—The tale continues! This is part two of a two section post regarding my small adventure dowsing an old tree I’d discovered last year and an unexpected encounter. It’s also a tale of what not to do. Or, more specifically, what not to forget! Read on, gentle traveler. For Part One you may click HERE. —
After wrapping up the work and finding my way out, I strolled along the mowed path back to my car. I was surprised to see an indigo bunting fly in from my left and land on a nearby tree. It would make the second time I had seen a bunting after doing dowsing work. Coincidence? I went for my camera and, of course, as soon as I got my telephoto in place and nearly on him, he flew off and disappeared. It would also make the second time I’d seen a bunting and not been able to photograph it.
I laughed at all of it and continued on feeling very very good. The day was warm but most of the path was tucked up next to the tree line and in the shade. Over near the parking lot the BBQ was still going on but as far as my path and the grassy field, I was by myself. I stopped a few times just to feel the warmth and to watch the clouds slide along. It was good to feel connected.
I got to my car and made the short drive home. I arrived just in time to get a shower and get ready for my next adventure of the day/evening. My wife arrived and we were about to leave. Grabbing my daypack for the next adventure something caught me as unusual. Normally, my L-Rods would stick out slightly from the top of the pack.
I didn’t see them.
I didn’t see them because they weren’t in the pack. The search began. I checked everywhere. In the car, in the house, in the pack (thrice!). We had a little bit of time so, thinking they had fallen out (unlikely) during my scramble to get to my telephoto lens when the bunting had arrived, I dashed back to the park. Using my pendulum I got a reading they were back along the mowed path. So, off I went retracing my steps to the last known place I had seen my rods and placed them in the pack. HAH-HA! Not a problem!
They weren’t there.
Using my big, thick, human brain I decided to try the pendulum again and this time it said the L-Rods were back towards my car. I narrowed my eyes and headed back towards my car where, of course, the L-Rods were not. Using the pendulum one more time in the parking lot I got a reading they were back towards the woods. I knew better then to follow it. I looked around the parking lot and along the road as I drove back to my house. When I dowsed their location again at my house I got a good direct line pack towards the park.
So, it was going to be like that, eh?
The L-Rods were not to be found. I knew where I had seen them last and from that point forward they were nowhere to be seen. Gone. This had happened to me one other time before. When it had happened the last time there had been one suspicious and similar element.
I had been in Scotland on a three week long camping/wandering trip. It was one of the most magical and amazing trips of my life. I had not been properly introduced to the Fey at this point and, quite honestly, didn’t buy into them. They were a lark, a fancy. A “maybe they do/maybe they don’t” sort of whispy concoction in my brain. I was sitting on the edge of a loch and was about to take a picture of the landscape. The day was still, only the lightest of breezes. I carefully took my lens cap off and placed it, very directly, on a nearby stone. It’s a habit of mine that I look very carefully and affix things like that when I set them down. Besides, I was only taking two shots. I took the pictures, click, click. No more than fifteen seconds go by. I reached back for the lens cap…
Poof. It was gone. Completely gone. I searched in a huge circle and amongst my clothes and belongings but to no avail. After I got my brain around what had happened I thought, “Well, I guess they needed a sled.” I told them out loud to enjoy it and I went back to the car. I also became a bit more of a believer.
Later in my trip I purchased a lens cap (which I did not lose, thank you.) Two weeks later I was cleaning out the rental car and getting ready for the trip back to London and the flight home. I’d stopped by a stone circle and was rearranging my pack, getting everything into one large cargo bag, and cleaning out all the trash in the car. Once done, I spent some time in the circle, said my goodbyes and then got in the car to go.
As I sat down, the old camera lens was on the floorboard of the car.
Let’s not forget I cleaned the car which includes, yes, underneath the seats and floorboards. Yeah.
In reality, I felt sort of blessed by the whole event. I still do! After I recovered, I left the new lens cap I had purchased on a rock near the stone circle and shared a laugh with them. “For the winter,” I proclaimed. The two weeks prior had been full of their shenanigans and by that point we had become close friends. A long way from the person I had been when I had arrived on their shores. With a deep sense of sadness I left to come home.
Back to the present, I was not feeling blessed. The problem I had was I had planned on using my L-rods for the next little adventure of the evening; dowsing a sacred place for energies prior to a celebratory bonfire. It was going to be hard to do without them. Luckily, I avoided a quick run to the hardware store and found a wonderful substitute in my garage that, in the long run, actually began working smoother than my old L-rods. This was a nice blessing in disguise.
However, I kept asking myself, why did my old, large l-rods disappear like that? I’d come a long way since those first encounters with the Fey. I could not figure where I’d gone wrong. And, if the Fey had taken them, why had they done so? I had been respectful. I had been nice. As always I had tried at every step to be mindful of not only the spirits around me, the tree but also the Fey. In truth, (and in my hubris) I was a bit peeved that they would nick my rods like that.
I went on my merry way with my wife to the next event, a wonderful bonfire gathering in the woods with its own fair share of dowsing adventure. During which, in moonlight, it hit me. It smacked me across the face like a faery wielding a thistle rod.
The small purple flashing LED light that I had taken off the path! The light that had made me think of faery lights. The one I had not given to the tree or left behind as a gift! A gift. I had, in fact, walked off with it. In my excitement around the tree I had forgotten all about it. I had left a crystal but that was all.
I had left nothing for the Fey.
In my mind, I could also see me questioning myself. “Let me get this straight. Two days before Summer Solstice you left a gift for Grandmother Tulip but even though you asked them particular questions, dowsed their whereabouts, you didn’t think to leave them a Gift? Not even a rock or a bit of something out of your pocket? On the Solstice???”
I was lucky they’d not turned my head into that of an ass! Egad, maybe they have and I don’t know it! Perhaps everyone around me is just being polite? Should I change my name to Bottom? Oh, I will need to fix this post haste.
So, gentle reader, this is my tale. Learn from it and know that, should you suddenly be drawn to magical places and find yourself in a faery wood, gifts are always welcome and should be shared abundantly. They may also be mandatory. One should never be so haughty as to be unable to bend a knee and ask forgiveness for any slight given, no matter how small.
Also, never let it be said that the Fey have an unbalanced sense of Justice.
Of course, apologies have been given and I am in the process of fashioning the blinking light into a very nice gift. I’ll be headed out there in the next few days to leave it as well as a few other gifts and offer more formal apologies. I’ll update as I can.
If nothing else perhaps this sudden craving for hay will go away soon?