The Blue Faerie Hag

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Here is a story about the old ways. I could give you a historical explanation of its origin, classifying it as myth (The folk story of the blue faerie hag heralds from the Scots.  She was believed to emerge from the underworld on All Hallow’s Eve, etc.). I could detail how the old myths mingle with our collective psyche and bring healing and renewal, etc. (Blah, blah, shamanism, blah.) But then it would make it all sound not so true. Like it’s just a story or something.  And it’s all much truer than we care to admit. So pour yourself a cup, and simply open your heart and read.

Once a girl was, yet she was tender. She wandered the woods near her grandmother’s house and felt her own tenderness with great pleasure and innocence. The eyes and creatures of the woods were on her in hushed respect. The trees whispered and marveled, “her countenance…” The stones sounded silently of her beingness. Sometimes she would sit by the stream and make ‘paint’ of crushed berries and leaves to adorn the rocks. Always she would hold the rocks to her cheek first. Feeling their alliance. She was tender and could feel and sense like this.

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As years the years passed she was a woman, and she was yet tender. But, yet, not so tender as before when she was young. Things happened, not always nice things, as life goes, and the tenderness receded. The woods were far away and lost to her. Then all tenderness was lost.

She wondered, “Where did the tenderness go?” Then she forgot. She forgot about the tenderness she felt. She slipped into the dreamless, sleepless amnesia of the forgotten trees and stones.

The trees and stones did not forget though. They never do. They may not yearn as human creatures do. Yearning for what is gone or cannot be, but forget? No.  Especially the stones.

One autumn day a mysterious task of the ‘no room for tenderness’ variety appeared on her list of to-do’s and she found herself near her old woods.

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She walked into the welcoming hushed admiration of her woods. Sitting by the river she picked up a stone. It was cold and smooth. Bluish, grey. She held it to her forehead and cheek to feel it’s smoothness and then her lips and nose, to smell its dank fortitude. She drank it with her being.

She put the stone to her ear because the stone began to tap and sound. Rattling and knocking. It grew outside of the stone, all around her in a rhythm. It rumbled onto and into her chest like a thousand beating hearts.

Before her, (or maybe in her mind’s eye, or maybe in the corner of her eye), (oh, just, never mind)  before her appeared an old hag. Her aged stone-like skin was blue with cold.  Her hair was brittle with frost and her cloak the color of withered foliage and death. She bore a basket and a staff with the skull of a raven. But her eyes, you guessed it, her eyes, were tender.

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The stone song grew and in an instant she knew inside her was a massive urn filled with the stones. Each stone heavy with the weight of all those ‘not nice things of life.’ The urn too weighty to bear or shift it pressed the tenderless woman down. Without words the blue faerie hag directed her staff at the urn, shaking it open with a massive soul quake, spilling the stones.

The stones danced into the air. The stones rattled and knocked into her basket. Every last one of them. And then the old hag just sauntered off into a mist. Cause that’s how those magical faerie things end.

It was now winter. The woman felt empty and alone without her urn of stones. But it was a good kind of empty. And a good sort of alone. She grew to enjoy it. For she discovered there was, in the emptiness, yet a tenderness. And she could rest in this void for a time whilst preparing for spring.

And she a woman was; yet she too was tender.

Blessed Samhain!

And may you rest deeply in the arms of  the blue hag,

the Cailleach Bheur

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Me in the primeval forest.
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The tender and primeval, Missy.

 

 

Dearest Reader, thank you for reading!

Blessed Samhain & Celtic New Year

May the rains sweep gentle across your fields,
May the sun warm the land,
May every good seed you have planted bear fruit,
And late summer find you standing in fields of plenty.

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Autumn and Mermaids

I love that this shadow holiday, Samhain or Halloween, is now celebrated so effusively.  The day when the veil between us and the otherworld is thin and porous with faerie contact palpable.

We are moving from the autumn, the direction of west and water elementals.  Our over arching consorts these past three months have been mermaids, water sprites, and selkies.  Helping us to connect to our deepest self through our emotions, sensuality, and inner mysteries.

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This fall found me blending up a mermaid perfume, which will appear in my etsy store when I’ve tweaked it some, aged it a bit, and then tested it under the glow of a full moon.  Finding the perfect dreamy balance of raw sensuality and fresh salty air proved to be a challenge.  Finally I found a delicious blend of oak moss, violet leaf, and sandalwood with neroli, roses, and a hint of jasmine.  I’m still playing with it, trying to incorporate my handmade seaweed tincture, but I poured some solids in these sweet little shell lockets.  I’ll list them in the shop soon.

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I hope you are also enjoying the beauty of fall.  Joyful, creepy skeletons and jack o’lanterns abound.  Death flashing in brilliant color and the seductive scent of decaying plant matter wafting curious comfort; refreshing in the cooler air.

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New Year and Earth Elementals

Happy New Year – Celtic style.  November marks the start of a new year in the tradition of the old ways.  We move into the time of the north and earth elementals; gnomes, elves, and dryads.  The quiet, solid, nature of rocks, earth, trees will soon be our companions

It is time to conceive.  To look deep inside, as with a night dream, and listen to the self in here.  From November through January we can ponder, what are our intentions, what would we like to manifest?  How can you bring balance to yourself and beauty to the world?  How can you make the most of this crazy life you have been gifted?

I’ll be contemplating which direction to take my meditation, perfume, writing, and faerie magic…

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beautiful packaging (picture not my own)
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a studio in nature (picture not my own)
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this… (picture not my own)

Perfume – scent, oils, botanicals and perfumes are powerful, sacred tools as well as scentual delights.   My perfume of choice at present is my own perfume creation  Dryad.  An all natural and botanical fougere type.  Dryad is an Eau De Parfum and can be worn easily by man or woman.

Dryad’s scent notes:
Cedar & Fir; Lavender absolute graced with the spirit of fern, Violet Leaf & Cassie Flower; Oakmoss, Tonka Bean & Patchouli

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Find Dryad Here

There are so many magickal ways to set intention and manifest, from ritual sex magick (no partner required!) to visualization.  As of late I’ve been exploring sigils, visualization, and faerieshaman stuff.  And of course oils and perfumes.  But these are topics for another time.

Ok, for now – one last share, a Celtic prayer/poem – “The Deer’s Cry.”

I arise today
Through the strength of heaven, light of sun,
Radiance of moon,
Splendor of fire,
Speed of lightening
Swiftness of wind,
Depth of Sea,
Stability of earth,
Firmness of rock.

Do you have magical ways of making your dreams come true?  Missy and I would love to hear them!

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Happy Halloween