Part of the lore about the Good People is that they can use glamour to make things, including themselves, appear to be something different.
A Fairy might take on the appearance of a mouse or of a butterfly, for example, or might make a pile of acorns look like a trove of gold coins, or to make physical object invisible.
When I was still in Denver, I had a number of occurrences with butterflies which seemed very strange. I do believe that in some cases the butterflies may have actually been Fairies using glamour, or at the very least actual butterflies were being controlled by the Good People or other entities of the spirit world.
It started innocently enough. I was still recovering from cancer and was frequently at the veteran’s hospital in Denver. Whenever possible, I would walk to and from my appointments, and I would vary my routes.
One day I passed an absolutely delightful garden with many different kinds of flowers. Recalling what I had been taught about nature spirits, I mentally greeted each clump of flowers as I walked by.
Near the end of the garden, one particular cluster of flowers caught my attention. I greeted it and praised it, and immediately there was a very strong and wonderful aroma, which vanished after a few seconds.
About two months later, I was passing the garden again, and this time I caught a glimpse of a Fairy’s wings flickering behind a clump of flowers.
A month after that, I passed by that garden again, and mentally projected a greeting to whomever might be listening.
Immediately, a half dozen butterflies, later identified as American Painted Ladies, sprang up from the garden, and circled around me several times, not more than a foot away.
Then they landed back on the flowers again.
For the rest of that summer and fall, there were similar encounters with butterflies almost constantly.
If I stepped outside my home, I would often be greeted by one or more.
If none were there, I would mentally project, “Where’s my little friends?” and one or more would appear.
One day, one of them went on our walk with my dog and me.
It would fly ahead, land and wait for us, then once more fly ahead when we caught up, over and over.
Part of this relationship may have stemmed from an incident.
Walking back from the neighborhood market on a sunny day, I saw an injured American Painted Lady fluttering about on the asphalt of the market’s parking lot.
It was missing one of its four wings, an injury from which it could not recover.
The asphalt was very hot that sunny day, and it came to me that if I were injured and dying, I would prefer not to be doing it on hot asphalt.
I very gently picked it up and carried it to a nearby shady, grassy area where it could die more comfortable.
As I released it there, I hit with a very strong reaction of approval, along the lines of, “As you have done it unto least of these my brethren.. ”
Some time later, my dog and I were once again walking to the park, and we encountered a woman and her young daughter, who we had met on other walks.
They carried a net, and the girl, who was about four or five years of age, was carrying a small cage box.
“Wanna see my butterfly?” she asked, excitedly.
My heart sank a bit.
Somehow, I knew what she had in her cage.
I did not remonstrate, as she was so innocently proud of her capture, and I do recognize that not everyone shares my beliefs, so I simply asked what sort of butterfly she had.
They didn’t know, so she opened the box enough for me to see that yes, indeed, it was an American Painted Lady.
I told her what she had, but then was prompted to add something.
“Did you know that sometimes when people think they see a butterfly, it really isn’t?” I asked.
“Yes, sometimes it is a moth,” she replied.
“True,” I acknowledged, “but some people believe that sometimes when you see a butterfly, it is actually a Fairy“.
Having given her some food for thought, my dog and I continued to the park. It came to me very strongly that perhaps I should have added that if she made a wish on her butterfly and set it free, the Fairies might grant the wish.
And as we continued on our walk, we had many of my little friends fluttering about us, with one almost landing on my dogs nose.
The next day, we encountered the little girl again. And I asked how her butterfly was doing. Her reply warmed my heart.
“Oh,” she said, “we turned it loose.”
Coincidence? I don’t believe so.
Bob – U.S.