This entry is part 1 of 7 in the series Whispers from the Deep Forest - Words of comfort for the suffering soul Prologue The soft wisps of golden sunlight filter through deep hanging branches full of the most beautiful dark green leaves, and in the middle of this ending afternoon anybody could tell that there was magic in the air.  Not the kind of magic you would find in an advert or in a movie, on a well known franchise… but rather the magic that lies in the small moments, the kind of real world, real life magic that comes from old places and spaces that are not made by any intentional hand. The magic that grows from the presence of ancient spirits and the wishes of young trees. Magic that cannot be seen or expected, but that you happen upon by happenstance or fate, never quite sure how you got there, by which choice, what path and especially what decision.  The kind of magic that heals.  Old Magic.  Silent Magic.  And today it was all around, in the air… the moving grass and the bare-silent bees on open flowers. It was in the cloudless sky and the low standing strands of sunlight bouncing off of leaves and flowing deep into the roots of the earth.  You are pulled into the scene, only barely resisting its attraction and certainly not its charm.  You start to walk on the grass and on an unseen path that is only etched into the earth’s memory beneath your feet and not visble to the eye. Your heart is confident and follows you...