Faeries, Nymphs, and Shooting Stars

Faeries were mythical apparitions from the days of yore. Sometimes a sprite, sometimes more human in appearance and proportion, faeries were believed to be the personification of the forces of nature. Faeries were believed to possess and dispense both magic and mischief.

In early legends nymphs were believed to be the very spirit of nature in the very human form of a beautiful maiden; and were the proprietary inhabitant of a particular patch of forest, field, and stream. Nymphs were believed to be alluring and magically inviting and were the imaginary seductresses of the lonely woodsmen of the Middle Ages.

Shooting stars are a much more tangible thing but their very unlikely existence and dramatic appearance before the human eye is even more improbable and miraculous than the sightings of the faeries and nymphs. Most shooting stars are meteoroids, formed by cosmic dust particles and rock debris being gravitationally drawn together from across the incredible vastness of space then aggregated into a more significant whole, only to be pulled into the earth’s oxygen rich atmosphere. With the cosmic energy of the universe focused and brought to bear, the fate of the meteorite is an inevitable white-hot blaze across the sky that lasts but a moment. As quickly as the shooting star ignites in the dark night sky it burns itself out and the resultant particles sift harmlessly down to earth.

Catch a shooting star. Wish upon a shooting star. For as long as humanity has been conscious of the heavens above, we have believed in the magic of the shooting star.

I have a friend; she is a beautiful being.

Our friendship and attraction across the vastness of humanity should have been unlikely. Despite these unlikely aspects and differences there was a gravitational tie that binds. The outdoors.

The beautiful being is at ease, at home, and finds comfort in the forest, field, and stream. She is in her element. Curious about all things great and small, she would use her learnedness of the natural world to enlighten and explain details and features that I previously deemed not worthy of curiosity or explanation. She identified and explained sounds that I accepted as mere background noise. She dispensed magic that made the sights and sound and scent of the forest feel more alive and vivid, a magic that made me feel like a long-lost part of the woods rather than an interloper.

There is a great aspen tree that has triumphantly created a grand crown above the canopy of the neighboring trees. I witnessed the beautiful being giggle as that flirting aspen had the audacity to flutter her leaves on a day nearly devoid of breeze while the underlying ash and basswood trees stood stoically still. I witnessed the beautiful being openly weep over the imminent demise of a small creature, a mortally wounded kingfisher she heroically tried to but could do nothing to save.

Despite the vastness of humanity, it became inevitable that we two would gravitationally attract and through some sort of magical somatic fusion, momentarily become one that plunged into a rich atmosphere in a meteoric blaze. And before I even realized what was happening, the white-hot light disappeared.

The warm glowing embers of friendship survived and gently sifted back down to earth.

I sometimes wonder if this adventure of the heart was real or just a figment of a woodsman’s imagination. Did this even really happen? But then I see the flight of a kingfisher, a flirting aspen tree, or a meteorite; and believe in the magic of faeries, nymphs, and shooting stars.