Leshy Forget...

As we move into the last phase of Autumn, I find myself in my annual, nostalgic state. Memories of months and years past fill my mind, and I'm grateful to have this online space, which allows me to write some of them down to share with you. Lately, I've been recalling fondly my experience with a person that research reveals would likely best be known in our society as the Leshy- have you heard of him?

According to Russian, Appalachian and other folklore, the Leshy is a woodland spirit of some kind. Often depicted as a trickster guardian of the woods, a forest demon, or some grade of god, Leshy is known to present as several forms- sometimes made of natural elements like moss, sticks, or leaves, other times as a human or human- like man, or taking on the form of a deceased human loved one or animal of choice. He's noted to test, tease, abduct, misguide, murder, assist, play, advise, and nurture, simply depending, apparently, upon the behavior, temperament, and track record of the human party in question, legend says. He is especially noted to care for young children and the youth among the human population who have been abused, neglected, or who are generally unwanted by their parents.

Personally, I'm still learning about folklore. Typically, the paranormal is such a large part of my life experience that I never bothered to research. I simply treated every nonhuman person as an individual, same as I viewed each human being, and rolled with whatever encounter I was experiencing on any given day. It wasn't until 2023, when I joined the public paranormal sphere, that I began my more formal education in these matters, and it wasn't until a month or so ago that I came across a post about the Leshy on Facebook. That post included an illustration of an alleged form of the Leshy, and this illustration piqued my interest, along with the text, because it reminded me of an encounter that I had in a northern forest in late September of 2016. The screenshot of my post and the image are attached to this post, for reference.

Regarding the time, date and setting, it was in the last week of September; I remember that much. It was mid, entering late afternoon under a mostly cloudy sky, no rain. It was hot enough, but pleasant enough to enjoy a walk in the woods. There was a state park in the town over that some people had introduced me to, and even without them I would find myself drawn to it for walks, meditations and the love of nature. The forests and mountains have always called to me, but this place especially at the time. On this particular day, I was entirely alone. I had hopped a few buses to arrive there and planned to spend several hours in solitude, wandering the trails and photographing whatever caught my fancy. I had been living alone with my cat at this point in my life, owning 2 micro businesses and working a part time job on top of them; time off was rare and preciou

s. Spending it at my favorite park was further cherished.

Some time into my foray, I was admiring some bird, plant or small animal from the designated trail when I could hear movement behind me. Unaccustomed to many others frequenting this part of the park, I turned around to witness a slightly hunched elderly man stepping onto the trail with me from the brush and greenery of the first. In looking back, it did seem to my mind and eye that he'd been emerging from the forest material itself, not simply walking through it- there was something about how the green plants' tendrils caressed and clung to his clothes as he walked, but it was subtle enough that I wrote it off as the beauty of nature, simply appreciating it and moving on in my head. The man wore layers of grey and beige linens with a wool looking poncho style coat. His coat was thin, but I do remember thinking that it was too hot for me to consider wearing such a garment at the time, and I pondered why he was also wearing it. His skin was a bright, pale white; if any blush or flush was present, I don't remember it. He had mossy colored eyes, matte and earthy green, with what seemed to be streaks of emerald green in them. He smelled like fresh leaves and summer earth as he moved closer. He held tightly to a tall, thick walking stick, and whereas I stood a whole 5'3, he was perhaps 5'4" in his hunched state and his stick was at least 5'7".

"Good after noon," he greeted me as I turned. I add a space intentionally to reflect his cadence in the pronunciation of "afternoon".

"Oh.. hello, Papa," I replied awkwardly. Papa is a respectful term that I use in my personal life to address all elderly or at least much older men than myself. There are other cultural equivalents others use, but for me, for whatever reason, I settled on Mama, Papa over the years.

When I faced him fully, a warm grin spread over his face. "I do think it is a good after noon, don't you?"

"I do..I work all the time and I'm really glad to have today off here." I gestured around.

"Ah... well, how *do* you fare, little shining one?"

I began to stammer a bit. It's considered polite to lie if you're having a bad day, but I've never been good at that. On the other hand, I wanted him to be comfortable and not regret asking.

"I'm just glad to be here," I laughed nervously.

He nodded and asked if he could walk with me for a stretch. "By all means, please do," I replied.

We set off on the path and he proceeded to tell me how he was faring instead. He shared that he lived in that area and had lived in woods his whole life. When I asked him what he did for a living, he paused for a thoughtful second before replying, "Oh, I do get by. My job is to take care of the forest." He could be some kind of ranger, gardener or lookout, so his answer seemed perfectly plausible to me.

As we continued on, we began to crack jokes and engaged each other in nature based pun battles. We laughed and jostled each other on the path, and over the course of our walk, I told him about my work as a psychic, a healer, a tarot interpreter and nonreligious exorcist alongside the Catholic Church. I spilled to him my doubts about religion and human hierarchy; I told him, generally, my relational troubles and how I had come to be alone in the world as a teen. The trail no longer seemed familiar to me, and though I realized that we were walking in an elongated clockwise oval instead of straight as I knew the path to have been from earlier visits, I excused it under the belief that I was just nervous and misremembering. All the while, my new friend nodded sagely, his eyes cast down as he stepped in line with his walking stick, using the other hand to smooth his long grey beard. He often piped up with advice, novel interpretations, gentle corrections or praise as he saw fit, and I found myself feeling, for the first time in many years, understood, validated, wisely and fully advised.

Before I knew it, he was casting an eye to the sky and telling me that the sun was going to be shining in full soon, then setting. I hadn't looked at him in a while, concentrating visually on the dirt path while he spoke to me on the more serious matters, but I realized that every glance I gave him on our walk, I seemed to notice more details about him that I somehow "missed" at first- like the clumps of moss tucked in the layers of his hair, or the little twigs.. or in his beard. When did he get that patch of dirt on his forehead, or his cheek..? Oh.. his clothes look earthier in color and texture now, and tighter.. it's just the shifting sun, maybe? Light can play quite the tricks...

Suddenly, the old man stopped on the trail. He faced me head on, leaned his stick (now looking a living brown color instead of the dried grey like his linens when we met) into the crook of his arm, and reached out to me with both hands. His fingers curled over my shoulders, and he gently shook me. As he spoke, his eyes became much brighter green, and he slowly took on a jumbled plant- human form, his clothing, hair and beard turning to wild green mosses, his face holding its shape but becoming earth instead of skin. His eyes grew bright, and his fingers began to feel like sticks gripping me instead of hands.

"You must listen to me, small Venus- your crossroad is almost arrived. I foresee great pain and suffering for you because of your choice, which you have already made and do not know here yet. You choose it out of mercy and love and that will be your downfall for many years until you learn how to think in your opposite. Still, no matter how it looks or feels, you are loved and you are needed. You were desperately ushered in."

I didn't know what to say or how to respond, and therefore I focused all of my energy on listening respectfully, even if confused and perhaps at minimum, slightly concerned. I remember noting, too, how physical he felt; usually, my nonhuman encounters aren't quite this enduring or physical.

He continued, "This won't make sense to you now, but it will be important one day... where you live, many people do not love, can not love- especially the forest. Please remember these rules and share them when the time is right, little beauty..."

He proceeded to explain to me why human beings often are harmed and traumatized by nonhuman people in the woods, and how this can be resolved, in most cases. Interestingly, everything he told me has come to pass, and the rules and concepts he's related to me have been the subject of many advising sessions, videos, writing inclusions and Missing 411 research sessions I've completed. For example, in 2023, I do believe that I included his advice in a YouTube video about another forest god, and I've written about them in a book for Malcolm Robinson (The SPI in the UK) which is set to release in 2026.

Presently, I told the gent that I appreciated his wisdom, would always try my best to keep it in mind, and would gladly share it where appropriate- all of this, true to this very day. He nodded, smiling warmly at me, gripping my shoulders in a quick squeeze. When he dropped his arm, it became one with the walking stick, which seemed to absorb seamlessly into his arm and body. I could see movement from the corner of my eye and was then shocked to see that there was a family emerging from their car on my left, about 100 feet away. I was back at the entrance, and indeed I could see the clouds breaking up in the distance. When I looked back to him, he was gone. I was standing alone in the middle of the path, at the mouth of the forest.

I scurried to the bus stop, eager to make my way home to my cat, my kettle and my bed. On the ride home, I found a perfectly oval, smooth, matte, gray stone in my pocket. Upon arrival home, I placed it on my little altar. It remained with me until it was lost in the chaos of my crossroads, some months later.

Now, who did I meet? I'm convinced it was the Leshy, though he never gave me a name. Names seem to be simultaneously incredibly important to nonhuman people in some regards, and completely undesirable in others. This case was no exception. And of course, I'm not really providing exact quotes- with the exception of the names he kept calling me. Those have stuck with me through the years, each becoming more and more relevant over time, as has everything he's told me.

Why am I convinced that I met Leshy? Well, his appearance, his setting, and the unfamiliar trail are all hallmarks of his, according to legend. As well, he was "tricky"- unlike anyone I had ever met. He was exceedingly loving and gentle in some manners and regards, certainly possessing a soft spot for children (most specifically, abused, unwanted, neglected or "unique" children), and seemed to fully believe that most adult human beings deserve painful, negative consequences in measures to their own violence, arrogance and ignorance. He was also quick with words and playful, with a deep love for northern forests. He gave me great prophecies and wisdom, guiding me in ways that still deeply influence my psychology, work, relationships, philosophies and future plans. Everything that I encountered with this person matches Leshy folklore.

When it comes to the rules and warnings he provided me... now that, is a blog post for another day, if you can be-leaf it!