Chapter Four


I liked this place, there were nooks where the fae could flourish. Whereas most of the people in my hometown looked and acted like Lily and Herman, here there were many different colors of humans.I hadn't done my tour abroad so seeing gorgeous people in turbans or long robes fascinated me. Oh !!! I could understand all the different languages, it was a river of souls bent on learning. I relished the variety, it felt alive, vital and real. Here we were immersed in history and politics. At first, I couldn't understand why history didn't include the faeries and elementals. They had been written out of history except as “tales”. In fact, that’s what the stories were called - “faery tales”. After much thought it occurred to me. If humans trivialized and fictionalized the faeries and elementals, they wouldn’t be responsible for what had been done to us.

As I became increasingly involved in secular life, I still thought of .my journey. Hunger for knowledge grasped me and I immersed myself in studying and being a part of the fascinating political events going on around me.

I was finding beings who cared about many of the same things I did: other people, races, gender, animal rights, care of the environment, care for the poor. I found like-minded people here, humans who appeared to understand what was important. I found many who were as passionate and eager to find out about other cultures and their foods and mores.Everyone seemed to as I did, loved to learn. I was elated.

They just weren't aware of the elementals. I took a geology class and no teacher nor any books spoke of the rocks that were filled with wise, elderly spirits that protect humans and fae alike. It was though most humans looked at the world as if it were in a brown-out.

Humans looked at the world without seeing the elementals, it was like looking at a landscape at night without seeing the lights. They missed so much of the wonder. I began to try to reconcile faery attributes in myself and tried not to be too judgmental about those humans who simply could not see or feel what I did.

It was a constant challenge. For instance, I am taking psychology and the human side of me I wonder if I am schizophrenic or dissociative. I know as a faery that I see and sometimes hear things no one else does. But as a human? How do I explain this? More troubling how do I or should I ignore them? I don't go for counseling because I don't see how they could possibly help me using only human explanations. What is denial, I asked myself, and what is deep knowing? Who could I talk to?

The lingering nostalgia for softness, beauty, and gentle quiet was sometimes soothed when I went down by the creek or meandered among the foggy hills. The far-off lights of the city were like man-made stars reminding me I wasn't alone.

Writing in my journal usually helped. Poetry had always helped me clarify what I was feeling and thinking. I pulled it out and one of my poems spoke out to me.


Solstice


Solstice and moon so full

Magik walks on this enchanted night.

The Old Ones say it is this night that causes

Countries to fall, royalty to change

Fortunes to be gained or lost.


So on this night, I will call on my power

To ignite peace for all beings.

Let slaughter be done.

Perhaps on this night

The Old Ones will say

"Touch each others' hearts"

"Be done with senseless death"


I stand…..soft air caresses

Beams pool out of the sky-grazing landscapes.

I stand, tilting my eyes to that circular beacon

that has bewitched beings since the cave dwellers


Magik! I call for Ancient Ones once more.

I demand help tonight

Let the most powerful forces convene.

Let the Light blind those who would kill.

Let Love melt those who would hate.

Let Mercy comfort those who would grieve.


The time of blood must be done.

For there are babes, you see.

You do see? There are babes.

You do hear?

You do care?


I stand before you in the stillness

I raise my hands to the nighttime cloak.

And the night sun spilled over the ground in silence.


But the clash within continued. One night I was so troubled I called Mom. Lily told me that my confusion did not mean I was crazy. She said she imagined being from one world and living in another as another would be confusing. She is so wise. Lily said she would think about it and see if she could give me some suggestions for handling my questions. Later that night there was a knock on my door. When I opened it there stood a hologram of my teacher from the creative magic workshop. I was startled at first and then I frowned in confusion.

"Belinda, do you remember what I taught you about truth?" she asked? "I guess not Ma'am," I stammered. "You can always find it inside, it doesn't matter what others say. Close your eyes child and go deep within yourself. If you made up the Faery realm and the elementals and were schizophrenic, what about Herman and Lily? Are the three of you sharing the same delusion? What of your memories of your friends, the Gnomes, playing tag with the Unicorns?" My eyes popped open! "Oh yes, Belinda. I remember that you loved all that. Now, what do you think my child?" And then she was gone.

Despite what my former teacher had said, I admit that at the time I really believed being crazy would have been easier than feeling so alone. It was constant. I would search for one of my own kind in my classes, stores, everywhere. I was sure my Mathematics Professor was an elf but he didn't blink when I stared. Although I searched, I found no proof. Was this an example of having Faith? Were these questions building my Faith?

I decided to take a class called Mythology with some of the stories of Great Religions even though I knew it would put me way out of my comfort zone and probably ignite some anger on my part. Vague memories of what had happened to my parents at the hands of the Priest flashed through my mind often. I still get a knot in my chest when I see a clergyman and I want to run away. Another thing that seems odd to me is though I want to run from priests, in direct opposition to that I absolutely love going to spiritual ceremonies. It helps me remember. I love the singing, the beautiful strangeness of the chanting. I love the candles, the sense of serenity, the beauty of the stained glass windows through which light splinters and casts shadows. It reminds me of the Faery rituals. Midsummer's Eve is one of my favorites, and Winter Solstice too. They have lots of ceremony and pomp and we all look so wonderful in our finest clothes. I am filled with happiness and excitement with the ceremony. Mass is the closest thing to that I have seen.

To my surprise, it turned out to be certainly an interesting and enlightening class. Even though I still felt uncomfortable, as the class progressed I began to realize that there could be a force for Good and also a force for Evil. For instance, there was a priest named St.Francis; how could anyone not love him? He was gentle and kind and like his beloved Jesus just taught love. He was so loving to everyone and cared about animals. He had a way about him that filled the air with sunshine even when it was raining. He understood, as did my realm, that everything and everyone mattered and so he treated each with respect.

I began to understand many more things as my knowledge of the history deepened. I think that as the priests power grew, they saw they could get more control of humans by teaching that those that didn't think, look or act like the ‘believers' (including but not limited to faeries) were evil. We were spreading joy, a sense of freedom and abandonment. Looking back, I think that was what threatened them the most. They wanted control. If someone wants control they don't want the other to feel joy. Joy is the enemy of oppression of any kind. That was when the Dark Days began and it grew until we were written out of history in most places, then they tried to wipe us out. This is just coming to me as though I have always known it.

I also began to examine my own prejudices against "others". I am ashamed now to tell you but I did have a prejudice about trolls. Long ago, one of the trolls took a beautiful thimble I found. It was shiny and I had put flowers in it, tiny wee ones. It was going to be a surprise for my Mother at the solstice. I saw this troll sneak up and spill it, then he rolled it down the hill. I never did find it. I was so mad, I really have held a grudge. I was taught to avoid meanness but if I hold a grudge I hold the meanness there too. I don't want to be mean. I don't want to stereotype trolls. If I tune into what being a troll must be like, I want to cry. I mean, think about it. Trolls. Almost everyone calls them ugly and bad and are either afraid of them or make fun of them. I've even seen toys in the stores that are supposed to look like trolls and they are always, at the very least, weird and silly looking. But, what if they are just lonely and don't know how to overcome the barriers? There are some sweet, special ones. Humans with eyes who are able to see with their hearts, have befriended them. There is no-one more loyal than a troll with a friend. Trolls are kind of like Golden Retrievers, so lovable but at times overpowering. I am beginning to understand and now I can let go of my grudge, my meanness and forgive him.

I was growing and learning. I loved school and was fascinated with different cultures. I had been too young when our realm scattered to have done the

Traveling Tour which a young faerie must do as part of our studies so discovering all the differences in people's cultures and beliefs was delicious for me. I was like a sponge for knowledge. My teachers compared me to a postwar student, so on task and purposeful. Sadly, unknown to them, they were right, I had indeed fled a war.

I don't think I've mentioned it, but I wasn't pure faery. My Mother was descended from the Wise Ones. The Wise Ones had a knowledge of the depths of mankind and all of the spectrum of pain and evil as well as the good. My Mother's inherited knowledge left a slight shard of sadness in her eyes, a knowing that the Wise Ones carry. Wise Ones do not judge, they love. But they also know.

You may find it surprising that my Mother was not always considered a beauty in the realm of the faeries. Every few generations the Wise Ones show the painful knowing on their faces and my Mother's face showed such pain. But because her heart was so pure I don't think most noticed. She was so luminescent and drew all to her. As they knew her the men in our realm thought she was stunning. However, if you put only human eyes on her, she would have been considered plain. Too bad so many of the humans have forgotten how to see with their hearts.

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