I know – a stag’s horns are usually called antlers. I am choosing to use the term ‘stag’s horns’ because those are the words that came to me when I asked for this next quest. “Horn” seems to have more resonance with concepts such as drinking vessels and therefore “grails” too. It makes my work feel more Like a Grail Quest than a Stag Party. This evening’s work began when I was considering where I might go to try to run like a stag. How does a stag run? Unhindered. Freely. Instinctively.
The obvious choice for such a run was my nearest large forest – Delamere in Cheshire. It was a cooler evening. The nights have been drawing in, getting darker sooner, and the temperature dropping accordingly. Nevertheless, on my way back from a fitness session in Manchester I made myself drive back through Delamere Forest. The light was already low as I parked in a convenient lay-by – one that I had parked in many times before. I knew where I was heading and why. I was going to visit The Father of the Forest – the spirit of Delamere – to seek his blessing in my next endeavour which was to Seek the Stag.
Seeking the stag was the instruction I had been given as my quest this turn of the year’s wheel. It had recently been revealed in a vision to be related to discovering the feeling of running freely through the forest, uninhibited, undaunted by obstacles. In the low light of early twilight which was descending quickly this seemed like a true test in these conditions.
In my sports gear I blended well with the last of the forest trail runners. They were better prepared than I was having torches, and heading out of the forest instead of in. I knew that the Father wasn’t far away, however. Working from memory (when was the last time I had sought him out – a couple of years ago?) I went off the main trail and into the undergrowth. I couldn’t find the usual trail and instead ended up hopping over young sharp bramble tendrils as they tried to snare and slice my exposed limbs. At the point where I was brought to a standstill by one offending strand I made a verbal exclamation: “Hey – don’t you know I’m here to see the Father of the Forest? Let me pass!”
As if in response to my demands I spied a clearer trail and moved across to walk on that. This was much easier and I didn’t get stuck or sliced up from that point on. I was still smarting from the original “defenders” work, however, to be too grateful for an easy passage at this point in proceedings. I made my way slowly down into the bowl of swampy ground where the newer growth had formed in a clearing. This was my starting point for this evening’s work.
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