by Ilon Bluesky
From Elven Glen: Vol. 1, Issue 1, page 3
Elves are of a special nature. They are sometimes gay and playful, sometimes musing and contemplative. Their magical Way is as difficult to describe as the way the wind whips your hair about on an autumn afternoon, or the way the forest smells on a spring morning. Utterly natural and largely spontaneous, the elven Way includes all others in its eclecticism while it excludes them in its lack of concrete structure.
For this reason, it may be difficult to spot an elf right away. They may be engaged in activities which seem foreign to any elven stereotype. Since their movements coordinate with the underlying Song of Nature, however, given time even an engaged elf can be distinguished quite easily. Yet spotting an elf will not really allow a glimpse of their mystical Way, for such is their magick that it blends into their surroundings much as a cloud dissipates in the sky.
In fact, it is more accurate to say that elven magick is absorbed by, or becomes, their environment. Magick for elves is less a labor and more a part of their very being. Those skilled in magick dance in attunement to the essence of All in the very act of living their lives, whatever its form may be. Natural power flows out from them and heals everything it touches. To some in their sphere of influence this may seem uncomfortable or painful, while to others it is a joyous experience.
This doesn’t mean that the elven Way is easy or that those who walk it face less of a challenge than those on more structured paths toward the Source.
Elves often begin their journey from little spiritual foundation. Their parents provide them with none, or that which their parents do provide is released in emotional abhorrence or dashed to pieces by critical intellect. Cut loose, they face a most challenging dilemma — whether to begin an alternate path put forward by the Elders or to forge a new path through the wilderness of spirit. Most fall somewhere between these extremes, mixing together that which seems familiar and attempting to weave a fabric allowing them independence and freedom to express their sometimes unusual tastes.
Yet even these are only the initial steps along the elven Way. They may also develop relationships with the powers Faerie (by whatever name), and friends among the various nature spirits, travel the outer reaches of the elemental planes, locate and worship the Star Goddess or other worthy deities, seek out the Fountain of Immortality, or trespass the Summerlands, among many other courageous and potentially dangerous adventures.
None of these endeavors in and of themselves constitutes an exercise of elven magick. Each may provide a puzzle-piece, a key to unlock the door that leads toward the mystery known to some as the Secret of Merlin, the Art of the Elven Sages, and the lifeblood of Faerie children everywhere.
While these words may sound rather precise, they only hint at the nature of ways elven, especially regarding arts of true magick. Along the elven Way are signposts pointing toward an indescribable path of magick which participates greatly in the patterned, cosmic ebb and flow of Universal Tides. Those who navigate these waters do so without the aid of boat or sail. The waters have been called ‘the sub-conscious realm’, yet this minimizes the beauty and complexity of such an expanse.
Elves trained in the ways of Seeing and Exploring move within this dark demesne as an otter swims among the seaweed forests off the California coast. They learn the highways and byways, gradually losing themselves in the ecstasy of discovery, revealing the purest and deepest magick of their being.
The elven Way is not a particular form, it is a style. It is not exactly a well-worn path, but is more accurately an art of path-walking. It is not a mindset, it is an attitude, a commitment to eternal youth, the honoring of the Old Ones, and a vow to serve the Mystery of Life.