Interview About Faery

Recently, I was asked by Isabella Baucco if she could interview me about Faery for a paper she was doing for her folklore class in university, and I agreed. She also said that it would be fine for me to post it here. I may add pictures later. It was rather rushed, but here it is:

Subject: Fae interview questions

Hello! Feel free to answer as many of these as you are comfortable with, in whatever order you would like! Thank you so much for your time, and I’m sorry about the rushed deadline!

When was the first time you came into contact with the fae, and what was that like?

I don’t remember. It seems like they were always there. I suspect it was something like my granddaughter. I watched her pull herself up at the window and look outside when she was about six months old. She peered around out there and finally saw what she was evidently looking for. She giggled and waved at what she saw and promptly fell down, unable to stand up without holding on with both hands. She laid there, giggling and waving her arms and legs for a bit and then got back up. When she caught sight of what she was looking for again, she laughed more and bounced as well as she could, making little crooning sounds at what she could see, her eyes following it (or them) around. She was definitely seeing something, batting her eyelashes at them, and babbling as babies do when they are happy, with an occasional delighted shriek thrown in. I like to think that it must have been much the same for me. Now that she is 15 she doesn’t remember that any more than I do.

How would you define the fae?

They are beings, as far as I understand it, who live at a different frequency than we do. Like the difference between ultraviolet light (and higher frequencies of radiant energy) and the light we see by. The same planet viewed at different “levels”. I’m not a physicist and can’t even begin to figure that out, but I take the faeries word for it as they seem to think they know. I just know that they are there, and I have to be quite quiet inside myself in order to perceive them. However, I see them with my eyes like I see human auras simply as light. And like human auras, sometimes I see them, but mostly I sense them in other ways — scent, voices, sounds, melody. People vary in how we perceive these things, and I’m personally less clairvoyant than I am clairaudient and clairsentient. They seem to live much longer than we do for the most part, and they come in as many varieties as what we think of as “normal” earth creatures, plants, and other living beings.

Because of this, they perceive the world differently than we humans do. They have tried to explain and show me, but I suspect it’s rather like me trying to explain mathematics to the cat. One of my cats is quite sure that she is due two crunchy treats before each meal — she knows that one is not enough and that three are exciting and special, but two are what she clearly expects. I get very accusing looks if there is only one left in the jar. Does she count 1, 2, 3? Or does she just know in some other way?

Sometimes I feel the frustration of the fae when they are trying to explain something to me, and I regret being so “hard of understanding” but it’s how humans generally are. Fortunately, the fae don’t give up easily and may try to explain things later in incomprehensible or funny dreams or other ways.

How are you able to tell when you have come into contact with fae?

For me, there is usually happy, bubbly, yet peaceful feeling or almost as if there is a lot of static electricity in the air. (You need to understand here that nearly everything I say about them is a sort of metaphor for the actual experience. It’s not static electricity and it doesn’t make sparks that sting, but that’s the closest I can come to a description of it.) The air is buzzing without a sound? There may be a sense of presence akin to someone standing close behind you — you may not see or hear them, but you know that they are there.

It’s tricky to maintain the necessary quietness inside myself when I’m sensing that exuberance around. At the same time, I may see lights or hear voices or music or other sounds. There may be light touches to get my attention or the hum of healing energy. Often they tell me something I didn’t know but needed to understand. Sometimes they make jokes — occasionally visual puns or other kinds of faery humor. It’s hard to explain this — often their communications arrive as a burst of insight that is a mixture of emotions, words, and energy. To them, these bursts are the normal way to communicate, but to a human, they may require some mental unpacking to grasp all the layers of meaning, if in fact we ever do get it all.

How would you describe your emotional state during the experiences you have had? Are there any extremes/outliers?

Variable. It depends on what is going on. Is it serious or purely fun? Deep or playful? We humans tend to separate these mental and emotional states, but to the fae, they are not mutually exclusive. In fact, we have had long discussions about the way humans limit themselves to a linear one-thing-at-a-time in our perceptions while faery communication/perception is more holistic. A burst of faery insight may contain joy and sorrow both. They have argued that we miss the point of doing things when we separate play from work, insisting that all purposeful activities are both, and if they are not, we’ve got something quite wrong about why and how we’re doing it.

How would you describe the fae you have encountered?

That’s difficult too. An individual faery may make the impression of being nine feet tall, but to them (if I understand this correctly), it’s more about intensity of presence than it is about physical size. In fact, they seem to find it confusing when I say something like “nine feet tall” as if they were limited to a specific size, space, or shape when really that isn’t so. There is another thing here — let’s take the human “aura” as an example. “Auras” are very fluid and changeable. They are the bioenergy field that exists through and extends beyond the human physical body — and the bodies of animals, insects, and all the other things we consider to be living, physical beings made of matter. But if the physicists are correct, matter and energy are the same thing, but slowed down and compacted or faster and more free. If E=mc2, this must be so. Nuclear weapons suggest this is true and a little bit of “matter” can quickly be converted to a great deal of “energy”.

Apparently, while humans perceive matter and energy as different things, the fae don’t. It is all one thing. I just realized something! In many belief systems about the fae, they are regarded as the “Elder Folk” and much older than the human species. We human and other earth beings could be a sort of Faery larva (or prenatal embryo) and may eventually (though the millennia?) grow up to be fae ourselves. That’s a mind-boggling thought! Anyway, back to my previous line of thought about trying to describe the fae and how they explained that to me.

I could try to describe an individual fae. I could even draw a picture of one. BUT, as they have been quick to explain, that picture is just a metaphor for who they really are. What we “see” is a watered-down version of their personality and/or character. What we “see” as bodies or faces is a meeting point somewhere between our conceptions and their reality. We see a particular kind of face/body that represents their character or personality as we (as individuals) would see that being. Another human might project a different face on that same person. For a simple example, I have heard a few people say that brown eyes are “warm” and blue eyes are “cold”. Having blue eyes myself, I don’t agree, but I have heard it said more than once, usually by brown-eyed people. To a person who believes that and is perceiving a warm personality, they would see the faery eyes as brown, whereas I, not believing, might see them as blue or even some color unlike normal human eyes. The same thing is true of all the features — we perceive personality in flesh, but we are not always correct. A human may be quite ugly but be kind and friendly, a lovely person — or they may be physically beautiful and yet narcissistic or psychopathic. Yet often the way we perceive the fae is that we project the features and expression on the personality the fae are projecting. Confusing? Well, yes it is. Communication with faeries is frequently fraught with confusion, resulting largely from our own limitations and projections. If we want to see someone as scary, we will project that on them, true or false.

Have you encountered different types of fae? How did these experiences differ?

Yes, I have. They may differ vastly — differing as much as experiencing a human versus experiencing a rock or a tree. This question either requires a book in answer or can’t be readily answered at all. I hope the rest of my answers here will help compensate for the absence of one here.

How would you describe the energy of places where fae might be/where you have encountered them?

Again, they differ a great deal, depending on what is going on there. I need to say here that there are places we may experience the fae more easily, but the fae are, in fact, everywhere. But in places that are noisy, unpleasant, distressing, violent, we tend to be overwhelmed by these loud things and miss out entirely on the much more subtle presence of the fae. But they are still there.

Have you had any experiences that have stuck with you or changed your life?

Many, many, many.

What do you think the origin of fae is?

I really don’t know. Even they haven’t tried to explain it to me. If the legends have it right, they have been around a lot longer than we have. I’m even less certain, if possible, about the origins of gods and goddesses and the universe. We humans are just babes blundering about in the universal woods. I’m not even certain about our own origins.

Are there any experiences that you would like to talk about?

Dozens. Hundreds, in fact. After all, I’m 80 and they’ve always been a part of my world. But I won’t. Well, perhaps one or two.

One was a series of conversations I had with a couple of them about money. On first of the month, I was writing checks to pay my bills. and a couple of them asked what that was “really” about. They didn’t like, they said, how I got all tangled up when I was doing it. We got into a long discussion about money. Eventually, I tried to explain money as a sort of “crystalized energy” which represented what we received from and gave to others. They seemed doubtful, but agreed to study it from that point of view.

The next month as I was paying my bills again, they expressed disagreement with my explanation. They had been watching this “money thing” and had found that “some people gave a great deal of energy in exchange for little money while others might receive a lot of money in exchange for very little of their energy.” It didn’t, they said, seem fair at all, especially as one only needed to look at the aura of a human to tell if they were giving more than they were receiving and how they felt about it.

I explained that, although this was probably true, we humans weren’t good at perceiving auras clearly enough to do that. They said, “Well, you could be if you practiced!” This is a remark I’ve heard from them in other contexts like teleportation, telepathy, astral travel, and other borderline things people sometimes do. I had to admit that this could be so, but as yet we hadn’t got that good at it. This seemed like a standoff, so I went back to paying my bills, and they agreed to study it some more so we could talk about it next time.

The next month rolled around and again I was writing checks to pay bills. They hovered in front of me, watching. Finally, one said, “We still don’t think this makes any sense.” I should perhaps mention that I am not at my best when I’m dealing with money and bills and numbers, and without thinking, I snapped, “It’s a game we are playing, and money is the way we keep score!”

“Oh! Why didn’t you tell us that before? It makes perfect sense!”

They promptly vanished, leaving me thinking, “It does? Really?” It didn’t make sense to me, did it? And yet I was afraid that it actually did. All that angst and suffering people went through was just for the counters in a game? Yet, over the years I have come to agree with them more and more. But it’s still a bit unnerving.

Hmmm. I could go on and on. That was an easy tale to tell, but many happenings are much more complicated, perhaps even profound. Yet, though I’d like to tell them, and even though the fae insist that “doing good in the right way” makes us stronger, it’s quite late and I’m tired and almost falling asleep on my keyboard. The cats have given up and gone to bed and the fae are looking a bit disapproving — they, too, seem to have enjoyed this, but enough is enough for the moment. They even look a little smug about it, possibly because of the embryo thing. Or something else — I don’t know. But I do need to get to bed before the birds start waking up and making a musical ruckus in our forest here.

Good night, and good morning, Bella. And thank you.

Faery blessings to you,

Jessica

Truthiness, Energy, & Faery Economics 103

I just awakened (it’s 4:45 AM, but who cares about that?) with faery economics in my head again. I don’t, as you must realize by now, fully understand them, so the fae keep trying to explain them to me. This is very basic stuff to them, but full of shifting energies and mystery to me.

This morning’s lesson: It’s all about change and the exchange.

I woke up wondering why the fae want me to write the books I’m working on, because it is my perception that they do want that very much. (I won’t argue with anyone about whether that is objectively “true” or not—my perceptions may or may not be thy perceptions, but—like all of us—mine influence what I do. So I’m working hard on the books and they are coming along well—again, my perception 😉 ). As I think/intuit my way through Marzipan’s story, it is changing my energy/thoughts/behavior in a way that the world could change—if enough of us want it to make it so. And the oracle book is the same, but different.

The thing I’m learning right this moment is that the reason the fae have so much difficulty with the “money thing” (see http://www.jesalog.com/?s=economic for my first two posts on this) is because their perception and methods are so different from humans. Instead of messing around with earning money with which to attempt to buy things that may not even be for sale, they look for a connection of desire-energy with matching desire-energy. For instance, if I want to see the world change in a certain way and if they want to see the same changes, it obviously (to them) behooves us to work together. Their idea of “working together” seems to be about facilitating things in a naturally magical way that will help both of us to do what we can toward that change, resulting in a synergistic effect that neither of us may be able to create by ourselves.

Like writing books. Well, I can write them by myself, but that doesn’t get them out to other people. For publication and distribution I need both help and “luck”—cooperation, synchronicity, things coming together in surprising but wonderful ways. Meeting the right people “by accident”, receiving the right help at the right time “by coincidence”. Of course, my part in this is to exercise serendipity—the ability to recognize good things when they happen and to take advantage of them. And to, ahem, actually write down the inspirations in a coherent and (hopefully) engaging form.

In practical terms, from my own side of the experience, this seems to result in many things, both large and small, “working” for me in a fashion that is convenient and verging on the miraculous. “Coincidence” and synchronicity abound.

Even if it turns out that we humans can’t or don’t do our part “successfully” there is still value in what we do—in the energy/action. It adds to the total of that energy/action in our Universe, in non-local consciousness, in the Void-which-is-fullness. If we make the effort, it adds to the force of change—and the fae understand that even when we don’t. It’s the effort that counts more than any illusory “results”. You change the world, even if the human part of the world doesn’t notice.

It’s kind of like the hundredth monkey thing. You know that story, right? The one where there are two islands, both inhabited by monkeys but the monkeys of one island are not in physical contact with each other. On one island, the monkeys figure something out and develop a new behavior. They wash their some of their food before eating it. The new behavior spreads throughout the island, and when the last ( or the hundredth monkey, depending on the version) has learned to wash the food before eating it, there is a sudden jump (I suppose this is where nonlocal consciousness comes in). Suddenly, monkeys on the neighboring island, without physical contact with the first group, begin washing their food before eating.

This story has its problems—like whether or not it is “true” in an objective view of truth as factual information. (See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hundredth_monkey_effect ) However, it has a certain value of “truthiness” for many people. It’s based on something that many feel intuitively is true—that the world can be changed by intangible means—even that behavior can be changed in a widespread group when enough beings adopt the new behavior. It may be objectively true, it may not—we haven’t proved it scientifically either way and we’ve only our internal, intuitive, gut-feeling to go on. It’s about the reality or unreality of nonlocal consciousness, which we’ve talked about before here.

I guess what I’m saying is that it works for me. Does it work for you? (The comments link is at the bottom of the page below the sharing buttons—and your comments would be most welcome!)

Books & Faery Economics 102

After the discussions about money games, human obtuseness, and faery economics that I mentioned on the last blog, the fae wanted, of course, to play the money game too. We discussed it off and on, but reluctantly came to the conclusion that my business didn’t lend itself well to the money game. Between considerations of ethics and right livelihood and my personal dislike of bookkeeping, we agreed that it was best not to try to bring the game into the healing and counseling and teaching I was doing. The subject would come up once in a while and again be put aside. However, eventually I wrote a book.

This, they felt, showed some promise for the money game, if played with great care and attention to the things we’d considered over the years. It mustn’t hurt anyone. It mustn’t make people pay a higher price than necessary for fair earnings. Publishers, booksellers, editors, typesetters, designers, printers, bookbinders, distributors, salespeople, and, very last of all, authors—they all needed to get something for their work. Also, there was to be no tricksy stuff to get people to buy what they didn’t need. It was about doing the right thing for the right reasons with the right people for right livelihood.

The solution of the fae to all this was surprisingly simple and faery elegant. They would sprinkle faery dust on the books, and this sparkly dust would have a specific charge. It would call to those people who both needed and could use the teachings in the book. It would help them to notice it. After that it was entirely their choice as to what they wanted to do about it. That sounded good to me. So the first book went out sparkling that November.

Some months later, the owner of my local bookstore in Bath, England, asked me what I’d done to the book. I guess I looked blank—I didn’t do anything but write it; the fae did the rest and I actually wasn’t thinking much about it. The bookstore owner explained that people would come in and ask about books for stress reduction or meditation or relaxation. He had several books of that nature, including my Moon Over Water, and he’d take several off the shelves and hand them to the customers to look at. The customers would often pick up Moon Over Water first, tuck it under their arms, and then look at the other books, going through them carefully. Or they’d just ignore Moon as if it were not even there. In neither case did they check through Moon before they made their final choices. If they tucked it under their arms (and they often did), they just bought it. This intrigued the bookstore owner. I explained about the faery sparkle. He said, “Oh.” in a very British way and looked at me sideways.

In February, I happened to be talking with the publisher about something else and asked how Moon Over Water was doing. He responded (without checking) that it was going very slowly. I asked again a couple of months later. He again, without checking, thought it was going very slowly. I asked if he could, as a special favor, check on that for me. He happened to have the distributor’s report in front of him, and to his shock discovered that the book was sold out. Gone.

What was supposed to be a year’s supply was gone by May. He was annoyed. The fae and I were surprised—we thought selling them was a good thing. He didn’t seem to agree. The fae and I never did quite understand this. But so it proceeded. Every year we ran out of books well before the end of the year. We did another book with the same publisher, but the proceedings still didn’t make a lot of sense to us. After that, I kinda lost interest in the whole game because I couldn’t figure it out, so it was a long time before I wrote another book.

The last book was about the faeries themselves. They got to play with the whole project from beginning to end, even dictating large parts of the book to me. This was with a new publisher, who played the money game differently. I shall say no more about that. However, the fae did their part brilliantly and The Faeries’ Oracle did very well, in spite of all the other things going on.

Now we are thinking about doing more books—some of them also with cards. Some with faeries, which delights them, and some with cats, which they assure me are practically the same and just as good (I’m not at all certain about what they mean by “good” there), and some other subjects. We are thinking about doing them without publishers, who seem to want to play games we don’t understand. And we’re wondering just how far we can go with faery sparkle alone, because I’m not good about all the PR and selling and bookkeeping stuff. But… it would still be Doing Good in the world (or at least trying to) and it would be a more enjoyable game that way…

Faery Economics 101

“Why are you doing this?” a faery voice asked.

I looked at the bills spread out on the desk in front of me. “I’m paying the bills. And the rent. Like I did last month. Didn’t we talk about it then?”

“Yes, but what you said doesn’t make sense to us. You said money is like crystallized energy—you use your energy to help someone and they give money to you, and then you can give the money to someone else for their help. We’ve been watching, and a lot of the time that isn’t true. The exchanges are not fair about the energy given. Explain this money thing again, please. We don’t understand.”

“It’s simple really. I do work for people, and they give me money. Then I use the money to pay for things I need, like food and electricity and things.”

“But why do you need the money? You do things for people, they do things for you—it all evens out, pretty much. You can tell by the energy you use, by the changes in your aura, who gave and who received more. We’ve been watching. Sometimes you do ‘work’ for an hour and it’s easy and fun, and other times you do almost the same thing for an hour, and it hurts and it’s really hard. But you get the same amount of money. So it isn’t about the work, is it? Or you’d get more when it’s harder. Some days you get really tired or things make you cry, but other days you feel happy and energized. Why isn’t the money different?”

“Maybe it’s about the time I spend. I give my time; they give theirs, and we use the money to keep track.” I know this is weak, and sure enough, they don’t accept it.

“But what if they don’t spend the same time or work as hard getting the money that you do? Some people get their money a lot faster and don’t do much for it and others get it slower and work a lot harder.”

“Well, okay. It’s a mixture of how hard I work, how valuable what I do is to them, and how long it takes.”

“How valuable it is to them? Who decides that?”

“They do. And I decided how valuable my time is to me by how much time I have and how much money I need to pay my bills.”

“That makes even less sense. How do they know how valuable it is going to be to them? It might make their lives better for years and years or not make them better at all. And anyway, it isn’t what you say or do that makes it important—it’s what they do with it.”

“Right,” said another. “And some people get much more money than they need to live and others get a lot less for the same effort.”

I’m silent for a while, thinking about things like “expertise” and “skill” and realizing that I’m going to run into the same issues of unbalanced exchange and opportunity. Someone says, “You know, the more we talk about this, the less sense it makes.”

Driven into a corner by my unrealistic belief that all questions must have findable answers, I flippantly reply, “Actually, it’s all a game, and money is the way we keep score.”

There is a stunned silence as we all recognize the truth of this.

“Hmmph!” an annoyed voice says. “I don’t think it’s a very nice game at all.”

That discussion was many years ago, but I still don’t have any better answer. Do you?

© Copyright 2013 by Jessica Macbeth. All rights reserved.