"What's going on here?"
It was a clear Spring night as we gathered in a hilly park in San Anselmo for a deity class. That evening, we were to aspect faeries or Earth-spirits.
We paired up so we could aspect with a buddy in attendance. When it was my turn to begin aspecting, I felt as though my face was changing, my ears elongating, and my toes splaying. I felt an immense ebullience and wanted to run over the hillside, much to my partner's dismay. As I looked out over the landscape, it seemed as though every little detail was sacred and immensely important. I saw where some of my "kin" lived underneath a pile of woven twigs by a little bridge. I was giggling and bubbling and running around — laughing at questions and ignoring my partner's repeated requests that we stay on the footpaths. I laughed when she asked about sex. "No one belongs to anyone," I said. "Everyone is a part of everyone else and sex is. It just is!"
Unfortunately, at this point, a San Anselmo police car pulled up and began to shine a bright light through the park. A cop got out of the car and walked cautiously towards us. I regarded him with the eyes of my fey spirit, and saw a human with fear pouring out of him. I felt simultaneously sorry for him and amused because he was so ridiculous in his panic, with wooden and metal sticks and guns hanging off him. I saw this as an ancient scenario — a fear-filled man coming to root out the women playing in the woods and wild places at night. He shone the bright light into my eyes for a second and it burned.
He demanded, "What's going on here?"
The question hung in the air, gathering absurdity with every second that passed. He couldn't see and hear and feel and sense just what was going on here? A reply burst forth from my lips.
My partner shushed me. Our teacher stepped forward to talk to him. The park was closed at night, we learned. We had to leave immediately.
As I regretfully marched out of the park with the rest, I whispered to my partner, "Even he may be blessed someday."