Walking With the Sidhe

It was early evening, and the golden light of the setting sun filtered through the leaves of the Magic Forest, casting shimmering patterns on the mossy ground. Willow and Birdie were walking quietly, following the sound of a soft, strange music that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

As they rounded a bend near the Crystal Pool—the place where Gabriel had once spoken of belief and the power of presence—they saw a soft glow rising from a grove of silver birch trees.

Birdie tilted her head. “Do you feel that? Like… the air is humming.”

Willow nodded, eyes wide. “Something ancient is here.”

From the center of the grove stepped a tall, luminous figure. Her hair flowed like a river of starlight, and her eyes held the green of new leaves and the gold of harvest moons. Draped in woven light and silver-threaded cloth, she smiled gently.

Behind her, two others emerged—one with wild ivy in his hair and a quiet strength in his stride, the other cloaked in mist, shifting slightly as if made of air and shadow.

The first spoke, her voice like wind in the reeds:

“We are of the Sidhe. Some call us fae. Others forget us altogether. But always, we are here—beneath, beside, within the heartbeat of the world.”

Birdie stepped forward, curious and unafraid. “Why are you here? Are you part of the Forest?”

“We are of all forests,” the ivy-haired one replied. “But few can see us now. Fewer still can hear.”

Willow bowed slightly, remembering the teachings of Alana and Ollie. “We’re learning to listen.”

The mist-cloaked Sidhe, now more visible, turned to them. “Then listen now. What we share is not a lesson. It is a remembering.”

The luminous woman—whose name was Elaria—held out her hands, and between them appeared a small, glowing acorn.

“This is not only a seed,” she said. “It is a promise. Everything you need to live well upon this Earth is held in such seeds—of trees, of ideas, of kindness.”

The ivy-haired Sidhe, Thalen, knelt by a small flower at Willow’s feet.

“The Earth is not a ‘resource,’” he said quietly. “It is a being. Alive. Awake. And aching to be heard. When you walk without listening, the world bends to survive you. But when you walk with us—with reverence—she sings.”

Willow and Birdie exchanged a look. They had felt that before, hadn’t they? The sense that the trees whispered secrets… that the breeze carried intention?

Birdie asked, “But… how do we work with you? With the Earth?”

The mist-being, whose name was Maerion, answered at last:

“Begin with presence. Treat the land as kin. Make offerings—not of things, but of your attention, your songs, your gratitude. Ask the rivers what they remember. Ask the wind what it has seen. And when you act to protect what is sacred, we will walk beside you.”

Elaria stepped forward again, her eyes shining. “Your kind once knew this. You still do, beneath the noise. The Sidhe have not left. We are only waiting—for those ready to walk the old paths in new ways.”

With a flicker like sunlight through morning fog, the Sidhe began to fade. But before they vanished completely, Elaria reached out and touched Birdie’s heart, then Willow’s.

“The doorway is open now. Speak to the trees. Listen to the fire. Tend your dreams. And when you call in love, we will answer.”

And just like that, the grove fell silent. Only the music of the forest remained—but somehow it now sounded fuller, as if a deeper harmony had returned.

Willow looked down. In her palm was the acorn Elaria had held.

Birdie grinned. “I guess we’re seed keepers now.”

Willow nodded. “Seed keepers. Listeners. And maybe… bridge builders.”

A remembering ritual for reconnecting with the Living World

“To walk with the Earth, you must first learn to listen as the trees do—silently, fully, from the roots of your being.”
—Elaria of the Sidhe

🌕 Step 1: Create a Sacred Moment

Find a quiet place outdoors—beneath a tree, near a stream, or in your garden. If nature isn’t available, a sunlit windowsill with a plant or stone will do. What matters most is your intention.

Bring with you:

• A small offering (a song, a poem, a stone, a few drops of water)

• A journal or piece of paper

• An open heart

Sit or stand comfortably, and take three deep breaths.

On the inhale, say silently:
“I am part of this Earth.”
On the exhale:
“And the Earth is part of me.”

🍃 Step 2: Enter the Listening Field

Close your eyes and let your awareness stretch outward like roots reaching into soil.

Feel the air on your skin.
Notice the sounds around you—birds, wind, distant hums.
Let your mind grow quiet, like a still pool reflecting moonlight.

Now, listen with your whole self—not just your ears, but your skin, your breath, your heart.

Ask inwardly:
“What does the Earth want me to know today?”

Be patient. A whisper may rise… a feeling, an image, a memory.
This is the language of the Sidhe. Receive it gently, without needing to explain.

🔮 Step 3: Offer Gratitude and Connection

When you feel ready, speak these words aloud or within:

“To the Sidhe who remember the old songs,
To the trees who breathe with us,
To the waters who carry our prayers—
I offer thanks.
I am listening.
I will walk with care.
I will walk with love.”

Leave your offering—a gesture of appreciation for the unseen ones. It can be your breath, your gratitude, your promise to protect something small and sacred.

🪶 Step 4: Record and Reflect

Open your eyes. Take a moment to write down what you felt, heard, or imagined. No matter how small or strange it may seem, these impressions are seeds of remembrance.

Ask yourself:

• Did anything surprise me?

• What message did I receive?

• How might I live with greater reverence starting today?

🌀 Closing Thought

Elaria once said to Willow and Birdie:

“The Earth is not lost. She is only waiting to be seen again—not with your eyes, but with your spirit.”

This practice is a doorway. Each time you enter it, your relationship with the world grows stronger, more intimate, more alive. And through you, the Sidhe remember, too.