Baptism by Faery

As long as I've been Pagan, and maybe even before, Beltane, May 1st, has been my favorite holiday along the wheel of the year. It is a time of flowering and fecundity, of joviality and whimsy, of Robin Hood and faeries. What's not to love?!

Picking up where my last post - Happy Birth-Fae - left off, this Beltane found me again at the Cedar River doing Sacred Pipe ceremony, and contemplating my ties to the Fae. I had a partially consumed pink cookie on my altar which, in honor of the Fae, I was sharing with Thomas, my crow friend. I stopped and realized that, on this day, rather than just thinking about and honoring my connection to the Fae, I should actually connect to the Fae! The power and profundity of what happened next was entirely unanticipated. 

There is a shamanic healing method related to Soul Retrieval that I offer to clients called "Faerie Doctoring" through which I have developed a rather close relationship with my 'Fae liaison' Alandria, who helps me in retrieving soul parts which, having dissociated from a person, sometimes get taken into the faerie realms in order to balance the energy between our world and theirs. Maybe it was my turn for a little Faery Doctoring? (You can read more on my work with Alandria here: (Alandria's Tree.)

With my pipe on my lap I journeyed to her tree home on the border between the lands of human and fae, and I reached out to Alandria to see if she were available. She greeted me with the usual hug then asked what brought me there at this time. I asked, as I have for numerous clients, if there were any of my soul parts still lingering in the Faery realms. She smiled and rolled her eyes as if to say, "Duh!"

She waved her small assistant, wearing a full suit of armor that looks like it was forged from a garbage can, off to retrieve the aforementioned soul part. As he gallops off on his tiny horse, I ask Alandria what she'd like in exchange. Anything passing between our two worlds requires an exchange, to maintain the energetic balance. She requested a song. She asked me to write her a song. 

As we waited for her minion to return, initial lyrics began running through my mind...

"In the heart of the emerald city there lies a hidden forest

Where everyone's a tourist

Unless you are a fae..."

Our diminutive knight returns with a ball of light and hands it to my dryad friend. "Ready?" She asks. 

I lightly return to my physical form on the beach, light my pipe, and take a big puff. I turn my pipe around with the stem pointing away from me, offering it to where I picture Alandria sitting in front of me. I exhale my breath of smoke as a prayer of thank you to her as Alandria blows my soul part into my pipe. I turn it back around and take another deep draft off my pipe, drawing the smoke and the errant soul part into my mouth. I pause a moment then blow that breath down at my heart chakra, sweeping it into my heart with my hand. Another puff, and this time I sweep the smoke up over my head into my crown chakra. 

Every healing session is different and changes can be subtle, if felt at all, or they can grow and  take root over a period of time. This one was instant. I saw and felt these energetic wings emerge from my back, out of the rear-facing place of my heart chakra. They stretched out, further than the reach of my arms, taking the shape of great dragonfly wings. 

As I admired the various prisms dancing through the gossamer filaments, I had to stop. Was that a raindrop? Yep. There's another one. I look up at the sky directly overhead - a blue sky sporting scattered white clouds. Where are those raindrops coming from?! It wasn't steady nor enough to wet the stones or sand around me. Just enough of a sprinkling to leave everything polka dotted. A sprinkling... like a benediction... or a baptism! This was the threshold of a rebirth. A reawakening and re-membering of the fae parts within me. 

As the sprinkles gradually started tapering off I looked up to see the sun still shining from across the river in front of me and realized somewhere behind me there must be a rainbow. 

...a rainbow behind me... ...like the prisms in my wings... my new wings are the rainbow! 

I lingered at the river for quite some time after that, processing and integrating what had happened, and even on returning home I found myself a little lightheaded and unable to carry on with normal plans - plans that now included writing a song for my faery friend. 

Happy Birth-Fae

As I sit in ceremony on Beltane afternoon at my beloved river, preparing to burn a pair of flower crowns left over from previous Beltane celebrations, and musing about this time of the Faeries, it occurrs to me why this is my favorite holiday of all the sabbats along the Wheel of the Year. Beltane is, in a way, my "half birthday." 

My birthday is October 20th, 11 days (there's a definite significant number) before Samhain, Hallow's Eve, when the veils between us and the realms of the dead are thinnest. Half way across the Wheel from my birthday (my half birthday) is April 20th, 11 days before Beltane, where again the veils are thinnest, but, at this time, between us and the Faery Realms. 

In the rigmarole of daily human life it's easy for me to forget about my connection to the Fae. But if you've known me from years past when the Faerieworlds festival was still happening every year, you've heard me talk about how it was my personal Christmas. It was the one place and time throughout the year were I could feel and be my absolute self. No pretenses. No image. Just my pure, unadulterated (which itself is an interesting term for this), unicorn self. It was home! 

As an ever present reminder of my Fae origins is that my last name, "Corrigan", is actually the name of a race of Faery folk, even mentioned in the writings of JRR Tolkien. Still etched in my brain is exactly where I was as a child on the playground when one of my classmate's fathers looked at me and, musingly, said, "Huh. Corrigan. That's another word for the fairies." 

So this is the one day of the year that I celebrate my Fae nature and remember how deeply those roots run. And in celebration of all this I wished to share my Birth Story, which I wrote years ago but still brings me to tears every time I read it. If you'd like to read the original blog post where I go into more of the details surrounding this story, you can find it here: "Mom, Dad, I'm Fae." 

Beneath the "actualities" of time, date, location, etc on my birth certificate, the truth of this story rings so much louder for me than the facts. Please enjoy!...

Birth Story

Once upon a time, there was a magickal pool, and around this pool sat nine sisters. At least they sat around the pool at night, combing their long, glorious hair that shimmered in the moonlight, because that was when they appeared beautiful and young. During the day they stayed out of sight for in the sunlight they had the appearance of old, wrinkled crones. This was slightly offset by their ability to change into any creature they desired.

One of the sisters, My'riad, wishing to be alone one day, assumed her favorite shape, that of a unicorn, and wandered out into the sun dappled forest. So lost in the beauty of the woods was she that, not until the snapping of a twig brought her back to the present, did she realize she was not alone.

In a single instant, she saw the arrow pointed at her, saw it loosed from it's string, saw a hand strike the bow, and watched the arrow whistle harmlessly into the under brush beside where she stood. Without thought she fled, disappearing into the trees, but, as is the habit of most curious wild creatures, she circled back around to investigate what had, just moments ago, threatened her very life. What she saw was two men, one of whom was red in the face from screaming at the other man, "Bastard! You cost me a unicorn! I could have been set up for life! How dare you interfere with my shot! If I see you again you will pay with your life!" And the man stomped, very noisily, off into the woods.

The other man stood silently for a moment, watching where the first man had gone, then without turning his head, he said quietly, "You're not a real unicorn are you." The only answer was a gasp as the faery woman's, currently fuzzy, chin dropped and her eyes widened in shock. Who was this man who not only sensed her presence, but that she wasn't who she appeared to be? He turned toward her, reaching out an inviting hand and an even more inviting smile. Darkness had begun to fall so she allowed herself to slip back into her human form -- her beautiful, young human form -- and slip her hand softly into his. There was a rush of energy as they touched and, beneath the splendor of the rising moon, they kissed for the first time.

They kissed many more times that night, among other things I can not mention without having to tag this blog as unsuitable for minors, and as the first rays of the sun began to break across the horizon, he whispered softly in her ear, "I know who you are, and I release you." Her mind reeled as she was overcome at this, for this is the only way a Corrigan may become, and remain, young and beautiful -- A human man who loves her enough to allow her to be who she is. A joy she had not known washed over her, coupled with the certain knowledge that a miracle had been conceived within her.

My'riad returned with him to his cottage in the woods where they lived happily together for some time, and her belly continued to swell. One evening, though, her husband did not return from his hunt. Her concern grew and she set out in search of him, again taking the unicorn's shape, as four legs could carry her more swiftly than two. Oh! If only she had had six, perhaps she would have arrived in time! As it was she happened upon the scene to see her lover freshly fallen to the earth, an arrow protruding from his chest.

The anguish that issued from her throat was unearthly, and some say it froze her beloved's slayer in his tracks, even as he attempted to flee. Literally froze his heart in his chest. His life ended by she who would have earlier been his prey, for he was the previously mentioned man making good his threat against her husband. Then shifting instantly back to human form she cradled her love's head in her hands, caressing his hair with her fingers and bathing his face with her tears. One last kiss on his cold lips was all she could bear and she had to go. Just get away, as far and as fast as her four legs would carry her!

In another part of the forest, a hunter heard a creature crashing through the forest and moved to intercept it, to see what manner of beast could make such an ungodly wailing, and to put this beast out of its misery. And so it happened that for the second time, My'riad came face to face with a nocked arrow intended to take her life.

"Please, my Lady, do with me what you will, but pray do not harm my babe!" A soft growl rose from My'riad's throat.

With this a smile flickered at the corner of the hunter's mouth and she slowly lowered her bow. "You're not a real unicorn are you."

"No my Lady," My'riad replied with a bow as she shimmered back to her true form, at which time her pregnancy became blatantly clear.

"Fear not precious one. You and your babe are safe now, for you are under my protection."

My'riad, having pushed herself to her already emotionally strained limits, nearly passed out, but her tears turned from grief to relief for she knew that the Huntress Goddess before her was also the Goddess of Childbirth. And so, whether because she was Fae, or because the Goddess of Midwives personally delivered her baby, she had the easiest of labors and was soon holding a beautiful boy child to her breast.

"I know this one," Artemis whispered, gathering the supple deer hide back around a tiny wiggling leg that had escaped the bundle, held by the new mother. "And so do you," She added, looking My'riad in the eye. My'riad balked, then began to cry, for in her babe she recognized the essence of her slain husband.

"And this one," continued the Goddess, wrinkling Her nose and winking at the child, "remembers me, don't you my little wolf?" The baby laughed and waved his arms. "How would you know my son, M'Lady?" "He lived a lifetime, long ago, as one of my children in a forest far from here. A place called Sherwood. And before that he spent time as one of my beloved beasts, the wildest, yet gentlest of creatures -- whose form, by no accident, is one that you know well." She smiled again as She traced a spiral, ever so gently, upon My'riad's forehead.

"Now, Daughter, there is some unfortunate business to attend to." My'riad's heart sank into her stomach. Hadn't she been through enough? "Because your child's blood is partly mortal, he can not be raised among the Fair Folk. His path leads into 'Man's World', where he will be challenged, true, but he will thrive, I promise you. He will bring to human minds and hearts a joy and whimsy born of his faery blood, and a hope they can not understand, yet will they be drawn to it like moths to the flame."

"And fear not for I will watch over him, instilling his heart with a love of the wild and a taste of the Faery Realm, that he may find his way back to his origins. And find his way back he will, for he is now my adopted son. He will be able to track and read the signs."

"What signs?" Demanded My'riad, "I will not give up my only son, even to you, without reason!"

"Calm yourself Daughter. I know of a family whose heritage is very spiritual, overflowing with holy men and women, through the monasteries and churches of Eire..." "Catholics?!" My'riad interrupted, showing her disdain by almost gagging on the word. Artemis continued unfazed, "And their surname is 'Corrigan'. He will gain enough experience and knowledge in his youth to maintain a solid footing in mystical matters, enabling him to make the leap from religion to spirituality. His name will be his first clue as to his true origin, and he will spend his life endeavoring to find that truth."

The Goddess of the Wild smiled pridefully as only a god, who knows of things to be, could.

"Oh yes. He will return."

Holy Terwilliger

The other night my girlfriend and I were doing a healing exchange on each other, and afterward she asked if I had any other immediate family, besides my dad, on the other side because it felt like someone was trying to get my attention. Right away I answered no... except for a miscarried sibling from when I was pretty young. 

That event, my mom's miscarriage, was hugely significant in my life, being a single point in my life where I can directly trace a line to the loss of innocence and of the feeling of safety. I've already done considerable healing around that experience, of seeing the two adults who were my omniscient protectors in charge of my safety and wellbeing in a position of helplessness and desperation. I documented this in my graphic novel "Little Brother," if you wish to learn more of the background of the story and the healing that took place. Apparently, however, there was more healing to be done. 

During a pipe ceremony later that evening, with the help of my Upper World Teacher, Fred, I reached out to my spirit sibling to see if he were the one trying to call me. He was. I asked him what I should call him, and his response was "Terwilliger." Caught off guard by such a name, I asked if I could just call him "Will," which he good-heartedly agreed to. Later, when I was writing this account in my journal, a memory rose in my mind from childhood of my dad repeatedly using the phrase, "Holy Terwilliger!" Apparently the name was an inside joke, and was my dad's way of letting me know he was part of this. 

I asked Will what it was he needed to communicate with me, and he told me that there was still a soul part from that original experience that needed to return home. He'd come to assist me in a soul retrieval. 

For those not familiar with Shamanic Healing techniques, specifically Soul Retrieval, this is a 

shamanic ceremony to literally retrieve parts of a person's soul, or psyche, that split off from the individual in self-defense to preserve themselves from the throes of the suffering of a traumatic event. In Western terms this 'soul loss' is called 'shock,' or 'disassociation.'

Will told me that, like everything else, this past event was not random nor by accident. There was purpose and meaning to it, as well as to the repercussions that rippled outward from it through my life. It was now time for that final piece of the puzzle, this last soul part, to return home to the whole and restore a better wholeness to my life. Full circle. 

I started the Shamanic Journey app on my phone, and repetitive, booming drum beats filled the air. These drum beats, like the hoof beats of a horse, carried my brain into a trance were I rode them into the spirit realms, connecting with Sal, my salmon spirit guide who helps me in all the soul retrieval work I do. Together we rendezvoused with Will, who handed this shining pearl of life essence to Sal. As I'd done before as I did in my Little Brother comic, I took a puff off my sacred pipe then blew smoke along its length as I held it aloft for Sal to deposit the soul part into it. I then took another puff, drawing the soul part into my mouth along with the smoke, and blew it down into my heart chakra, and then another puff that I fanned over the top of my head and into my crown chakra. 

The shift was instantaneous, and I felt safer and more present than I have in a really long time. The safety and innocence I had so long ago disconnected from had returned and was integrating into my current self - mentally, emotionally, physically, and spiritually. 

As I sat there I realized I'd forgotten to ask if there were a Power Animal accompanying this errant soul part to help oversee the healing and integration process. I almost laughed out loud when the figure of a Shoebill Stork came into sudden focus in my mind. Shoebill is big, awkward, and goofy looking. He is, in my opinion, the Muppetiest looking animal on the planet. The lyrics played in my head, "Am I a man, or am I a Muppet?" from the Muppets movie of 2011. It was so perfect, especially coming on the heals of an earlier message from Odin who appeared during another ceremony and told me to "Trust my whimsy."

I am meant to stand out as my authentic, goofy self. I couldn't hide if I wanted to. Along with the whimsy came the message that, like Shoebill in his prehistoric appearance, there is a place in the current world for the old ways, the roots - for me. No matter how weird or strange it may seem to modern minds and hearts, Truth is Truth, and Truth never changes. 

Welcome home little brother.

If you're interested in ordering my Little Brother graphic novel, you can do so from my Blurb.com store.

LIttle Brother

By Patrick Corrigan

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Of Horses and Dragons

With a reprieve from the rain that has dowsed us for many days now, I headed to the river to perform a Sacred Pipe Ceremony in order to connect to my spirit guides, particularly White Buffalo Calf Woman who has been one of my leading helping spirits over the years, particularly in the last four since becoming a Pipe Carrier, and especially since the beginning of the Covid pandemic. 

In July I officially became self-employed as a fulltime Shaman, and I have been enjoying quite a bit of success with my practice as my clientele and students steadily increased. Then a couple weeks ago things seemed to dry up considerably. Readings didn't just decrease but fell off completely. Between the store I read at on Mondays and my office where I am for the rest of the week, I have had no readings. None. In the past two weeks I have offered my Introduction to Shamanic Journey class twice and have had no one sign up. I'm about to begin my 6th or 7th year of offering a year-long, monthly course on Shamanism and again have had next to no interest other than from a friend who actually teaches Shamanism himself. 

So I have been left in a bit of a fugue, keeping the faith that this is just an ebb and that things will flow again soon, but still dealing with a rising of old self-doubt and feelings of inadequacy.

This comes right on the heels of an incident around my work space that felt like the rug being pulled out from under me, and which put me into an existential tail spin. I am withholding the details as it concerns others and as the point of this is not in what others have done, but in how I deal with what triggered me. Suffice it to say, I spent many tearful hours in Pipe Ceremony seeking guidance and realignment, as well as a few angry moments yelling and punching my bed -- Truly atypical reactions for me. 

As I regained my equilibrium and could breathe again, White Buffalo Calf Woman put things into perspective for me, saying that up until now my roots could only go so deep because it was like there was a layer of bedrock beneath me that kept me from reaching the depths that were necessary for my work. This 'shake up' was actually my metaphorical roots breaking through that hard layer of bedrock so they could extend down, with out limit, to attain the proper depth needed to support me and the work I am being called to do. I literally needed to descend deeper before I could rise up into my full height. I think it was the following week that this was validated for me when my beloved elder and teacher, who was instrumental in my becoming a Pipe Carrier, died and I was handed the reins of the weekly Pipe Circle that she had led for years. Through the grief and surreal feelings surrounding her passing, I could feel my roots deepening and holding me in a sense of rightness. I felt prepared and ready for this honor.

So at the river today I asked White Buffalo Calf Woman if there were anything I'm doing wrong or that I need to do differently to shift things in order to stay afloat and be available to support my community. It is still sometimes difficult to override the old Catholic upbringing and not take seemingly unfortunate events as some sort of punishment, or at least as a result of doing something wrong. Of course her answer was that there was nothing wrong.

"Listen to your own words that you tell others," she told me, going on to quote a live video I'd done the night before, "You are perfect. There is nothing wrong with you, and you have done nothing wrong. You are still in the right place at the right time doing the right thing. It is so easy for you to see this in others but you exclude yourself. There is nothing wrong and there is nothing to fix. We told you we would not let you fall, and so we shall not."

She explained how, with the earlier occurrence and the deepening of my roots, that the majority of my energy is literally focused below the surface, underground, to establish the stronger foundation with my roots embracing the earth as she embraces me, so that I can grow into the person I came here to become. Hence the lack of work coming to me above the surface at the moment. 

Suddenly her words were interrupted by the realization that in my mind's eye I was staring into the eye of a horse, whose head hove right in front of my face. A little startled I exclaimed, "Wind Dancer?!" Almost immediately I realized this wasn't my Horse power animal with whom I was well acquainted. This horse's coat was brown rather than the pure white of Wind Dancer, and his energy was much more serious and intense than Wind Dancer's playful rompiness. The name that came with him was "Salvik" and he informed me that he had been my horse many lifetimes ago. At this time he was coming forward to help me remember my personal power and to carry me to new horizons beyond what I had known thus far in this life. 

I found myself on his back running across a very Mongolian appearing barren landscape. He told me to feel the wind and to let it cleanse me, blowing from me anything that was not mine to hold onto. It was exhilarating and I could feel my stomach clenching at our unbridled power and speed. "Yes," he smiled, "That! Your Solar Plexus, the seat of your power! Let it open and ease into this new level of power now surging through you!"

At that I notices that Salvik had extended wings from his sides -- Not bird wings like Pegasus but batwings like... a Dragon! At that same instant it registered in my mind that I wasn't bobbing up and down anymore because we were no longer running -- We were flying! We were soaring just above the ground at a horse's normal height. To accentuate this entire experience, it was at this moment that an Osprey chose to call out twice, a rather dragon-sounding call, and settle into a tree across the river from me, Osprey's message being "Eyes on the prize! Stay the course without distraction."

When I returned home I looked up the name Salvik to see what it meant, not to mention whether it actually existed. It does exist, is of very old Russian or Polish origin, and has spread throughout Central and South Eastern Europe as well as non-Slavic countries such as France and Germany. It is actually a pet name for the given name Stanislav and it means "Someone who achieves glory and/or fame."

So despite the familiar nervous flutterings in my stomach, I feel reassured that everything is unfolding in harmony and according to plan. I am learning to trust the patterns of ebb and flow as I ride my Dragon-Horse to glory!