The Remembering — Part 2: When Spirit Played Back
- Nov 9
- 4 min read
Before I understood that Spirit could move through anything —not just wind, rain, or the heartbeat of nature —I knew love in the form of two companions:
a doll named Sarah and my grandmother’s teddy bear.
I’ve had Sarah since I was two years old.
She doesn’t sit on a shelf; she still moves around the house like she always has.
Even my dog treats her like a real baby — because she is.
She still plays, still talks in her quiet way,
and somehow, she carries the light of the little girl I once was.
When I hold her, I feel that same warmth I felt at six —
the joy that soothed my loneliness
and reminded me that Spirit listens to laughter.
The teddy bear came to me much later,
a final gift when my grandmother passed.
He’s quieter magic — simple, steady, and soft from years of being loved.
A reminder that even those who never spoke of Spirit were still touched by it.
Her love, stitched into fur and thread,
whispers that connection never ends — it just changes form.
Together, these two treasures remind me of something vital:
Spirit meets us in whatever we love most.
It doesn’t only speak through nature —sometimes, it speaks through toys, stories, and play.
And it was through play that Spirit first revealed itself to me.
When Spirit Played Back
Some of us go searching for magic.
Some of us are simply found by it.
Because I was already wide open to the world —barefoot in the grass, face turned toward the sun, heart listening to everything —
Spirit didn’t need a grand entrance.
It only needed a child who still believed everything could talk back.
And so it did.
The Fae
It began on a golden afternoon stitched together with clover and laughter.
I was lying belly-down in the yard, looking for a four-leaf treasure when the wind giggled.
Not the kind of giggle you hear with your ears —the kind that dances through petals, makes bees wobble mid-air,
and fills the day with shimmer.
I paused, and joy flooded me so completely it felt like sunlight under my skin.
Then I saw them — tiny, curious lights glimmering between clover blossoms.
They didn’t come to teach or test me.
They came to play.
In that moment I realized something my adult self would spend decades remembering:
darkness cannot exist in laughter.
Joy raises the vibration so high that only light can answer.
The Leprechaun
Magic didn’t stay in the daylight; it followed me home.
My brother and I had bunk beds, and at the foot hung a mirror — harmless by day, mysterious by moonlight.
That night, silvery light spilled across the glass like a door just barely cracked open.
And out stepped a little man — green coat, twinkling eyes, grin wide enough to hold mischief and kindness both.
He perched at the end of my bed like he’d been waiting his turn to join the story.
I froze — startled, curious — but underneath it all, I felt seen.
He didn’t threaten. He just existed, showing me that magic moves closer when it’s met with wonder.
I learned that mirrors, like hearts, reflect what they’re invited to.
Julie the Doll
Then came Julie, my beloved doll who could only hear her owner’s voice.
She was my secret keeper, my sleep-over friend, my constant companion.
But one night, long after I’d turned her off, she started to talk again.
“Would you like cookies or ice cream?” she asked softly into the dark.
I sat up, eyes wide, turned her off again — even took out her batteries —and still she spoke.
Instead of fear, I felt awe.
A warm, tingling joy that said, You are not alone, little one.
That night, I realized what Spirit had been trying to tell me all along:
laughter, play, and curiosity are the oldest prayers.
And the universe will always answer a child who still believes.
Reflection
Spirit will always speak in the language we understand.
For children, that language is joy.
For adults, it becomes presence.
The voices never stopped —
I just learned to listen in quieter ways.
The Alchemy
The lesson of this story is in vibration.
Darkness cannot live in laughter,
and the quickest path to light is joy.
When I laughed, I healed.
When I played, I listened.
When I believed, Spirit spoke.
If you’d like to learn how to attune to energy through joy —
to feel the playfulness of nature, the shimmer of mirrors, or the whispers of Spirit —members, head to your page for this week’s practices.
If your journey ends here, I hope this chapter reminds you that you’re never alone —the world is always listening, and joy is its favorite language.
And if this isn’t your cup of tea but you’ve made it this far —don’t worry, there will still be spells, crafts, and everyday enchantments along the way.
Stay tuned —I’m only six.
We’ve got a lot more remembering to do.
