“Pray, oblige me by removing to this other bench, and, I venture to
assure you, the proper light and shadow will transform the spectacle into quite
another thing."
-
Nathaniel
Hawthorne Main Street (1852)
I have always been
taken with this ‘request’ of Hawthorne’s, urging a need for changing one’s perspective
to get a better understanding. We are often
so immersed in a common, ordinary perspective – rendered out of habit,
sustained by its practical efficiency and reinforced by our failure to remain
waeccan (i.e, awake; spiritually as well as consciously) in the course of everyday life – that to remove ourselves to ‘another
bench’ may seem ‘unnecessary’ and even ‘disturbing’ to us.
Yet the ‘other bench’ carries revelatory
potential, and once we take advantage of it, the experience it may give us can contribute to a more universal
understanding, a deeper compassion and the fruits which flow from those experiences. Gaining a different
perspective allows us to see the world and ourselves more fully, from a wider
variety of angles. It is a valuable experience,
one that should be indulged in whenever possible, as many of our problems would
begin to dissipate if we could but ‘remove ourselves to that other bench’ and
see things in a different cast of ‘light and shadow.’
Fantasy – as an
imaginative mode – is one way of “removing to this other bench” and seeing
things from different perspectives. To
engage in Fantasy is to imagine or experience ‘another world,’ one that is
different from our ordinary lived-in worlds, but capable of speaking to our
lives in potentially significant ways; metaphorically and by way of analogy. We can read a fantasy story or watch a
fantasy film, through it entering into an alternate reality. We can have a ‘flight of fantasy’ and imagine
things that are beyond the usual scope of our lived-experience and which may be inspiring;
possibly even revelatory—if the fantasizing is not a ‘mere escape.’[1]
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 of Celtic traditions have
been a long-standing fantasy motif. I
was first introduced to the lore of the Faeryfolk in my teenage years when I was involved in Neo-Paganism. At this time in my life I was into Neo-Paganism, and learned a good deal about faery-lore and mysticism in that context. Later, in my early to mid-twenties, I became more introduced to faery-lore in a more literary context through reading W. B Yeats’ The
Celtic Twilight (1905) and Lady Gregory’s Gods and Fighting Men.
As I got into Celtic spirituality, mysticism and mythology, beginning at about that time, I found the stories of the Faeryfolk to be central to the
myths and mysticism of the Celts. The
Faery 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 engaged with a Faery story.
Their being ‘hidden’ and yet ‘present’ is
what I find most intriguing; they we 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 ‘right beside us,’ in a
world just ‘beyond’ that which 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 ‘faery poetics;’ exploring symbols, icons, metaphors and themes that
characterize 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. The Faeryfolk may be a
mythologized memory of the prehistoric peoples of the later Celtic lands. Legends say the Faeryfolk made an agreement
with the incomers – 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?
Their place in the Celtic world is runed by
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). They are 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
Celtic 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] As Caitlín
& John Matthews once said in their Encyclopedia of Celtic Wisdom
(1994):
“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 Faery 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 Faery do seem to be somewhat ‘more than human.'
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 ours into which we can sometimes ‘see’ and even experience, especially
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]
They 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; which features
in 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 Faeryfolk. This tradition still survives today. Strange
encounters were often had at trees that were ‘Faery-haunted,’ for good or
ill. For while the Faeryfolk were known
as “the Gentle People,” 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 and justice being done.
Another key theme in
the folklore of the Faeryfolk 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 Faery 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 my favorite Faery
themes – being a scribbler (a writer and poet) – is that of a mortal being
carried away into the otherworld and kept in thrall to the Faeryfolk – 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 Faery to become great poets,
healers or wise advisors to their communities.[10] 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 see as a metaphor for this ‘source.’ Many of the story elements that resonate with
me most in Faery 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 through poetic belief
being inspired to write and compose.
Another common theme
is of encounters with the Faery in strange, abandoned places. Ruins[12] are favorite haunts of the Faeryfolk! Such tales take one to the limits of the known
landscape, opening the hearer to fantastic ideals and conceptions. The strangeness to which Faery 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 sometimes 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 a ‘supernatural’ one—grounded in the organic chemistry
that makes us what we are as evolved 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 Faery
themes. It gives rise to a mythic way of
speaking about experiences of 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 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 Faeryfolk constitutes a deep story-world
with which we may engage on a variety of levels; literary, spiritual and
existential. While the Faeryfolk have
been ‘believed in’ for many 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 or
beyond the cultural contexts in which their tales arose. Stories of the Faeryfolk are fictional and as
such evoke in me a powerful sense of what lies beyond our comprehension, but
which is still constitutive 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
rune for me the presence of Mystery in our lived-in-worlds. They are one fictional, imaginative cypher
for what is beyond what we understand as the human animals we are; beyond 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 for a moment. 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 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 will work just as 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. 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.
For me, mythic words simply arise out of long association and study as one possible option for
the developing and unfolding of the narrative in which I am engaged. At that moment, I have a choice to make as to
what to do as the narrative continues unfolding—and I oft find it wisening to go
with the Faery metaphor. Whether I am
en-wording Wonder & Awe in mystic runes or naturalistic poetics, I am
engaging cyphers of Mystery.
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 sources that have informed my faery poetics over
the years. They are less ‘fanciful’ than
many books purporting to be about ‘fairies,’ being truer to the historical
mythological contexts out of which the folklore of the Faeryfolk arose. I include here books dealing with the mythic
peoples of the Celtic countries as well as with the Faeryfolk; the wider
mythology being a helpful context in which to understand the Faery. Just be aware that the tales of the Faery
have come down to us via a Christian culture, and as such there is a certain
amount of religious superstition as well as demonizing of the Faery in the
stories that has to be filtered out.
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 often hijacked to represent in
pop culture media) it was a night for remembering and communing with the dead;
the Celts 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.” 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 with those with
whom you had not been able to be reconciled 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 debased, commercialized practice of “Trick or Treat.” It was a time for reconciliation with
enemies, and then seeking the runes of a “new start” or perhaps some degree of
personal transfiguration, as 1 November was “New Years’ Day” in the old traditions.
[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 would urge that the realms of the imagination are part of ‘what is.’
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