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• An Interview with a Faerie in the 21st Century
• Five Miracles of Storytelling
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• St. Patrick's Day: A story of celebration and survival
• Storytelling for Kids
• A Tough Act To Follow - Mystic, Legend, Saint,… Patrick.
• Tying the Knot, Celtic Style

An Interview with a Fairie in the 21st century....

"The Loss of Essence, by True Thomas"

I was at my favorite local Celtic event, and I happened to notice someone out of the corner of my eye. It was a few seconds before I realized that I was seeing a person, that no one else seemed to notice. He motioned to me, and invited me to a quieter corner (with a session going on, no place was really quiet.) "Are you that Seanachie fella?" I nodded. "There are some things going on, that you need to tell folks about". I couldn’t place his accent, and there was something odd about him that I could not put my finger on. I was intrigued.

"First, stand me a drink." I smiled, and got him a drink, as one drink could bring a boatload of stories, a good investment in my trade. "Ya sure, all yez doing no good to the envoiroment, and such. But ye got another problem." The fellow took a long sip, and I marveled at the fact that the glass was refilling itself. "Have ye ever been outside a library, or a gate, and run your hand over the stone lion, or post. Someplace where thousands of hands have been before?" "That feeling you get,when you touch it, that's an energy. That energy, ye don't have a decent word for it. In the auld tongue, ye might call it "Bri" or in old french, I've heard it called "Foison". Nearest in your language would be maybe, "Essence". He sipped, and smiled sadly.

"Here's the thing about you Humans. You are dying, from the minute you are born." At this point I realized that I was listening to somebody who was not from around here, and started to look for an exit. He tapped the counter, and with a piercing look at me, continued "but as you go through your lives, you create. You gather things from the world and transform them, put parts of yourselves into them. Ever wonder why the Fairies take the talented folks back to the realm? That energy, that foison of creation, is dear to us. Everything my folk create was old at the beginning of the world." As the glass magically refilled, I stood spellbound.

He scratched himself and leaned onto the bar. "In the auld day's, the folks who knew of us as the Good Folk, would leave some bread and milk out, and such. But if you had tasted it after one of us had been there, it would be flat, lifeless. That's because we need that essence. The mortal family gathered the wheat, ground it, baked it, kneaded it, transformed it. Put their energy, and the worlds energy into that bread." He adjusted his tam, and spat. "Now you eat bread, no person ever cared for, no hand has ever touched. You drive a million miles across the land, and see the same Mac Donnies, Walstore, and such. You've got no essence in your lives. Ye get into your cars, and live in containers. Tis a horrible way ye live. And your souls are fading as well."

He turned and looked at the dancers and musicians as they hammered into a Reel ,notes and sweat flying. I swear, I saw him slowly inhale, and he seemed to glow from the inside. He reached out and tapped my chest. "You tell the auld tales. You know the magic of the campfire, where people share their lives, songs and stories. 80,000 tousand years, of campfires and magic, and it's fading fast. But you knew without knowing. That's why you and I came here. Places like this one, are where ye get your soul recharged. But it's not enough. If you don't do something, the Fairies won't be the only fading folks." His eyes looked a million lives away. He shrugged, and patted me on the shoulder. "A thousand thanks for the drink." He smiled, and without missing a beat stepped into the crowd at the bar.

I saw him briefly spinning madly with a girl, and for a moment playing the fiddle with the Highland Sun gang. And he was gone. I found out later that he magically had made my bar tab expand as well, but paid no mind. As I got into my aging car and drove home that night, looking at the mass duplicated houses and pod malls, the realization kept pounding away. We as humans, were suffering from a loss of connection- to each other and to the earth. A loss of essence, of connection, was something that the fairies knew well enough indeed. Our waistlines may be getting thicker, but our souls are getting thinner. And so in the tradition of our people, I pass this story on to you.