I used to drink this as a child

Sometimes all it takes is a trigger to make your remember, again. I was getting my hair cut and highlighted, and while the color was setting, my friend, the stylist, was proudly showing me photographs of the beautiful fairy house she made with her 10-yr. old “little sister.” I was impressed by the intricate details and the obvious care and love that had gone into its creation, but the images faded into the background as we talked about other things. An hour later I walked out the door and continued on with my day. The little fairy house, already forgotten, lurked somewhere hidden inside my mind.

A “fairy house” beside my home

Sometimes it takes a trigger, and also a release of the old to give way to the forgotten inner. After leaving the salon, I made my way to my tai chi class, where I stayed for the next hour. As I was preparing to leave, I over-heard a woman remark to her companion, “It’s like having reiki.” She’s absolutely right, I stopped in pause.

Or a double dose in my case. You see before I went to the salon, I had my Friday morning yoga class. Both yoga and tai chi work with the energy centers in the body where we hold our “chi,” and allow it to stir back into life where it has become stagnant. We also release stuck energy that’s ready to leave, to allow the true life force energy that resides in all of us to flow as it wants to. In tai chi class, we literally draw into our bodies the energy of Earth and the Universe to rejuvenate our bodies as we shake out the old that we no longer want to carry.

I was exhausted by the time I got home, and I uncharacteristically found my way to the hammock under the oaks and hemlocks and stayed there for so long I could hear the whisper of the arbiter inside me reminding me, “You should be making dinner now.” But, a stronger voice said, “Stay awhile longer. Forget about time as you have grown to follow it.”

So I stayed and took in the contrast of the green canopy of leaves filtering the brilliant illusion of a blue ceiling, allowing myself to just be. I watched and listened to the squirrels in the oak, carrying on their conversations as they clung impossibly to their vertical home. I fell into that hazy sleep of daytime, only to wake and wonder where I had temporarily gone.

The blue of the sky

The day gave way to evening, and I ventured back into town to get take-out for my family. No one complained that I did not cook. The sky turned from the color of a blue jay’s wing to the color of the crows who had circled the skies like an omen when I had walked the dogs before I ventured to the  hammock.  I grew increasingly tired after dinner, sleep calling louder with each hour that passed until I finally made my way to bed.

Night’s messenger

I can’t tell you where I traveled while I slept for most of the night, but I can tell you about the scene from which I woke this morning. I am still smiling with the memory of coming home, even though I couldn’t find the tea on the internet after I woke. But that’s really irrelevant.

Home, to my recollection, was mostly the scene of a summer forest. I woke, in the dream, that is, alone and outside. I had been sleeping in some sort of tent and my family was already gone for the day. I rolled my blankets and ventured out into my surroundings, which were lush and green, the color of the oak leaves before they turn in fall. There was some sort of wire enclosure, to keep animals in or out, I was not sure, but I rolled it away none-the-less. I searched the area for signs of life and found myself suddenly in winter, drawn up a hill beside an old mansion. There were neighbors working on their own house. I left them alone and walked through the snow toward a large hedgerow shaped into an archway. It was covered in ice, but there was a narrow opening in the middle, so I squeezed my way through. I was back to summer.

I shed my heavy coat, for there was no longer need of it, and found I was hungry. I ventured inside a hobbit-like house that felt like home, and there inside was a child. A girl who seemed to know me, and I her. She, I discovered, was also hungry. “I think they went to get more food,” she told me, and we saw the remnants of a meal. Animals appeared around our feet. A couple of young cats, and two small white dogs. The blind one lingered around my legs. Daisy appeared, but not my dog companions who are still in physical form.

Daisy, who always reminded me when the elementals had something to say

Soon we discovered the food. It was a full buffet, laid out, partially hidden, in a depression in the kitchen counter. For a moment we indulged our appetites, then began the search for tea. “I think it’s over there, I told the girl.” We culled through drawers filled with tea, but could not find the kind we were looking for. Above the counter were cabinets, and I opened one, only to discover what I had been looking for. My eager hands held the boxes filled with the green of spring. I read the labels, “Fairy Tea,” and felt the inner stirrings of joy. “I used to drink this as a child,” I told her. But, of course, she already knew that.

With my friend Deb at Samhain. That spark of light on my left arm just might be a fairy



Letting in the Light

Last week the heavy energy that had been accumulating in the form of humidity where I live, was released by a night of tremendous thunderstorms. Structures shook with the power of lightning, as the clouds and wind brought the rain back to the earth and lifted dense energy to light.

The next day I felt lighter, in fact I felt so light I knew I was not completely grounded to the Earth. That is the trade-off of too much light. It can leave us feeling as though we could easily drift into the heavens. Not by accident, it was a turtle that brought me back down to Earth. Turtle is the animal symbol of Mother Earth, and the teacher who shows us how to join Heaven and Earth inside of our bodies. There it was in front of me as I walked the path in the woods with my dogs. A small snapper stopped on its way. I couldn’t help but pause, knowing that there was a message in this unexpected creature, and as I did, the dogs too took notice. In a flash, the turtle jumped to meet the sniffing nose of Daisy, and as I watched my dog retract in pain, I followed the drip of her red blood as it met the Earth.

I was back on this plane.

We, as souls incarnated as humans, face the challenge of balancing the elements inside of our beings. Too much air and we lose our ground; too much earth and we feel heavy; too much fire and we feel rage; too much water and we are over-come with emotion.

Today, I asked my guides about light and realized as I transcribed their words that we each, individually, have the ability to bring light to our shadows and heal the wounds we accumulate through our lives and store within our cells. Not long ago I was convinced I needed someone else, a trained healer of energy, to heal my centers of pain. Perhaps I did need this catalyst, for soon after I started paying attention to moments when the intellect gives way to the soul. In my sleep and in my meditations, my body let in the energy of light, and healed the pain lurking in the shadows.

These were dramatic moments, like the sessions I had with the energy healer. There are though, I’ve come to realize, many ways to bring in the healing energy of light. Months ago, I started tuning into the energy of trees, and felt my body bounce each time I passed large pines and oaks while I walked through the forest. When we laugh we release heavy energy and let in the light. Sometimes the act is involuntary, like a sneeze, or a good cry.

This morning I did my tai chi forms outside, with my bare feet finding balance on the uneven ground. With martial arts forms like tai chi (yoga also does this), we bring the red energy of the Earth Mother into our bodies, drawing it up through the soles of our feet as we plant them firmly on the ground. It is an active event. The breath is the vehicle. When we breathe in we draw energy into our bodies and disperse it throughout our cells. The body moves with the breath, which exhales from deep within, drawing the toxins out of the shadows and dispersing them into the air. In doing this we find our power. We become charged with light energy, with our feet still firmly planted on the ground.

Each of us has the ability to be our own energy healers. Taking the time to listen to your spirit and finding the method(s) that work for you, will bring unquestionable benefits. It’s not something, as I was reminded today, you can do only on occasion, but ideally, a daily practice. What makes your soul lighter? Is it singing, writing, painting, dancing, gardening, or cooking and eating healthy foods? Or something else? Most likely there will be many answers that come to you. It’s worth the exploration.