The white fairy waited for the travelers to pass before she stepped out of the hillside. They were so focused on the cold, she wasn’t sure they would notice her, but if they did, they would not have been ready. Her job was to catch the ones who were ready. Those who ventured into the forest not to get through it, but to become it. These travelers were easy enough to spot. She called them the dreamers. She could see the glow of their green hearts as they gazed in wonder at a landscape that looked lifeless to most.
Of course, they often spotted her with ease, even when she sometimes tried to test them with her stillness. Eyes that could see were never fooled by attempts at camouflage. Today, though, she was waiting for the one who didn’t yet know the world he thought was real was really a facade. These were her favorite humans. She loved to catch the veil as it lifted from the inner eye. The moment of surprised delight that followed made the wait well worth it. Magic, these travelers were about to discover, was not a just the stuff of fairy tales.
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Each year, on the first unseasonably warm day, I await the woodland butterfly. Today is a a particularly auspicious day. Not only is it the first day this spring that feels almost like summer, it’s 4-14-14 and the eve of the first lunar eclipse of the year, the Blood Moon. The air is charged with energy. The fog that held the morning in close embrace has lifted and the wind has taken reign of the air, howling it through the leafless trees and tugging at the clouds that keep threatening to block the sun. Oh, I do hope it wins its battle so we may view the Blood Moon tonight!
I am decidedly ungrounded today. There’s little to be done about it really. On days like this, I give into the forces. I love the feeling of magic, so I can’t say I was surprised, but rather delighted, when I saw my first butterfly of the year. The same species, the color of turned earth, that visits me each year on the first gloriously warm day.
It started as a passing thought, “I wonder if I’ll see a butterfly today,” as I made my way with the dogs into the forest. Then there was the man stumbling through the trees looking for a neighbor’s stolen bird feeder, bringing me back to the present. I knew the culprit before I asked. Bear. I told him I’d keep my eyes open for it, and ventured along the path with eyes alert.
The dogs and I didn’t walk far, just past the open field, slightly down the trail marked “Journey,” stopping at the vernal pond alive with the chorus of mating frogs. Daisy, my wise dog/teacher, stopped as she always does when she wants me to pay attention to Nature. Really, she didn’t need to today, as I was quite taken by the song of rebirth filling the air.
We never found the missing bird feeder, but about 50 feet before the entrance/exit to the forest, we met the butterfly. “There you are!” I exclaimed with delight, as she lifted wings to the air and danced a pirouette around my head. I became her Earth-bound companion, my heart souring with her, following her dazzling choreography in a the energy of pure bliss. This, to me, is what magic is all about.
The danced lasted mere minutes, perhaps five. I must confess, there were a few futile attempts to photograph my muse, but that clearly was not a purpose of this visit. Instead, I took with me the energy of her kisses. Three times, before she flew into another realm, she alighted on the top of my head, and I felt, ever so briefly, the flutter of her energy. I left the forest with eyes moist and heart lifted in gratitude.
I was a child of Doubt. I don’t remember playing with imaginary friends or fairies. I don’t remember believing in angels or a Universal Life Force/God. But, I wanted to, secretly. Everything I was told was not “real,” I imagined to exist. Inside the silence of my mind I created tiny winged beings flying amid the flowers. In the dark quiet of my bedroom I felt the heavy breath of spirits lurking beside me while I tried to sleep. Sometimes, secretly, I talked to a God I was told did not exist.
I think some of us need to forget in order to remember. I forgot who I was and where I came from at an early age, before memory imprints itself into the folds of the brain. Many of us forget our true, spiritual selves by the age of 7. As we learn to live in the world of our parents’ and society’s creation, we shed the aspects of self that do not conform to our perceived surroundings. The spirit guides, angels and fey that we used to play and commune with disappear into the invisible realm as our eyes close to the brilliance of frequencies too high to sustain belief.
There are moments, filled with a desperate hope, when I wish I could bring it all back, not so much for me, as I am remembering now what I have forgotten, but for my children and all children of our world who are forgetting. I wonder, as I looked at my practical preteen who loves fashion and sports, what happened to my little girl who used to close her eyes in pure bliss while she played and danced with “Raina.” When did my little boy stop going to sleep in room filled with colors only he could see? I didn’t intentionally will my children to lose their connection to the world of Spirit, but somehow, with the help of the artificial world we live in, I witnessed my children let go of the rainbow of magic.
How do I bring back their access to the realm of Spirit? Our children are brought up to believe in magic that is not real, only to discover that Santa Claus does not slide down the chimney on Christmas Eve, the Easter Bunny does not bring baskets of chocolates and toys, and the Tooth Fairy is not the one who saves their lost teeth. We do.
I struggle to make sense of a world of hypocrisy, while trying to retrieve for my children the real magic of life. We live in a world that has learned to fear the unseen forces that move through and around us. We do not trust what we can’t see, so we pretend it does not exist. Yet most of us believe in a universal life force from whence we all came into being. Why, then, is it so difficult for us to believe in a universal energy of Love? Why is it so difficult to believe that we are surrounded by sentient beings who share the same life force energy, as well as our innate desire for balance and love?
I have photographed my children dancing with fairies in the summer rain. I have channeled reiki energy into their restless bodies when they have struggled with sleep. Yet, they doubt what they don’t see. They doubt what is not commonly talked about on the TV, in classrooms, or among friends. I see my children’s struggle, I share it too. I am the “weird” mother they are both in awe of, and somewhat embarrassed by. In some ways it’s much easier for them to call me a writer, than it is to call me a healer who talks with and channels Spirt in myriad forms. I get it, though. I was that child too.
How could I not write about the fox after reading Sue Vincent’s post last night, “Foxed.” Her words held the promise of magic I could not resist. Of course there was also the obvious tug from Spirit, who has shown me the fox in 3 different forms over the last 24 hrs.
Yesterday, after playing in the woods behind our home with a friend and our rather fox-like dog, Rosy, my daughter came in proclaiming she had found the remains of a fox half-exposed by the slowly melting snow. She had the pictures to prove it.
Later, I followed her outside, the entire family in tow as we studied the evidence. The small, strong jaw seemed about right to our untrained eyes, as well as the unmistakable red-orange fur found nearby. The cause of death, unknown, but we all made guesses. My children were willingly to bet it was a coyote (a common predator of the fox), my husband, in an attempt to temper any fears, suggested it may have died of old age.
We had a mystery on our hands that got me thinking not so much about how the remains of a fox ended up in our backyard, but about what the fox as a messenger really means. In his book Animal Speak, Ted Andrews observes that there are 21 species of fox. 21, as he notes, is the last card in the journey of Tarot. It is often referred to as “The World” card, a card of creation and all possibilities, which makes me think of the color orange that the fox wears both as camouflage and as a symbol of gifts held inside the second chakra.
The fox reminds us to go inside to that place where we create our life’s passions. It is an animal of mystery, rarely seen in the daylight hours, preferring the in-between times that are associated with magic and the fairy realms, when the veil between our worlds is thin. It awakens our passions and our extrasensory perceptions. The fox is a silent predator, able to move quickly with a stealth that is often unnoticed. It hears, sees and smells what most do not.
For those of us hoping to birth new creative energies, the fox can be our guide, helping us grow the magic safely tucked inside our “wombs.” It can guide us into other realms and help us see, hear and smell the more subtle, yet powerful energies around us as we discern with whom and in what to place our trust. When we are ready for “magic,” fox may appear to guide us.
It was only our second family trip to the “Happiest Place on Earth,” but before we stepped through the gates leading to Cinderella’s castle, the “magic” of Disney was fading.
Don’t worry, we had fun. Quite a bit of it actually, mixed in with the stress of crowds, the humid heat, and our search for a healthy meal. The waiting in long lines, sometimes never to get on a ride, was mostly shrugged off as an unfortunate side-effect of this popular place we were visiting.
Those of you who have been there will know that although Disney may strive hard to make its properties the “happiest” on Earth, there are moments of unhappiness experienced by its guests. Over-tired children dissolve into tears, while their over-heated and over-stressed parents try to weigh the probability of arriving at happiness before total melt-down occurs. Disney is a landscape of extremes. Turn one way and you will see joy, turn another and you will witness a face of frustration, or even fear amid a back-drop painted concrete. It’s a place of princess dreams coming true, but only for as long as you’re inside those magical Disney gates.
When I was a young girl, I dreamed of going to Disney, but I was a child of modest means. Disney is for the child who rarely wants for anything. Perhaps that is why I’ve brought my own children to Disney twice, to make up for what I felt I “lacked” as a child. Through my children’s delight, I am able to experience the wonder of Disney I missed when I was young, yet in this atmosphere of opulence, I can’t help feeling lack. Strip away the canned smiles and the concrete megaliths painted to look almost real, and what is left? The masses searching for happiness, including those not there by choice.
If you strip Disney down to energy, you can see how easily one can be left feeling every extreme in each moment. With little personal space, there is ample opportunity for energies to mix and mingle. Disney is not only haunted by the “living,” but also a popular retreat for the”dead” still searching for happiness. Take a ride through “It’s a Small World,” and you’ll feel what I’m talking about.
Not surprisingly for an empath, after my first trip to Disney I returned home completely ungrounded. I had temporarily lost my vital connection to the Earth after spending 5 days in the world of make-believe filled with the energies of thousands of souls.
We all were a bit more prepared for our second trip to Disney. I brought along my crystals and made use of AA Michael’s shield of protection, while my family and I let go of too much expectation. We chose to leave the crowds behind when we were all tired, even if it meant we only put in 5 hours of “fun” at a park. After all, there was always the pool.
The Disney resort pool, where every girl is a “princess” even when donning a tankini and racing (“Princess, no running please.”) her brother to the water-slide for the 5th time in an hour. The tired affect and notable lack of smile on the life-guards’ faces were hard not to miss, despite their kind words. One can’t help but think of those “cast members” who, each day or night, step out of their realities into the world of make-believe. Those thousands of employees whose job it is to make you believe you are living your dream in the “Happiest Place on Earth.” I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t pretend for that long. And, what exactly is this dream of make-believe we’re all taking part in? Why do we keep coming back?
During my 6 days at Walt Disney World this December, I was constantly searching for anything “real.” To be more specific, my energy moved toward Nature in the most natural form I could find it. While my children swam in the turquoise water chlorinated crystal clear, my eyes strayed to the fairy-flight of katydids. When the insects happened to fly into the pool, I was over-come with delight at their misfortune. A rescued “fairy” meant the chance to hold the magic of life on my hand.
Nature, and the reality I could create around it, became my sanctuary for those 6 days. The snow-white egrets poised in patience over the lagoon made me almost forget I was yearning for a Narnian landscape at Christmastime.
I was not alone in my search for Nature’s sanctuary. My husband escaped by running along the lagoon, coming back happier than when he left, with tales of herons and the bald eagle flying over the golf-course. My children spent more time searching for lizards among the rocks and bushes, than they did for Mickey and Snow White.
We unanimously agreed to return to Animal Kingdom for our 5th, and final day of park-fun. Here, the Disney visitor can find Nature amid the concrete, even if She’s in a tamed state. Walking through the garden paths, and standing in the sanctuary of birds, the energy lifts and the light changes from artificial to real, and sometimes magic happens on its own.