Constance Crone sat outside at her simple wooden table, plainly adorned with a crystal ball, two bright red teacups and a matching teapot. Wisdom Willow stood sentinel to the front left side of her, swaying gently on the banks of the nearby Lake of Lachrymose.

Constance looked out at a sea of expectant faces, so excited, hopeful and anxious to receive guidance from her. The throngs needing help grew longer and longer as the Magical Realm they lived in became bleaker and bleaker. It was as if a dense thick disease was hovering over everything, a place that had once been so bright and cheerful and full of light and joy. She sighed inwardly, knowing that she did not have the time to help each one individually. She sifted through several options in her mind to determine how to help as many as possible before the sun set. Then, she made a quick decision. Standing up, she lowered her brown hood, smoothed her long white hair, straightened out the white sash of her brown robe, raised her hands to the crowd and spoke in a strong, clear, kind voice:

“Dear Ones, welcome. I am glad you are here. For those who do not know me, let me introduce myself. My name is Constance. As many of you know, I am here to serve those who want help and guidance. I have determined that the best way of being of service today is to share a tale with you. If you allow this tale into your heart and mind, you will find the answers you seek. Will you join me on this journey?”

The crowd, full of creatures of all shapes, sizes and types mulled this invitation over and chatted among themselves as they did so. Constance waited respectfully and patiently. She had been in similar situations before in which the crowd was too large to handle. Usually, the promise of a good tale was irresistible. She intuitively felt their need for immediate help. Compassionately, Constance didn’t want to turn these seekers away, or to tell them to come another time.

Finally, an Elephant named Eliza flicked her ears, stood up and trumpeted to get everyone’s attention. Because of her trusted standing in the community, she was often called upon to communicate for the crowd. She said, “My Lady, I have listened to those gathered. We are now in agreement. Please tell us your tale.”

Constance smiled, inwardly relieved. She brought her stool around in front of her table and sat down, swishing her soft brown robe behind her with a flare, revealing a white tunic underneath. Opening her arms as if to embrace everyone, she said, “Gather close, and listen well, my dear ones, put aside your worries and concerns… and come with me on this journey…”

The air suddenly crackled with energy as she spoke …

“Imagine with me”, Constance continued, gesticulating with her arms in broad strokes to illustrate the images drawn by her words, “that the sunlight is shining gently upon us all and cheerfully warming the atmosphere, just like it is today. The light of the sun is falling on the vivid green tree leaves above us and dappling the rich brown soil below with shades of gold, purple and grey. Shrubs that are heavily laden with fruit and flower are filling the spaces between the tree trunks in a calliope of rainbow colors and delicious scents, punctuated by rocks and crystals of various shapes and sizes. A cool breeze of fresh air is lifting the tree limbs and they appear to dance lightly, shaking their foliage in a joyful manner. Clear, clean, bright water is shining and sparkling from a nearby bubbling stream. The sounds and aromas of the natural environment are filling the surroundings and everyone in it with a sense of expansive peace.”

Leaning forward, Constance continued “We have journeyed together to this special place in the universe, a place of respite and growth. It is called the Magical Realm, located on the Plane of Plenty in the Glorified Rose Quadrant of Ultimate Qualities. This Realm was created to be an exceptional place where beings could heal and grow and evolve spiritually. All are welcome, and yet the key to access this precious place is hidden and known only to a few. It has been forgotten over the vastness of time, and relegated to ancient stories and myths, tales of fiction to pass the time. However, if one is quiet and listens within, the key to the true Magical Realm can be found.”

Constance paused, taking a quick sip of tea from her red tea cup, gauging the audience’s needs and their response to the story so far. They are still in rapt attention. There are so many stories to choose from, but one tale arises in her consciousness. This one, she knows intuitively, will be the one that her listeners most need to hear at the moment. She begins again.

Into this idyllic scene, in the Magical Realm, one of our heroes arrived with alacrity.

Zip…zip…zip! Roger the Monkey was flying his bright blue Windrider craft with finesse through the Forest of Fascination. He had woven it with his own hands out of the Reeds of Resilience. As you know, the Reeds of Resilience grow by the waterside in many colors and can withstand a great deal of wear and tear. This resilient quality is a good thing, as impulsivity was a natural mode of operating in the world for Roger. He definitely had a propensity for plunging into situations without thinking them through first, sometimes with disastrous results.

Roger had a passenger with him – the lovely Lady Sattvica. She was wise beyond her years and, as fortune would have it, also a member of his tribe. He had a crush on her and could feel his heart pounding in his chest at her close proximity. To gain her attention, he was showing off for her, joking, and flying his Windrider recklessly. He feinted to the right, pretending to elude spies. He then swerved sharply to the left, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Lady Sattvica smiled at him fondly, suspecting his crush, yet thinking of him more as a younger brother. She was on a secret mission and had prepared for it well. “I’m sorry, little brother”, she thought to herself silently, regretting that she had to fool him, but resolutely followed through with playing her part. “Now, I’m feeling nauseous” she protested aloud with a queasy laugh, knowing it would push his buttons.

Roger, who was highly sensitive and emotionally reactive, immediately felt hurt and rejected. Sulkily he said “Well in that case, if you are going to complain, I am going solo” – implying that he would be dropping her off somewhere and taking off in his Windrider alone.

As Roger’s thoughts and feelings took a downward turn, so did the Windrider, since it was propelled by balanced, positive personal energy. As it began its downward spiral, Sattvica deftly grabbed a high branch of a nearby tree and allowed the momentum to carry her upwards where she landed safely on a soft white cloud.

The arching movement of the tree branch simultaneously dislodged a small puffy white caterpillar from his resting place on a leaf. The Caterpillar, whose name was Thomas, tumbled head over tail and landed abruptly on a smooth black surface. He cautiously opened one eye to peek at where he was. A huge dark eye was staring back at him!

Lady Sattvica looked down at Roger and his crashed Windrider apologetically, and then at Thomas the Caterpillar perched on his unusual landing site. “Mission accomplished”! She thought, with a nod, before she sailed away on her cloud.

Constance Crone paused in her storytelling, noticing that the wind was picking up. She gauged the mood of her audience. “Was it enough of a start to get them connected to what they need?” she wondered. Suddenly, a black crow flew overhead, overcome by the heavy winds, and landed with a thud underneath Wisdom Willow. Constance stood up, alarmed. She recognized the crow as a messenger from the Crystal Castle. This was a bad omen.