Saga Kraft

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...

Thank you for joining us!

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...

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

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.

Thin Places.

Thin places (more coming soon).

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

Welcome to Saga Kraft

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...