I set off on what I expected to be a simple walk in the evening sun, taking advantage of the last warmth of a wonderful weekend for weather. By the gods that warmth was welcome after the latest and coldest Spring in thirty years! For some reason I was compelled to walk along the sandstone ridges that a nearby to the village where I live. Pictures and memories of a special place kept arising in my mind like bubbles in a champagne glass. One particular ridge walk came to mind so I got out of the car and checked which direction I should head in using dowsing rods. The way I had pictured in my mind was the direction indicated to follow. What about the destination? Yes, the one I was thinking of was the most appropriate for any meditative work. Great – then I scarcely needed the rods so I put them away.
As I began my walk I was still believing that firstly this has been my rational idea, and that it was simply a walk. I’d even brought a book to read and a can of gin and tonic. My everyday self was walking around with the idea that I was just going for some kind of a light summer picnic or something. My druid self had other ideas that were bubbling under the surface, and the more I climbed the sandstone path the more these druidic senses began to make themselves heard.
As if by the same magick that was bubbling through this evening I am currently listening to “Ouses ;Ouses ‘Ouses‘ narrated by John Copper (Imagined Village).
httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WR-Z1lg2Q_4
In this song the narrator is talking about his granddad having his ashes sprinkled on his spot with his favourite view up on the chalk hills of The Downs. By an odd coincidence that leads me into this story.
I walked up onto the sandstone hill through freshly unfurling stalks of bracken, shaded from the remaining rays of the day by the bright-leaved canopies of giant beeches, ancient oaks and sapling birches. The path was easy for me to read. I’d been that was many times over the years, but I only ever seem to visit when the summer comes. I don’t know why. This time felt different, and I was about to find out why.
You must be logged in to post a comment.