If you find a ring of mushrooms some misty morning, you might have a choice to make.

Of course, you could just be looking at a circle of damp earth, inviting fungi to fruit in a ring.

But if the place is right, and the conditions are right, it could be something more: the remnants of a an Otherworldly dance, or evidence of the passing of dragons, for example. Whatever mystical construction it might be, folklore the world over often cautions against disturbing the circle. To do so might displease The Good Folk, or any number of other spirit beings, and lead to dire consequences for the human who does so.

Of course, some tales also say, if you step inside the circle, you might be able to see the Other Crowd at their dancing. You might even hear their music, or be drawn into the dance. Whether or not the experience will agree with you is a matter of some debate. Some say you’ll dance yourself to death, or be carried off to the Otherworld without consent. Some say you’ll survive the dance, but forever after long for the music and company of the Fair Folk. Others say you’ll survive the dance, but die young, or go insane, or go blind. 

While there’s some talk these days of the sweetness of fairies, their ability to grant wishes and perform miracles, centuries of lore tell us that even the loveliest of gifts from The Other Crowd come at a price, and that forming relationships with Them is a perilous business.

Of course, that is true of any form of communion with the Other: Gods and spirits of every kind are not, strictly speaking, safe companions for us humans. To be close to them is to be changed, usually irrevocably. It can mark us in ways that make most humans uneasy in our company. It can make day to day life more challenging, because in some ways we no longer fit.

Then again, life itself is anything but safe. And we all know how it’s going to end, sooner or later.

So the decision we each must make when we stumble on a fairy ring, or any other potential portal or gateway, is this: how much are we willing to risk for a dance with the spirit world? And can we live with ourselves if we consistently avoid that risk?

At this point you might be asking what all of this has to do with creativity. Maybe, for you, it has nothing to do with it. Not every artist dances with the Other. But maybe it has everything to do with it. For some of us, myself included, art is always a dance with the Other, whether or not anyone else can tell from the finished piece. Is it entirely safe? No. Is it worth it? That’s another decision you’ll have to make, and the only question I have for you to ponder this week.

P.S.: if you’re curious about the lore I very briefly referenced here, I recommend the book Faeries by Brian Froud and Allan Lee, along with any other of Froud’s many wonderful works. If you want to learn more about navigating a relationship with Fairies as safely as possible, read any or all of Morgan Daimler’s works on Fairy Witchcraft. These aren’t the only sources of information out there, but they’re the ones I’m most familiar with.

Photo by yours truly.

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