Why the Faeries?
Article ID: 16040
Age Group: Adult
Days Up: 27
Times Read: 1,044
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Author: Merideth Allyn [a WitchVox Sponsor]
Posted: April 30th. 2017
Times Viewed: 1,044
*Faery - Old English spelling, as well as the race of Ireland’s faeries, the Tuatha De Danann.
*Fairy – a literary term as in Fairy Tales and the fairies therein.
*And, just a note, all faeries are NOT good or nice. All are mischievous, but some will help you if generous and kind to others. If you cross one, though, your family can be cursed for generations.
“I believe in everything until it is disproved. So, I believe in fairies, myths, dragons…it all exists even if it is in your mind. Who is to say that dreams and nightmares aren’t as real as the here and now.” ---John Lennon
“If you want intelligent children, read them fairy tales. If you want more intelligent children, read them more fairy tales.” ---Albert Einstein
“There may be fairies at the bottom of the garden. There is no evidence for it, but you can’t prove that there aren’t any, so shouldn’t we be agnostic with respect to the fairies?” ---Richard Dawkins
So, why the faeries? Why do I spend so much time researching and teaching others about them? My answer has changed somewhat from the child I once was to the adult I now am. The Celtic cantadoras in my life, the storytellers, shared hundreds of fairy tales with me prior to emergence from the Chrysalis and into the World of Real. Both then and now, the faeries have always been very real to me.
From age very early, I believed in the fairy tales and folk tales that my Celtic great-grandmother, grandmother and mother read faithfully to me every night. The faeries literally jumped from the pages and into my heart, my vision and my very being-ness. I breathed with the faeries, danced and sang rounds with them in the small wood with gurgling creek just down the hill from our home. I caught crawdads and minnows that sparkled like glitter in the sun-drowned rushing water, caught lightning bugs (faeryflies) with them; all of which I kept for a day, before letting them go.
I flew with the faeries on wheat stalks, my feet never touching the ground, in the fields and meadows adjacent to our home, before the neighborhood grew, and there were no fields or meadows in which to play. Paradise was paved quickly. But I always found the perfect places in the thickets, on the edge of wheat, corn and soybean fields and under mysterious copses of trees. I would take diminutive teacups and saucers, small cookies I called scones, for the tea parties the faeries and I would have. The faeries, I knew, were just as real as they used to be when they walked with our ancestors, hand-in-hand, long ago and far away: tall ones, short ones, winged ones, and all the Otherworldlies, before they were betrayed and banished from our physical plane to just our “imaginations.” I knew they lived for I played with them every day until dusk when the neighbor’s cowbell rang calling all neighborhood children in for dinner and bed. I was near to bursting with all that power and beauty which surrounded and interacted with me so much so that it made sleep difficult. Constantly peering out the windows, I rarely stayed in bed until gravity took hold and forced me to sleep. And, the veil, that golden veil, has never been pulled over my eyes to blind me from seeing The Good People.
As an adult, I chose faeries as my magical focus, being of the Celtic Faery Tradition. The faeries were in my Scotch-Irish-Germanic blood. And, yes, I have had experiences with them in my adult reality. Being the faery aficionado that I am and a devoted photographer, I once enjoyed photographing all the amazing orbs and anomalies we have on our and Mother Earth’s twelve acres of land. I would go outside every night to try to “see” the faeries through my camera lens. Alas came the day, in my studies, when I read that the fae absolutely disdain being spied upon…despise it in fact. Well, heedless of that faery rule, I went out that very same night to take photos. I promise that I caught not one orb, anomaly or possible faery. I went out the next night and the next.
Unbelievable. I had been faery-shunned.
I was forced to acknowledge that they meant business, and that the only reason I had gotten away with it for so long was because I was unaware of the rule! Aware now, I promised them that for a year and a day I would lay my camera down, in terms of the fae. I kept that promise. The end of that year and a day came, but of course, I could not break their rule. Delightedly, though, they started showing themselves into the nature scenes I shot. Blessed am I.
I have, also, come into contact and been actually touched by what I believed to be an elf. My husband was in the hospital so in the wee Witching hour of three a.m., I went to the basement to retrieve vending machine snacks. The basement was laid out in an L shape so that I could not see the short part of the L. From there I heard the most enchanting laughter and giggling. My first thought was “what crazy parent would let their child run around the hospital at three in the morning?” Never to stop its laughing and giggling, this “child” began running, and I knew it would be running around the corner in just a few seconds. So be it. It did. And began running straight for me, dressed in a red jacket, green jeans, had copious facial freckles, huge ears and a wide smile. I just knew with a soul’s kenning that this “child” was going to run up and touch me. And, so it did. Thinking this a rather odd, and somewhat anxiety-provoking scenario I, feeling a bit silly, turned to see where the “child” was running…
Well, there was no child in sight, and the musical giggles had faded into the aether. I tried every door down that long hallway. All were locked. And, the emergency door alarm would have sounded had this Otherworldly (for I now believed that it was, indeed, of the faerie race) gone through this quite ponderous door that I would have heard open. Skeptical until skepticism left, I still think upon that mystery-laden interlude.
More compelling is this story. My second born grandson, when three-years-old and at our home for a summer visit, loved all the icons on my living room table, especially the red cloaked, small wizard who he called Sa Cl. It would be quite awhile before anyone could understand what he meant by those words, although all too clear now. My husband and I were in the dining room that has a huge sliding glass door. Enters young grandson. Within seconds his eyes became as large as proverbial saucers. He became very agitated and started jumping up and down, pointing out the glass door, while frantically indicating something we heard again as Sa Cl. We saw nothing. He grew even more agitated and frustrated that we could not see what he so plainly saw. He grabbed my arm forcefully, for a little tyke, and pulled me out of the chair and dragged me to the living room and pointed to the little, red-cloaked wizard while continuing to jump saying Sa Cl, Sa Cl, Sa Cl. Then, thank the Lady and the Lord, it dawned on me; this child was saying “Santa Claus.” What he was plainly seeing outside was nothing less than an Otherworldly, who he believed looked like Santa Claus. Well, Santa Claus is a jolly, old elf. If you do not believe my experiences, then always believe the experiences of the children. At three-years-of-age, the veil has not been drawn over their “eyes, ” and they can see all worlds and Spirit with clarity.
It is more difficult for us to visit faeryland than it is for the faeries to visit us. They are less dense than we are, much lighter and more ephemeral. Our Earth and its inhabitants are of Middle Earth and cannot do the In-Betweens as easily as the Fae can. However, like Rip Van Winkle and many others, you can be Pixie-led into faery land, Tir Na Nog, Elphame or the Places of Mist.
So why the faeries? Have we not lost enough magic from this world with industry and technology? Aren’t we all Wild Witches at heart who practice and love magic? Where would our magic be if we did not include the faeries? Most Pagans and Witches that I know believe in “demons.” So, surely, we have room for the faeries. Do not let the faeries slip into even more obscurity. Allow them places and spaces in the wilds…and in your hearts.
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Location: Jackson, Tennessee
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