Forest as shelter: Forest homes for fairies, and humans too
Not long ago, children came to the forest. This sweet and funny and curious group of kids were on a field trip to our local arboretum.
Sticks, moss, stones and cones create a fairy home at the base of a tree
I love this place, so much. The humans who care for and visit this place love it too. All of us, we love the trees and plants, owls and lichen and ferns and magnolias and moss and thimbleberries and wild rose and horsetails and stones and streams, frogs and squirrels, and more, and more. It’s an overflowing abundance of beauty and life and wonder, right in the backyard of the city.
And so, to this abundance and beauty, kids are invited (thank goodness). Some visit with their families, while others arrive on a school bus. I’m one of the lucky humans who gets to walk with these kids through the forest, sometimes for the very first time.
To begin, we introduced ourselves, sharing our names and our favorite nature beings (owls! orcas! squirrels! slugs!). We talked about taking good care of the plants and other living beings there (well, the squirrel might have something to say if you try to pick them up). We practiced Banana Split! (move to the sides of the trail so others can pass through) and Sticky Rice! (stay together as a group).
They were ready for this.
Moving down the trail, we stopped first in a very special spot. Here you’ll find, around the base of every tree, carefully crafted, hand-built dwellings. These homes are built of and into the land. These tiny structures, built stick by stick, clump of moss by clump of moss, are designed and constructed by small, quick, thoughtful, delighted hands. These homes are built for the fairies of the forest.
The small structures feature roofs woven together of sticks and cones and moss and lichen. The building process can be painstaking, even painful when construction fails. There’s no mortar, no glue, and so the sticks that have been so carefully propped against and over and around each other sometimes (often) unexpectedly fall apart. It’s a heart wrenching moment for a little one who has worked so hard to build this home.
And yet, more often than not, they shake, cry, or stomp out their frustration, and go straight back to building.
Some of the structures are truly impressive: massive mansions for fairies, with sturdy walls, gardens, pools, entrances and exits. Some are sweet and humble, a little cottage at the base of a big tree.
Surrounded here by fairies and their homes, the children begin to feel the wonder of the woods. I ask them then to stay here, for just a moment, listening, watching, and noticing.
After a few breaths, I ask what they noticed during our brief moment of (relative) quiet (these are kid people after all).
They notice the songs of at least two, maybe three, birds. They notice a tree’s scraggly bark. They notice the scrabbling sound of squirrels in the branches. They point out a big weird mushroom. They begin to really see the trees. Their categorization of these beings begins to shift ever so slightly from “scenery” or “trees” to individuals - this particular Fir, that specific Pine.
This is the moment I love - when someone really arrives to the forest. It can be sudden or slow, but you can see it unfold in the eyes, as they soften and widen. You see it in shoulders that settle back and down. You hear the breath soften and deepen. The greens and browns of tree and plant and ground, the blue and white and grey of sky, the sweet smell of rich dirt and lichen and leaf - they begin to really drink it all in.
Is it harder for children or adults to get here; to really land in the forest? I think it’s just different. Children often come in with busy minds and bodies. They might be nervous, curious, anxious, frustrated, hungry, sad, happy, excited... Adults - well, I guess they carry so much of the same.
The forest welcomes them all. I can almost feel the trees reaching for them, gently asking these human ones to pay attention, to notice, to turn to them. They offer shapes and textures to explore, curious ways of living, good good smells. They offer a sturdy trunk to lean on, to hug, to sleep or cry against.
In the forest, the fairies find shelter, thanks to homes lovingly built by little ones (big ones too). For us humans, the forest themself - this place and community - offers shelter. We are welcome here, entirely. We’re welcome with our worries and woes. We are welcome in wonderment.
You (wonderfully, specifically you) are welcome here - to turn your attention, for just a little while, away from all the pressing-in pressures and toward the beauty and magic waiting for you.
Here, in the shelter of these tree, they invite you to take a moment to breathe a little deeper, to immerse yourself fully in the green, and the birdsong, and the joy of life entwining and unfolding.
Messages from the Web (tarot practices for listening in)
Tarot is a practice that can be worked with a number of ways. Some use tarot for divination (telling the future or mystically revealing hidden information). Others use tarot as a tool for insight and reflection. Many folks weave these approaches together. About once each month, I’ll share a tarot spread inspired by the web of life that holds us all. I hope that these offerings are helpful, in whatever way you use them!
Card 1: What in me needs shelter right now?
Card 2: How can I build this shelter? What tools, materials, skills do I need?
Card 3: What challenges might I encounter in building shelter?
Card 3: What is offering me shelter that I may be overlooking?
