[Revised, February 2025]
“Fantasy is a natural human activity. It certainly does not destroy or even insult reason; and it does not either blunt the appetite for, nor obscure the perception of, scientific verity. On the contrary. The keener and the clearer is the reason, the better fantasy will it make.” (370)
- J. R. R. Tolkien “On Fairy Stories” in
Tales from the Perilous Realm (2008)
I have been asked a number of times over the years why I write poems and stories that feature fairies. Any response to that question cannot but touch upon my early engagement with Neo-Pagan spirituality and then upon the touchstones and runes of my own development as a poet-mystic and an earthen naturalist through he 1980’s and 1990’s. This blog arises out of the confluence of these two vectors in my creative soul. I have long tried wording my sense of how fairy mysticism has worked in my own writing, exploring a number of traditional themes related to fairy lore. There needs to be a sense of fantasy -- an imagination creatively open to the fantastic -- for the fairy world to come to presence in the mystic's Mind and Heart.
Fantasy is a mode of the Creative Imagination; by the use of which we engage in making things ‘appear’ that are not ‘here’ in our ‘normal’ – that is normalized and normalizing – everyday worlds. To engage in Fantasy is to imagine and then experience ‘another world;’ entering into it in poetic and aesthetic, sensual ways. The world so imagined is different from our ordinary lived-in worlds, but capable of speaking to our lives in potentially significant ways; from over the hills and (not so) far away. Fairy stories speak to our own lives metaphorically and by way of analogy. We can read a fantasy story or watch a fantasy film, through it entering into an alternate reality.
Under the inspiration of the Moon I have often experienced a ‘flight of fantasy,’ imagining things that are beyond the
usual scope of our lived-experience and that travel me into otherworlds; other 'places' -- that are refreshing to the soul and possibly even
revelatory. A true fantasy allows us to step back from the ordinary world in which we live day-to-day, and find time for resourcement and refreshing dreams. This is a kind of escape that has the potential to revitalize one's whole being, with being a desertion of our lived-lives [1]. We return from fantasy to face another day in the world; yet with the hope of possibly changing what might be wrong with our day-to-day existence.
However we engage in fantasy, it has the potential to contribute to a widening perspective on the world and a better understanding of ourselves and others.
An old friend of mine used
to say that Fantasy is like rising, flying or being lifted by inspiration up
above the trees of a Forest and from there – from that new vantage point – seeing
broader, often far-off horizons within which a life could be authentically lived. The ‘Forest’ in this simile represents our everyday
lived-in worlds and then those worlds – cultural, social and historical – that establish
those horizons. While ‘good’ in an
ordinary sense; grounding us in practical ways of living while orienting us to
our culture’s rules and parameters, these circumscribed horizons can and probably
should be transcended as we grow and mature; as they are merely ‘ours’ – if we are
to achieve a wider, deeper, broader perspective for living our brief lives.[2]
For me, the Faeryfolk have
been a long-standing and important element of genuine fantasy. I
was first introduced to the lore of the Faeryfolk in my teenage years when I was involved in Neo-Paganism. During that primal time of my life I got my first introductions to the fairies and the lore about them. There was a definite dimension of fairy mysticism in the way in which we celebrated, practiced the Arts & Craefts and engaged with Nature. Later, in my early to mid-twenties, I became re-introduced to fairy-lore in a more literary context through reading W. B Yeats’ The
Celtic Twilight (1905) and Lady Gregory’s Gods and Fighting Men, as well as a variety of other sources.
I was drawn into Celtic spirituality, mysticism and mythology beginning at about that time, and found the stories of the Fairyfolk to be deeply intertwined with the themes of the myths and mysticism of Celtic peoples. The
Fiaries always seemed to ‘be there,’ whether present in the story or not, and I
used to think of myself as ‘faery-haunted;’ albeit in an imaginative and poetic, rather
than in a superstitious sense—whenever imaginatively engaged with a Fairy story, folk theme or legend.
Their being ‘hidden’ and yet ‘present’ is
one aspect of their lore that intrigued me from the beginning of my knowledge of the fairy peoples They were said to live in caves, under lakes, behind waterfalls
and in the great earthen mounds scattered across the Celtic landscape. Yet, they are also imagined as being ‘right beside us,’ in a
world just ‘beyond’ that is invisible to most of us most of the
time.
Though I did not start writing
stories about them until I was in my thirties, I’ve spent many years playing with a
kind of ‘fairy poetics;’ exploring symbols, icons, metaphors and themes that
were drawn from the Faery world.
Under various names and guises, the Faeryfolk have
a deep and rich mythology associated with them.
Some writers have imagined them to have been the prehistoric inhabitants
of what are now Ireland, Scotland, Wales and England, and there may be some ‘truth’
to this. I was introduced to the fairies under this idea; that the Fairyfolk may be a
mythologized memory of the prehistoric peoples of the lands later inhabited by Celtic, the Anglo-Saxon and finally Norman invaders. Legends say the Fairyfolk in Ireland made an agreement
with the incomers – e.g., the Celts in the Iron Age [3] – to live
‘beyond the sídhe
(pronounced “shay”), while the Celts settled the this-worldly lands. Perhaps this story is a trace-memory of that
time; a myth that ‘remembers’ an event of the past? Or perhaps it is just the ur-story; the archaic origins myth of the fairyfolk?
As I studied Irish mythology I became familiar with the Old Irish name for them: Sluagh-Sídhe (pronounced
“slew-ah-shay;”) which means “People of the Sídhe; (i.e., ‘mounds and
hillocks, etc., in which they were said to live). In Ireland they were often associated – if not identified
– with the Tuatha Dé Danaan (pronounced “too-ha jay don-awn”) “the
People of the Goddess Danu;” She being one of the “All-Mother” figures in Irish myths; i.e., “The Great Goddess.”
They are said to have been of slightly smaller stature than the Celts,
but definitely ‘small humanoid’ peoples; not ‘insect sized’ and able to hide
under flowers in the garden![4] Caitlín
& John Matthews pointedly said of this, in their Encyclopedia of Celtic Wisdom
(1994), that:
“The name ‘faery’ has acquired unfortunate connotations, evoking images of butterfly winged and saccharine creatures slightly bigger than insects. If we are to have any understanding of the people of the sídhe in Celtic tradition, we must erase such connotations and understand that they have a far greater stature and power than we can conceive. Immortal, able to pass between the worlds at will, with resources that seem magical to humans, they appear as major protagonists in Celtic tradition, both then and now.” (388)
Two
of the themes touched upon here – that the Fairy are “immortal” and that they
have magical abilities – are central to Neo-Pagan Faery lore as I learned it. As characters in the stories that have come
down to us, the Fairy do seem to be somewhat ‘more than human' and not just 'other than.'
Faeryfolk,
whether considered to be human beings or some other kind of being, lived in an “otherworld”
into which humans could pass and sometimes return from, by stepping on a “stray
sod”[5] or passing through a “thin place”
between our world and theirs.[6]
Dwelling in hillsides and under mounds, in tunnels[7] and caves, as well as at stone
circles, crossroads, sacred springs and wells, the Sluagh-Sídhe (“slew-ah shay”) exist in a world
parallel to our own, into which we can sometimes ‘see’ and even experience, especially
-- I was taught -- at the end-of-year harvest festival of Samhain (31 October; pronounced “sow-en”),
when the veil between the worlds becomes ‘thin’ for a night.[8] _Though this crossing-over and back between worlds -- the fairies coming into our world; and we possibly stepping into theirs in waking fantasy -- does and can happen at any time of the year.
The fairies are said to have special trees and crags, ‘huts’ and other places that are
sacred to them, and at which they may be occasionally encountered. Of their sacred trees, Dairmuid Mac Manus declared, in his
classic book, Irish Earth Folk (1959), that
“The fairy folk are quite discriminating
in their choice of trees, and the site of each tree is an important matter.”
(48) They
favor Oak, Ash, Rowan and Thorn trees as well as the Hazelnut; the latter being featured in those mysterious tales of haunted pools where sacred salmon lived under the boughs of a
magical Hazelnut Tree. At such a pool,
one could gain wisdom! As to the importance
of the Hazelnut and the Blackthorn – another favorite of the Faery – Dairmuid Mac
Manus said:
“The hazel, one of the most important of all, goes back in Irish mythology to an honoured place in the dim mists of the past. Then the hazel nut was the repository of all knowledge, as was the apple in Eden. No wonder the ancient gods and the spirits of today are reputed to revere and care for it. Of the other trees, fairies do well in cherishing the blackthorn, for it is one of the loveliest trees in the Irish countryside, especially in early spring when its masses of bright, white flowers contrast so strongly with its leafless black twigs; and the toughness of its branches is proverbial.” (46-47)
Trees
were long-respected and protected in Celtic countries in part because they were
sacred to the Fairyfolk. This tradition still survives today. Strange
encounters were often had at trees that were ‘Fairy-haunted,’ for good or
ill. For while the Fairyfolk were known
as “the Gentle Folk,” being great friends and advocates of those befriended
by them, if crossed they could be quite nasty; playing tricks on those who
crossed them—all such antics aiming, however, at revealing their being misused or
betrayed, and then requiring recompense being paid in order for justice to be re-established between them and their human friends on this side of the sidhe.
Another key theme in
the folklore of the Fairyfolk is their close association with music. They are said to be expert musicians and
singers, the harp and later the fiddle being their favorite instruments of
choice. Their presence is often
associated with a mystical music; the coel-sidhe –
(“kay-ole-shay;” the “music of the sidhe"). Tom Cowan said in his fascinating book, Fire
in the Head (1993), that:
“For the Celts, both Pagan and Christian, the encounter with Faerie is often heralded by ethereal music, usually described as “the most beautiful music” ever heard, or “like no human music.” Indeed, sweet fairy music is an essential component of the Otherworld. It can lull mortals into an enchanted sleep or a shamanic state of consciousness. … the music is often heard on lonely roads, late at night, or in the forests, emerging from the Hollow Hills or from deep within the earth.” (72)
It
is the coel-sidhe that I was alluding to in my story “Foundations at
Ross Falls (20 March 1997),[9] wherein the characters heard mysterious
music while leaving a rustic waterfall at night; though in the story the
characters think the music sounds like that of monks chanting an office in Latin
down at the base of the secluded, rustic waterfall.
One of the most long-standing fairy
themes is that of a mortal being
carried away into the otherworld and kept in thrall to one of the Sluagh-Sídhe (“slew-ah shay”) – e.g., usually
a Faery Queen – after a time being returned to this world with magical powers
or creative gifts; enabled by their encounter with fairies to become great poets,
healers or wise advisors to their communities.[10] This theme always captured my interest as an inspiring writer and poet! Stories
such as this were often used to account for the genius and creativity of a
musician or poet – i.e., they were said to be ‘Faery Gifted.’
For myself, such tales played into my
evolving poetics of “The Muse;”[11] i.e., the ‘source of inspiration and
creativity’ in us. The ‘Faery Queen’ in
these stories I tend to see as a metaphor for this ‘source.’ Many of the story elements that resonate with
me most in Fairy lore allude to the process and experience of entering a
creative state and being inspired. That
you can step on a ‘stray sod’ and slip into the Faery-world metaphors my
experience of wakening into an imaginative state of mind and then -- through poetic belief, which is a function of actively engaged fantasy -- being inspired to write and compose.
The fairies are also often encountered in strange, abandoned places. Ruins[12] are among their favorite haunts! Tales at-play in this theme-realm take one to the limits of the known
landscape, opening the hearer to fantastic ideals and conceptions. The strangeness to which fairy stories point oft
begin with experiences in which someone exclaims—
“I found an abandoned house off-trail from where I usually walk, and …”
“I was looking out my window, and the mist and streetlight made me feel so strange, that …”
All
such experiences evoke, for me, what I call ‘faery consciousness;’ -- a
‘state’ in which I am open to Mystery; to the mysterious—that which is ‘beyond
knowing,’ whether or not we will ever come to understand it. It is a neurological, psychological and
bio-physical state; not necessarily a ‘supernatural’ one—grounded in the organic chemistry
that makes us what we are as evolved physical and evolving spiritual beings with a deep
history in the planetary biosphere. It
is a psychological and emotional ‘mood.’
Faery consciousness is that state in which I am imaginatively prone to
experiencing the world as ‘haunted’ by a presence that I best en-word in the kinds of themes discussed above; fantasying my way toward deep awareness, reconciliation with the Earth & Cosmos, and the touchstones of authentic being-in-becoming. Such consciousness gives rise to a mythic way of
speaking about our experiences of the fairyfolk as characterized by Wonder and Awe.
Wonder and Awe point to Mystery, and this is what the use of Faery
themes in my own writing does for me; it points, it alludes, it surprises me
into a better awareness and attention to Earth & Cosmos. (for examples of such stories, see a brief
list: “Faery Stories and Poems” – at the end of this blog)
These are only a few
of the many interesting and engaging themes and ideas -- fantastic and mystical -- associated with the
Faeryfolk, others including stories of “Faery Forts,” “Faery Doctors,” “Faery
Paths,” “Faery Islands” and much, much more.
Overall, the folklore of the fairies constitutes a deep story-world, accessed via fantasy -- with which we may engage on a variety of levels; literary, spiritual and
existential. While the Faeryfolk have
been ‘believed in’ for centuries as ‘real, existing’ beings, I relate to them
as ‘real imaginary’ beings. They inhabit
my imagination and come to the fore when I am telling stories about ‘liminal;’ i.e.,
‘border' – experiences.
In almost fifty
years I have found no evidence of their existence outside my imagination, beyond the journeying in fantasy that makes their reality apparent to me. Tales of the fairyfolk are of that fictional mode in which fantasy is at work on our own consciousness; and as
such evoke in me a powerful sense of what lies beyond our comprehension, but
which is still weirdly illuminating of our lived-in worlds. The Faery World is a Fantasy World, stories
about it contributing in many cases to the hope for a better world in which
suffering and hatred have been diminished – if not transcended – and where
abundance and wellness prevail for all who live there. The Faery World is often conflated with the
idea of ‘Paradise!’ Whether they ‘actually
exist’ – outside the imagination – I leave to others to debate.
The Sluagh-Sídhe
are one fictional, imaginative cypher
for what is beyond what we our finite mortal understand as the human animals we are; they stand for what
we have discovered – via the arts and sciences – about Earth & Cosmos and
ourselves as a manifestation of the processes of Nature. When Faery appear in a story or poem I’ve read
or written, they are often touchstones of epiphanic experience; those sudden
moments of being lifted ‘out of ourselves’ or into a ‘higher’ understanding, if
only -- usually -- for a twinkling of time; after which we return to our actual worlds. They point to the
limits even of the imagination! Their
presence in a story may ignite experiences of self-transcendence.
When I am reading or writing a story or poem,
and the Faery make a sudden appearance, I feel lifted out of the ordinary rounds
of the day and invited to move toward something extra-ordinary! Their appearance
is a potential moment of wakening to the Wonder and Awe that it is always possible
for us as human animals to experience.
Wonder is that
state of openness to what-is;[13] often awakening us – waking us up in the
midst of the everyday – in the presence of something beautiful, curious, or
simply beyond our current comprehension. That
experience of being ‘stopped in our tracks;’ stunned by a beautiful sunset or
by the intricacies of a wildflower, a sea star, or the thoughts given rise to
by something we have just read or something a friend, lover or mentor has just said, is
a key rune of the state of Wonder. Awe
is a similar state, but more associated with experiences in which there is some
threat to our mortal existence. As
Wonder is to the Beautiful, so Awe is to the Sublime. When caught out in a thunder & lightning
storm, for instance – as I have oft been – hiking some woodland trail, one’s
consciousness can be transformed by the experience into a state of Awe. It is a sublime – not simply beautiful –
experience. While there is a beauty in
the storm, there is also clear danger.
It is therefore sublime.
Mystery backgrounds
all that is, and while I have often used cyphers for Mystery drawn from our rational
scientific understanding of Earth & Cosmos in my writing, stories about the
Faeryfolk work equally well to take me – and the narrative – beyond what
I think I understand; as well as that which I may have come to take for
granted, if I’m not careful—in the world around me. This is the role of fantasy! Bondage to the all-too-familiar can blind a person to what might be beyond it. Fantasy takes us beyond those narrow bounds of the familiar. Often when experiencing Mystery, there is that
certain ‘namelessness’ of the experience that I associate with ‘liminal’ experiences. There’s a “Wow,”
perhaps, or a deep, silent response to it.
There is Wonder, and sometimes Awe.
But once I return to my-self and begin to word-out the experience,
mythic words come to the fore along with concepts and words drawn from the
sciences, arts or philosophy. Fantasy, as Tolkien avers in the epigraph to this blog, is not a rejection of Reason and Science and what these have shown us of the world and our place in Earth & Cosmos.
Faery Stories and Poems—
Here are a few of the more recent stories
and poems at this blog that have faery themes:
“Patrick and the Faery”
(17 March 2018) – in this poem, Saint
Patrick and the Faeryfolk are dancing and celebrating the Vernal Equinox together;
something they probably would not have done when Patrick was alive. The idea here is that in the Otherworld we
get over our provincialism and narrow-minded conceptions of what it is to be
human, holy, etc. – and can embrace those we might have demonized, despised or
mistrusted in this life. Would that we
could more often attain to this level of wisdom in this life!
“Old Nicholas at Ross
Falls” (6 December 2018) – here Saint
Nicholas appears as one of the Faeryfolk as he and his Americanized complement ‘Santa
Claus’ often did in the 19th century. The poem is a visionary experience at “Ross
Falls” – at the opening of the Winter Solstice Season.
“A Winter Wakening” (20
December 2018) – this blog, which
provides an intro to the story of “Nicholas and the Elves” that I have been developing
and writing about for 30 years, presents the story of Runa Luna, the Mistress
of Tara Lough, who comes to the mythic ‘top of the world’ – “Tara Lough” being
the home of Nicholas and the Elves in the tale – as the parallel in my stories to
the ‘Mrs. Claus’ character in our modern secular ‘holiday’ stories. Runa Luna is a Faery Mistress, and her advent
at Tara Lough will no doubt be significant to my ongoing stories about Nicholas
and the Faeryfolk who are his fellow collaborators in the Dream of the Winter
Solstice and the Thirteen Dayes of Yule.
“Gone Faerying at Ross Falls” (23 June 2019) – this poem is the third of four set at “Ross Falls”
to have a faery theme. This is another dreamed
vision-quest poem, ending with an invitation to sing along with the Faeryfolk: “twindle-too-le-ley-hey-nune.”
A Brief Bibliography of Sources
Here are a few of the many sources that have informed my faery poetics over
the years. They are less ‘fanciful’ than
many books purporting to be about ‘fairies,’ being more tied to the historical
and mythological contexts out of which fairy folklore arose
Evans‑Wentz, Walter Y. The Fairy Faith in
Celtic Countries
(Atlantic
Highlands, NJ: Humanities Press, 1978)
Gantz, J. (ed. and trans.) Mabinogion
(Harmondsworth:
Penguin Books, 1976; 1965)
Gregory, Lady
Cúchulainn of Luirthemne: The Story of
the Men of the Red Branch of Ulster
(Gerrard’s
Cross: Colin Smythe, 1970)
Gregory, Lady
Gods and Fighting Men: The Story
of the Tuatha Dé Danann and the
Fiana of Ireland
(Gerrard’s
Cross: Colin Smythe, 1976)
MacManus, Dairmaid
Irish Earth Folk
(New
York: Devon‑Adair, 1959)
MacManus, Dairmuid A. The Middle Kingdom:
The Faery World of Ireland
(London: 1960)
Yeats, William Bulter Irish Faery and Folk
Tales
(Dorset
Press, 1987)
[1]
J. R. R. Tolkien, in his essay “On Faery Stories” critiqued the notion that all
fantasy is ‘escapist’ while also defending the need to have a means of ‘escape,'e.g.,
when we are enmired in dehumanizing situations and living in repressive conditions
in the world. (see the essay in a number
of volumes, including Tales from the Perilous Realm [Boston: Houghton
Mifflin Harcourt, 2008; p 335 – 374])
[2]
By this analogy, a genre like the 19th and 20th century
‘social novel’ describes life in the Forest. It deals with the social constructs, cultural
mores, values and everything else inscribed by our horizons in the Forest. The social novel tells stories about the ‘realistic’
adventures, conflicts and experiences to be had as well as the decisions to be
made in the ordinary world that potentially lead the characters to some degree
of self-realization. It explores our
struggle to live – even survive – within the Forest. A ‘fantasy novel,’ by contrast, takes place
in a ‘different lived world’ and can perhaps be understood as happening in
‘another [part of the] Forest’ that we do not see until the ‘jump’ makes it
possible to envision. Both genres give
us insight into our lives and the living out of our aspirations, dreams and
hopes.
[3]
See Dairmuid Mac Manus Irish Earth Folk (1959), pp. 144-145 and Tom
Cowan Fire in the Head (1993; p 15) for allusions to this idea.
[4] This ‘diminution’ – making the Faery small, which
reached its culmination in the late 19th and early 20th century; and which is
reflected in modern ‘fairy stories’ (e.g., Peter Pan and Tinkerbell; note the
difference in spelling) is the end result of the transition of one mythology to
another; in this case, from Pagan to Christian mythology. The good spirits and supernatural helpers of
an older mythology often become the downsized (literally!) tricksters and evil
spirits in the new mythology. In the
case of the Faeryfolk, it is a diminution caused by their mythology being
superseded by that of Christianity.
[5]
Stray Sod” – Tom Cowan said in Fire in the Head (1993) that “Sometimes a person stumbles into Faery by
making a wrong turn on a well-known path or, as the Irish say, stepping upon a
“stray sod.” (15)
[6]
For a reference to “thin places” see Edward Sellner’s Wisdom of the
Celtic Saints (1993, p 11)
[7]
When I was a teenager I imagined that
the coffin holes in the sides of a railroad tunnel outside my hometown were
‘doorways’ into the Faery World! I would
often go there to have imagined meetings with them.
[8]
Samhain – often misunderstood, this is the “Night of the Dead” in the
Celtic calendar; 31 October, when the Sídhe
open up. Far from being a night filled
with ‘black magic’ and ‘devil-worship’ (as it is still often hijacked into representing in
pop culture media) it was a night for remembering and communing with the dead;
Pagan peoples oft believing it possible to meet-up with the souls of people and animals
you have known in this life who are now gone “over the sídhe and into the Otherworld.”
I was taught that it was a night for remembrance of the dead;
those of your family and friends who had died in the previous year. A haunted night between the end of the old
year (at dusk on 31 October) and the beginning of a New Year (at dawn on 1
November), it is a night for making restitution and paying debts, You could seek forgiveness from and offer it to those with
whom you had not been able to reconcile while in life; they could be given
offerings of food and written confessions, taken up to the bonfires on the
hills and burned. This is the historical
touchstone of our commercialized practice of “Trick or Treat.” It was a practice encouraging reconciliation with
one's enemies; then seeking the runes of a “new start” or perhaps some degree of
personal transfiguration, as 1 November was “New Years’ Day” in the traditions of the Olde Ones.
[9]
See pp. 464 – 478 in Tales from the Seasons (Authorhouse, 2008). This experience – which is based on something
that actually happened to friends of mine and I while out hiking years ago – is
also alluded to in “The Calling of Ross Falls” (22 September 2018). Three of the four poems about Ross Falls (so
far) are faery-themed.
[10]
Tom Cowan, in Fire in the Head 1993, relates one of these stories; that
of the Poet Thomas the Rhymer (p 73)
[11]
See my blog “A Musing Life” (2 February 2018) at this site for reflections on
my ‘life with the Muse;’ the quest to become a mature, creative person.
[12]
On my own fascination with ruins, see my blog “Ruins and the Harvest: Autumn
Themes” (23 September 2011).
[13]
I see the realms of the imagination as an integral part of the ‘what is.’
