Autumn 2019
You’re laying waste to Halloween
You fucked it friend, it’s on its head, it struck the street
You’re in Milwaukee, off your feet
Strayed above the highway aisle
Jagged vacance, thick with ice
And I could see for miles, miles, miles
Was where we learned to celebrate
Automatic bought the years you’d talk for me
That night you played me ‘Lip Parade’
Not the needle, nor the thread, the lost decree
Saying nothing, that’s enough for me
Huddled far from the highway aisle
Jagged vacance, thick with ice
And I could see for miles, miles, miles
Above my brother, I and tangled spines
We smoked the screen to make it what it was to be
Now to know it in my memory
High above the highway aisle
Jagged vacance, thick with ice
But I could see for miles, miles, miles
Something about this time of year mystifies me and makes me feel more alive and simultaneously more fragile, than ever.
October especially; the veil is so very thin this month in New England. The power of death, and of the “other side”, becomes as striking as the trees shedding their leaves, becoming naked; exposed for us all to see.
I do not view the Other Side as a singular realm, just as guides, can not be defined in one lump sum.
There are layers and aspects and realms within realms in the arena of Spirit.
My job as a medium and a seer is to translate some of those realms. At least, the ones that make themselves known to me, the ones that I am ready to see and move within and without.
To be a Priestess is to simultaneously be in the world and outside of it. I exist in the liminal space, as so many of my sisters and brothers do. This time of year, the bliss of these other realms is sparkling clear and the adventures to be had there, multitude.
A recent trip into the woods brought the realm of the Fae close to the surface, and for this October’s post , it feels appropriate to share a bit about my experience there. You may wish to work with Brian Froud’s Faerie oracle, or his second deck the Heart of Faerie oracle, if these realms call to you.
There are many races of Fae, and like humans, not all are angelic, or perfectly kind in nature. They are a multi faceted species, and I am always very careful and very respectful when working with the various types of Fae.
The Sidhe are for another post, as in my opinion, utmost caution must be employed when communing with them.
Today we will discuss the Fomhoire. The little ones, the original beings of the Fae, some say. These creatures make their home in trees and in the elements of Gaia. They often look like the nature beings they live within, and their ways are very old.
I find I often stumble upon them, or must ask for their presence, they do not just publicly appear to us humans very often any longer, for they are wary, and I believe, considering abandoning this plane altogether, in many ways. They are the most benevolent of the Fae in my experience and I am profoundly grateful when I get any chance to connect with them.
Finding them hiding in the branches and nooks and crannies where stone meets earth out in the forest this past week, was a true blessing.
They are concerned with how we have forgotten our Mother, with how we have forgotten ourselves and the intrinsic connection between all beings. Yet, they are also aware that we are all learning, and humans have chosen to live this way, at this time.
Then the smallest being of them all hopped forward towards me where I sat and reminded me that I was not exempt from their concern. In what ways do I continue to forget my true power and strength? How do I keep myself from myself?
I have this gift. I am able to see these beings (whether you view them as real, sentient beings, or an aspect of the self), and hear them, catalogue the communication, and share it with others when it is, or may be, appropriate. They are holding me to my contract. I understand this well, and they are asking us to turn inward, and turn to the elements and the earth, to be nurtured there and to ask the tough questions. Why do we need so many things in order to avoid actually feeling? Can we remember what the sky feels like? The Water? The Waves? The Trees? The Stones?
They hummed around me as group, mirrored by the flow of the water in front of me, the still pool where the reflection of us all lay, in reverse. In that moment our connection was infinite and there was a deep peace that settled in.
I wonder when we put our hands to our faces what we feel, why we do choose so often to be afraid, and yet I know there are those of us waking up, yearning, and the small beings, the little ones, the Fomhoire, are waiting for us patiently.
We can make our offerings, and talk with them, at this time of the In Between, they are listening and waiting, and worth finding.
Much Love and Many Blessings,
Raecine Ardis
Raecine Ardis Wilkinson 