This is a short post. It’s also a sad post (for me) and a humorous post (for you). It concerns an object lesson in following one’s intuition.
We were in Ireland and were visiting the Boyne Valley sites again. We had bought tickets for both Knowth and Newgrange, but as we left Knowth Kal wanted to go directly to Dowth. He reckoned that there was nothing there for him at Newgrange, and although I actually did want to go, my brain kicked in and added several reasonable reasons not to visit: it would be busy, we would have to get the hot stuffy bus back and wait for another one going back out, Dowth was just a lovely walk down the road.
We went to Dowth. It was a lovely walk, but as we approached I had mixed emotions. My thwarted intuition was giving out warning signs, but my rational ego-driven mind was tweeting to all and sundry that I was about to enter one of the most interesting and energetic site sin the area. I don’t know if I was trying to convince myself or what, but as soon as I approached the site I knew I had made the wrong decision.
Dour Dowth
Something just seemed to suck the life out of me. I began to imagine that I was tired from walking on a hot day. I began to imagine that I had nothing to do here. The hill looked grey and hopeless. Kal sprinted onwards, bounding like a boy with a bee in his bonnet.
I took some photos, hoping to get accustomed to the feeling of the place. I didn’t. I brought out the dowsing rods. “Was there a lesson for me to learn here?” I asked. Yes, the rods replied, so I asked to be taken somewhere that I could begin my research. I noticed that both Kal and I ended up at the same spots that we had stopped at on our last visit.
As I sat looking into the cauldron of Dowth’s hollowed interior I couldn’t get comfortable. I wobbled on a stone that was acting as a seat and heard a buzzing below it. I ignored it, and settled back trying to get into a meditative state of mind. I relaxed a little, but there was still an edge. I picked up a nearby feather and planted it next to me – it was a hawk’s feather and I felt this might be a sign. Unfortunately, I didn’t read the sign correctly, and I planted the feather under a nearby stone. Desecration, surely!
As Kal began to work the sun came out, as usual. My mood lifted a touch, but then it just got too hot and humid. Again, I couldn’t settled. What should I have done? Gone away. What did I do? I pressed on regardless.
Medium-sized insectivore with protruding nasal implement
I wish I’d been thinking about bees, like Blackadder. Instead I was thinking about what I could think about. I was hearing lots of buzzing somewhere around, but ignoring it steadfastly. I settled on a question to ask here at the knowledge centre, the Oracle mound that was Dowth.
“What is the relationship between bees and healing?”
Ouch! I got stung by bee! I was sitting on a bee nest, I realised, and so I suppose I had it coming. It wasn’t like I hadn’t had fair warning. Ouch, it was smarting now. I moved to the other side of the ridge, sought out a dock leaf and rubbed in on supposing it might help, and then settled down to try again. Instead of meditating, though, I fell asleep!. Minutes later when I woke up, tired, dazed and befuddled, I found that I had broken my watch strap! Double damn! I decided to retire, move away from the site, and just leave Kal to finish what he was doing. Unlike almost any other time before we were completely out of sync!
I suppose, on reflection, that in some far too subtle a way I was healed by the site. I was brought into balance and left prepared for Tara, and I was given a valuable lesson in following instinct and intuition. I should have been at Newgrange – that’s all there is to this story. Wrong place, wrong time, and a bee sting to help me learn the lesson the hard way.
Next stop Tara. The culmination point of the whole trip for me. I hoped. I was ready.
