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rashore

The Fairy Kiss

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Here follows what some may scoff at as much as they please ; and most folk are easily pleased at their own imagined superiority. But it is true, for all that. Indeed, of the various tales recorded here, this fairy tale is the most genuine to my mind —because of my trust in her who told it me. Of all my acquaintances and friends, she who is a near and dear relation, is the most free from all least exaggeration; is careful as Boswell himself only to set down that which was said, heard or seen, to the minutest trifle. Doctor Johnson would truly have approved of her, as contrasted with the flights of fancy of Mrs. Thrale, whom he so often reproved, because

Inaccuracy is worse than fibs.

This story was told me immediately after the episode happened some few years ago in Ireland. Eileen, as we may call her, had been giving me the sad details of a death in which we were both concerned. She went on to tell how, leaving the house of mourning, she went a short journey to stay with some friends who wished to give her a much needed rest and change of air.

http://hauntedohiobooks.com/news/13871/

 

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Delightful!

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I will tell you of an experience of my own, though I've never reached a conclusion about what it was.

To set the stage,  I am of Northern European descent, but I have participated with Native American friends in sweat lodges, vision camps,  and Sun Dances.  Living here for many generations my family has lost any connection to the spiritual traditions of my ancestors, but I find much connection with the Lakota traditions,

In any case i was one of a group of twenty or so who labored to build a site for a Sundance ground in forests of western Oregon on land loaned by a farmer.  The territory was not traditionally Plains Culture, but lands previously occupied by the Cowlitz  band of Chinook people.   Before anything was done, contact was made with elders to seek permission and ask a blessing which was granted after a sweat lodge on the property.  We spent weekends for several months preparing the site.  The first dance was held.  Some people with more sensitivity felt they were being watched from the trees, but with no hostile intent.

We worked hard on this site for the next three years with many weekend work parties and a bigger and dance every year with better amenities.  In the third year, I was helping with camp chores, taking care of water, sanitation, community food and other duties.  It was very hot and at a break in the dance early in the afternoon, I went back to my tent which was in a shady spot surrounded by trees to take a nap. My wife was helping in the kitchen, I was alone.

I slept well for sometime.  I woke up to the definite feeling of someone holding my hand. I opened my eyes, my wife was not there but the feeling persisted for a little while longer.  I did not want to move and end it. Finally, the handclasp was gone and I felt a sense of welcome.

It could have been the remnants of a dream or my imagination I cannot be sure.  I do know in all of the subsequent years I visited that site, I felt at home and a sense of belonging. Whatever the source, it was a very good feeling.

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