Did they know? The birds? Did they know that it was time for the world to die? For the sun to go out? The pigeons that usually tap dance me awake were sluggish this morning. No cooing me out of sleep. No dawn chorus either. The parliament of rooks that usually cartwheel raucously over the house stayed huddled in their treetop nests. The robin remained hidden in the apple tree. There’s no sign of blossom yet. It’s grey and dank.
So, out of bed and off to Knowlton Rings. The dust cart is on its way. I have to leave hurriedly so it won’t block my path. Waste disposal today. Recycling last week and next. How apt. An eclipse is a moment when the past surfaces and can be released. So I toss as much dross as I can muster towards the bin.
Then to my favourite sacred site. The moon-white Blackthorn sparkles in the hedges. No quiet here. Cars everywhere. A helicopter circles overhead, drowning out the drummer circling the Rings below. Overtone chanting competes, rattling around the circle. Children and dogs roam free as more and more people arrive. This is how it would have been way back. Knowlton was built for just such an event. A viewing platform for the cosmic cycles. But would the snatches of conversation have been as mundane? Did the same things concern them then? ‘Getting the builders in’, ‘where’s the camera’, ‘better not be Labour’, ‘careful Elly.’ Children crying, parents calling. People munching, echoing the feasts of old. Mayhem rules.
The eclipse glasses are redundant. I can’t see the sun. It’s too grey and misty. Luminously cold. I have to trust that the light is there. This is an inner event not an outer. A time to withdraw into silence. My new Lemurian Shadow Seed looks – and feels – like frozen ice in my hand, calling me inwards. Transmuting. Helping my feeling of invasion and lack of tranquillity fall away into mindfulness of the moment.
At the last visible eclipse I was on the edge of totality. It was silent in my garden as the light dimmed and my life died. So why did I choose to be here, in my local sacred site that’s teeming with people waiting to greet the spring? That seems to be on hold for the moment. A baby wolf approaches. A puppy with one eye blue and the other brown. An omen?
A flock of rooks wheel and caw overhead as the moment of totality passes. The whole sky is filled. They shout out the news that light has sprung. New life has returned. It’s overwhelming. I wish I had a camera.
A rook is a black bird that looks like a crow. It’s the kind of bird that likes to hang out in groups on bare tree branches and spook people. http://www.shmoop.com So true.
A meditation is about to begin on the other side of the ruined church as the children and their parents leave.
Finally. Silence falls. The Earth throbs and thrums as the drum begins again taking me back four thousand years. People process, honouring the sacred. This is what I came for. To reconnect to the Earth. To rejoin Gaia. Above meets below and the space is reconsecrated. Peace regrows. It’s time to take out my Selenite and rejoin my soul.
Despite wearing my duvet it’s too cold to stay longer. As I leave the wolf puppy circles the bank snuffling with joy. So many tantalising smells. I toss my past behind me and head for the warmth of home. On the way back, primroses gleam on the banks reminding me of the sun’s return.
As I type up this blog I wrote at Knowlton the sun comes out. The Equinox is upon us. We have shifted into Aries. The start of a new astrological year. Day and night are equal. We have found balance. Things can move forward again. A rebirth.
Happy Equinox everyone.
p.s If you want to know more about Knowlton Henge you’ll find it in my Crystals and Sacred Sites book.
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