THE MAGIC SHOES: 22) AMANITA MUSCARIA
Monster Monday Madness
“Come,” Elle says, rising. “There is something else you need to see.”
Elle leads me back into the icy cold and past the main square toward the forest’s edge, where a towering pine tree stands like a sentinel guarding the town. She points to red-and-white caps peeking through the snow—the Amanita muscaria.
“The mushroom calls to those who seek truth,” Elle murmurs, glancing at me. “Not everyone can hear it, but those who do… they are… changed.”
She motions for me to kneel beside her, reverently picks one of the mushrooms and hands it to me with care. “Hold it,” says Elle, locking her eyes with mine. “Feel its weight, its spirit.”
The cap is cold and smooth beneath my fingers. The world around us seems so quiet, as if the forest itself is holding its breath.
Elle begins to speak in Sámi, rhythmic and unfamiliar. Her voice blends with the rustle of the branches and the crunch of snow beneath our knees. Letting her words wash over me, I close my eyes and a strange warmth spreads slowly from my hands up through my body.
“The mushroom is a doorway,” she says, “a guide between worlds, between what is known and what is forgotten. It connects those with the spirit and wisdom of ancestors. If you are open to it, it may show you what lies beyond.”
When I open my eyes, the mushroom is still in my hands, but the forest has transformed. It is sharper. The air is crisper. The snow sparkles with an inner light. And the towering pines sway gently, as if breathing.
As we make our way back to Elle’s cabin, time itself has slowed. I clutch the mushroom, feeling the ancient energy it carries.
When we reach her cabin, Elle turns to me, her eyes warm and steady. “This is where we part,” she says. “Your journey is not over. But the forest has given you what you need to move onward with your life.”
I stand there for a moment unsure of how to thank her for her kindness, her wisdom. Snow falls softly around us.
Elle reaches forward, placing her hand on mine, “The place you came from waits for you,” she murmurs. “Carry this story with respect, and it will continue to reveal its secrets.”
With a gentle squeeze of my hand, she steps back allowing me space. The air around me begins to feel different—subtly changed, a soft blue at the edges of my vision, and I feel the familiar sensation that brought me to this place—and others before it.
I close my eyes and breathe in the clean, pine-scented air one last time, feeling snowflakes melt against my skin, grounded in the memory of this land.
The cold fades. It is replaced by a wave of warmth and an aroma of dust and varnish. When I open my eyes, I’m standing before a row of sparkling rhinestone trees.
The shop owner regards me with a raised brow and a hint of amusement “Have you been on a journey?” he asks.
I nod solemnly before cracking a smile of pure delight. “You wouldn’t believe.”
A strange sense of loss mingled with awe settles over me. I have left part of myself in Inari while carrying a part of it with me here. I know I will never see the world the same way again.
“I might,” he says with a playful wink, adding, “These rhinestone trees are known to be magical.”
I return my gaze to the shimmering trees. “I’ll take three, assuming you’ve got bubble wrap to keep them safe.”