We arrived in London, and met the rest of the tour group that we had arranged to travel with. Our two-week tour began with the dizzying whirl of common tourist destinations in London. However, the crowded city held no pleasure for me, and I was eager to leave the noise behind me and experience the beauty of the countryside. After a few days in London walking off the jet lag, we began our exploration of the rest of the isles.
We slowly made our way northward, traveling from point to point on the tourist merry-go-round of “must-see” destinations. There was little opportunity for solitary explorations, but I eagerly sought out quiet moments from each day as we gradually made our way north into Scotland. For a small island nation with a large population, it was refreshing to see such wide expanses of open land, although the lack of old growth forest was a sadness to see. Robin Hood would have a difficult time hiding for long in Sherwood Forest these days. There’s but a few trees left of the forest of legend.
The Highlands of Scotland were lonely, yet majestic. I was constantly reminded of the passage of time as we passed tumbled-down castles and fortifications. At one rest stop, I had the opportunity to lay among the budding heather upon the moor. The earth, the blue sky, the breeze, the bright sun all came together for a blissful moment upon the hills, and I finally felt connected to the land of my ancestors.
As we made our way back south to Wales, I sought signs of the ancient culture that pre-dated the coming of Christianity. In ancient villages, churches, and market squares, I found signs of the ancient Gods and Goddesses of the Isles. Each foliated “Green Man” that peeked out at me from church frescoes, each Goddess associated with ancient springs, increased my sense of connection to these honored memories of my past.
We crossed the Irish Sea, and explored the magical island of Ireland. Naturally, we stopped at key tourist destinations, such as Blarney castle. This site is famous for the stone that gifts the visitor with eloquence if they are brave enough to grace its dizzying heights with their lips. Happily, it is also home to a lesser known but lovely landscaped garden. I eagerly sought the heights of the castle, and paid homage to the stone with my kiss. Because of my eagerness to greet the magic of Blarney, I swiftly completed my mission. As our tour group patiently awaited their chance to test their bravery in exchange for the “gift of gab”, those who had already gone before headed for the second most popular tourist activity: shopping. But finally finding myself with an hour of unplanned time in the tour schedule, I ignored the shopping kiosks and headed into the nearly deserted garden to refresh my spirit. It was here, wandering through the half-wild paths, that I first saw a genuine fairy.
I had settled myself on a log just off the path that wound through a less tended area of the garden. I had just crossed a small wooden foot bridge that spanned a small stream. The sun sparkled on the water, and highlighted the iridescence of dragonfly wings dancing and diving between sun and shadow. I sat quietly trying to let the hectic pace of the past week or so slip by me. The quiet relaxation and beauty around me was bliss to my spirit. Following the aerial acrobatics of one particularly lively dragonfly, my eye was drawn to the bushes at the waters’ edge, where I was startled to see a tiny face peering out at mine.
I immediately froze; my eyes, my breath, my heartbeat frozen by the shock and disbelief of what had suddenly, but quite clearly, appeared before me. The face was small, no larger than a walnut, and about the same color. The eyes were tiny, but open wide with surprise, and set in a narrow, puckered face. The expression seemed startled, and I got the distinct impression that I was not the only one jolted by our encounter. I caught a brief glimpse of a tiny hand that was holding aside a leaf, but with one quick motion, the leaf snapped back in place, and the face was gone.
I did not immediately jump up and attempt to follow the little face. Instead, I was overcome by a sense of awe and mystery that deepened as I sat, allowing my breath and heartbeat to steady. My view of reality was severely jolted by the brief appearance of that impossible face, and I required several more minutes of dragonfly dances before a sense of normalcy reasserted itself.
This being, this fairy, as I immediately and intuitively named what I had seen, was utterly and completely NOT human. After a lifetime in the woodlands of northeast North America, I had never encountered anything remotely resembling what I saw that day. The eyes were startled, but lively with intelligence. The size of the face and hand implied a being of such petite stature unequal to any wildlife I had ever experienced before. It was a being completely unexpected, and yet, that one brief glimpse became the cause that required me to examine all of my assumptions of what was possible and real in the world.
Fairies were very real indeed, but unlike anything I had ever expected from pictures in the fairy tales of childhood. The only wings that I saw were worn by the dragonflies that continued to dance and hover nearby, and yet that startled, wizened face vibrated with a magical intensity that was immediately apparent to my relaxed and seeking spirit.
That one brief sight, so completely contrary to anything else I had ever seen or expected, immediately expanded my notion of what is possible in the world. Some of my cynicism dropped away, and I began to truly understand the bedrock of genuine reality that underlies the magical tales we tell our children. It is said that traveling abroad “expands your horizons”, and after my trip, I certainly saw the world as a much larger place than I could have ever imagined.
And of course, the final irony is that I saw this fairy at Blarney, where my encounter is destined to be dismissed as yet another “fairy tale”, inspired by the gift of gab.
~Flame RavenHawk
June 18, 2003