Once upon a time, many years ago, I was spending a lot more time than I wanted to in big cities, living in one and working in others. There was entirely too much cement and paving, too many people, too little green and airy space. I felt like my spirit was wilting and my leaves withering, and grumbled a great deal about this.

The fae didn't understand my attitude. "Everywhere you are," Miccon said, "is a garden."

And I didn't understand him. (Sometimes it seems to me they are being unnecessarily obscure, but it apparently seems to them that I'm being deliberately obtuse and not thinking. Later on, we laugh about it.) So, back then, I tried to see the "gardenness" of the busy cities - the buildings as growing things, et cetera. It stretched my mind some, but it didn't work very well. I still felt overwhelmed by exhaust fumes and pavements and people. "Don't be so complicated," they said. "Just open your eyes! You're always in a garden."

I still didn't get it. Perhaps it was up to me to imagine a garden around me? Or to visualize a garden somehow laid over or co-existing with what was "really" there, creating neat rows of mental daisies where iron railings grew. They were puzzled as to why I had such a hard time with their concept. Finally, they explained it in simple words that even I could understand.

"Your world and our world touch, right?" Miccon said, making flapping gestures at the worlds with his wings.

"So I'm told," I said.

"Right. So, everywhere in your world is touching somewhere in our world." He brought his wings together in front of him so the outer edges touched along their length, and peered over to tops of them to see if I was getting it. "Wherever you are, you can just focus your awareness into our world and see it. Forests, meadows, moors - it's all a garden. You walk through it all the time, unseeing. Just see!"

And, of course, that was it - just see. There it is.

As I write this, I'm in a Seattle suburb, waiting with a friend while he dies. Condos and busy streets and shops fill this neighborhood. But when I close my outer eyes and open my inner eyes, there is a forested hillside, the bright moon is about a third of the way up in the east, and there is a faint glimmer of water to the west, just glimpsed between the trees, more felt than seen. A gentle, damp breeze comes from over the water, and whispers in the fir and cedar. The rest is nocturnal silence. My friend senses it too, and I know this can help him find peace and even joy in the transition he is gradually making.

I have often noticed that the faery notion of a garden is much like our world might be if it were just its natural self, without the paved roads and buildings. And all you need to do to be there is to... just see. And feel. For me, it's easier to close my eyes and feel - feel the warmth or coolness, the movement of the air - and listen to the sounds of the breeze, the birds, the quietness. And sometimes, the faery laughter or music.

Try it. You'll like it. It just takes a quiet mind and an open heart. Just be still and wait patiently. At first, your perception of the Otherworld may be very subtle - just a suggestion of its presence. You'll know you are making contact by the sense of joyful inner peace that comes with it. The sensations become stronger as you practice being open to them - it often takes a lot of practice. And you'll notice that the more quiet you are within yourself, the easier it is to make the connection. It's good practice for living well in this world.

Back to the first page
How the Blessing Cairn Came To Be
What Happens Here
An Lios - the Garden
Back to Creating Your Own Sacred Space
Friends of the Blessing Cairn
How You Can Give to the Fae
Thanks to the Fae
Jesa's Coracle Pages with boatloads of stuff,
including more on Faery and the Faeries' Oracle.
Jesa's Faeries' Oracle readings by phone