The Green Lady by Lisa Picard - HTML preview

Excerpt from: The Story of the Green Lady

On a freezing cold and wet winter’s Saturday afternoon I arrived in the peaceful coastal town of Knysna, with all of my worldly possessions piled high in the back of a small pick-up truck I had loaned from a long-suffering friend.  As I drove along the deserted main road, I was suddenly filled with misgiving, remembering the vibrant, busy roads of Cape Town, which I had so recently departed.  I wondered whether I was cut out for the life in a quiet town that had none of the distractions I was so accustomed to enjoying as a city dweller.  There wasn’t even a movie house in this one-horse town, for goodness sake!  And definitely no sign of stylish coffee shops, award-winning restaurants or glitzy clubs.  I had always been a city dweller, but there was no turning back now, as my bridges were well-and-truly burnt, I mused, easing the truck into the parking area of the modest apartment building in which I would be living for the foreseeable future.  At least there was plenty of parking - something which no city dweller will ever take for granted.

An hour later the pick-up was emptied of my meagre belongings, the bulk of which now resided in the middle of my sitting room inside of a pathetic pile of soggy cardboard boxes.  Hanging up my dripping raincoat in the shower, its mouldy, drooping curtain adorned with seventies-style mustard-coloured swirls, I was finding it increasingly difficult to keep my spirits up.  What on Earth had I been thinking of to resign from my lucrative job as a journalist at a top Cape Town daily newspaper?  How could I possibly have exchanged my comfortable, stylish city house for this tiny, miserable apartment?

Mentally giving myself a shake and yanking myself back from the temptation of a lengthy wallow in a mire of self-pity, I reminded myself that this had been my choice.  I had willingly given up my career and my city life.  For better or for worse, I had decided that this was my dream and I was determined to make the most of it.

Grabbing a beer from the cooler box on the floor, I threw myself down onto a pile of cushions on the futon, which would have to fulfil the dual function of a bed and a couch in my new Spartan living quarters.  Cracking open the can and taking a long, cool swig, I mentally reviewed the events that had resulted in my current situation.

Ten months earlier, my long-term girlfriend, Clare, had left me, due to our irreconcilable visions for our shared future.  Hers included marriage and children and mine… well I was actually unsure of exactly what I had wanted at the time.  My previously cherished job, as a well-regarded journalist of some fifteen years, was no longer satisfying to me and I had been ready for a change.  A series of chance encounters led to my taking a six-month sabbatical in Knysna.  During my sabbatical I spent my time collecting stories of super-natural and transformative encounters in the forests of the region.  I had the idea of writing these up for a book.  My time spent in Knysna culminated in a personal encounter with the mysterious Green Lady of the forest, which proved to be transformative for me as well.  Upon my return to Cape Town, I resigned from my job and set about packing up my life to move back to Knysna for good.  I decided that I would support myself working as a free-lance journalist, at a fraction of the salary I had previously earned.  But my real work would be to finalise the writing of my first book, get it published and hopefully begin work on the following book. 

Returning from my little trip down memory lane, I clicked my tongue in self-disgust.  My plans now appeared hopelessly optimistic and over-ambitious.  What did I know about writing and publishing a book?  And who could possibly be interested in the topic I had chosen?  That seductive self-pity wallow beckoned me yet again.

Pushing myself up from my prone position and staggering to my feet, clutching my aching back, I threw my empty beer can at the wall in disgust.  I knew that I would get nothing done in my current mood and so I decided to take myself off to the local pub for a few drinks, a meal and hopefully some congenial company to lift myself out of my funk.

In the pub I fortuitously encountered Ken Brady, a marine biologist working in Knysna whose story I had included in my first book.  By the time we had consumed a burger each and had downed a few beers, I was feeling considerably more positive about my situation.  I returned to my apartment to start unpacking my few belongings in an attempt to create a slightly more homely environment, hopefully more conducive to creativity.

The following morning I awoke in a brilliant beam of sunlight shining through the curtain-less windows.  Things seemed much more positive than they had on the previous day.  I’d made it!  Here I was in Knysna, about to commence my new life, in which I would follow my heart towards expressing myself as grandly as I could.  What was there to feel low about?

After a quick breakfast of cereal, I gathered up the flattened cardboard boxes, which I took to the recycling depot, and then bought a prepared sandwich and a few granola bars and got into the truck to drive up the mountain to one of my favourite forest hikes.  After all, I reasoned, it was Sunday and I deserved to have some time off to recover from my move.

My spirits lifted even further as I stepped onto the trail.  The forest was exquisite after the rain, with droplets sparkling on each newly-washed, intensely bright-green leaf.  My nostrils welcomed as an old friend the aromas of humus-rich, moist, fertile soil.  I found myself humming a jaunty little tune as I stretched my pace, breathing deeply of the healing energies of this most lovely of places.

Within a couple of hours I had reached the massive ancient Yellowwood tree in whose roots I had sheltered during my dream-like encounter with the mysterious Knysna elephants earlier that year.  Placing my raincoat on the ground to protect my clothing from the damp forest floor, I settled down amongst the roots and enjoyed my picnic.  Afterwards, I simply relaxed, basking in the atmosphere of the place.  I remembered what the Green Lady had told me about opening my heart and allowing myself to feel love and gratitude for the forest, and so this is exactly what I did.

Within a few minutes, the light illuminating the pale-green leaves began to deepen to a rich, golden hue.  The varied colours and textures of the trees and plants, moss, fungi and lichen began to intensify and I became acutely aware of the magnificent density of life surrounding me.  The crickets, frogs and songbirds, the rustling of the undergrowth as small creatures visited this magical place and the chattering of the canopy above as the breeze caressed the trees, all contributed to a delightful, harmonious symphony of vibrant life.

Briefly, there was silence as the forest held its breath in a moment of anticipation.  Someone was coming…

And then, suddenly, there she was, gliding across the forest floor towards me - her hands outstretched in welcome, her beautiful face glowing with gentle green light and her eyes twinkling in a smile.

“Peter, you have returned home at last,” she said, touching my arm with her fingertips.  I was suffused with joy as I realised that her words were true and that I had, indeed, returned to my spiritual home. I scrambled to my feet with a delightful sense of anticipation.  Something wonderful was about to happen!

“I didn’t know that I was coming home.  I’ve only just realised that… this very minute, as you said the words,” I babbled, feeling overwhelmed with joy.  The Green Lady giggled and said,

“Peter, you should know by now that the forest, lovely as it is, is not what I was referring to!  You have returned home to yourself; to your own heart.  You have begun to follow your heart, to trust in your own authority and your own knowing rather than seeking affirmation and direction from outside of yourself.  This is the very first step on your journey towards finding and expressing your most authentic self.  And you are rightly feeling suffused with joy, because this is simply the most joy-filled journey you will ever undertake.  The journey to Self.”  The Green Lady gracefully sank down onto a moss-covered log and indicated that I too should sit.  Then she said, “Peter, I have been following your progress with great interest and I know that your first book will be cherished by many.  But, more importantly, you have contributed towards an increase in consciousness in the world by writing it.  Now, I know that there is still some work to be done in finalising the book and in making it available for people to read and, of course, this work must progress.  But, at the same time, you need to start getting into the right frame of mind to write your next book.”

“My next book?  But… but, I have no plans at the moment to do such a thing.  I’m feeling completely intimidated by the huge amount of work required to finish the first book!  And, besides, I have absolutely no ideas or inspiration for another book right now!”  I expostulated, suddenly feeling overwhelmed.  The Green Lady leaned over and placed her hand on my chest, over my heart, and the anxiety left me, to be replaced by a feeling of calm centeredness.

“Peter, it’s natural to feel a bit daunted by all of this change.  But that should not stop you doing what your heart calls you to do.  Your next book is waiting in the wings and, as for inspiration…well, that’s what I’m here for,” a bright, tinkling little laugh that both warmed and opened my heart trilled from her throat. 

“Your first book shared the stories of people who had encountered me.  Your next book will share my own stories; the stories of how I became the Green Lady and what that means,” she said.

“Oh, but I would love to write those stories,” I gasped with excitement.  “In fact, I can’t think of any other stories that I would rather write at this point!”

“And that, my dear friend, is a sure sign that you are on your path; that you are starting to express your most authentic self,” she smiled.  “Follow the joy, follow the excitement, follow the fascination and the curiosity and they will lead you to ever greater and greater expressions of your most authentic self.  For now, it will be the writing of The Story of the Green Lady, but, in future, who knows where your joy will lead you!” 

“But let’s stay focused for now on the next step.  So, what I propose is this: you will come to this place in the forest once a week, on a Sunday afternoon, and we will spend an hour or two together.  I will tell you the stories of the many lives I have experienced and how these lives have led to my becoming the being you see before you.  These will be thrilling stories of seekers and soldiers, of priests and shamans, of aliens and of ordinary human beings.  Stories of adventure and discovery but, ultimately, the story of ever-deepening understanding and appreciation of the Self.  In short, Peter, it is the story of Life itself.  And, in the receiving and the writing of my story, you will find yourself on your own journey of discovery of your most magnificent and most authentic Self.  You will be writing your own story too.”

“But, this sounds simply wonderful,” I gasped, “I can’t wait to begin!”

“Then, I will next see you in a week’s time,” she smiled as she stood up, raised her hand in greeting and then drifted away between the trees.

I sat for several minutes longer, relishing the excitement of the knowledge of what lay ahead.  My new life truly was about to begin…

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