After my last story about meeting Green and Spirit calling me arrogant, I wasn’t sure where that experience would lead. A few days later, the answer came in the most unexpected—and joyful—way. What began as an ordinary ride became something far greater: a celebration of laughter, movement, and the way joy itself can serve as a bridge between worlds.
The weather was perfect—blue sky stretched wide, dotted with puffy white clouds so vivid they seemed painted just for us.
As always, I invited my guides to join me. I also invited Green, even though he’d declined the day before, saying riding wasn’t his thing. But this time, the guides must have convinced him otherwise, because he was ready to go.
From the moment the wheels turned, joy carried us. We were all laughing and soaking up the moment—even Red Feather cracked a smile. Green started laughing too, surprised at how much delight there was in simply moving with the wind through the day together. The companionship of joy held us.
We came to a lake, and that’s when it happened. Beings—elementals—began rising out of the water, latching on to what looked like the staff lines of a music score trailing behind us, undulating in rhythm with the ride. They bounced and giggled right along with us, drinking in the joy and light. Green was fascinated, laughing as he watched them join the flow.
As we passed through the forest, fairies hopped onto the bars, bouncing between the lines, laughing and squealing with delight. When I saw them I thought, sprites—but I was quickly corrected: No, fairies. I tried again, Fae? Another chorus: NO, fairies! Their insistence made me laugh out loud. They wanted to make sure I understood exactly who they were. They would ride along, fill up on joy, and then leap back into the forest as new ones joined in.
For a moment I wondered—how do you help elementals find their way home? Wasn’t flowing water needed? They had just come out of the lake. Something from nature, perhaps? But then the wind reminded me, washing over us in waves of freedom. I heard my guides whisper, “Trust. Green will know.”
Not twenty minutes later, I looked up. The sky was brushed with clouds like strokes of a giant paintbrush, scattered with soft puffs. Right then, Green and the elementals rose skyward, carried by the moment. My heart swelled in awe.
We stopped for lunch, marveling at what had unfolded. Later, heading home, Green asked if we could do it again. Of course, I said yes. Why wouldn’t I? Helping in this way—with joy as the bridge—feels like one of the purest gifts I could give.
As we rode again, more elementals gathered, and I noticed how the trees and plants themselves seemed to lean into the joy, drinking in the light. Halfway home, Green guided more to where they needed to go.
At almost the same time, Scott—riding behind me—saw a cloud in the sky shaped into a perfect circle. A portal. He asked his guides and was told it was acknowledgment—a sign of honor for the work being done. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect: the circle appeared just as Green asked me for another ride.
The Greater Good of Joy
Back home, I sat in awe of the day. Green had been surprised I said yes—surprised by how easily joy could open the way. For me, it’s simple. This isn’t about difficulty or duty—it’s about helping the greater good through the love of riding and the joy that rises naturally from it.
My guides reminded me: This is what your blog is for. To share the moments, not because others need to “get it,” but because it’s mine to tell. Whether or not anyone else fully understands, the story itself carries light.
So here it is. Shared.
Your turn to stir the tea