Searching for Fairies and Stalking the Light
While looking for one, you may find the other.
Posted Sep 09, 2016
Recently, my wife and I read about a nearby park where an “anonymous” artist had built twenty or more fairy houses along a forest path. These delightful structures were hidden in the knots of trees or mounted on stumps, some very hard to find. We smiled to ourselves and immediately thought our granddaughters, Gianna, 7, and Makayla, 5, would love it.
So off we went one bright summer morning a few weeks ago. At first we couldn’t find a thing. I kept saying “Boy, they really must have hidden them” to help with the girls’ growing frustration. But then we studied our map more closely and realized we had parked on the opposite side of the forest and still had a ways to go.
The girls settled into our trek and in no time at all Gianna spied a colorful door painted on the base of a tree. Beside it was a sign that said, "Fairy meeting place; Nightly gatherings held after dark." Gianna, our running-jumping-twirling granddaughter, almost exploded with excitement as she danced and squealed down the path.
At this initial sighting, though, Makayla gasped, hesitating for a moment as she looked around. It was only then that I realized they were not excited and anxious about seeing some artist’s renditions of fairy houses. No, they were dazzled and dumbfounded at the prospect of seeing actual fairies. For, of course, to them all of this was real.
Gianna skipped ahead finding fairy houses everywhere. Makayla told me that fairies were filled with light and that the dabs of bright sunlight on quiet leaves or splashes of light on the forest floor were evidence of fairies everywhere around us. How delightful, their wisdom.
I cannot see the fairies, though I wish I could. But, as for light, I stalk it all the time. I may no longer dance down the path, but that does not mean I am any less eager to find it, to witness it. I search for light in all of life’s crevices, its chasms, it windy gaps, its slits and broad openings and dizzying precipices; I keep my eyes wide for its dazzling sparks, shimmering shafts, splendid sprinkles, its radiance all about, reminding me ever and always that the sacred, the holy is there, wherever I set my gaze.
David B. Seaburn is a writer. His latest novel is More More Time, available at http://www.amazon.com/More-Time-David-B-Seaburn/dp/0991562232. He is also a retired medical family therapist, psychologist and Presbyterian minister. Learn more at www.davidbseaburn.com.