The Moonflower (Arty)

I was 14 years old when I started learning about druids. I was supposed to be learning how to become a ranger like my father, but I couldn’t set my heart to it. From what I had read, though rangers have great familiarity with nature, druids have a connection with it that is unparalleled; their power comes directly from it. I found them fascinating. I realized that everything I was reading reflected the way I felt. I revered nature in a way my father never understood. I ended up confiding in one of my teachers who then tried to help me learn more and build upon the connection I already had. I tried and tried to bring forth the magic inherent in nature. I could have sworn I felt something once during these sessions, but nothing. It didn’t matter what we tried; I couldn’t reach it. I felt so discouraged, felt like I was going to have no choice except to follow my father’s footsteps. I went out one night when I couldn’t sleep.

I was walking along a deer trail and came across flowers I had never seen before. I’d walked that trail several times before but always during the day. Now, here at night, with the moon shining high, these white flowers bloomed. Their beauty was breathtaking. I was mesmerized by the way the glow of the moon reflected off the petals. Leaning down close, I breathed in their fragrance. They smelled of the night sky. But then I noticed a small bulb in the middle of the sea of blossoms. It looked so small as I cupped my hand gently around it. I wondered why this one alone hadn’t grown and honestly felt a twinge of sadness for it. And then something happened that, at the time, I couldn’t explain. Something flashed in my mind; a voice, a word echoed in its depth. Without realizing I was doing it, I heard the word leave my lips as my hands moved almost instinctively. The tips of my fingers warmed ever so slightly. I watched the little bulb open up, blossoming into a full flower. I just… I was so stunned. It took me a moment to realize what had just happened, what I had done. Then another moment to notice the drops of water falling onto the new flower were my own tears. I hadn’t felt such joy in years. I thought about that moment for days after until I finally understood why it happened. All the moments before, trying to find that connection, were just that. Trying. I was trying to force something into existence. It was when I wasn’t thinking so hard and instead just let my innate love of nature take over that allowed that moment. I used that knowledge in my studying of the druidic ways, never forcing but nurturing what has always been around. I think about that moment often. Never again have I heard that voice, the spark that started me on my way. I sometimes like to pretend that it was my mother, reaching through the veil between this life and the next, giving a little nod to let me know the path I want to take is okay. I know it’s not true, but it gives me comfort on my darkest days.