I’ve been watching the Twin Peaks Sequel, which is both compelling and terrifying and contributing to my already erratic sleep schedule. But tonight (tomorrow by the time anyone reads this), I couldn’t fall asleep because of an intense and distant longing in my heart.
I lay in bed thinking about the sensitivities and idealism long buried under practicality and duties. I thought about the myriad talents I’ve been gifted with (and yes, you have a myriad of your own) and whether or not I was utilizing them to the best of my ability, and why weren’t things working out the way I wanted (expected) them to work out?
A little voice in my head said “go play with the faeries” and I thought “what if this voice is the voice of seemingly good ideas that lead no where and I get out bed for nothing?” But with a little internal prodding I crept into the living room to pull cards.
First things first, Faye was having none of it. The first attempt at spreading the cards included her swatting at them from the floor, throwing a quarter of the cards into a heap. The second attempt (where I blocked her keen eye with my arm) resulted in this:
She purred with delight while she bathed herself in the most inconvenient position (where I would lay the cards). Upon reflection, both actions (swatting and sitting) were a message for me to lighten up. Faye loves to play with the faeries (she was named after them after all) and they love to encourage mischief in her.
After Faye tired of obstructing my process and scampered off, I pulled three cards from the arc without question and without formalities. It was midnight, and I didn’t feel like ceremonials. The three cards I pulled stared back at me in bright joy and I realized that, on top of having a message for me, they were also my favorite cards in the whole deck.
Sandwiched between two cards that were basically universal reassurances that all will be well was ol’ Gloominous Doom, my favorite helper Faery because he’s so cute and so sweet and he gets depression, tiredness, and the general discontent that goes along with spending too much time in the presence of wailers. Wailers are the little dramatic characters (and sometimes people) standing below Mr. Doom- they are perpetual victims who tell you why everything is terrible and that nothing will work, and prattle on incessantly about the unfairness of things. After a while you forget all the good, the enchanting, the possible and the magical and even though you’re still definitely holding onto it and it’s still definitely there, you can no longer see it because you hold only your empty hand before you.
I needed this message.
The Faery Who Was Kissed by the Pixies and the Faery Godmother on either side of Mr. Doom were not coincidental in placement or in message. They show that any sense of isolation is untrue and a matter of perspective, because outside of the world of wailers is unconditional love, miracles, and wishes coming true. They are stark reminders of the abundance of love and the effects of a generous heart, and a reminder that no matter what, all will be well.
I felt that the Faery Who Was Kissed by the Pixies was telling me to wear my inner idealism and romantic nature on my sleeve, because enchantment and beauty have been a main theme in my life that allows me to connect with others in a heartfelt way. The Faery Godmother said, “be patient and watchful and you will see that your prayers have been heard and answered.”
I’m not one for self-deception, so I sat with these cards a while longer as I ran my inner bullshit detector over the messages. In truth, this message is in alignment with tested principles and my own inner self. I knew it, but it’s something that would be easier to accept on behalf of someone else rather than for myself. In a way, that is telling of an aspect in which I could be more loving and compassionate toward myself.
I received the guidance I needed and a right kick in the bum after heeding my intuition, and now, hopefully I can get some decent sleep. Also, I must say, I’m very grateful for the unwavering helpfulness of guides that put up with me in my petulance.