The Sylph Pathworking

Imagine that you are in an English woodland with many varieties of trees. There is a pathway wending its way through the trees, flanked by moss and trailing ivy. The time is mid-summer and the woods are at their most lush and vibrant.

Follow the pathway into the woods. You are completely alone and the only sounds come from the birds singing, insects buzzing and your own footsteps. Take in your enchanting surroundings as the late afternoon sunlight dapples on the green leaves and the pathway.

After a short walk along the footpath, you come to a pleasant clearing. A fallen tree lies here amidst an array of wild flowers. The tree trunk is luxuriantly covered in moss, so you may take a seat there. Sitting down, you can watch the many butterflies which are fluttering and flitting among the charming wild flowers. You sit for a while, taking in the fresh air and watching the butterflies in the beautiful clearing.

After a while one butterfly in particular catches your attention. The sunlight seems to catch it most mysteriously, almost as if it is surrounded by an aura of golden light. You become very interested in this particular butterfly and focus upon its movements. Sometimes it flits very close to you and you can actually see it taking nectar from the flowers. It is a red admiral butterfly and the patterns on its wings are incredibly detailed.

Suddenly your special butterfly comes to land on the mossy tree next to you. Although you have seen no actual transformation, it appears that it is not a butterfly after all, but a sylph faerie. He has the exquisite wings of a real admiral butterfly and the slender body, but he is definitely a faerie. He is slightly furry all over his body and face and his eyes are velvety black. He blinks a few times and definitely looks at you as if he has something important to say: a message perhaps, or a question. A breeze rustles around the trees and the woodland clearing, the sylph faerie takes off to join the other butterflies and now, quite strangely, becomes indistinguishable from the other butterflies tending the flowers.

You get up and retrace your steps back to the footpath. As you walk along the track, you wonder what the faerie wanted to say to you. Perhaps you will find out when you visit the clearing once more. When you have reached the end of the pathway, come out of the woods and into the sunshine. Now you can open your eyes in your own time. Your Pathworking is completed.

Meditation: Contacting the Sylph Faeries

Imagine a garden in the autumn. A little girl is there, dressed in a woolly hat and coat. There is a blackbird sitting on the fence whistling its morning song. The little girl calls to the blackbird, whom she visits every morning before she goes to school. The blackbird is singing as if to her, watching her from the fence with an extraordinary knowing look in his eye. The little girl has a small piece of folded paper in her hands, which she holds up as if to show the blackbird.

Her mother’s voice calls from inside the house, telling her that it is time for her to get ready to go to school. She puts the little letter she has written to her blackbird friend under a heavy stone, then she runs inside.

When the blackbird is sure that the little girl is inside the house, he hops down from the fence, landing on the large stone. His wings begin to shimmer with a green light which then surrounds his whole body. The beautiful sleek black feathers on his body transform into feathered garments draping a faerie form. The sylph boy looks an enchanting creature with his slanting green eyes and long black hair. His shoes are lined with feather down and his trousers and jacket are the green-black of a blackbird’s sheen. He tugs the letter out from underneath the stone and tucks it in his black jewelled crown. He pulls out a feather from his wings and leaves it under the stone for the little girl to find. He raises his wings to their full span and all at once he is encircled by a whirl of green light. He takes flight to a nearby tree and there he stands on the edge of a blackbird’s nest and takes the letter from under his crown. He places the precious letter in the nest, among the moss and down, as if it is a piece of treasure.