I’ve felt a stir. A pulse, a feeling. Starting in my stomach, it radiated outwards, consuming everything I saw and the world around me. Changing the trees, the snow on the ground, the wood in the yard, the smoke from the chimney. I was in a different place now, a different world. It looked the same, my home, but it wasn’t at all the same. And as quickly as it came, that new magical filter left, leaving me back on my acreage, with roads, and people, and cars. Grounded.
It was a normal Sunday, nothing special about it. Gray and chilled, but warmer for a dull January day. We were running out of fire wood at the house, so the day’s chore was hauling wood from the shed. We’d fill the bed of the truck as full as it could go, drive it the whole 20 feet to the house and unload and stack. Nothing too exciting going on. Our mugs of coffee keeping our belly’s warm and our energy moving, we’d talk of our plans and dreams for our home while roughly throwing log by log into the back of his truck.
He lit the fire pit, never really sure when someone might show up and want to warm their bones. I continued on with the wood as I was eager to get it over with and on with my day, onto more “exciting” chores. The music had been playing in the truck, but had shut itself off to save its battery. He wandered into the house for something, I can’t remember, and left me outside in the quiet. There was no sound. I stopped for a moment, taking in the stillness. There were no passing cars, no music, no generator with it’s relentless humming. Just the sound of the breeze as it gently nudged and caressed the tall pines surrounding me.
That’s when I felt it. I can’t honestly tell you if I felt, or saw it first. A change. Everything was suddenly different. And yet it wasn’t. Deep down in my stomach a feeling best described of wonder and overwhelming awe grew and grew. Grew till it filled every fiber of my body. Till it filled my eyes with a new way to observe this place. I was home, that was for certain. But it was different. I’ve searched the phrases and words engrained in my mind to best describe what I saw, only to come up short. It was as if I was suddenly transported to another dimension, one that looks exactly like this one, but with a feeling of magic in the air, dripping from every surface. It was as if I had watched the world in front of me take on a new filter, where anything was possible, where there was so much to discover and observe; where the things of fairy tales weren’t restricted to the pages between the bindings. Another dimension. The physical and observable pure feeling of a child’s awe and wonder. These are the only words that seem to come close to the experience.
It was only a matter of a few seconds, this whole experience. As quickly as it had happened, everything around me and in me went back to normal. I felt confused at first. What was that? What had happened? What’s wrong with me?
Soon after, he came back outside and we went back to fire wood duty. Keeping my body busy allowed my mind to work and the gears to turn. I realized it wasn’t the first time I had felt this. In fact, I was sure I had felt this only a couple times in the past few months since moving out to the woods. But there was more to it, it went deeper. My mind started backwards. Going further, and further back in my story to recall when I had experienced this before. Finally, it came to rest at a very young Kya. A young girl, walking in the forest with her mother. Walking through provincial parks, large forests, and any nature they could find. Far enough away from roads to hush the sounds of civilization. We loved to walk. We would walk for hours, looping the trails in parks, making our own trails in the forests. It was our favourite weekend activity. And as a child, it was magical. I would find large, beautifully old trees, gnarled stumps, and natural arch ways. And I played with my faeries.
I played with the faeries and gnomes, the trolls and elves. I found the hidden entrances to their worlds and homes. I found this stick and that rock, and they were important! I would build altars for them, offering acorns, twigs, rocks, and branches. Faeries were so important to me back then. They had a tangible and indisputable existence. There was proof all around me: the beauty in that moss covered tree, the stillness of his pond, the sound of their wings. It was all the proof I needed at that time
The feeling consumed me back then. Not for seconds, or even minutes. As soon as I found myself in the stillness of nature, it would take over and wouldn’t leave me until we left it. Hours. I could easily come and go from this dimension at will, it wasn’t work. Somewhere along the way I lost my connection to that world. I forgot about my nature spirit friends and didn’t give them one thought. That is, until recently.
It’s not going to come to me easily now. I’m going to have to work at it, I know this. I’ve been disconnected for so long. But they’re calling to me. They’re calling me back, telling me I’m ready to see this world once again. To feel the magic and wonder, the pure and unsullied acceptance and understanding of a child. A friend of mine, a more awakened soul than I, told me that this is spirit reconnecting with me. I do not know that for certain, but there is something I do know. I know what I must do.
I’m going to play with my faeries.