When I asked my niece Imogen what I should write about today she didn’t get a chance to tell me before my Dad piped up “Faeries!” She did give me some very sensible suggestions afterward, but I decided to go with my Dad’s suggestion. I love that the Reverend Trevor Copeland not only accepts that I believe in the Fae, but also actively encourages me to share my thoughts on the subject.
Just in case you think I may be crazy, let me give you a little background. I don’t expect to change your mind, but perhaps it’ll help you understand why I think faeries are real.
I grew up in a haunted house. My parents got a good deal on it because the previous owner was a medium. By that I mean she was able to summon and communicate with the spirits of the dead. She told my parents (and presumably any other prospective buyers) “You may get the occasional visitor, but don’t worry they won’t do you any harm”. If I was the real estate agent, I would’ve hated her for that!
My parents were young and sceptical, so they bought the place. It was right across the road from the local school, next door to a general store, and just around the corner from my grandparents. A good deal. After we moved out, my Dad confessed to feeling a cold spot at the top of the stairs, right next to mine and my sister’s bedroom. He just told me now that it would sometimes smell of kippers (smoked herring).
On the other side of that wall was a wardrobe. For my US readers, that’s a piece of furniture that functions as a closet, a cupboard with a clothes-rail in it. Anyway, this wardrobe stood in the corner of the room with games and toys stacked on top of it. Even with the door open ajar (my sister was afraid of the dark), there was a deep dark shadow above it.
Sometimes I would lay in bed staring into that shadow, and see red eyes, black fur, and a smile full of sharp teeth. I called it ‘the monster on top of the wardrobe’. Dad tells me that I told him about it (I have no memory of this), and that he offered to chase it away. I told him (he says) “No Daddy, It keeps the others away.” As I grew up I didn’t see him around as much. He showed up again when I was much older, after I began to look into paganism and witchcraft.
There were other strange things too, that I just took for granted. My older cousins had given us a tote-full of Lego. It was awesome. I could never find the piece I was looking for, so I learned quickly to pretend I was looking for something else. I held the image of the decoy lego brick in my mind clearly as I hunted, until I’d found all the bits I was really looking for.
Long after we moved out of that house, things would go missing, and I’d be the only one able to find them. By pretending it didn’t matter that I found it or not, or seeming to be looking for something else, I can get a ‘feel’ for where the missing item really is. I still do that now. It doesn’t always work, but I have other tricks up my sleeve.
Monica and I were staying in a youth hostel in London once. As we were packing to leave, we couldn’t find her watch anywhere. We both heard the faeries giggle. I left a pile of coins on the window sill as an offering (we weren’t going to be able to use them in America anyway) and trusted that it would show up. When we got back to the states and opened her backpack, there was her watch, sitting on top of everything else she’d stuffed in there.
Going back a little in time, to a family holiday (vacation) on the Isle of Man. This little speck of land between England and Northern Ireland is a fascinating place. According to legend, it’s the home of the Celtic sea god Mannanen. He kept the Island protected from Roman invaders by hiding it in a blanket of fog, but allowed Vikings to land and interact with the Manx Celts peacefully.
The Isle of Man also has a faery bridge. As you cross it you’re supposed to say ‘hello’ to the faeries and wave. If you don’t then bad things happen to you. The locals will tell you about a coach bus full of tourists ignoring the tour guides advice, which then crashed on the other side of the bridge.
Then there’s the time I was exploring the woods in Williamson Park in Lancaster, UK. I found an area where the trees looked twisted and unhealthy. I could feel their pain. There was one tree in the middle of them that seemed to call to me, so I approached it and reverently laid my palm on it. I got the clear impression that a glade god, a green man, an aspect of the Celtic god Cernunnos, passed through me. He expressed gratitude for being released and vowed to restore the glade, and I saw/felt the faeries of his kingdom swarm from the tree also, bringing life and joy with them. That same group of trees looked, and felt, much better the next time I passed through.
I’m not sure I could prove their existence to anyone else. I’ve learned to accept that they’re around through personal experience. Perhaps, if you’re open to it they’ll make themselves known to you too. I do know this though. There’s a lot more of them here on the UK than there are in the US. The faeries I met there were weak, sickly, hurting. Desperate for any belief they could get. Do me a favour and believe in them anyway. Save the American faeries. Leave them coins, milk and bread. Dedicate a little corner of your house or garden to them. Listen for their giggles when your stuff goes missing, and smile.
Do you believe in faeries too? Do you have any stories of personal encounters, or know someone who does? Get in touch! 🙂