It is Friday night. The sky is dark, the moon is traveling past the stars, and much of the world is readying for bed. Curl up and listen to the tales I weave, until your eyes grow heavy and you slip into slumber, ready for the Dream Maker.
Tonight, as you lie in bed, still your mind. Turn off your television, your computer and your radio. Get comfortable and listen. Do you hear voices? Quiet, lilting voices, reciting fables and fairy tales on the wind? These are the Night Story Birds. They do not sing or twitter, but tell stories under the veil of night.
Light of body and soft of feather, the Night Story Birds coast along the air currents, listening to the stories of the world. Fables from Africa, ghost stories from Japan, spirit stories from the American West. These small birds have marvelous memories, and they retain these stories for years, mulling over them and melding them with each other as they soar through dark clouds.
They retell these stories during quiet nights, when there are no storms or celebrations, when we are all sleeping and our minds are receptive to the ancient stories all but some have forgotten. With silky black feathers and red eyes for night vision, the Night Story Birds nestle in trees outside our windows and retell these stories for us. Do you remember them when you wake?
Tell stories, my oddlings. Listen to the Night Story Birds and tell the fables and fairy tales they have whispered. This is how we stay eternal – through stories told in the night, over fires, beneath soft covers, besides rivers and underneath the stars. The stories and the Night Story Birds are always with us, even if we can not always see them. So tonight, listen. Turn off all the humming and currents and let your ears soften to the stories in the air.
Do let me know what you hear.
Sleep tight, my pets. Dream deep.