The Whisper Beneath the Leaves Parable

Once there was a woman who wandered through a dense, enchanted forest. For many years, she walked paths laid out by others - trails worn by expectation, paved by fear, and lit only by flickers of who she thought she should be.

She carried a satchel filled with stories - some were hers, but most were not. They were heavy. Familiar. Bound by duty, not by soul.

One day, when the sky hung heavy and the wind was still, she heard something.... a whisper

it wasn't loud. It didn't beg. It simply said,

"Come Home."

She stopped and she listened. The whisper came again - softer this time - like a breath through the leaves. So she followed it. Not with certainty, but with surrender.

Along the way she lay down the heavy satchel. She wept, She rested.

She remembered.

She found others too - travelers holding their own satchels, looking for their own way home. she sat with them by sacred fires, listening to their stories, and watched as their eyes lit with recognition when they too heard the same whisper in the wind.

In time, the woman understood: She was not walking the path...... she had become the path.

And so she opened a gate - in the forest - a space between the worlds - where souls could come to be still, to listen, and to remember the truth they were never meant to forget.

She called in Return to Truth

And there, beneath the ancient trees, souls continued to gather. Not to be saved, not to be changed, - but to be remembered. To feel the light that was always inside of them to begin with. To hear the whisper of their own truth.... and follow it home.