Some friends of mine own a Baltic imports store: best amber this side of the Mississippi. I was looking at a case of hand-carved wooden items, including some beautiful wooden spoons.
A woman came over and began looking at the spoons. “This one is labeled 'sacred spoon,' but it looks just like the rest of them,” she said. “What makes this one sacred and not the others?”
A reasonable question, certainly. As it happened, I knew the answer, because the owner of the store had told me about it a few days before. “It's sacred because it was carved out of wood from a tree that was struck by lightning,” I told her. In fact, the tree in question had been the oldest and most sacred oak in a grove sacred to Thunder; the oak, of course, is Thunder's tree. Oak struck by lightning in a grove sacred to Thunder: heap big juju.
They say that when the Moon, Mother of Witches, gave birth to the tribe of Witches, she looked into the water to see what the life of her first-born people would be. And there she saw sorrow, black sorrow; and there she saw joy, golden joy.
Then she wept a mother's tears for her first-born people, for what may be and what must be. From her left eye fell tears of black sorrow; they fell to the ground and were jet. From her right eye fell tears of golden joy; they fell to the sea and were amber.
So the great ones among us wear necklaces of amber and jet to this day; and whoever carries upon him the black tears or the golden will always draw her eye to him, for from her eye they came.