. In the end we go where the story takes us, and we invite you to follow. I'm Sea, a writer, artist, and storyteller. Betsy: I'm Betsy, a medium and teacher of mystery traditions. Gabriela: I'm Gabriela, an artist and practitioner of folk magic. Saga Kraft: We are magical in training.
Sea: Welcome to Saga Kraft: myths, fairytales, legends, stories comfort us, inspire us and heal us. Please join us as we share stories both old and new. More than anything, we are open to the story and it's unfolding. At times it may be one story told by one person, at times it's the same story told through three different voices. In the end, we go where the story takes us and we invite you to follow. I'm Sea, a writer, artist, and storyteller. Betsy: I'm Betsy, a medium and teacher of mystery traditions. Gabriela: I'm Gabriella, an artist and practitioner of folk magic. Saga Kraft: We are magical fairy godmothers in training. . Gabriela: Today's stories will be about wanting love, longing for love, having love, losing love, and everything in between. And of course, about magic. We hope you enjoy them. Sea, we would love to hear your story. Sea: "I don't care!" I yelled down to my mom who asked what I wanted for breakfast. What I really wanted was to know if Abbey like liked me. I so wanted to kiss the beautiful full lips. We had been hanging out for about a year and we'd gone to the food truck together a couple of days ago. She wouldn't finish her stir fry because it touched by pork bun, but we had fun after we switched from a low budget sci-fi to a superhero movie anyway. But I was still afraid to ask her out, and she was starting to kind of like some other loser. It was time for me to make my move. My sister said I should ask her witchy friend Claire. I've known Claire since third grade and figured, at worst, I'd get a laugh out of it. My sister called her and then said it was really important that I show respect. Claire had a gift and couldn't give up her homework time to talk to an unbeliever. I should be there at three forty five with a gift for her. She suggested a bunch of shells I had on my window. So, Claire's mom answered the door, double taking because she forgot to put on the new-agey scarf she promised Claire she'd wear. She quickly pulled it around her head and bowed then offered me a cookie on the way to Claire's room. She knocked three times before opening the door and bowing. The place was a sea of loud fabric. Claire was on her bed, cross-legged in the middle of a jungle of curtains. I was overwhelmed by the colors and the incense. It felt like an herb garden went gaseous and flowed into my sinuses. Thank God I had my inhaler. After a whiff. I sat down where Claire's mom pointed, on a round pillow on the floor at the foot of the bed. There was a three inch string hanging from the blanket. Claire's mom left, closing the door behind her. Claire sat on the bed, not looking down on me. She had her eyes closed and hands together like a small child praying, but in front of her chest. She was fuller than I remembered. I nibbled the cookie. When I'd eaten the whole thing, one crumb at a time, I cleared my throat and she whipped one finger up in a wait sign. I sighed and started pulling at the dangling thread as she dropped her hands. An eternity later the string was about twelve yards long, and Claire startled me when she spoke in an unaturally deep tone that made her voice crack. "You have come for a spell." "Uuuh," I responded. She deployed her silencing finger. "It is a love spell. What is the name of your beloved?" she asked, dropping her hand to her lap. "Abbey." I frowned. I live in fairfield, not fairy tale. "Yes," she announced abruptly "you shall have it. Although," she continued "your guides want you to know that you, too, wield the power of altering destiny. Great, I thought, I had been approved to make choices. I considered altering destiny right then and there by getting up and leaving. But I'd never hear the end of it from my sister. "Abbey." she announced, squeezing her eyes shut and beginning to mutter under her breath.
Sea: Welcome to Saga Kraft. Myths, fairytales, legends, stories comfort us, inspire us and heal us. Please join us as we share stories both old and new. More than anything, we are open to the story and it's unfolding. At times it may be one story told by one person. At times it's the same story told through three different voices. In the end we go where the story takes us, and we invite you to follow. I'm Sea, a writer, artist, and storyteller. Betsy: I'm Betsy, a medium and teacher of mystery traditions. Gabriela: I'm Gabriela, an artist and practitioner of folk magic. Saga Kraft: We are magical in training.
Sea: Welcome to Saga Kraft. Myths, fairytales, legends, stories comfort us, inspire us and heal us. Please join us as we share stories both old and new. More than anything, we are open to the story and it's unfolding. At times it may be one story told by one person. At times it's the same story told through three different voices. In the end we go where the story takes us, and we invite you to follow. I'm Sea, a writer, artist, and storyteller. Betsy: I'm Betsy, a medium and teacher of mystery traditions. Gabriela: I'm Gabriela, an artist and practitioner of folk magic. Saga Kraft: We are magical in training.
Sea: Welcome to Saga Kraft. Myths, fairytales, legends, stories comfort us, inspire us and heal us. Please join us as we share stories both old and new. More than anything, we are open to the story and it's unfolding. At times it may be one story told by one person. At times it's the same story told through three different voices. In the end we go where the story takes us, and we invite you to follow. I'm Sea, a writer, artist, and storyteller. Betsy: I'm Betsy, a medium and teacher of mystery traditions. Gabriela: I'm Gabriela, an artist and practitioner of folk magic. Saga Kraft: We are magical in training. Gabriela: The stories that we are about to share with you today contain some intense descriptions and material, so, if you are feeling in any way sensitive, perhaps this may not be the stories to listen to at this time. Today, we are excited to share stories about initiation, and the forms they take. How they change us and our world. And we invite the blessing of Saga, the blessing of Story, and the blessing of change at the right time, and especially the blessing of a graceful change whenever possible. Betsy: I also want to honor the listener, because what is a story without a listener, and so, may our stories in this new season land with you in a way that interests you or amazes you, or intrigues you, or challenge you. Sea: And I also want to honor saga and all the helpers. Betsy: And I'd love to begin if that's all right with you two. Gabriela: That would be lovely, thank you Betsy. Betsy: So, my story is called Morvoren. The sea has always held mysteries and treasure. Though ocean and coastal currents may be habitual, how things move about in the sea and where they ended up cannot always be explained. Water carries emotion and sound. It can imprint with experience and intention. It's always subject to magic. I've always trusted the goddess Sirona, and that's why I'm now floating in the sea, nailed into a barrel, being carried away by the outgoing tide Goello, my betrayer, was watching me with beetled brows and smiling in an odious way as his men nailed me into the barrel with just enough of an opening for the sea to enter. Now his ship sails away from me. I suppose I should feel the shame that has been heaped onto me, but I'm furious. Not at the goddess, after all, she said I would be facing trials, but at my parents for being swayed by my betrothed to cast me off. Casting me off was their idea. He wanted me stoned. As if the stones of Brittany would even allow that. Instead I'm floating away in what everyone hopes will be the end of me. I am resolved to live. I don't quite know how that's going to happen, but I will not let them kill me and my baby. Time was, not so long ago, that my decision to consummate my love with Grannus would have been celebrated with a feast and gifts, not worries about what a foreign god would think about it. It's a confusing time when priests of the new god are trying to diminish the goddess and her place in my country. Confusing because my parents have to consider this god, because almost no country will trade with us while we are considered pagans. They planned on my marriage to a christian princeling Goello. I've always known marriage was my duty, but never to him. Sirona intervened. She merged my path with a man who was made for me as though he was my other half. Grannus of the black hair and white skin, whose breadth of shoulder is matched by the vastness of his heart. He's now locked away and won't be freed until I've been swept away. I hope he is praying and not despairing, for I need his prayers. Serona of the waters, send me a rescuer. Please deliver me from the ocean. Two days have passed and I've been becalmed in unseasonable heat. I feel I'm going nowhere, but still a current carries me far from land. Is this a reprieve
Sea: Welcome to Saga Kraft. Myths, fairytales, legends, stories comfort us, inspire us, and heal us. Please join us as we share stories both old and new. More than anything, we are open to the story and it's unfolding. At times it may be one story told by one person, at times it's the same story told through three different voices. In the end, we go where the story takes us, and we invite you to follow. I'm Sea, a writer, artist, and storyteller. Betsy: I'm Betsy, a medium and teacher of mystery traditions. Gabriela: I'm Gabriella, an artist and practitioner of folk magic. Saga Kraft: We are magical berries in training. Sea: Welcome to the world of dragons. Betsy: My story is the dragon of Provence. Different worlds were created at the same time by the creator. No one world was more important or better than another. These worlds were not nesting one within another like Russian dolls, but were each equal to one another with one right next to the other. Between worlds were thin places where inhabitants from one world might find their way to cross through and enter another world, for their own reasons. There are many reasons to cross and all are dependent on what sort of person is entering into another world. This state of affairs was not obvious to most inhabitants of the worlds. These inhabitants were in pursuit of their daily life, trying to make a living and succeeding at it, or not. Where once they may have lived in smaller groups or bands, over time each prominent species found their way, whether it was to live in a town or a city, or to become a single hunter. Drak the Hunter was a sorcerer dragon in the dragon world, who considered himself to be at the top of the top. He had lived a very long time and realized that, though he never really needed to fear any greater predator because there wasn't one, his chief and only enemy was boredom. At first he became a collector, as dragons are prone to do, and then he developed into a philosopher. Philosophy became his chief pursuit and he delved into the mysteries of every world he could enter, and they were many. He learned many languages and hoarded rare texts and artifacts. Without realizing it, he became a bit of an intellectual aesthete. It may have transmitted to him partially through osmosis., because the thin place that allowed him to enter the human realm was located in a very beautiful part of France. Here, castles abounded, built on top of mountains and the Rhône river flowed fast and deep. He found a cave under the river in the bottom of a mountain valley, and here he learned this river was the home of sorceress water fairies who claimed alliance with him and who felt themselves to be immune from his hunting. They convinced him that they were not to be eaten. He respected their wishes, not because their logic compelled him, but because they were the closest thing to being interesting that he had found for a long while. He focused on hunting humans who were alone, and for more pleasure, he hunted in the marketplaces of various towns, where he concealed himself in visibility and waited for a strange child or a man relieving himself in an alley after a big meal and a lot of ale. He had something of a soft spot for human women. In this region, the fairies made many amorous conquest, and he did not want to eat a hybrid fairy and human woman. When it was necessary from time to time to consort with his own kind, a mercifully rare event, he found himself becoming quickly irritated and desiring retreat. Not in defeat, but because of boredom. Over time he could think of no great reason to connect with another dragon because they were so tedious. He lived this way for a long while growing, ever more precise and opinionated. In the spring of his world and those closest to his, a longing grew in him that was so unexpected. It made no sense to him for quite some time. Eventually the thought came to...
Sea: Welcome to Saga Kraft. Myths, fairytales, legends. Stories comfort us, inspire us and heal us. Please join us as we share stories both old and new. More than anything, we are open to the story and it's unfolding. At times it may be one story told by one person. At times it's the same story told through three different voices. In the end we go where the story takes us, and we invite you to follow. I'm Sea, a writer, artist, and storyteller. Betsy: I'm Betsy, a medium and teacher of mystery traditions. Gabriela: I'm Gabriela, an artist and practitioner of folk magic. Saga Kraft: We are magical fairy godmothers in training. Gabriela: Today, we will be sharing stories about spinning. The magic of spinning, the goddesses of spinning, and how threads come together. How connections come together. So, we invite the blessed spinners to be with us today. The blessing threads, the connections, the wisdom, of those threads and everything in between. And we invite saga. My story is called The Dream Thread. My younger sister Kasia was lagging behind as usual. Her short, chubby legs made very little effort to keep up, but stumbled clumsily down the hill towards the river where I was heading, carrying a basket of clothes for washing. I didn't mind this chore at all. I enjoy the walk through the village and down the big white hill and the river was always pleasant, at least into spring and summer seasons. If it wasn't for Kasia slowing me down, I would be done with the washing in half the time and could spend the rest of the afternoon stretched out by the river, daydreaming while listening to the breeze and soothing flow of fast moving water. I wish mother would let me come here by myself once in a while, without Kasia. I don't see why she couldn't stay home with mother and learn how to make herself useful. I couldn't help but resent her at times, and how much she got away with, or rather how little. By the time I was six, I knew how to sweep the kitchen and front porch, feed the chickens, prepare and trim fresh herbs for supper, and mix the flour for baking. For Kasia, a very different set of rules was in place. But then again, there was a reason for that. The year Kasia was born was a really difficult one for our family, and nothing seemed the same since. Everything was threaded with a tinge of sadness. It was the year that Granny died suddenly and without any warning. We had no time to prepare and barely got to say goodbye. My mother, eight months pregnant, fell into a deep sorrow and barely survived the labor, which came a moon too early and caused great stress to her body and soul. The midwife and a couple of other older women from our village came to our cottage and stayed for nights, tending to my mother. Heating water, preparing herbs, teas, and washes, and saying prayers, whispering under their breath and exchanging concerned glances. My mother, delirious, cried out for Granny, whose hands delivered me into the world, but sadly not this new child that was arriving. The women had to remind her gently over and over that her mother was gone, but they would stay with her and would take care of her and the baby, and everything would be alright. I was a little over three years old, but I remember those few days so vividly. I didn't understand fully what was happening, but I could feel the severity of each moment that stretched painfully, and it was filled with my mother's moans at a pitch I have never heard before. My father paced outside on the porch, distant and cold with worry, unable to provide me with any solace at all. At times like these, Granny would be the one who held her apron open to receive me with an embrace, or a corner of a soft handkerchief to wipe my tears with. Granny was the only person who could have made this moment bearable for me, and she was gone. Craving her warmth and security, I crawled into bed with her favorite shawl...
Sea: Welcome to Saga craft. Myths, fairytales, legends. Stories comfort us, inspire us, and heal us. Please join us as we share stories both old and new. More than anything, we are open to the story and it's unfolding. At times it may be one story told by one person, at times it's the same story told through three different voices. In the end, we go where the story takes us, and we invite you to follow. I'm Sea, a writer, artist, and storyteller. Betsy: I'm Betsy, a medium and teacher of mystery traditions. Gabriela: I'm Gabriella, an artist and practitioner of folk magic. Saga Kraft: We are magical fairy godmothers in training. Gabriela: Tonight, we will be honoring the wolf mother, and mother wolf, and the liminal spaces that bring her into being, into our lives. We ask for her blessing, for connection to her, and we ask for the blessing of Saga as well. Betsy: Do you want me to go first? Okay. My story, Wolf Mother, takes place in what's now Britain, a long time ago. Struggling to keep her horse moving forward through the densely falling snow. Wenna tried to remember the story that her two days old husband had told her on their wedding day. She kept one arm wrapped around the limp figure of his sister, one ear cocked to the rising howl of the wind, listening for another sound. The light was fading and all landmarks were disappearing in the snow. She had a good sense of direction and kept her horse moving northward, as instructed. She thought back to their wedding day, with its haste, and the story that her husband Bran had shared with her in their nuptial privacy. He'd spent his precious few hours of leave from the battlefront impressing upon her the importance of his clan's story, and delaying the inevitable bedding ceremony. It was a time of war and her young husband a battle hardened commander. Marrying for convenience and the getting of an heir on a royal woman meant that meeting, contracting, and marrying all happened in one long confusing day. Listening intently to the story he was telling, while nervously anticipating the intimacy to follow, had caused Bran to clasp her forearm and say "Focus please, Wenna" to her, much as he would to a raw recruit. He continued telling her the story of the king wolf and the elder queen wolf, stressing that he and his sister Alene were children of the old queen. Clan stories were sacred, and while some parts of them were known by the general public, others were kept secret by the initiated descendants. She knew the horse stories inside and out, and the importance, so she had pushed her worries back and focused on the story and how it fit together. Bran's voice, low and steady, the calm look in his eyes as he shared the story, and the words themselves had soon woven their magic. The complex story of rival wolf clans, kept secret in this level of detail, revealed the deeper origins of the war that had been going on for a decade. Bran was asking her, as his wife and now clan partner, to keep his sister safe, for her importance to the clan of the wolf queen. "It's through her, that our clan will prosper and her child could be the next queen of the land." Well, she could say the same thing. She was also a daughter from a royal lineage. Kings were not determined by the male line, but by the female line. The wolf king wanted to change all that by either taking Aline as his wife, or killing her. Bran wanted Wenna to protect Aline and herself at all costs. When asked if she had any questions, she pondered for a moment, and then I asked evenly "Haven't you just endangered me now, as well as your sister, by linking us together? The wolf king could kill us both, or take us both and become that much closer to the Throne of Arn." Bran hesitated and said "There is a prophecy of the wolf and the horse uniting. It's ambiguous, and yet precise. Through marriage do the two queens of the land hold back...
Sea: Welcome to Saga Kraft. Myths, fairytales, legends. Stories comfort us, inspire us, and heal us. Please join us as we share stories both old and new. More than anything, we are open to the story and it's unfolding. At times it may be one story told by one person. At times it's the same story told through three different voices. In the end, we go where the story takes us, and we invite you to follow. I'm Sea a writer, artist, and storyteller. Betsy: I'm Betsy, a medium and teacher of mystery traditions. Gabriela: I'm Gabriella, an artist and practitioner of folk magic. Saga Kraft: We are magical fairy godmothers in training. Betsy: Our stories today are about elves and elf land. We hope you enjoy them. Sea: I will go if it's okay. Once upon a time, there was an elf who wanted to fly and every night he would dream of soaring through the air. One morning, after such a dream, he was brushing his teeth and just out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a horrible blackness rotting away at his teeth in the back. He jumped up and gasped, first choking on then spitting his toothpaste. After rinsing out his mouth and changing his shirt he went to see his grandparent, as one never knows the gender of the elves in his family until one sees him or her, since they change it. Well today he was a grandfather. The elf told him what happened. "Not to worry," the grandfather said "it was a waking dream. They happen to the best of us." So the next day the elf had his teeth cleaned and everything was fine. But, a while later, the elf was looking into the mirror again when he thought he saw a king galloping up behind him. To be clear, the king himself was not galloping. The horse he was riding on was. In any event, the elf went running to his neighbor and excitedly told her about it. "What a nice dream!" The neighbor exclaimed, and called to some friends passing by. She told them all about the elves vision of a King coming through town. They laughed and cajoled. Someone brought a cake and they all told tales of the beautiful things they wished would happen, and on the way home, the elf made a game of walking through the fresh hoof prints that led through town, laughing at himself because he actually thought he might see a king . And one season turned into the next before the elf was fixing his hair, when he saw a golden pen in the mirror. He recognized it as the prize at the elvin poetry contest. He was so excited that he immediately went running to his grandparents' house. "Grandmother!" He said to the old elf who was feeling feminine, but then stopped. "I hope you are doing well today. I just wanted to thank you for the other day. My teeth are great." " That's wonderful, but did you really come all that way to tell me that?" The old elf asked. "I just thought it would be nice to see you" the young elf said, as he scurried home to write a few poems, which he immediately entered into the contest. On the day of the poetry reading the elf stared deeply into the mirror, hoping to see the golden pen, but nothing appeared. He went to the contes ,and, when it was his turn, hesitantly took the stage. He read his poem about flying and falling and flying again. In the end, he probably took first place, but writing poems about flying wasn't the same as actually doing it. The next day, the elf looked into the mirror and searched out of the corner of his eye for an image of flight. He tried jumping up, suddenly and erratically twisting in the air, attempting to create a flight like image. When it wasn't working, he tried flicking his hair back and forth to see if he could create a flying scene with that. No luck. Finally, in desperation, he drew a picture of flight onto the mirror itself. Then he went into his craft area and began to sew himself a set of wings. He had to make them perfect. Both potentially wind altering, he billowed the fabric in the air to...
Sea: Welcome to Saga Kraft. Myths, fairytales, legends. Stories comfort us, inspire us and heal us. Please join us as we share stories both old and new. More than anything, we're open to the story and it's unfolding. At times, it may be one story told by one person. At times it's the same story told through three different voices. In the end, we go where the story takes us and we invite you to follow. I'm Sea, a writer, artist, and storyteller. Betsy: I'm Betsy, a medium and teacher of mystery traditions. Gabriela: I'm Gabriela, an artist and practitioner of folk magic. Saga Kraft: We are magical fairy godmothers in training. Gabriela: Today's stories will be about this time of the year. Winter time, Yule time, the winter solstice. So many traditions, sacred traditions around this time. So many customs. We want to honor the sacred time with our stories today and share with you the stories of Yule time. And we hope that they bring blessing to you and that they sooth you during the season. My story is called the secret supper. The wind was unusually wild this year, Jania thought, while glancing out the window before she pulled out the final batch of Christmas Eve rolls out of the oven. The gusts of snow whirled and danced joyfully outside against the blue- black winter backdrop. How nice it was to watch it from the safety of a warm home, she thought, smiling. It was almost time for their feast. As soon as the first star of the evening was spotted by one of her grandchildren they could sit down and start the festivities. As usual Jania spent the last few days cooking and getting the home celebration ready for her and her family. The winter holiday, and especially Christmas season, was very important. It was the most magical and sacred time. And she was so lucky to have a big family to share it with, and a warm home and a table full of food. This was a great blessing. "I see it! I see the star!" Cried out excited Tomek, the oldest of her grandchildren, which encouraged the younger sister and cousin to cry out with excitement. "All right everybody, let's gather together." Announced Stefan, after checking with Jania to make sure everything was ready. He was always happy to help her, but Yanya rarely took him up on the offer. The kitchen was her domain and he knew better than to interfere. Besides, their two daughters circled around her effortlessly. The three of them moved with grace and precision and created dishes that smelled and looked heavenly. After all, they have been making these dishes together for many, many years. Since it was time, Stefan turned off the electric lights and lit candles to aluminate their evening in a more intimate way. "Ahh, this is more like it," Jania sighed gratefully as she entered the family room. Now they could truly start. They shared the Christmas wafer with each other, an old tradition of offering good wishes to each family member while eating delicate bread. The oldest couple would always start first. They would share with each other, then their children and grandchildren. Kind words and simple blessings were exchanged. "In the coming year, I wish you happiness and good health. That is most important." Stefan said to Jania " And I wish that your arthritis will ease up so that we can enjoy more walks together like we used to." Jania said. The younger couples wished each other success at work, ease in their marriage and happiness. The children mimicked the words they heard from the adults and made their own sweet, heartfelt wishes to the family. Siblings promised not to argue and to help parents around the home. Even at a young age, they took the sharing of wishes seriously. They could see and feel how important these exchanges were for their family and how open everybody's hearts were. Twelve dishes, no more, nor less, were served. Vegetarian and fish dishes only. No...
Sea: Welcome to Saga Kraft. Myths, fairytales, legends. Stories, comfort us, inspire us and heal us. Please join us. As we share stories, both old and new. More than anything, we are open to the story and it's unfolding. At times, it may be one story told by one person. At times it's the same story told through three different voices. In the end, we go where the story takes us and we invite you to follow. I'm Sea, a writer, artist, and storyteller. Betsy: I'm Betsy, a medium and teacher of mystery traditions. Gabriela: I'm Gabriela, an artist and practitioner of folk magic. Saga Kraft: We are magical fairy godmothers in training. Betsy: I'd like to start out by welcoming Saga, and our stories today are about magical weapons. The white chalk horse gleamed in the Moonlight on the late fall evening. The wind blew from the South making its way through the rolling hills and ruffling the leaves of the hedge rows, The sound of a lone horse cart, clopping, hoofs, and wooden wheel rims, creaking harness and the puffing of a horses breath could be heard from the ridge top road down in the homes in the small village. Wives put their shawls over their ears. Husbands started fiddling with their pipes and tossing more logs on the fire. Children pulled the covers over their heads, tucked three and four to a bed. The huge man sitting lazily on the seat of the cart, pulled it to a stop once the road was level and jumped down, giving the horse a rest from pulling the combined weight of firewood, his blacksmithing gear, and himself. He put his hands behind him, stretching out the muscles of his back and his broad chest Talking gently to his horse, a companion for many years, he checked its hooves for stones and offered a handful of oats. Almost there. Boy, my fine fellow, almost there. The horse grunted stomping, one hoof to the ground, indicating that he'd prefer to move on and get out of the wind. The man laughed and pulled the reins to the front. Leading the horse and stretching out his long muscular legs for an ambling mile or so. Several miles later, having climbed back on the card, the wagon pulled to a stop by an ancient long barrow. The mystery of this place was perceptible. Trees, having lost their leaves, provided something of a windbreak around the ancient stones. Wayland unhitched the horse, throwing a warm blanket over him for the time being. It would soon be hot enough. He jumped up into the wagon, hoisted up the anvile and tossed it to the ground in the direction of the long stone structure. The moon was coming on full and gleaming above the far off Hills in the distance across fields, lying fallow. Wayland stood in the Moonlight, looking around and sensing for the closest living creatures. None very close, he thought satisfied. He had private things to do, and this was the best place that he could do them. He didn't like to be spied on. This barrow was one that was avoided by humans because it led into an opening into the realm of the old ones. On top of that, the white horse gleaming in the distance was part of the province of the horse goddess Epona No one would dare to be out in the night here. After setting up the anvil in a place where the wind could reach it, the furnace was pulled to the cart's edge and heaved to the ground. He set that up in the windbreak area adjacent, humming to himself. He conjured the fire with wood from nine different kinds of trees. He pulled out a great bellows and set to work some hours later with molten metal and the fierce firelight casting shadows on the sculpted planes of his face. He was sweating and smiling with satisfaction. Whatever came out of this night's work, it would be something very fine, he thought. He moved around to do his blacksmithing work, finding strength from the earth, and different qualities available at different times of the year.This place was...
Welcome to Saga Kraft: myths, fairytales, legends stories, comfort us, inspire us and heal us. Please join us. As we share stories, both old and new, more than anything, we are open to the story and it's unfolding at times. It may be one story told by one person at times it's the same story told through three different voices. In the end, we go where the story takes us and we invite you to follow. I'm Sea a writer, artist, and storyteller. I'm Betsy, a medium and teacher of mystery traditions. I'm Gabriella, an artist and practitioner of folk magic. We are magical fairy godmothers in training today, we will be talking about stars, star lore, and star beings. And as we talk about them, we want to invite all kinds of star lore here and the wisdom of the stars and the wisdom of the ancient stars and the ancient people who gazed at the sky and divined asked for blessing followed natural cycles. So we invite all of that here today and give, thanks for those cycles. Give thanks for the time we have under the sky. One of those constants that maybe we take for granted that there's this beautiful tapestry of twinkling lights above us, no matter where we go, we give thanks for that. And we hope that these stories find you well and bring whatever it is that you need from the day. So we give thanks to the stars, the star lore. And to saga, I want to give thanks also to everyone who dreams of the stars and the amazing inspiration that they bring to it. And I'm wanting to honor the way the stars have guided people, as well as the different transits of the planet, the sun and moon. I'm very aware of the power of the, not just the heavenly bodies, but the sky beings that are associated with those heavenly bodies. This is a time when we have had several comments in the sky and meteor showers that have been sharing their light with us and reminding us in this time that light comes from many different directions. It's beautiful. Betsy, would you like to share your story? That'd be honored too. My story is a story that is related to the countries of Finland and Estonia. And the name of my story is the astral veil of Lindo. In autumn when the sky begins to darken after a summer of endless light is when I think wistfully of Linda, do I think of her as light itself, which is perhaps why she comes into my mind and my heart, when it finally becomes dark here in the North. I gaze up into the night sky, looking at the gossamer belt of stars that shines above that is where she went. I feel sad that I cannot yet follow her someday. I will then do. His father is echo. We call him old man behind his back. This is not an insult. This is our reverence for him as our elder God of the sky. Who came from a time before there was any earth at all his breath, his presence is all power. When we pray, we think of him on his sky power and ask that he brings our prayers to life. When strife has happened, we ask him to use his golden hammer and make thunder to clarify and cleanse. When he thinks we need something cleared, pay brings wild storms. And our world has changed when we lose a beloved mother, husband, or child. He takes them in his chariot, into the sky. So then do was the answer to his own prayers. He had longed for and tried to make a child with his wife Rovena. They couldn't do it. Despite his healing power and her verbal skills. Gluco found a concert, a fertility goddess who conceived the flax inherited into. She was such a treasure to have go when born that Rob now came to accept and love her too. That was Linda's gift. People loved her. She was a creature of the sky and the land and water because of this. She was gifted with her own kingdom on the shores of the Baltic sea. I lived here as well as her friend and as a member of the Swan tribe here, we played and learned and grew. We grew into womanhood together. And I watched her become the sovereign queen of her own lens. She was known as the queen of the birds living amongst her Wingard
Welcome to Saga Kraft: myths, fairytales, legends stories, comfort us, inspire us and heal us. Please join us. As we share stories, both old and new, more than anything, we are open to the story and it's unfolding at times. It may be one story told by one person at times it's the same story told through three different voices. In the end, we go where the story takes us and we invite you to follow. I'm Sea, a writer, artist, and storyteller. I'm Betsy, a medium and teacher of mystery traditions. I'm Gabriella, an artist and practitioner of folk magic. We are magical bear in training today. We're talking about green people and forest spirits. This is Betsy, and I definitely want to. Invite and invoke and evoke the green man, the green God himself with gratitude. And I want to thank all of the spirits that support this God also. And I'm grateful for the week that I spent with this God and I invite saga to be present as well. And thank you for these stories. And this is Gabriela. And I would like to invite the spirit of the old way, send the spirit of the wild and the blessings of the wild and to forest and the trees and for the balance and the nurturing that came with those times. And even though we may feel disconnected from those times, I think we can bring them through in our stories and in our devotions. So I'm very grateful to have also spent it. A week with the being that I'll be speaking about. And I give thanks to that being and to other beings from this land. And I give thanks to saga and the two other storytellers I'm with today, this was C and I would like to thank everyone and, uh, really appreciate and dedicate this to. Relationship all of our relationships with one another, maybe globally be well even more than globally. Can they wait, cosmologically be in perfect right. Relationship compassionately treating one another. So, um, my story is about the green man and the location of the stories in some unspecified. Kind of Celtic British or Britannic proton landscape, the small family of three left their village just after first light, neatly dressed. Two of them were carrying maiden baskets. The third held the hands of the older two. They maintained a presence of decorum walking at a measured pace nodding to other early rising villagers as they made their way along the single track road heading towards the forest. All of them were silent as they passed the graveyard in the early morning, gray shadow nearby. The first rays of the rising sun lit the equal armed cross on a pedestal in the church yard. Spinning light rays in all directions. The young man looked at his partner, Ellen in the suddenly vivid light with a flicker of anxiety. She smiled reassuringly and said, it's a blessing in audit and then smiled at the small girl between them as she took a couple of skipping steps at the word blessing. Nearing the end of the village out on the open road, they were completely illuminated in sunlight. They Quicken their pace. I had lay the smaller road that led into the great forest is fast track. The forest had been a source of life for the villagers, for the entire lifespan of the village. It provided would have many kinds for furniture and homes as well as firewood and charcoal. Hunters found game animals, birds, and even river fish in the forest. Why is Vogue like Ellen went to the forest for several reasons, including plants from medicinal and culinary purposes. So nominally Christian, for some time, Ellen went to the forest to honor the green man of the forest as her ancestors had done for centuries. She thought of the green man is one of her ancestors for that matter as had her mother before her, until lately the village had kept its connection to the old ways and customs long held in this part of the world. The advance of Christianity was changing. That belting fires were still that in many areas, but fewer belting babies were born. Nine months later, Ellen herself was one of these children. It was not...
Welcome to Saga Kraft: myths, fairytales, legends stories, comfort us, inspire us and heal us. Please join us. As we share stories, both old and new, more than anything, we are open to the story and it's unfolding at times. It may be one story told by one person at times it's the same story told through three different voices. In the end, we go where the story takes us and we invite you to follow. I'm C a writer, artist, and storyteller. I'm Betsy, a medium and teacher of mystery traditions. I'm Gabriella, an artist and practitioner of folk magic. We are magical fairy godmothers in training today, we will be sharing stories about the wild hunt. And all the magic and wildness and blessing that comes with those times. And the adventures, fires first lit for grandfathers. Feasts are still burning. They burned for a long time and these parts, not just for the one even into morning, but for the many nights that follow after. The days are short and the nights are long and getting longer yet heading into the deepest autumn, the autumn that strips the trees bare and freezes the ground solid and closed. Preparing for winter, many souls and spirits wonder in this cold landscape and howling winds finding their way home through the thin veils of the dark season, finding their way towards their loved ones. Those offerings and feasts are not for me. They're not for me. No feast can fill my hunger or quench my thirst. No, honey can sweeten the bitterness that burns me songs and prayers can be heard. Messages revealed between the living and the dead, a sacred time that living lean softly to hear the whispers and blessings of their loved ones. What omens, what was done? What do they bring for the coming year? The songs they sing or not? For me, they're not for me. And no one wants to hear my cries, my house or my rage. I am the keeper of the place where the unwanted go, the banished, the wicked and the wild here they come. And I contain them. Keep them still keep them quiet and far away from the living and from the fires until this time comes when the earth stirs and a wins world. And I can no longer keep from howling, a thousand cries and the cold wind blows from all sides. There's nowhere to run, no place to hide. This wind might find me after all, take me over, push me further out. I will be free at last free at last. But I will not go into the night. I have my rage. I have my thousand cries. I will not be banished. I must keep guard. Ah, here they come. Hundreds of writers and to beasts and ghouls by ground and by air, they ride so many faces, flared, nostrils, and fierce eyes, tumbling and crying like one being onward and forward the ride unstoppable on confined. Oh, how wonderful it would be to ride with them to whirl and fly, to be free, to be undone. But I cannot, I cannot ride. I must remain. I must guard. I have my rage. I have my thousand cries. It is my duty. And Diane bound, the black writer arrives. I meet his eyes. Your time has come guardian. You must ride. But I cannot for, I am bound and I hold a thousand cries. Give me your cries. He demands. I give him one and onward. He rides the red rider arrives. I meet his eyes. Your time has come guardian. You must ride. I still cannot fry him bound. And with the rage of a thousand, I, how give me a rage. He demands. I give him one. And onward. He rides the white writer arrives. I dare not meet his eyes. He cannot see me. I must hide, but he can see all and there's nowhere to go, no place to hide. And I still hold the thousand cries inside. I've come for you, guardian. Your time is now another rider comes to take your place to keep the edge, to keep the banished and the wicked and the wild. I cannot leave. I cannot ride. I have a thousand howling voices inside a thousand rages and a thousand cries. Those are not yours. Those are no mine. I have come for them. So you can ride your time has come white writer go forth and ride. It is my turn to guard the land at this time....
Welcome to Saga Kraft: myths, fairytales, legends stories, comfort us, inspire us and heal us. Please join us. As we share stories, both old and new, more than anything, we're open to the story and it's unfolding at times. It may be one story told by one person at times it's the same story told through three different voices. In the end, we go where the story takes us and we invite you to follow. I'm Sea, a writer, artist, and storyteller. I'm Betsy, a medium and teacher of mystery traditions. I'm Gabriella, an artist and practitioner of folk magic. We are magical fairy godmothers in training. I invoked sacred ground: with thanks to Saga. For the inspirations that you offer to Saga Kraft and to us. And I'm very grateful for this thin time of the year for all that this thin time has to offer the fin time offers opportunity for ghosts to be more present than usual, which can be a good thing or not a good thing, but it's always interesting. And I look forward to hearing your stories. Sea, thank you. What do you also think everyone? And I think particularly am some students not, well, I'm not quite to exclude physical ancestors, but also all the people from the past, since I've written about some of them. It is Halloween, 1978, and all my friends are coming over to get costumed up for the midnight showing of the Rocky Horror Picture Show. I have noticed, but not contemplated. The fact that every house I've lived in has been haunted one by one. My friends arrive in t-shirts and jeans, carrying bags of satin sequence, feather, boas, and theatrical makeup. Our only living room furniture is a single reclining chair that resembles an upholster boat on a sea of orange and Brown. In my memory, it bobs as if drifting on the waves of shag carpet under the sun of a bizarrely placed chandelier. In my mind, my brother is always in the chair and I wonder if, in his, I am. My best friend has brought in our single stool and is sitting on it, painting the white pumps she just brought it the salvation army, black. I loved her then. I wonder if some part of me always will, I will call her Daphne because it is so wrong,. My neighbor Ted is there. I'm assigning him that name because years later, when I see Keanu Reeves in bill and Ted. I will think that's who Ted would have been if he hadn't been so damaged, definitely. Who was selling the attractive in that Nordic way has an unfortunate crush on Ted who was gay. The boy I have a crush on, we'll be meeting us at the theater. Thank God. He isn't going to see my house. There are three or four others there, but they're hazy in my memory was soft. Malleable features, David like ghost. I wish them well, as I wonder how they became a backdrop in my life, my mom who rarely visits the house has heard that my friends are coming over. So it was making her sole attempt at being parental. She offers dates stuffed with peanut butter because that's what seventies, teenagers month in her mind. There's a realm declines, then she scuttles back to her room to hide until they'd gone. And she can flee the house again after a few requests for things I don't know, like mirrors and cares. The conversation turns to Halloween. I love ghosts. I say, and as I do, so the chandelier begins to flash on and off. How did you do that? Tell us what, what I said, make the lights flash. Ghosts I say, and the lights flash again, Ted starts to look around. When I walk around at night, the street lights turn off deaf name remarks. Ted looks distressed. It's true. I verify every time, just like me and ghosts I add. And the chandelier flashes again. Ted has begun to look like a caged animal as he searches the room is usually how did you do it? He asked his voice raising in pitch. Really I say, I just said, ghost, the shadow confirms I didn't do anything. That's like me with the streetlights. Right. She freaked out her white blonde hair and she has her foot in now black pumps on the...
Welcome to saga craft myths, fairytales, legends stories, comfort us, inspire us and heal us. Please join us as we share stories both old and no more than anything. We're open to the story and it's unfolding at times. It may be one story told by one person at times it's the same story told through three different voices. In the end, we go where the story takes us and we invite you to follow. I'm C a writer, artist, and storyteller. I'm Betsy, a medium and teacher of mystery traditions. I'm Gabriela, an artist and practitioner of folk magic. We are magical in training today. We'll be exploring the world of the familiar and this reality. And another reality that's married to ours. The familiar, the fetch, the animal co Walker, and here are three different takes on that. I mean, it start. So this is my story. Tess's unfamiliar, familiar tests, sobbed quietly in her bed. The sounds muffled by her tear. Drenched quilt. Her scalp still smarted from the brisk and somewhat angry hair brushing that her mother had given her before tucking her under the covers and snapping off the light test. This curly hair always seemed to take the brunt of her mother's anger or disapproval. When her footsteps proceeded down the stairs, tests, tears had begun. She wasn't crying about her hair, though. It did still hurt. What had happened earlier that day in the pet store was where her misery, because the worst part, it was that she had been so certain that the little Lafayette rabbit was the pet that she'd been looking for. She'd been searching for a few years. Her mother had told her each time she fell head over heels in love with an animal, a tropical bird or a snake at the pet store that it was not appropriate for her. The way she said it with a tight lip look of disapproval made her own disappointment feels so much worse. The pet store owner always looked at tests with a little worry line between his brows. When this happened, she knew, he felt sorry for her and would try to comfort her by letting her help with some of the small tasks of maintaining and caring for the animals. When tests was there by herself. He was very careful to be non-committal when tests would exclaim in rapture over a new arrival, we'll see when your mother comes, he would say kindly, he didn't want to make it any worse for the little girl. He had his suspicions about her mother, but keeping out of people's business is what had kept him in business in this little town. As test as tears continue the memory of the soft and warm little rabbit body with the extra long ears began to fade her dreams of the rabbit, Hutch and basket filled with doll sized quilts for the bunny to snuggle and also faded. Eventually as your tears slowed down, she heard the wind moving through the trees and the bare branches beginning to tap on her bedroom window tops that were very clear. Now that the leaves had all the dropped away, the clouds rushed past in a sky with a nearly full moon. Sometimes shading it, then revealing the moons, luminous or shape. The branch tapping continue sometimes random, sometimes seeming to be in the pattern of a little song, sleep little one's sleep. She could almost hear the wind singing to her sleep. Sweethearted girl you're waiting is almost over sleep. Little one's sleep. The tapping the wind. They almost heard some load tests into a comfortable drowsiness and then into a dream that began with her wanting to rise up out of her bed and open the window without fear or concern. She did this as though it was entirely natural at the open window. The cool air and windy night prompted her to put on her Willie robe and slippers. She climbed up onto the windows, so leaned out and then fell. For just a moment then to her delight, she caught the wind and with her rope, billowing, just a little, she began to glide as light as this'll down into the night. A tiny part of her knew she was dreaming. The rest of her was in the adventure that this dream offered her,...
Welcome to saga craft myths, fairytales, legends stories, comfort us, inspire us and heal us. Please join us. As we share stories, both old and new than anything, we are open to the story and it's unfolding at times. It may be one story told by one person at times it's the same story told through three different voices. In the end, we go where the story takes us and we invite you to follow. I'm C a writer, artist, and storyteller. I'm Betsy, a medium and teacher of mystery traditions. I'm Gabriella, an artist and practitioner of folk magic. We are magical buried in training tonight. We're talking about a Anubus, the gatekeeper of the dead in the Japan mythology. Here's his story. Would you like to start the prayer then? Okay. I invoke all in only the 100% compassionate and perfect supportive of alignment with the sanctity of sovereignty and success, the very highest blessing protection and wellbeing of us and ours in each moment throughout our lives. If we can keep up with Andre, keeping all others out. And ask that they be respectfully compassionately, appreciatively, fully, completely, and wholly squirted out at this time. But those of you who I specifically invite, I particularly welcome here to the West, North East, South father, sky, mother earth and grace period. The elements from the mentals, God, the ancestors, all who we love and who love us. Particularly, I suppose. Thanks. And if this is family saga who maybe freak, maybe not. That's a question we can find out another time maybe, but I want to invite the primordial cells. Those beings that really set things in, they themselves were set in motion and then they set things in motion and in motion things still. But I, it does primordial is not only to be here in this session, but to be here in witness of your hand in creation also, and where creation is going with it. Give, thanks to our time together. I give things to the space of story and saga and space in which the gods can tell their stories through our eyes. I hope those stories carry us, teach us, embrace us and move us forward. And I give great thanks to A, as well as the many other powerful, beautiful gods of Egypt. And I honor that magic and that land. I also honor all of the people who are our listeners, who may find some sort of inspiration, this story, or some sense of wonder, or be interested in knowing more about Anubus. And may you prosper many gods of Egypt to live this humans until the early years of adolescence. It was important for us to experience the range of human feelings, fears, and emotions. How else would we be able to interpret or negotiate the fates of mankind and guide them through life, death, and resurrection? At the appropriate time, we would surrender the human life and would take on the Natera God form the time and nature of the surrender was most important for it opened the door to our full embodied power. When or human life ended and the God would take over the day of mine, the terror initiation, my mother never gathered the appropriate flowers from her garden and ordered the hem, the tear priests to prepare a special bath for me, the top layer of the water was covered with blue Lotus and Cypress flowers. And the bath chamber air was thick with the intoxicating scent of burning store acts. I saw my mother coming through the incense to air so much like smoke and shadow herself, shifting between steps into her many luminous forms when she was close. And she reached out her arms towards me. She took on her most human forms. So we could touch at the age of 12. I was still in many ways a human child. So it was natural for me to crave and feel her affection. Her dark Azore tinted. I spearing into mine intently. I could tell by her gaze that this was the last time we could be together in this way. After tonight, I would no longer be a child or a man. The darkening sky alerted the priest to Quicken their final preparations. They combed and braided my hair, anointed me with...
Welcome to saga craft myths, fairytales, legends stories, comfort us, inspire us and heal us. Please join us. As we share our stories, both old and new, more than anything, we are open to the story and it's unfolding at times. It may be one story told by one person at times it's the same story told through three different voices. In the end, we go where the story takes us and we invite you to follow. I'm Sea a writer, artist, and storyteller. I'm Betsy, a medium and teacher of mystery traditions. I'm Gabriella, an artist and practitioner of folk magic. We are magical fairy godmothers in training. Today, we are talking about our namesake Saga. This is the story that Saga gave me about herself while I was standing in a clearing in the presence of very large trees. Everywhere you look there is a story. It can be a story brought by the North wind. Stories from the North come from the land of the dead and the ancestors. It can be a story of trees, the story of the wins or a story of those who carry the wins, the great spirits themselves. These stories are mysterious, friendly, improbable, and even impossible. Somewhere, every story is true. Start with stories of trees, how they support each other with the roots sharing nutrients and what they have trying to keep each other alive and thriving trees are amazing. Examples of currents, how are power and energies that rise up and draw down or. These currents of power are everywhere in this world. And in all the worlds in the cold worlds, it's the power of ice and frost in the hot worlds. It's the power of fire and heat in those worlds. If there's something that can burn, it will burn. So in these worlds powers are emotional in the world. The veneer, it is the pulse, the heartbeat and life force of the mother and the thrusting thriving energy of the father that creates transformation and fosters life. It is the magic of the earth and of the green. The world's won't thrive without the DC here, who are the mothers of continuing life. We serve in all the worlds before us. We're the vets here, the earth mothers holding all of these worlds is the great three . This tree still stands because of the Norns, the shapers of destiny who water the roots from the well of origin and apply the glowing white silk that strengthens the tree of life. The dragon buried in the earth below the tree. Choose the tree roots. This dragon Nidhogg. Align the follows its instincts in the dark as we would, if we never opened our eyes, see what the possibilities are. He is the powerful father of the dragon sickness, which is greed the DC near the nor near the editors. And grandmothers know that this blind greed is the dragon story. He who is below Electra. Silver will never open his eyes to see new possibilities. In other worlds, dragons have other possibilities, the possibilities of transforming desire into higher qualities. In other worlds, trees have other stories. They can be life givers and life takers. They require respect, which they are not always given. They perpetuate life. Odin is like that. Odin is like a great tree, a walking tree, a wandering tree Odin can shelter. Odin can give life. Odin can lengthen life and he can take life. Odin is the father tree. It found the life that's trees on the shore and saw in them humans who had nothing who had another life, no breath, no dreams, no context. His intervention brought them out of nowhere and into somewhere. He gave then as trees can now give so much to us. Ax handles for the ax stuffs for walking or walking between worlds Spears that allow us to hunt man or beast walls and roof to support life with shelter. Furniture to provide comfort for the body and coffins to hold the body. When that time is right and necessary fuel for the fire. Remember wood without life is fuel for the fire. If you don't become infused with life, you are fuel for the fire. My name is saga. I'm one of the DC here before that, a land vet here and now a friend of Odin at...
Welcome to Saga Kraft: myths, fairytales, legends stories, comfort us, inspire us and heal us. Please join us. As we share our stories, both old and new, more than anything, we are open to the story and it's unfolding at times. It may be one story told by one person at times it's the same story told through three different voices. In the end, we go where the story takes us and we invite you to follow. I'm C a writer, artist, and storyteller. I'm Betsy, a medium and teacher of mystery traditions. I'm Gabriella, an artist and practitioner of folk magic. We are magical fairy godmothers in training. Well, first of all, I want to give thanks to Odin and Saga. I wanted to thank all of the, other of the deities and the different beings that are part of Odin's story. I give thanks for the idea of intention, focus, sacrifice, and the creativity that, that unlocks. And I asked that Odin be present with us at this time. I would call the Norns, too. Thank you so much for your amazing blessing and wisdom. And help me do well by you. I want to honor Yggdrasil and the wisdom of the natural world. And the wisdom of the ancient tree of every culture and how it brings us together through story through mystery, through nourishment, being able to tap into the sacred waters that run underneath and contain us I ask for the presence of healing, of these waters and the presence of the healing of the sacred tree. As it reaches out to us. As we reach for it, it reaches back. So I honor and thank for this longing and for this exchange. Um, I give thanks to the Valkyries and. The Ravens. And as he said, the natural world, and I also give them thanks for stories that live on, like the story of living so on. And I do ask that in these strange and changing times that we invite also in welcome Saga into our midst and ask her in her craft and her wisdom to support these stories as they go out into the world, these different snapshots of this particular vision. Thank you so much for coming into my life. And I think all of our lives as well, and I'm just greatly thankful I wanted to thank all the liminal. Yeah. I want to thank our sweet, unknown listener. Whoever you may be. This is a story about Odin and all the magical beings that gather around his initiation. The three Swan Valkyries glided in over Yvonne holla at sunset. Wearied by nine long years of domestic captivity, they would have shouted with joy to see the shining shields of the einheriors hall still in Swan forum. All they could do was honk excitedly, coming to a landing by the scarred purchase of Oden's Ravens. They began their transformation back to their womanly forms. One Raven, large as a sheep. Turned its ruffled head from the direction of the few warriors left, fighting on the practice field and said, currently he isn't here. Don't bother changing back. He wants you to cleanse and ready yourself for duty at Urdu as well. He did know we were there muttered old room whose gift for knowing things had prompted her to say just that repeatedly during their captive years as wives. Of course, he did said the other Raven, Moonen looking interestingly out the three between Heimdall in us. He knows everything. Why didn't he rescue us then said, hairball Alvita the most contentious of the three, nine years is a long time. Maybe you should have done exactly. As he said, when you said it said hook and gruffly, just because you've been given will doesn't mean you shouldn't use discretion with it. I just wanted to see if that cowardly warrior could show some nobility before he got a free ride to ball. Holla hairball said defensively. His father's a drinking buddy of the all father said, mooning, check those things out before you make your own decisions. Anyway, you should get going big doings going on and you don't want to have Oden's baleful I am just now right. Veer off said lack of the Swan white. Thank you for your courtesy. She held onto her dignity. Even during her running waddling,...
Welcome to Saga Kraft: myths, fairytales, legends stories, comfort us, inspire us and heal us. Please join us as we share stories both old and no more than anything. We're open to the story and it's unfolding at times. It may be one story told by one person at times it's the same story told through three different voices. In the end, we go where the story takes us and we invite you to follow. I'm C a writer, artist, and storyteller. I'm Betsy, a medium and teacher of mystery traditions. I'm Gabriella, an artist and practitioner of folk magic. We are magical buried in training. Tonight's story is about Vishnu, the God of eternity and how he rescues the earth. Do you want to say a prayer or something? See, yeah, I would like to invoke all and only the absolutely compassionate and perfect support alignment of our health protection, wellbeing, success, and highest grade syndrome. I couldn't keep up a boundary, keeping all of those out and ask if they'd be skirted out at this time. And that everything that had happened here, beautiful, joyful, compelling, and a blessing for all. That's it. The enormous weight of ignorance and pettiness plummeted the earth into the primordial sea, especially was watching and was irritated by this. He had absolutely no desire to go handle the earth and dollar problems. At this time, we had enough God business on his plate. However, you really love it to the Vedas. And he really loved the mystery books. And so disheartened, he decided that he would go save it. And he transformed into a bore called Varaha and dove into the sea all the way to the bottom. Where do you sift into the silt and the Mach until he finally found the earth and grabbed her and began to drag her to the top. And just as he broke the surface of the water, the earth turned it over him and beamed and said, how many times have you rescued me like this? And as soon as she did, he was madly in love. And she transformed into Excel and the two of them went and hid in the forest where they had lots of piglets and they enjoyed days of bathing in the sun and rolling in the mud and just having a fantastic time. But then she looks down and was like, what is that about how come Vishnu is still in Vera? Why didn't he come back? And he was really irritated. And so he showed up in front of her. Aha. And there was playing. And she even said, borough, what are you doing there? Oh, God business that you need to handle. You do not have time to take a vacation like this right now. Get on it, get on it. This is not you. This is not what you need to be. You are developing attachments in this world. It is not all right. Look, we're all hot. I continued slurping down this giant pile of them. Stubbles before rolling around in the mud. And Shiva was very, very distressed at the whole thing. And he said, you are a God, you are meant to behave like a God, but curled up with his needs and pretended to sleep. Okay. The second that Shiva was gone for all had jumped up and said, we have to leave. We have to go into hiding. And he took his family and they all ran to the top of the mountain and they located another place and they thought they were well hidden there. Meanwhile, Sheba went to Brahma and said, have you seen this new? He is down there. It was look at him. And the two of them lifted him and she said, can you believe it? He is a pig. It's disgusting. Isn't it disgusting? And Brahmas said, yeah, yeah, kinda disgusting. Got to say that he was like, it has to stop. He has God job duties. He must be on it. And Brown was like, Yeah, yes, he does have things to do. Then she ever said do something about it. Brian said, okay, I'll handle it. But then as soon as Shiva was gone, Brahma looked down and she went, fish looks so happy. You look so content and they know that he needs to come back, but I'm just going to give him a little more time. This does not work for Shiva at all. So the minute that Brahma did not respond immediately,...
Welcome to Saga Kraft. Myths, fairytales, legends stories, comfort us, inspire us, and heal us. Please join us as we share stories both old and new. More than anything, we're open to the story and it's unfolding. At times, it may be one story told by one person, at times, it's the same story told through three different voices. In the end, we go where the story takes us. And we invite you to follow. I'm Sea a writer, artist, and storyteller. I'm Betsy, a medium and teacher of mystery traditions. I'm Gabriella, an artist and practitioner of folk magic. We are magical fairy godmothers in training. Our story today is about creation. I chose the story of creation as told by my people of Slavic lands. I chose a version that resonated with me. There are a few versions of the story with various gods stepping into a present order and heavenly power. The dark God remains the same. He is called Weles, and later the devil, one who rules over the earth and the underworld. Well, the story has changed throughout time. It's most current form, as told by old village folk, involves God and the devil creating the world together. But for now I'll remember the story from a pre Christian perspective. At the beginning, there was the earth, the mother, who was founded by great waters from all directions above and below. Eventually a sky appeared and clouds, rod, the ancestral tribal God, and the Zoryas, or the fates. This God also appeared as the God of the sky and thunder. As the Spotify, God of the sun and fire known as the Smith of the gods. One day got a thunder and order was sailing in a sky boat across the great waters and through his staff down deep, where it hit the bottom and turned into a great out the tree of life. He took refuge at the great tree rested there for awhile and contemplated. He noticed his loneliness read the little that there were no people to keep him company. Can you, he needed earth for the people to live on and saw that deep under the water was the sand of creation. Puritan looked at his reflection and saw a vision of himself, or maybe not of himself, but another nevertheless, he asked this other to come out of the water and take four. This was vellus. One of the great depths piano knew that he needed his help to create the world. Velez was the only one who could dive deep to retrieve pieces of this precious sand from the bottom. The sound was very deep beneath, and even with Velez has great knowledge of the dark waters. He couldn't retrieve anything for the first two tries before the third attempt peeled and then Vela spoke the appropriate magical formula. And finally, Velez came back with a fist full of sand peeled on through the sand, onto the water and created a small patch of land. Barely big enough for him and the Vela to sleep on and rest for the night when peeled and fell asleep, Velez tried to push him into the water. He pushed him East and West than South and North. But during this act, Peloton just made the land extend into the shape of a cross and created the four sacred directions. Disappointed Velez kept on doing other things yeah. To disrupt the creation process, but an effect more earth formed by his actions. From the sand Velez, hidden his mouth mountains grew in bogs and fields to bake for his mouth to contain. He had to spit them out. The earth kept growing and growing and peeled and didn't know how to stop it. He began to worry that it would grow over the sky and the water too. Piano and sent a beat to spy on Velez for, he knew that the secrets of containment remained with Velez said, be heard Velez, say that in order to maintain the expansion and Mark of the cross must be made by a wand at the edges or the earth stop pillar in the jail. Does the be reported angry? Vellus curse the B for spying on a secrets. He said, may he, who sent you to steal my secrets before? So eat your own excrement. Hearing this code and blessed to be with creating honey out of the mud Velez created a...
Welcome to Saga Kraft. Myths, fairy tales, legends: Stories comfort us, inspire us, and heal us. Please join us as we share stories, both old and new. More than anything, we are open to the story and its unfolding, At times, it may be one story told by one person. At times, it’s the same story told through three different voices. In the end, we go were the story takes us . . . and we invite you to follow. Here's this week's story: God gets an upgrade God is going about his godly business as one among many Gods. His humans, however, are bickering with the neighbors about property lines. They are starting to talk trash about how great God is and how he’s supreme. At first, he’s flattered. He performs a couple easy miracles, like getting old women pregnant (not exactly a hardship for a male God). But then they push him hard to prove that he’s the end-all-be-all of deities. Concerned, God looks around. He notices that Dionysus has taken off for the islands and left a power vacuum in Sodom and Gomorrah—a place God’s own people have been bitching about. So he figures he can make an easy stand there. At first, God thinks he’ll just go impress them with his Godliness. But when he gets there they just laugh. The fact is they are far more sexually experienced than he is, and unimpressed with pregnant women. So he goes away to contemplate a long-term conversion strategy. His followers, however, have no patience and pressure him for a large scale display of power. Eventually God caves; he announces that he will destroy Sodom and Gomorrah. At first, people argue, which is a great relief to God who doesn’t want to do it anyway. God is pleased when they ask if he’ll spare the city if they find 50 good men; he figures he’s off the hook. As far as he can tell, there are thousands of good people there. But he has to put up some kind of a front, so he pushes back. Eventually, he gets them to lower the number, then sends them in to point out some good folks. They come back empty handed. And God wonders how he drew the short straw in followers. God then sends in his angels. Surely they can find someone. As soon as they arrive, Lot, the kid from the sheep incident, runs out to greet them. God wonders why it never before occurred to him to miss Lot. He should have guessed he was in party-town. God hopes the angels will stay away from that one. But no, they go home with him. God hopes Lot has changed. That evening, God sees a bunch of people heading to Lot's house for a party. And he gets excited. Maybe Lot has changed; now he has friends! But when they reach the door at the appointed time, Lot sneaks out and whispers that they should leave because he has guests. His friends think he’s joking; of course he has guests—it’s a party. They shove at the door. God thinks this is his golden opportunity to convert people. They are joyfully gathered. Surely Lot will tell them how great he is. So he shows up in his brilliant, godly glory. Everyone freaks out—people begin to scream. Lot slams the door shut. Startled, God ducks behind a tree. The party folks calm down and start to pressure Lot, asking him to at least send his new friends out to meet them—maybe have a beer. But he shoves his tween-aged but as-yet-unnamed kids out the door instead yelling “take my daughters. They have never known a man.” This, God thinks, is the Lot I remember. Lot’s friends, including his daughters’ fiancés, leave in deep disgust. The angels, however, are now convinced that Sodom and Gomorrah truly are corrupt. They lean hard on God to destroy the area in a big show. They want Lot to witness and escape so he can report the display of power to others. God sighs deeply. ‘Well,’ he thinks, ‘I really could use more followers; this might help my image. And Lot is one of my people, so I can save him.’ God tells Lot to head for the hills. Lot refuses. ‘WTF,’ God thinks, ‘I just agreed to save you.' But Lot insists he wants to go live in Zoar. "Whatever," God...
Welcome to Saga Kraft: myths, fairytales, legends stories, comfort us, inspire us and heal us. Please join us as we share stories both old, no more than anything. We're open to the story and it's unfolding at times. It may be one story told by one person at times it's the same story told through three different voices. In the end, we go where the story takes us and we invite you to follow. I'm C a writer, artist, and storyteller. I'm Betsy, a medium and teacher of mystery. I'm Gabriela, an artist and practitioner of folk magic. We are magic. Oh, very common in training. We welcome you veiled one dark Berra to come and to be part of this storytelling time. And I also want to invite saga to be present as the tremendous storyteller and holder of space for stories. Um, but this story of the cardiac also has. Bridget in it in her early as formed. I'm not as religious. So we want to invite Bridgette to be present. And the other person in the story is Angus, who is the summer King. So we invite all of you in your life, compassionate forums to be present with us for this story. And may you be pleased with this story? May it make whatever sense two individuals that it does? May it touch the hearts that it's supposed to. Um, may I speak to those who will be listening to the story in the future? I ask that my words go directly into the ears and to the hearts of those who will in the future, listen to this. And also to you now who are hearing this story. I really thank you. My story is about the Collie arc. Who is a goddess figure in Scotland, Ireland, and the isle of man, um, Kelly Ark. When we look at what the word means from old gala, um, what it means is the veiled one and it refers to old women, old hags and very powerful goddesses. And this story is about that powerful goddess who is truly the veiled one. Dark Berra was the mother of all, all the gods and goddesses in Scotland. She was very old, quite tall, and everyone feared her. She reigned as the queen of winter with fierce winds, ice and biting storms at her command. As spring year, each year, she would try with all her might to prolong the winter and her reign as the queen. Though she lived in this way for hundreds of years, she did not die because when spring inevitably came, she conceded the ruling of her realm to her son, Angus. The summer King was a beautiful golden God freed of her winter duties and aged with the effort to create the storms, to freeze the land. She would go seeking renewal. On the night before bell Tane, she would go to the floating green Island of the West to the sacred and hidden well of youth here. She would sit in silence and alone all the long night waiting for Dawn. When she would drink the magical waters after drinking from the sacred, well, Vera would begin to grow younger. And that anti-aging would continue for her. She leaves soon after drinking, returning to the mainland of Scotland, where she would then go into a deep, magical sleep. At length when she awoke, she was even younger, still emerging from sleep as a beautiful golden haired girls, suite of disposition by Midsummer, she would be a woman fully mature. And with autumn came her wrinkles by winter's beginning, she was again, a withered blue faced one eyed hag. She continued in this way for hundreds of years. One winter Barrack kept captive. A young woman named Bridger barren knew that this lovely princess was going to be the wife of her son, Angus. And she would eventually put on the crown of the summer queen. Berra didn't love her for this. She kept her captive in a hidden mountain and she set the beautiful maiden to impossible tasks and was exceedingly nasty to her when she wasn't able to complete them. And she wasn't meant to complete them. She scalded are constantly finding fault with everything. Bridget did. The girl was wretched with this treatment and deeply miserable. She was also unused to be treating in this treated in this way. Berra gave her a Brown sheep police
Welcome to Saga Kraft: myths, fairytales, legends stories, comfort us, inspire us and heal us. Please join us. As we share our stories, both old and new, more than anything, we are open to the story and it's unfolding at times. It may be one story told by one person at times it's the same story told through three different voices. In the end, we go where the story takes us and we invite you to follow. I'm C a writer, artist, and storyteller. I'm Betsy, a medium and teacher of mystery. I'm Gabriela, an artist and practitioner of folk magic. We are magic. Oh, very common in training. That I've chosen is the story of from the North Epic poem called the Sears prophecy or Volvo spa. And a little background is that the Norris and Viking and pre Viking times were not literate. The North myths were well known through oral tradition for the Norse. Inventing a new story was not valued as much as the poetic retelling of a known story. The versions that we have of the myths were written during the times when conversion to Christianity had already occurred, when stories were still largely remembered. Before being written down myths were living and could change from storyteller to storyteller. Also there wasn't organized religion, but instead during those Viking and pre biking times, the heads of settlements, their wives, or even poets were the storytellers and officiator is that ceremonies and could tell the myths from their own perspective. The Epic poem, Vola spa begins after creation has already occurred. And through the telling of the story, the Norris creation myth gets retold, including the story of GoBank herself. The story goes like this. A sear, a prophetess is summoned by the all father Odin King of the gods. She's a mighty practitioner of side in life and her power is vast and undiminished. Oh, comes to her as a seeker and asks her about the oldest deeds of gods and men. She gives him much more than he asked for. She starts by remembering the night worlds and nine giant hisses, and that they raised her in those long gone days. She remembers the seed from which the world tree Yik dress cells sprouted that tree, which holds the nine worlds in the beginning. There was no land, no sea, no earth or sky or a greenery. There was just a huge yawning, chaos void called goodness, a gap and an immense giant named Emir. Dismembering ear. Oh, then and his brothers created the nine worlds from his body in these worlds, the sun and the moon, and the stars help things to thrive, but they themselves knew no order, no knowledge of their true places and no sense of their true might. All the God powers went back to the Thrones of fate, that place of the sacred gods and together, they made a decision and that decision became time itself. It's included the naming of night and day and the separation of them and the orderlies cyclical aspects of time. Then on the vast Plains of Eve, all the gods continued. And created workshops and made temples high shrines, golden treasures, and many tools with which to create more happy about this. They played in their lush gardens and enjoyed the plenty they had created. They had lots of gold Ben, three terrible and powerful giantism came from Yotes and hammer the world of the giants. Thus ending that golden age, the God powers went back to the Thrones of fate and decided to make dwarves many dwarves out of the remainder of the giant is rotting limbs. These dwarves were little and manlike. Three gods and full of people. Power and passion went back to mid guard and found two pieces of driftwood, ask an umbrella who were weak in capable. And without it's looking in human, they had no breath, no soul and no life breadth. So, and life itself was given to them by the three gods and ask an envelope, became humans. That sprout of gig dress. So now grown into a mighty tree, develops drew drops from it as it stands forever green over IRT as well, three wise ones known as NORNS live under the tree at the...
Welcome to Saga Kraft: myths, fairytales, legends stories, comfort us, inspire us and heal us. Please join us. As we share our stories, both old and new, more than anything, we are open to the story and it's unfolding at times. It may be one story told by one person at times it's the same story told through three different voices. In the end, we go where the story takes us and we invite you to follow. I'm C a writer, artist, and storyteller. I'm Betsy, a medium and teacher of mystery. I'm Gabriela, an artist and practitioner of folk magic. We are magical in training today. I would like to share a story from the Eastern Slavic lands of Russia. And it's a story about Vesta Lisa, the beautiful. A long time ago in a certain stardom eMerchants and his wife who have been married for a long time. We're finally blessed with the birth of a daughter. They named her vest Salisa sadly, when vessel Lisa was only eight years old, her mother became gravely ill as a final gift to her daughter. Vesselis has mother gave her a doll. She said my dear sweet listen carefully for this is important. I am dying. But with my final maternal blessing, I give you the make sure you always keep her clothes and don't let anybody see her. If you were ever endanger feed her and ask her for advice, she will always help you with these final words and a kiss. Best Elise has a mother died. The merchant mourn the death of his wife, but after some time he considered marrying again, he decided to marry a widow, a woman close to his age who also had two daughters of her own. He was hoping that this mature woman and her daughters would be a great family to vest Salisa, but he was mistaken. The widow and her daughters were deeply jealous of bacilli, says beauty and were very cruel to her. They gave her all kinds of harsh chores to complete and hopes that she would grow skinny and frail in turn Fest. Lisa accomplished all of her chores and hot sun, strong winds and cold rain, and grew more full and beautiful each day to the dismay of her stepmother and stepsisters. They were the ones who grew more ugly and shriveled with resentment as the time passed. How did vast Salisa remain so joyful and then changed against the resentment she was facing? Well, as her mother instructed vest, Elisa fed her doll who aided her and all of her chores, no matter how difficult they may have been. She always set aside morsel of food for the doll. Even if it meant she didn't eat much herself. It's all her mother gave her, was always fed and had returned. She listened to vessel. Lisa gave her advice, did her chores and even taught her what herbs to use to keep her skin from burning. When the stepmother would send her out into the scorching sun to work a few years, went by and Lisa became of age to Mary being the most beautiful young girl in the village. She had many suitors. Nobody paid any attention to her ugly stepsisters, which drove their mother to rage. And she would punish vessel Lisa with painful beatings. She saw this Elisa as a reason why her daughters would never marry when the merchant had to leave home on business for a long time, she found another house to move to this house was near thick forest and deep in this forest was a hut, which was the dwelling of Baba Yaga. Well, by Yaga wanted to be left alone. Didn't like people and even ate them like chickens. If she felt like it. Needless to say with the forest, so close to this house by Salisa stepmother found all kinds of reasons to send her to the woods, to complete various chores of hopes of Baba Yaga, seeing and capturing her. So she would never return, but somehow Vasily sun never came upon the hut of Baba Yaga because the doll always advised her which paths to avoid and how to get safely home. One autumn evening, the three maidens were tasked with sewing work to complete. When the only candle was snuffed out, less Elisa was forced to go to Baba Yaga hut to bring back more light Vesta. Lisa fed her doll and...
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