I Want to Be a Dark Fae Again

Amy Brown

I found some “ambient” music on YouTube a few weeks ago — background music, really.  (You should really check it out … instrumental music for all tastes). Great for crafting or reading. I came across this one long track, Relaxing Fairy Music – Dark Fae/Soothing, Sleep, Peaceful. It’s kind of slow and mysterious, nebulous and a touch enchanting.

It makes me want to role play a dark faerie again.

As I talked about in a blog from 2012, What Is Role Playing and Can I Do It By Myself, 

Through the initial excitement of wandering through Internet worlds, I stumbled upon chat rooms where people typed to each other as if they were face-to-face.  Interesting.  I didn’t have to fess up that I was a 40-ish year old housewife/innkeeper … all I needed to do was make up a name and race and I belonged.  Can you imagine the doors that opened for a writing goddess like me?  Role-playing was like a video game with instant feedback.  I could write my own dialogue, fight with swordsmen, disappear or have flames shoot from my fingertips, all with a sentence or two. 

For those of us on every level of creativity (and I know that’s almost all of you!) there is something exciting of creating something with its own  charms and purpose. 

That’s the biggest reward of writing. But I digress.

I was a dark faerie named Dream Regret — half human, half fae. I was beautiful and clever and sexy. I could flirt as well as discuss strategy, chat with unicorns and trolls, or learn to hold a sword or javelin. I could get into philosophical discussions about the cosmos or the maturation of the Fae race or how to metamorphose into a dragon for a few hours.

It was all nonsense and it was all escapism. 

The really good players fed you dialogue as well as you could dish it out. Enemies fought with swords and laser beams. They lied, cheated, and proclaimed their love.

I miss being that clever. That alluring. That magical.

There’s something about reality that sometimes takes the shine off of your crystal dome. Nothing could be as intricate as what is in your head. Nothing as full of unlimited possibilities.

Nothing can be as complicated — or as simple.

The older I get, the more I crave simplicity. Simplicity in real life, complexity in creativity. I love the challenge of a hard-to-design pattern, a harmonious color scheme, or a biting slice of dialogue while in the Creative mode. But I also like to be able to drop the pattern and the color scheme and dialogue when I’m done for the day. 

I don’t like to deal with the complexities reality often brings along with it. Those challenges don’t fade with the sunset.

The days of creative chat rooms are over. I’ve put away  my wings and my long dark blue hair and headed down a different street, searching for creative people and minds and hobbies.

But I’ll always have a bit of Dream Regret in me. 

I’ll never let her fire go out.

 

The Faeries in My Back Yard

Last night I stood on my back deck in the dark of night and watched the fireflies dance in the woods.

Of course, you and I know they weren’t fireflies.

They were, of course, faeries.

This is the time of year they cross the bridge of time and float into our world to gather pollen from the night flowers and water from dawn’s dew drops. They fly around between the summer and autumnal equinox with their little buckets, gathering samples of the soil from deep in the woods and remnants of crops from the fields to take back home.

They stay just out of sight so humans can’t see them.  Yes, they could take a chance on those who believe, but faeries don’t really take chances. Why bother with beings who just might swat them before thinking?

I love watching their random movements, their signals to each other as they play through twilight into the darkest of night. I can’t quite decipher their language, but sometimes it’s as if I hear their whispers and laughter in the distance; as if I can sense their pure joy of life. 

Oh, I’ve heard all sorts of things about faeries/fairies/fae. They love sparkly things, wildflowers and plants, and music. They love honey cake, milk, nectar, and sweet butter. Fairies have an aversion to iron, and are quick to do you a favor, yet even quicker to demand payment for it.

I’ve never heard of anyone EVER seeing a faerie. Ever. They are myth, they are made up, they are born from our imagination and desire to create something fresh, free, and eternal.

But those naysayers have never looked off my deck into the warmth of a summer evening that slowly, ever so slowly, turns into a velvet black backdrop. They have never felt the electricity in the air of a knowledge and way of life that has been since the beginning of time and will continue long after we are dust.

They will never see, for they will never believe.

 

 

Faerie Paths — Repost — #FridayFantasy . . . If I were a fairy

from Purplerays

https://purplerays.wordpress.com/2021/06/18/fridayfantasy-if-i-were-a-fairy/

 

If I Were A Fairy

I’d love to sit on a clover-top
And sway,
And swing and shake, till the dew would drop
In spray;
To croon a song for the bumble-bee
To leave his golden honey with me,
And sway and swing, till the wind would stop
To play.
I’d weave a hammock of spider-thread
Loose-hung,
Where grasses nodded above my head
And swung.
And all day long, while the hammock swayed
I’d twine and tangle the sun and shade,
Till the crickets’ song, “It is time for bed!”
Was sung.
Then wrapped in a wee gold sunset cloud
I’d lie,
While night winds sang to the stars that crowd
The sky.
And all night long, I would swing and sleep
While fireflies lighted their lamps to peep—
“Oh, hush!” they’d whisper, if frogs sang loud—
“Oh hush-a-by!”

.
by Charles Buxton Going

Art by Asako Eguchi

 

 

 

 

 

Do You Have a Spirit Guide or Two?

Do you have a spirit guide that you work with?

An archangel that gets you through the rough times?

A spirit animal or totem that offers you guidance and wisdom?

Some people believe God sits right next to them, guiding them through creative adventures and balancing the books. Some swear by Archangel ___ or Egyptian Goddess ___ for their inspiration. Yet others feel stronger with someone like Creatura, the Creative Faerie, having their back.

I believe in all of the above.

I don’t think there’s anything wrong with pulling strength out of the cosmos to help you with your creative struggles.

This cosmic connection is different (yet in the same family) as God/Spirit/Counsellors helping us through life’s struggles.

This sort of guide lends moral support in an artsy way. When you struggle on character development, color choices, or your final quilt size, it helps to have a faerie or angel or spirit from the past give you guidance.

Some decisions we can’t make on our own. That’s where divine intervention comes in.

I didn’t realize I had help until I wrote my first book. Being inspired and stuck at the same time, I asked the cosmos (in general) for help. Somehow it stuck in my head that I had help from an ancient Greek spirit. The sequel was nudged along by a heavy-set French mistress from the late 1800’s. I’ve also been known to consult a philosopher from the Tang Dynasty and a priest from Middle Ages.

How do I know I’ve been contacted by spirits to guide me along my bumbling way?

Because I choose to believe.

A little bit of reality and a little bit of fantasy, mixed with daydreams and aspirations and hard work, I don’t believe I’ve gotten this far in life without a little help. A little inspiration. A little guidance.

The world is bigger than we can imagine. More mysterious than we can imagine. More beautiful than we can imagine. And when I get stuck in one rut or another, it feels good to have someone behind me to keep my creative juices flowing.

This is above and beyond the help of the divine. We need those pillars, too.

But sometimes I just need someone to talk to. Someone I can bounce ideas of off. Someone who can listen to my ideas and see my colors and understand what I want as my end product. Especially when I get inspired in the middle of the night or while I’m driving down the road.

I’m shopping around now for a spirit guide for the next step on my creative path. Angel Tears. I realize there’s more going on than meets the eye. After all, I’m a faerie girl. Not an angel girl.

Yet here we are. Here we go.

Looking for a little direction in your creative life? Feel free to find a past spirit or mythical creature or divine being to accompany you on your next wild and rewarding journey.

We need all the help we can get!

 

 

Sunday Evening Art Gallery (midweek) — Brian Froud

 

Brian Froud (born 1947) is an English fantasy illustrator

Froud graduated with Honors from Maidstone College of Art in 1971 with a degree in Graphic Design.

Soon afterwards, he began working in London on various projects ranging from book jackets, magazine covers to advertising as well as illustrating several children books.

Froud soon realized that fairy tales and legends were something which would never get old.In collaboration with his friend and fellow artist Alan Lee, Froud created the 1978 book Faeries, an illustrated compendium of faerie folklore.Upon discovering Froud’s lavish and mysterious drawings in his books, and recognizing his complex and singular artistic vision of the faerie world,  Jim Henson chose him to help him create a unique otherworld feature-film which became known as The Dark Crystal. Soon Froud developed his own magical distinctive style and experimented with three dimensional designs complete with gnomes, goblins, warlocks and dragons.Through Froud’s unique style utilizing acrylics, colored pencil, pastels and ink, he has created some of the most well known fantasy images of the Twenty-first Century.More of Brian Froud‘s amazing workmanship can be found at https://www.ferniebrae.com/brian-froud.

 

Faerie Paths — Clamour

 

Margaret Morgan

 

Blind folk see the fairies.
      Oh, better far than we,
Who miss the shining of their wings
Because our eyes are filled with things
      We do not wish to see…
Deaf folk hear the fairies
      However soft their song;
‘Tis we who lose the honey sound
Amid the clamour all around
      That beats the whole day long…

~Rose Fyleman, “White Magic,” 1918

 

Faerie Paths — Frost

 

Frost grows on the window glass,
forming whorl patterns of lovely translucent geometry.
Breathe on the glass, and you give frost more ammunition.
Now it can build castles and cities
and whole ice continents with your breath’s vapor.
In a few blinks you can almost see the winter fairies moving in . . .
But first, you hear the crackle of their wings.

― Vera Nazarian, The Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration

 

 

Faerie Paths — Look

Fingal’s Cave, Scotland

 

The Road Less Traveled

When does Imagination turn into Magic?
Who lives across the water
Down that path
In those woods
Who lives under that tree
Beyond that field
Among those clouds
The whispers of the Otherworld
Ask that question all the time
Their existence
Turns Magic into Imagination
Their world lies
right beneath our feet
just out of sight
All we need to do
is look … and feel

~Claudia~

Faerie Paths — Believe

 

Science seeks to explain everything — but maybe we don’t want everything explained. We don’t want all the magic to go out of life. We want to remain connected to the secret parts of our inner beings, to the ancient mysteries, and to the most distant outposts of the universe. We want to believe. And as long as we do, the fairies will remain.

~ Skye Alexander

 

 

Faerie Paths — Cherry Faeries

 

When I sound the fairy call,
Gather here in silent meeting,
Chin to knee on the orchard wall,
Cooled with dew and cherries eating.
Merry, merry, Take a cherry
Mine are sounder, Mine are rounder
Mine are sweeter, For the eater
When the dews fall.  And you’ll be fairies all.

~Robert Graves, “Cherry-Time,” Fairies and Fusiliers, 1918

 

 

Faerie Paths — Singing Stars

a Spectre in the Eastern Veil

 

 

 

I want to be magic. I want to touch the heart of the world and make it smile. I want to be a friend of elves and live in a tree. Or under a hill. I want to marry a moonbeam and hear the stars sing. I don’t want to pretend at magic anymore. I want to be magic.  ~ Charles de Lint

 

 

 

Sunday Evening Art Gallery — Snowflakes

Snow Fairy

by Claude McKay

snowflake 8

Throughout the afternoon I watched them there,

Snow-fairies falling, falling from the sky,

snowflakes

Whirling fantastic in the misty air,

Contending fierce for space supremacy.

snowflake 10

And they flew down a mightier force at night,

As though in heaven there was revolt and riot,

snowflake2

And they, frail things had taken panic flight

Down to the calm earth seeking peace and quiet.

snowflake 6

I went to bed and rose at early dawn

To see them huddled together in a heap,

snowflake 13

Each merged into the other upon the lawn,

Worn out by the sharp struggle, fast asleep.

snowflake 7

The sun shone brightly on them half the day,

By night they stealthily had stol’n away.

snowflake 1

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Find more poetry from Claude McKay at http://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poet/claude-mckay

Find more images of real snowflakes at SnowCrystals.com

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