My house was demolished in November, (1996) and a friend of mine who is a Wiccan High Priestess had commented on the labor day weekend, that she will often take a plant pot to a demolition site, explain to the Faerie that it is their ticket out of there before the bulldozers come, and that she will be back for the pot in a few days. She now has the most extraordinary collection of nature spirits in her garden....
        This seemed like a good idea to me.

I've been spending a lot of time channeling Gaia, and sending her my sacred sexual energy, lately. An interesting side effect, seems a vastly increased awareness of earth spirits.

I was cleaning out my basement with a slave a few weeks ago, and telling him about my plan to put out pots on my friend's behalf, whilst staring idly at a box of bulbs I plan to give out to the neighborhood. Energy forms are piling up on the bulbs, as I speak to him.

We could both see them. (The submissive training includes esp.-learning to share Mistress's perceptions, even physical sensations-at least in my stable, it does. Fun, eh?) I figure, time to put out the pots, the Faerie are restless.

I filled one plant pot and set it outside the door into my garden, explaining to the moonlight what it was for, and why. I filled two more pots with bulbs and soil, and as I was walking across the long yard to set them in the blackberry bramble, I'm explaining again to the moonlight, and as I speak, the pots are getting heavier....

Walking past the yard a few days later, talking to another slave, I stop for a moment, telling him about the mysteriously heavy pots, and we see, coming towards me across the grass, little moving heat shimmers, gathering around my feet, coolest thing....

Last night, My Wiccan friend came by to be properly introduced to the Faerie, and take them away safe. During tea she related an anecdote about inviting some Faerie to come along on a trip. Arriving at the airport, she realizes she doesn't have cash for overweight baggage. She asked the Faerie to flap their wings and make the baggage lighter.
   On the baggage scale, the weight needle kept going up and down, The clerk gave up and let it past, no extra charge.

Inspired, as we go to collect the very unusually heavy plant pots from the yard, I ask if anybody present, of the light, wants to come along on my Visionquest, instead.

Coming back into the house, I come into my room and ask 'slave girl' freya, who's packing my clothes, if she sees anything unusual. I switch off the light, and we see that the floor around my feet is glowing, an irregular, moving shape. She noticed a very large form behind me.

It is of the light, and it resonates with stone. And it seems quite powerful. That's all I know. Then I overdid it and ended up shivering in my waterbed, cold electricity shooting up and down my legs and spine.
    Actually, I realize it's a few feet behind me, as I write this. Hello, earth being.

This morning freya and I were sitting on the couch after breakfast, trying to get the energy to do more packing. The conversation wandered around to the Faerie who are coming vision questing with me. As we talked about them, I idly watched invisible energy forms gathering around us. I felt a coolness around my legs. freya started taking to them, telling them they had to all be 6' tall today, and strong like a bull and smart like a woman, so they could help pack.

Out of my mouth came this amazing clear tinkling bell like laugh, that had none of the snideness of a giggle, but all of the delight. It seemed to hang in the air for about five minutes after the sound, as we commented that the laugh did not sound quite like me.

I noticed that invisible forms were climbing up and cuddling freya, and felt tiny soft touches on myself. I felt a being standing on my shoulder. It felt slender, about 11" tall. As I regarded the air where I felt it to be, and said hello, suddenly an awareness of it's appearance popped into my head. I laughed in surprise-because it looked exactly what my conception of an elf should look like. From the pointed ears to the robin hood green peter pan suit.

Of course, when artists imagine what Faerie look like, they are actually drawing from unconscious sight.

I turned my attention to the big one, that stands behind me, saying hello, as we speculated on his nature. Suddenly an image of him popped into my head ( and freya's.) I startled me in it's clarity. His skin looks like the thing from the fantastic four, but dark grey. He is also taller and more slender, but powerfully built. His features are blunt, like worn stone. He is beautiful, and I told him so. He said humans did not usually think so, and we had a brief conversation about the attractiveness to him of females of his kind over humans. We could not quite catch his name. it sounded Gaelic to freya and native Indian to me. The languages sound similar, or perhaps it is some earth language that is the root of both.

This area that has been my home for these past five + years is called Khat-sah-lan-oo in Haida, and was sacred ground before suburbia turned it into trendy Kitsilano. I discovered he was dreadful homesick for the sound of native chants and drumming. I thought I had a tape of native tribal music, but I could not find it for him, so I played the Pipes and Drums of Scotland, instead. Not quite the same.

So now I have made a promise, somewhere on this Visionquest, there will be native music, to please my new companion. It's a really good idea to keep promises made to Faerie! Everybody knows that. I'm not crazy about native music myself, but I have no doubt keeping my promise will lead me to some interesting experiences.
    freya's pentacle pendant, which disappeared from the couch 5 days ago, turned up under the waterbed sheets today.
    I think the Faerie appreciate her sense of humor. The pentacle is filled with this incredible energy, now.

Life continues to be Amusing. That is my personal motto. It's a good one.

Went to visit a friend on Monday, to deliver the herbs salvaged from the garden. He was not home, but his roomie, was. Another friend with the auspicious last name of Crowley. We sat and chatted and smoked, and I related the story of my Visionquest, and the company I keep. lately.

I told Crowley about the stone being, and coaxed it into coming to stand beside me, where I sat on the floor by the coffee table. He looked from me to the space where it was and back several times, then pulled a quilted bag out of somewhere, and gently removed from it a black stone sphere. It was slightly larger than a baseball, smooth slate, I think, not polished, but slightly dimpled and fissured, as if river-polished.

This is a stone being, he said, that's been everywhere, on stone altars all over the world...he set the stone sphere on the square of silk where we were preparing to lay tarot, on front of the other stone being.

I felt the tall stone being beside me gently go down on one knee, and take the sphere between his big hands. I felt myself being inundated with waves of light and sweetness turning into intoxication Kundalini light and sensuality. Potent as a drug, I swayed with the pleasure of it, more intense than any crystal I have ever felt. I think there's a love affair going on here,...I murmured through the haze of sweetness...My eyes half closed...Is that the stone sphere?
    Yes, nodded Crowley grinning.

Wonderful, Feeling it through the perceptions of the stone being, so intense. I thanked all present for the incredible experience. We continued with the reading.
   (Druid Animal Cards: Blackbird, dog and horse)
   Later, I picked up the sphere, to feel it's emanations for myself.
   It said I was a very nice human, would I please give it back to the stone being now?
   So I did. I could hardly blame it for preferring the company of a stone Faerie to me.
    The beings thanked me for bringing them together, too. Very nice. Ooh.

     Last night: my young lady friend had stretched sufficiently in the playground outside, after her crystal healing/shaktipat enlightenment. We were idling in the moonlight, sharing a cigar. Looking at the mysterious 'heat shimmers', (with dancing particles of refracted rainbow) of various sizes gathered on the ground around us- The Faerie. Talking about the world. She said something complimentary about the faerie, and we both felt the rush of love that was their response. I commented on it, her eyes widened, she said 'I thought that was you.'

I addressed the Faerie, explaining that she needed a little test. I directed her to ask if the Faerie loved her, out loud, and feel the response. While I moved 20' away, and sang 'O Canada', waving my arms and improvising new lyrics without missing a beat.

She got the positive result, so I told her to ask if her angels loved her, while I sang "O Canada", original version, with waving fall maple leaves conducting.

She is even more beautiful, radiant with the knowledge that she is so unconditionally loved, by Faerie and Angels. It is an amazing gift, to be a Dominant Fetish Witch. I am so blessed. The Faerie are very real, and my companions, but completely independent of me.
    My belief systems allow perception of them into my 10%.

May 1996 was my first Beltane with "the Fringe", a local group of pagans I hang with sometimes. I shall never forget it. 40 of our pagan family, camping out in a several acre, somewhat swampy, wooded and wild and magical backyard in a rural suburb of Vancouver. A partly soggy meadow with a fire pit circle nearer the house, and poplar, cedar and pine forest at the edges and back.

I had claimed a new slave several weeks before. cymbal was the name he came with, and he was so attached to it I didn't rename him as I usually do with new pets.
    He turned out to have astonishing psychic talents, but as is the story we Kundalites know so well, those talents had caused him more confusion and difficulty than joy.
    I felt spending a long weekend with a community for whom such talents were accepted, gifts to be used and trusted would be just the thing for him, so I brought him along.
    One of my crystals, a gorgeous piece of white quartz the size of a small hen's egg had asked to be his, and so I'd given it to him, puzzled that a crystal strong enough to charge my entire living room should want to accompany a magical novice.

But the use of crystals depends on respecting their sentience, and allowing them free will. So I let it go...

Friday night the genders separated for men's and women's mysteries.
    Following the rituals, cymbal returned to me rather upset... he had lost his crystal, somehow, from the bottom of his deep, tight jeans pocket during the ritual. It had been in his pocket at the beginning and was gone at the end.
    I reassured him that with this many psychics around, finding it in the morning would be no problem.
    cymbal was a big fella, 6'2" and 240#. No way could even a dime fall out of his jean pockets, even if he stood on his head.

Beltane is a spring fertility ritual, in which all marriages become void for the duration of the event. In early times, this was to allow childless couples to seek fertility elsewhere with no hard feelings. It is also customary for the women to do the choosing of partners. I abstain from any activity that might produce pregnancy at Beltane. I named cymbal Guardian of my Chastity, which aroused some amused sympathy from the other males.

Saturday afternoon wore on, and in between events, maypole dancing and tossing the anvil, I asked around, for the other Witches to keep their antennae tuned to the missing crystal. Nothing.
    Darkness fell. Sitting around the Baelfire, I mentioned the disappearance to a friend who is a High Priest of Herne, whom I'll call the Bear for this story.
    "Oh," he said, "Faeries probably took it, they love stuff like that, and you being a novice you're unprotected. It's gone. Faeries got it."

(...earlier in the day the Bear had gently questioned my judgement in throwing a green novice into the intensity of Beltane Men's Mysteries as a first experience. I had replied that judging from the past life memories we had dug up together, it was only a new experience this lifetime... I had wanted to jog those memories further.)
    This explanation resonated with me perfectly. Except the part about not getting it back... "We'll ask them to give it back, then" I said.
    cymbal didn't believe a word of it, and looked at me like I'd grown donkey ears.
    However, he was obedient, and a good sport, and nothing else had worked, so turning from the fire to face the night he obeyed my instructions to very graciously thank the Fey for the compliment they had paid him in appreciating his crystal so much as to want it for themselves, but that he was also very emotionally attached to it, and quite upset by it's disappearance. That he was new to magic and could not protect himself, but that he'd always imagined that the Fey were a kind people, and so if they would please give the crystal back to him when they were finished playing with it, he would be forever grateful to them, and know that Faerie are really real.
    Hearing that having done this, we ought not to spend any more energy looking, he looked a bit crestfallen.

A bit later, we left the fire circle to fetch some things from the tent, pitched in the woods. I walked ahead, and passed the tent to gaze at the moonlit meadow from the edge of the trees. I felt a momentary impulse to look for the crystal again, and looked down at the grass at my feet before I remembered myself and waved the impulse away with a thought of appreciation to the Fey.

I turned my attention to my slave, whom I could hear noisily crashing thru the woods behind me, making small ouch noises as he walked into branches and trees. I realized he could not see, and knew that his blindness was expectation, not reality. Men tend to have better night vision than women do.
    I called him to me, and asked if he had noticed the difference in our respective passage thru the forest. He had noticed, he'd also noticed that I'd been unaffected by mosquitos or nettles, and the sparks from the fire kept going out or changing direction before they reached me. I was amused at his catalogue, and disbelieving chagrin in the way he related it.
    "How do you see in the dark?" He asked. Genuinely puzzled.

I led him into the meadow, and started to point out all of the things that could be seen easily under a full moon and canopy of stars. Moonlight on puddles, reflecting off of trees and grass, each blade sparkling moonlight in a drop of dew. Each branch silhouetted, easy to see and duck under. He saw, and was amazed at his prior blindness, and at the beauty of the planet under moonlight.

I told him how as a teenager I had learned to listen to the songs of things, and how several melodies from different living things combined in consciousness into perfect symphony of life. Pointing to a tree nearby, then another, then the grass, I bade him listen to the melody that was coming from it. A symphony musician, he took to this right away. Listening, entranced to the music of nature.
   r "Look at that!" he said suddenly, amazed, pointing to the ground at our feet, I looked, saw only grass and moonlight. "You can't see it? It's so bright, a pentacle, glowing blue fire!"
   Focusing, I could almost make out a faint wavery outline. It seemed to be getting larger. "Step into it!" I said. He did, and described an incredible rush of energy.
    I stepped in too, as the pentacle now seemed six feet across, an we basked in the glow for a moment. I held him, and then we parted, he said something was poking into his hip.
    He went to put his hands in his pocket, then his mouth dropped open and he took three steps back as if I'd caught fire.
    "What is it?" I said, very concerned at this sudden apparent fear on his part.
    Not fear. Astonishment.
    "My crystal...!!!" He held it in his hand, it glowed milky blue lighting up his palm.
   "It was in the top of my pocket...poking me..."

The Fey had given it back to him, while he stood in their circle of blue fiery pentacle. He said that one facet of the crystal had become strangely pitted... the energy of it felt very different.

He had never ever guessed, when I bade him ask the moonlight for the crystal back, that Faerie might actually be real, that they might respond to his request. He was convinced, and ecstatic.
    We offered thanks, and returned to the Baelfire to tell the tale.

Later that night, I led cymbal naked and shackled from the tent dedicated as Temple of Aphrodite, led by two in black robes carrying torches, followed by a procession of the witches who had expressed an interest in witnessing the energy raised by a whipping ritual, to a spot in the woods where two trees three feet apart stood at the edge of a clearing. The ropes I had tied up high on each tree were waiting.
    This was a ritual cymbal knew well, effortlessly translating my lashes into radiant pleasure energy, and our pleasure was shared by all those who chose to be present, and offered to healing the yard from the weekend's trampling, and to the Faerie.

We spent the night by the Baelfire, as traditional. The sense of peace, love, warmth, community, the beauty there was so manifest, someone commented they thought they must have died and gone to heaven, as the expression goes.
    This caused some laughter, and a general consensus of contentment. If we had died and this was the afterlife, then we would all be perfectly content to stay by the fire, under the stars together, singing songs and discussing life, forever.
   An in-joke was born: The Afterlife is Ron's backyard.
    Always good for a smile, an evocative memory of a beautiful time.

Returning with to the spot in the morning, another Witch stepped into the place where cymbal had stood, braced with a hand on each tree, and read that many of the Witches, coming one by one secretly in the night to stand on that spot, had in their curiosity drained all of the residual energy of the event from the place, only the trees held the memory of the ritual, and of the secret visitors who had come to share in the ritual after it ended.

cymbal had been so afraid that he would be rejected by the community for his public submission. Empathizing with the shy secrecy of their curiosity, he realized he had really truly been accepted fully, into a community of people talented as he.

cymbal died that December, and his Mother returned the crystal to me. The following Beltane I gave the crystal back to the Faerie. Buried it, and my grief, in a funeral ritual. It seemed utterly appropriate.. the Afterlife is Ron's backyard..

Blessings, Mystress.

Navbar | Home | Mind | Body | Spirit

This page, all the text and images, herein, etc. are lovingly created and copyright by Mystress Angelique Serpent.
This page uses javascript and cascading style sheets.
It looks best with IExplore.
This page is located at http://www.domin8rex.com/serpent/spirit/faerie.htm