“Philosophy may not neglect the multifariousness of the world—the fairies dance, and Christ is nailed to the cross.”
—Alfred North Whitehead, Process and Reality, p. 338
Katharine Briggs’ landmark Encyclopedia of Fairies (1976, Pantheon Books) is subtitled “Hobgoblins, Brownies, Bogies, and Other Supernatural Creatures.” This subtitle reflects the book’s wide scope, encompassing not just fairies in the narrow sense, but the rich variety of beings found in British and Celtic folklore—playful, mischievous, helpful, and sometimes terrifying. We do not know exactly what Whitehead had in mind by “dancing fairies,” but surely he was evoking beings like these: emissaries of the imagination, embodiments of joy and mystery, participants in the multifariousness of the world. And the use of the word “supernatural” need not deflect those for whom the term is off-putting. Let it mean not a violation of nature’s laws, but a playful and poetic expansion of what we take nature to be—an opening to experiences, beings, and meanings that surpass our ordinary categories, yet remain intimately tied to the rhythms, feelings, and stories that shape our shared life. This, I believe, is what Whitehead means when he advises us not to neglect the dancing fairies.
There is a tendency among philosophers—especially those with religious commitments—to focus on Christ nailed to the cross and to neglect the dancing fairies. This is understandable in light of the immense suffering in the world. To dwell on crucifixion is to take seriously the pain, injustice, and tragedy that mark so much of human history and experience.
But the neglect of the dancing fairies carries existential liabilities of its own. It overlooks the joyful and playful side of existence: the pleasures of bodily life, the delight of rhythm and movement, the sacredness of laughter, and the vast imaginative landscape that gives color to our world. Fairies—whether or not they “exist” in a physical, empirical sense—are undeniably real in the imagination, particularly in the rich traditions of folklore, story, and myth. From the mischievous sprites of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream to the kindly house spirits of Celtic lore, fairies inhabit a dimension of human consciousness that is deeply meaningful, often healing, and necessary for a full accounting of reality.
To affirm the fairies is not to deny the cross. Rather, it is to recognize that the multifariousness of the world includes both sorrow and joy, tragedy and play, crucifixion and dance. A mature philosophy—or theology—must make room for both. For a world without fairies may be just as dehumanizing as a world without compassion. And a faith without joy is as incomplete as a philosophy without wonder.
This is the context in which a philosophical consideration of fairies makes sense—not as a naïve belief in tiny winged creatures fluttering behind bushes, but as an affirmation of the imaginative, playful, and emotionally rich dimensions of human life. When we look up “fairies,” we find not a singular definition, but a wide diversity of forms, shaped by centuries of folklore, cultural symbolism, and literary imagination.
Kinds of Fairies
There are many kinds of fairies, each reflecting different moods, moralities, and metaphysical possibilities:
Household Fairies like brownies and domovoi, who assist with chores and bring good luck when respected, but cause mischief when offended.
Nature Spirits, such as woodland nymphs, water sprites, and flower fairies, who personify the animacy of natural places—streams, groves, meadows, and winds.
Trickster Fairies, like púca and pixies, who delight in leading travelers astray, blurring the line between mischief and wisdom.
Courtly Fairies, such as the Seelie and Unseelie Courts in Scottish folklore—royal hosts of light and shadow, blessing and curse, reflecting the dualities of beauty and terror.
Changelings, a darker aspect of fairy lore, representing the fear of losing what we love, especially children, to unseen forces.
Guardian Fairies, often attached to families, places, or traditions—protective presences who watch and whisper.
Fairies of Liminality, who appear at thresholds—between night and day, youth and age, life and death—inviting us into mystery.
Modern Urban Fairies, imagined in contemporary fantasy and subcultures, adapting the archetype to modern life with wings, glitter, and rebellious joy.
And even Theological Fairies, those who, like angels in miniature, carry messages from realms unseen—not unlike Whitehead’s own "eternal objects," lures for feeling.
In all of these, we glimpse something deeper: a longing for enchantment, for meaning that flows not just from logic or doctrine but from mood, music, beauty, and the seen and unseen world alive with significance. In process-relational terms, we might say that fairies are symbolic embodiments of the lure toward intensity, play, contrast, and relationality. They beckon us to feel more, imagine more, and, in many instances, to delight more.
They may not be “real” in the empirical sense. But their effect is real—on dreams, on cultures, on art, and on our sense of what it means to live in a world that is more than mechanism or material. To take them seriously is to take the soul seriously.
The Social Function of Fairies
As people drawn to process philosophy begin to take heed of fairies, there may be a tendency to focus on their metaphysical status at the expense of their social function. The question, "What kind of beings are fairies?"—are they real? imaginary? subjective forms? archetypes?—is indeed intriguing. Their status is not clear, and perhaps it is not meant to be. But one possibility is to see them as propositions in the Whiteheadian sense: lures for feeling that present the world in a certain light, inviting imaginative response and emotional resonance. They may also be understood as objects of collective cultural prehensions—collective patterns of meaning inherited across generations, shaping how people see and feel the world. As such, fairies are not merely artifacts of belief but active agents in cultural and psychological life. They whisper possibilities, warn of missteps, celebrate mystery, and protest the flattening of wonder.
Whatever we conclude about their metaphysical status, their social function is important.
They give voice to marginalized experiences, especially of women, children, and the poor. Folklore abounds with stories of women befriending or becoming fairies, of changelings replacing unwanted or misunderstood children, of working-class folk receiving aid or trickery from the unseen.
They nurture ecological imagination, reminding us that forests, springs, stones, and glens may be inhabited, not inert. Fairy lore cultivates attentiveness to place.
They preserve moral ambiguity, offering a counterpoint to rigid binaries of good and evil. Many fairies resist categorization: they bless and curse, they play and punish, they test character rather than enforce law.
They invite play and artistry, making room for costumes, storytelling, music, dance, and ritual—vital practices of cultural resilience.
And they challenge the dominance of scientific materialism, not through rejection of science, but by keeping open the possibility that there is more to the world than meets the eye, or microscope.
From a process perspective, then, fairies are part of the aesthetic ecology of life. They are among the many ways the universe expresses its richness, playfulness, and capacity for novelty. To honor them is to honor what Whitehead called the “multifariousness of the world”—a cosmos not made once and for all, but continuously becoming, teeming with forms both luminous and strange.