Braiding the tale

Upon one head
The plait does lay
Over under,
Over under,
One hank at a time.

Upon one head
The tale is wove
Over under,
Over under,
Whose voice is shown?

Upon one head
A voice still timid
Calls for a hand
Over under,
Over under,
The words grow in timber.

Upon one head
The plait does lay
The tale woven
Hand to finger
Finger to Heart
Forged like silver.

Braid the tale, teller.
Braid the tale.

Sal has begun to wear her tale upon her head, like a pot turned upside down she is less timid about bringing the rhymes and poetry of her journey to the front. Have you noticed? As all Storytellers know in their bones there is always a time to turn the braiding of the tale over ... and I suspect, my purposes have been served. "She who watches" is a powerful and genuinely kind goddess of the tale, a part of the grand scheme of things don't you know. Never wonder whether you are daft should you feel a splitting in your seams dear girlie, dear boy. The "She or He who watches" is a precious part of the plait that is your own braided tale. Consider the source from which you came? Is it not a wondrous mystery the how and when that makes the story yours?

The wisdom of ages passes like hair handling, and braiding. If you will braid with three parts first decide that there will be equal hanks, or not. It's your braid, your brand of wisdom, your story you'll wear on your head. Over under, over under. Ah, some of you listening are asking me questions. And that one would be? "If I haven't the hair enough to be braiding, is there no use me listening to this story?" Well now, that would be a good question ... if braiding plaits were the only reason for the story. Stay with me for a few lines more and hear whether something might just be worth your staying. Hmmm...to the plaits again now. "Over under" with each part of your story, each part of your own true story there is always something that has taken you "over ..." and then another or perhaps that very same "something" takes you "under."

The plait, the braid, the story is done when you come to the end of the hair ... bound tight at the end the plait is finished. Set upon your head, or hung along your back it's your braid. Time will unravel it, and then you get to plait again. New story, same story. That's the wisdom of telling and braiding. Same hair, same story. Hair changes, different story.

I have loved the telling and will love it more again. Did you find it worth the stay? I hope so. Telling is such fun.