Friday, July 18, 2008

Summer of the Fairies

by Cathy Anderson Corn

Many years ago, I heard Doreen Virtue, Ph.D., speak at the David Lawrence Convention Center in Pittsburgh. (She's now a well-recognized psychologist, medium, and author for Hay House.) The room was half filled, darkened, and hushed, the crowd listening intently as she spoke of angels, how to contact them, and how they will help you with your life challenges and everyday cares if you call on them.

As she stood behind the podium, a tall, vibrant lady looking mainstream with her long, blond hair, and beautiful enough to be a homecoming queen, I saw a green cloud, misting and irregular in shape, forming above her head. For a second, I enjoyed this sight until I realized it was some weird, psychic vision, and panic set in.

And "poof," it disappeared.

Later I decided this was an angelic energy that I wasn't ready to see. Doreen could see things like that, and a whole lot more, but my glimpse scared me.

I was entranced by Doreen Virtue's books on angels until Hay House published the one about fairies. I read it, and decided she should take a vacation. The idea of fairies as real, living creatures was so far-fetched that I nearly gave up on Doreen altogether.

Meanwhile, I wrote a novel about a divorced woman living in a town house with her teenage daughter who's helped through job woes, angst with her daughter, and the love labyrinth by her guardian angel. ("Lighten Up, My Beloved," but don't look for it--it's under my desk.)

Somehow, though, the fairy energy seeped into my body over the years by osmosis, and I grew closer and closer to nature (fairies are nature angels who watch over the animals and plants). I always loved animals and had even hugged a tree or two, but this was different. When I saw a tree service taking down a huge, perfectly formed maple or oak tree from a yard in my house plan, I felt pain. The day a doe hobbled by on three legs, the other leg injured and held tightly against her body, I wanted to help her and all the little hurt woods creatures.

Then, four years ago, I decided to write a novel featuring fairies, and I've been evolving along with the story ever since. My sensitivity grew stronger, as well as my closeness to creation. The final draft is nearly done (by my standards), and so I'm not surprised at the latest plot twist in my own life.

At dusk, several weeks ago, I commented to my husband Alan about the "rain" outside. I saw white streaks of movement around the trees. He saw it, too, but we soon discovered all was dry out back. We walked in the trees, saw the streaks (which weren't bugs or the Aurora Borealis), but no mist or raindrops fell from the sky.

Yes, it was the perfect time and place to see fairies--the tweens (between day and night, between forest and cultivated lawn). We decided the white streaks are fairies, which makes me very happy, so if you have a scientific explanation, write it down and lose the paper. This time, it's not that scary that the sight goes "poof."

Maybe our retinas are detaching and, no, we weren't drinking or drugging. We believe that enchantment exists in everyday life if you know how to seek it out. And if you think this is totally crackpot and outrageous, I agree with you, because that's how I used to see it. But have you ever talked to that wise old oak in your front yard?

Has your own writing introduced you to worlds you didn't believe in or understand? Has it expanded the perimeters of your universe? Does your writing invite the plot of your life to take on unique twists and turns?


Anonymous said...

Sometimes I see quotes of what I wrote in my stories coming back to haunt me. There's a friendship in my manuscript that has certain parallels to a current friendship in my life which are, I have to say, pretty uncanny. When I start to say the same things as my heroine, it's a little scary.

Life imitating art?

Anonymous said...

Cathy, hi. I've mentioned it before, but it seems like sometime when I write the creative act 'calls it into being', which means that oddly enough after I write about something it happens. I wrote a chapter about a big fire, went for a walk, and noticed the smoke as our Presbyterian Church burned to the ground. It was odd and I can't explain it - coincidence? I guess so, if you believe in coincidence.

I tried writing about hitting the lottery, but that one didn't work. Oh well, back to my day job!

Anonymous said...

That's pretty spooky. The law of attraction?

Yours would definitely not qualify for law of attraction, unless you want to be the protagonist of a Stephen King novel. Maybe you've developed your psychic powers? That's very interesting!

Anonymous said...

Sometimes a thought or suggestion will bring back a memory from our childhood that was forgotten as we went from a child's open heart to the concrete practicality of our adult minds. yesterday i remembered something i haven't thought about for 50 yeaars. When i was small, i asked my great aunt about the ring of flowers that would periodically grow overnight in a special place in her garden. she told me they were fairy rings that had been made when the fairies met together. my child's mind accepted that answer as i did all the things she told me about life.


Anonymous said...

I never talked with a relative or friend who spoke of the fairies. I would have liked to ask your great aunt some questions. Thanks for sharing that!