Rediscovering Your Path
November 3, 2001
by Jeffrey Pierce
As is my tradition, I usually spend at least part of Samhain alone in some wild place, doing some serious magickal work. This year was no different.
For a period of roughly two and a half years, I had studied with a Native American woman named Nukah whose instruction was instrumental in not only helping me develop my path, but in aiding me in becoming the person I am today. The lessons that I learned in the Coast Range Mountains of my native Oregon state hit home on both the spiritual and personal levels. I found my entire outlook on life changing to one that integrated the concepts of respect, honor and balance and I constantly challenged myself to become a better person and work through personal issues that I had harbored since childhood.
After parting ways with Nukah - my studies incomplete, but I was learning as much as I could handle on my own without additional instruction - I continued to work with a small handful of sacred sites I had painstakingly adopted. Within their embrace I slowly uncovered the personal philosophies, wisdom and techniques that led to the creation of my spiritual path. A move to a major East Coast metropolitan center interrupted my studies and the birth of two children forced me to shift priorities. After an absence of roughly five years, I had reached the point in my life where I was ready to resume my shamanic studies.
On a cold, cloudy day in November 2001, I headed back up into the Coast Range Mountains to take inventory of the sacred sites that I had worked with throughout my shamanic studies with Nukah and afterward on my own.
The Faerie Grove
My first stop was The Faerie Grove, a hidden stand of old growth forest nestled in the midst of Oregon's Coast Range Mountains. Protected by a fold in the mountains and criss-crossed with tiny streams, The Faerie Grove has never been logged, although much of the surrounding area has been clear-cut and replanted at least once. The Grove is well-hidden; the entrance to the only path that leads from the road to the heart of the forest is invisible under most circumstances and if I had not been led into the area by the spirit realm, I would not know of its existance.
When I'd stopped working with the area in 1996, the magickal energy that saturated The Faerie Grove had all but disappeared. An area that was once extremely rich in magick and often visited by the fae had withdrawn behind the veil that separates our world from the subtle realms. I assumed that this had taken place because of the increased vehicle traffic and the resumption of logging activities in the area - both of which can negatively impact natural energies. I made a point to visit The Faerie Grove every year or so and each visit found the energy more subdued and the "feel" of the place more mundane. However, after recently seeing several signs that the flow of natural magick is increasing in our world, I was curious to see if there had been any changes to The Faerie Grove.
Heartache And Excitement
Following the winding, one-lane mountain road, I watched as memories unfolded before me. The area had changed - trees were taller, open spaces were now filled with brush, and the footprints from clearcut logging operations dotted the surrounding mountains. As I neared The Faerie Grove, my heart fell as I came upon a completed logging operation almost directly across the road from the site. Parking the car on the shoulder of the road, I climbed down the steep decline to assess the damage. When I had stopped working with the area, the ruins of an old cabin still stood where the logging operation now loomed. There were numerous afternoons where I would stand on the handful of floorboards that peered through the soil and gaze up at the tall stone chimney that still stood tall and regal, a large lush fern growing in the fireplace. It wasn't difficult to let your imagination wander, curious about who once lived there, miles away from the nearest town - and wondering what they experienced living so close to a portal to another world. I am sad to say that a hard-packed dirt road now crawls through the place the cabin once stood, the site completely destroyed.
I made my way up to the main road and, instead of heading toward The Faerie Grove, I followed my instincts and began to hike the opposite direction. There, hanging from a branch on a nearby tree, was suspended the pelvis of a woodland animal. There was nothing sinister about the presence of the bone. In fact, I had the strong sensation that it had been placed there intentionally, not necessarily for me to find, but for someone to claim that would understand its purpose.
I took the pelvis down and instantly understood that it was intended to be used as a mask for shamanic work. The bone is very peculiar and seemed very "alive" to me - much like a shamanic tool that had already been specifically crafted for a very particular use. As I held the new-found item, visions of its use and how I was supposed to modify it flashed through my mind's eye. I understood that I was to enhance, bless and charge the item and saw some of the symbols and designs to use in its decoration.
My initial reaction was to leave the bone mask in my car, locking it safely away while I hiked into The Faerie Grove. The path into the site is overgrown. The doorway (the opening in the trees and accompanying trail) that leads into the Grove has always been... "mutable." If you're not meant to find it, it's almost invisible. If you are, it's VERY easy to see. Today it was the most open I'd ever seen, the path amazingly clear (that also changes) and the journey in quite easy (something that can also change). and it would be easy to snag the mask on a branch or tree and damage it. As I approached my vehicle, I received a very strong impression that I was intended to take the bone mask into The Faerie Grove with me, rather than leaving it safely locked away. Shamanic work demands that you follow your instincts, your heart and the subtle messages that you receive. I wasn't about to question the instruction, so I carefully made my way into the grove, bone mask in hand.
Entering The Faerie Grove
I was tremendously surprised to find that the energy within The Faerie Grove was incredibly rich - even more so than when it was at its height during my time working with the site. In the past, the forest had been sprinkled with mushrooms and held at least two faerie mounds. Now there were vast patches of a wide variety of mushrooms covering the forest floort. An endless variety of shapes, sizes and colors appeared everywhere - more mushrooms than I had ever seen in a single location. The Faerie Grove has several clearly defined paths leading through it - wide game trails that wind through park-like expanses, the paths covered only with a light dusting of pine needles. I found myself on the path I had walked countless times, leading into the very heart of The Grove.
There, near the center of the stand of old growth forest, stands a wind-broken Douglas Fir, emerging from a shroud of ferns like a towering wooden finger pointing to the sky. I affectionately named it the obelisk during my earlier ritual work and it was my current destination. It had been the center of countless rituals and I was excited to see it after having been away for so long. As I made my way over the final rise, the obelisk came into view and I stopped for a moment to drink in the scene. It was my intent to leave an offering of crumbled Dakota bread as an offering for the site, say a few words and leave. I had never dared to dream that I would receive a reception like the one that awaited me.
The Fae
Immediately beyond the obelisk, spread in a wide semi-circle centered on the broken tree, waited an intensely strong presence, as if hundreds of individuals waited expectantly. As often happens in my ritual work and my interaction with the spirit realm, I found myself relying completely on instinct and following the lead of my heart. I raised the bone mask before my face so the that parallel holes covered my eyes and in a strong, confident voice declared,
"I am the one who seeks
wisdom and knowledge,
community and kinship,
friendship between your people and mine."
As the final word left my lips, the gathered presence in the semi-circle just beyond the obelisk exploded into a chorus of physical sound. The only way I can describe it is as if a multitude of tiny people began rapidly clapping small stones together in a musical response. It was a fast paced clip-clip-clip, the sound overlayed like the applause of a thousand people. It was amazing. Simply amazing. And it didn't stop.
Turning away from the ocean of sound, I left offerings of Dakota bread at the base of the four trees that marked the four directions around the obelisk and crumbled an additional handful over the fallen trunk that had so often served as my altar. I asked the birds (in shamanism, birds are often considered to be winged-messengers between the shaman and the spirit world) to accept the offering as a gift, blessing those gathered nearby and the energy of the forest with their song. I thanked the presence for its work with me in the past and promised to return to work with them in the future. As soon as the final syllable fell from my lips, the waves of sound instantly stopped - all except for a single clip-clip-clip that followed me as I made my way back toward the stream that separates The Faerie Grove from the mundane world and which I'd crossed by a natural log bridge on my way into the site.
Grandfather Spirits
As I began to make my way back toward the mundane world, I slipped and fell, landing hard at the base of an ancient Douglas Fir. In the urban world, I'm something of a clutz. I run into walls, misjudge doorways and am constantly banging my shins or stubbing a toe. In the wilderness, I am extremely sure-footed, able to leap without hesitation from boulder to boulder as I cross a river or race through the forest, leaping over fallen logs and zig-zagging around trees and ferns. It's so unusually for me to lose my footing in the outdoors that it has actually become a way the spirit world uses to direct my attention toward something specific. Without fail, there is always something waiting for me to discover once I hit the ground.
A piece of beehive that I found in The Faerie Grove.
I looked up from where I had fallen and discovered that I was at the base of an ancient Douglas Fir whose heights were lost in the low-hanging clouds. The tree was very awake and had a definite Grandfather presence to its spirit. Respecting the fact that I was in the presence of an elder, I left an offering of Dakota bread at its base and paid honor to its spirit and wisdom. With my spirit, I felt my attention being directed to my right, where a small disk of honeycomb awaited me. Raising my eyes upward, I couldn't find an accompanying beehive. (There were no overhanging branches below the upper canopy of the forest and it seemed a strange location for a beehive to exist. There are no flowers in this part of the forest, nor have there ever been any as far back as I can remember. Even the open spaces - the fields and meadows that are scattered throughout the area - are typically only filled with grasses which are commonly grazed short by the deer and elk. Furthermore, except at the height of summer, The Faerie Grove is typically damp and the disk of honeycomb was both waterlogged and extremely soft to the touch). I instantly understood it as a sign that the words I had used to address the presence beyond the obelisk had been received and accepted.
Disappearing Paths
Climbing to my feet, I stood up and turned toward the stream once more. There, before my eyes, hovering above an empty streambed was one of the tiny winged fae that slip into our world from time to time, as if our realm intersects with their own in a certain place. The fae carried another of its kind, the second laying limp in its "arms." I watched as they began to gain altitude and suddenly disappeared from our reality as if they had slipped through a hidden doorway.
The single presence that had remained vocal when the others had gone silent continued to accompany as I struggled to leave the grove. The path on the way in is clearly drawn on the forest floor. The same path will occasionally disappear when a person tries to leave. Now, as I tried to leave, the path was completely gone, erased from our reality. I waded through a forest of ferns and brush, the single entity clip-clip-clipping off to my right. As I began to draw near to the stream, I began to worry that I would find myself in the muddy bog that lays in a thin band between forest and stream. There is only one solid path through the bog. Miss that path and the best you can hope for is to find yourself wading through knee-deep mud so clinging that it can suck boots off your feet.
Initially, I thought the clip-clip-clipping presence was trying to convince me to stay. When the fae aren't anxious for you to leave, all of the exit routes simply disappear. My second fear was that it was trying to lead me even farther from the exit. [Notes about will o' the wisp] But as I moved nearer and nearer to the bog, I realized that the presence was trying to show me where the trail was. Extremely thankful, I moved toward its call, the ground solidifing beneath me and once more the trail appeared, easily seen leading into The Grove - still almost impossible to see heading out.
With a grateful heart I thanked the fae responsible and it clip-clip-clipped back at me. I asked it to show itself and the sound instantly retreated away from me, almost completely disappearing into the surrounding forest. Immediately trying a different approach, I promised that I would return to work with it and its kin and the fae drew close once more. I said my goodbyes and made my way to the log bridge, crossing it and making my way into mundane reality, the clip-clip-clipping presence trailing behind me as I continually assured it that I would return. It wasn't until I uttered the phrase, "I'm good to my word," that the sound stopped and it stopped instantly upon hearing me speak those words. I was suddenly alone with the familiar sounds of the forest.
The Quarry
I made my way back to the car, smiling from ear to ear, and continued down the road to my next destination, roughly fifteen miles away. My next stop was the Quarry - an old abandoned rock quarry that had been the first site I had been accepted to work with and which I'd adopted for use in shamanic work. I had spent years learning how to properly approach ritual there and had carried out countless rites, magickally healing the damage that the site had suffered while slowly reconnecting the energy that had once been present there. It was once a very magickal place, full of creation energy. Deer and elk once battled for their harems in the upper area during the rutt. Flowers will bloom in the lower meadow, even in the midst of the winter. I've seen new foxgloves poking through the snow in December and as I stepped into The Quarry's embrace, I found new daisies interwoven among the grasses. Near the end of my original time there, a shift in energy had begun to take place. Areas that were barren when I'd first begun my work with the site had begun to sprout sapplings. I'd left with the feeling that my time working with it was drawing to an end and that it would soon be a "nursery" for magick in the area.
The Quarry was also very rich with the energy of the fae. I actually took a group of Pagans up there one night and, as we sat bathed in candlelight, childlike voices laughed playfully from the stones around us. That feeling and presence is now gone and the areas where the sapplings had begun to grow when I left has become a small forest of new trees. I left offerings of Dakota bread, thanked the area for its kinship and aid in the past. I expressed my interest in potentially using the lower circle in future ritual work, but explained that my visits would be infrequent at most.
The Sea
Leaving the Coast Range Mountains behind, I drove to a favorite beach of mine, intending to speak with the spirit of the sea. During a Samhain ritual several years ago I met the spirit of the sea and she gave me a name which my immediate family could use to call upon her. Since that time I have introduced both of my children to the spirit and dabbled their toes in her waters when they were infants.
I walked along the surf, talking with the spirit of the sea, catching her up on personal news as if she were an old friend. I told her about what had been happening in my life, shared that I had resumed my shamanic studies, and proudly spoke with her about the developments in the lives of my children. After a half-mile of discussion, I turned around, heading back the direction I had come, still flanking the surf. As I walked along the lapping waves, I suddenly saw a seal between myself and the ocean, the animal clearly fixed in my peripheral vision. It was a deep yellow color, like dijon mustard, patterned with large black spots. My childrens' Goddess Mother and I had once come across a sea lion sunning itself on the same beach and its photograph hangs on my cubicle wall at work. The seal was a bit smaller than the sea lion and I immediately realized that it would also be out of place on the Oregon Coast. As I turned my head toward it, the animal instantly disappeared - obviously a spirit, not a physical creature like the sea lion. However, resting exactly where the seal had waited in the surf lay a small smooth stone, shaped like the seal and with its exact same coloration and markings. I picked up the object, marvelling at how unusual it felt, the stone's surface silky, almost oily, to the touch.
The "seal" stone.
As soon as I touched the stone, I immediately understood that it was a gift from the spirit of the sea for use on my shamanic path. I could sense that the stone would be instrumental in something known as, "Deep Sea Magick," (dealing with deep mysteries and secrets - knoweldge and insight that have been hidden from surface dwellers for some time) but that part of the right to use the stone involved uncovering the methods in accessing its abilities. I immediately thanked the sea for its gift and left the rest of my Dakota bread to the sea gulls and crows that loomed nearby before continuing down the beach.
Water Music
My spirit eyes were still very open when I came across two spirits playing in the surf. They were intensely interested in a stone that lay within the grasp of the incoming waves and as I stopped and observed them, I suddenly understood their interest. The spirits were making "music" (the undersea style) with a stone, the sand, and their waves. To the spirits of the water, the visual pattern that the waves make in the sand, behind and around a stone, is very similar in concept to what popular music is to mankind.
The stone itself was really wonderful - a very solid, triangular column - and when the spirits sensed my interest in it, they quickly conversed with one another and made a bargain with me. In exchange for the stone, I'd replace it with one that was higher on the beach, well beyond the high tide mark and out of ther reach. Signalling my acceptance, I allowed them to guide me to the stone. At first glance, it appeared very similar to the one which they currently played with, but the similarities disappeared when I freed it from the sand. The stone was shaped like a cupped hand and I marveled at how it fit my palm like a stone glove as I carried it down to the surf. Thoughts of how I could use it in my own ritual work began to whisper at the edge of my mind, but a deal is a deal and I'm good to my word (especially with spirits). I swapped out the stones, placing the new one where the old one had been. Standing nearby as I watched the patterns in the sand begin to slowly change in response to the waves' interaction with the new stone. I could actually feel their joy.