There is an indefineable, mysterious power that pervades everything. I feel it, though I do not see it. It is this unseen power that makes itself felt, and yet defies all proof, because it is so unlike all that I perceive through my senses. (Ghandi)
As I write, St. Patrick’s Day and all things Irish — shamrocks, copious quantities of beer, leprechauns, the wearing of the green — are almost upon us. I first visited Ireland about twenty-five years ago, and found it delightful and charming, whimsical, right up my alley.
My next trip was another story. Last year, my husband and I took a month-long trip to the southwest coast of Ireland, he to do research for a book he is writing, and I, as I glibly told friends, to “study fairies,” since I would have lots of free time while I was there with little to do. The Irish always seem to have more fairies than anyplace else, I thought — leprechauns, goblins, pixies, will o’ the wisps, phookas, Puck, hags, kelpies, water selkies, brownies, a myriad of flower fairies, tree sprites, wood elves, undines, spriggans. I already knew a lot about them from my mother, so — piece of cake, says I. Toadstools, flowers, trees, water, twilight, mist, hollow hills, fairie rings, crossroads, their special habitats, attracted always to the realms of creativity and the emotions of humans — a world of dark enchantments, captivating beauty, enormous ugliness, callous superficiality, humor, mischief, joy, inspiration, terror, love, tragedy. Described as mischievous, spiteful, malevolent, ever governed by a code of ethics far different from our own, bestowing good or ill luck at will, worthy of careful respect and handling, unpredictable . . . . tricky, merry, envious. The more fanciful (at least so I thought) of the literature I explored before going suggested that the world of fairies was a world to enter with extreme caution, a “thin place,” where the veil between this world and the Other world is thin, the Other world is more near, a place where the rewards are enchanting and the dangers are real.
Some time after returning home, I would write: more than ever, I know that the inner ‘landscape’ that we bring with us determines the outer landscape that meets us. More than ever, I know that the realm of fairies lies not only without, but within, which can make for a fairly crazy world . . . In the weeks to come, I’d like to share some of what I encountered and learned during that journey to Ireland.
Before I left, a friend gave me the the following Celtic blessing as a good-bye gift: You shall receive whatever gift you can name. This writing that I do here is my attempt to do that naming. In the meantime, I leave you with images of our trip.
