miracles of the moon ☽

There are words that find us before we ever try to define them.

Fairy was one of those words for me.

I didn’t grow up thinking I was one. I didn’t wear wings or glitter every day (though I’d probably love that now). But slowly, as I returned to the wild rhythm of life – the moon, the flowers, the ocean, the cacao, the way my body wants to move – I began to hear the whisper:

“You’re one of us.”

Fairy isn’t a costume or an aesthetic.

It’s a frequency.

It’s the way you walk barefoot and talk to trees.

The way your hands know how to soothe.

The way you can feel the pain of others – and alchemize it.

It’s the laughter that bursts out of nowhere.

The sparkle that dances in your eyes when you know what no one else can quite name.

I call my closest sisters fairies. Not because we try to be magical, but because we are. Because we remember. We remember our softness, our play, our power. We remember that this world was never meant to be lived in straight lines and schedules. We are here to spiral, to bloom, to float between the veils and remind others what it means to feel alive.

We are healers. Dancers. Messengers.

We guide without force.

We love without fear.

We choose peace, beauty, and wild honesty.

But we are not just sweet and soft.

We are protectors too – fierce in our love. We know boundaries. We say no. We walk away from what dims our light. Because a fairy in her power is not to be underestimated.

So if the word fairy has ever made your heart tingle, this might be your remembering too.

You don’t have to ask for permission to be who you already are.

Drink your tea. Lay in the grass. Write your magic. Love with your whole heart.

Let the fairy in you guide the way.

And maybe, just maybe – you’ll remind someone else that they can be free too!