For Bealtaine/May Day, I will be telling The Dream of Aengus. This story winds through themes of shapeshifting and longing, and touches on the age-old question of how we can win our own sovereignty without sacrificing relationship and intimacy. It is one of the only stories we have regarding Caer Ibormeith, the shapeshifting swan goddess of the dreamworld.

Depth storytelling is more than the simple telling of a tale. It offers points of contact to present-day reality, to themes and archetypes that continue to speak to us. And it offers questions, moments of reflection that open your life back to the generations upon generations that have carried this story forward.

We’ll gather at my office near downtown Asheville (well, the first 8 of us will) and via GoogleMeet from all over the world. I’ll have tea and sparkling water for those attending in person.

I’ll offer a song or poem, then tell the story. We’ll spend some time feeding the story by sharing the places it touched us, and we’ll have some time to write quietly together on the themes that are resonant.

Attendance is pay-what-you-can (suggested donation $20 to $40, but each participant is trusted to find the right amount. No one will be turned away). All of our donations from this telling will be donated to one of the following organizations; we will decide the beneficiary as a group after the telling. Potential beneficiaries are:

CARE international, working for gender equality, peace, and climate justice

The Audubon Society, protecting birds and bird habitat

Southern Poverty Law Center, fighting for sovereignty for all

Reserve your spot by registering below, or contact me at innerlightasheville@gmail.com.

When I receive your registration, I’ll send you the link for the gathering if you are attending online and provide further details via email.

More about this project:

There are times lately that I have felt hopeless in the face of war, climate change, and human cruelty. I have learned, through my work and through the wisdom of my clients, that sometimes we are too small to hold sorrows this big. But when we let our sorrows rest on the broad back of a very old story, often, through the story, we can find the beginnings of a way forward.

So I turned to some of my favorite stories with my hopelessness and I listened. This is the project that emerged:

Over the course of 2024, I plan to tell eight stories, one for each of the equinoxes and solstices and the cross-quarter days in between. I plan to align each story with the season of its telling, and to gather donations that we as a community will offer back to the living world.

Three, as we know from fairy tales, is a powerful number. It’s usually the number of attempts it takes to get something right, and often it’s the number of magical tools or skills necessary to overcome the challenge at hand.

With this offering, I am hoping to build community in three ways:

Community between you and the story, which has things to tell you that I know nothing of.

 Community between you, me, and the others gathered to hear the story, and the way the story weaves itself into the seasons of our year as a rich, shared metaphor.

Community between our little gathering and the wider world, as our donations weave us and our intentions into the fabric of the planet.

May we, by resting our sorrows on the broad backs of old stories, build a sense of community together, and alchemize hopelessness into loving action.