“The Irish: be they kings, or poets, or farmers, they’re a people of great worth. They keep company with the angels and bring a bit of heaven here to earth.”
Approaching Belfast City airport is perhaps the only place on Earth where I’ve found myself circling ten times while ‘a fire-truck deals with an incident on the ground’. Serves me right for flying with a Pyrite Dragon who was determined to enjoy the flight before being marooned on the ground again. An extra half hour in the air was not what I’d envisaged when I agreed to take him along. (You can read about the metal dragons and planes connection in my Crystal Skulls book). Here’s a few of the things I learned when I finally landed:
Raining shamrocks? Gillian has no tattoo on her neck. And what about her hand?? Spooky stuff.
We tourists with shorter legs and fatter bellies struggled to pass through the entrance portal. All part of the initiation process it would seem. Narrow gates were integral to the experience inside and outside the mounds.
Southern Ireland certainly has mysterious wonders to behold. Newgrange and its satellites are, in my view, a cosmic navigation system and a portal to the multiverses. Star maps, initiation chambers, multidimensional calendars, ancient aliens, it has them all. Way predating the pyramids, as the guides proudly tell you. I’d visited out-of-my-body when writing Crystals and Sacred Sites, which hadn’t prepared me for the tight squeeze to get inside the chamber. This time I was taking along not only my body but four crystal-addicted companions, two Flint dragons, a Labradorite skull and an Earth-healer Brandenberg dragon. A tight squeeze without the bus load of tourists that also accompanied us.
Dragons, as with leprechauns, have more than a touch of mischievousness about them. So when Gillian McBriar and I had finished winding our way along cow-parsley bedecked labyrinthine lanes following the elusive signs to ‘Newgrange’ we found we were still some way from the actual site. Like Stonehenge, it has been touristicated ‘for its own protection’. You are directed to the visitor centre and onto one of several shuttle buses. We had to opt for a tour an hour and a half later, which was just as well as the rest of our party who were ‘only a few minutes away’ spent that long trying to find the place and arrived with five minutes to spare.
Fortunately Gillian and I were able to enjoy a civilised lunch and look at the exhibition, which was just as well as a tour of Knowth was to follow immediately afterwards before we ‘self-guided’ ourselves to Dowth. So off we set in great excitement, making our perilous way over the Boyne river bridge to await the buses.
Five minutes on the bus and we grind to a halt. Gillian says only in Southern Ireland could a bull leading his ladies to the milking parlour hold up a tour bus. Herded by moonlighting sheep-dogs. But then she doesn’t live in deepest Dorset. We’re used to such sights. But it did make me wonder if we were being pointed back to the astrological Age of Taurus, the bull constellation.
When we finally arrived at Newgrange it had the feel of Stonehenge. A portal to infinity that had been deactivated but whether by excavation and partial reconstruction, or by bureaucratic stupidity or more sinister intent was not clear. As I said in Crystals and Sacred Sites, the rebuilt walls have always felt wrong to me. That beautiful Snow Quartz and river boulder mix was surely meant to be a moon in front of the mound? It has stones so reminiscent of the Celtic crystal dragon mountain that my pieces were positively quivering with excitement.
As we squeezed and ducked our way into the mound it felt like entering a birthing passage from the wrong end. Fantastic artwork was barely visible in the gloom. Just time to admire the (totally unreconstructed, it’s stayed up all those thousands of years without mortar or outside assistance) corbelled roof, and then the chamber was plunged into darkness so that the winter solstice light reaching through the darkness could be simulated (you’ll have to read Crystals and Sacred Sites for more on that). I’m usually claustrophobic when rammed in among a group especially with a Babel-tower of languages rippling through the air. But it was like the whole space held its breath waiting for the light to penetrate the core. And then a collective out-breath as the light was renewed. Sadly the roof didn’t open to allow us to meet the star beings. As I said, the airport is currently closed. But it was pretty impressive nonetheless.
One particular visitor was especially lit up by the experience.
Then, back on the bus, with a much cheerier driver this time who kept us entertained. Off the bus. Back on the bus. He was going to Knowth. ‘Buckle up fellas’, he said, ‘we’re running late.’ We belted down lanes hardly wide enough to take us and arrived. Abruptly.
Moon-attuned Knowth contains one quarter of all known megalithic art in Europe. It’s pretty impressive and, like Stonehenge, it’s an eclipse predictor and much else besides. The chamber into which they let the tourists is wholly reconstructed and pretty dead energetically. But one of the side passages looked promising. If only it hadn’t been barred and padlocked…
I wrote an essay on this circular symbol for my Masters. It was found on a kist stone close-by my home. I must look it out and post it.
Take a look at this amazing site in more detail on:
Fly through Dowth:
Flythrough of laser scan survey of the Neolithic passage tomb at Dowth, County Meath, Ireland. Survey work by David Strange-Walker of Trent & Peak Archaeology and Marcus Abbott of ArcHeritage.
Then it was on a magical mystery tour to the unexcavated site of Dowth. ‘Self-guided’ as we wound through beautiful tree lined lanes affording a sudden glimpse of the river – and the possibility of an unexpected swim. Crossing almost parapetless bridges as we wound backwards and forwards explained the car-plunging-into-water road signs. It took some finding. And we had to get through the torture stile to enter. But it was the one place we could settle down to meditate – once we’d subdued the natives. The local sheep were not at all pleased to see us, especially as we’d arrived at feeding time. You can’t enter the mound with your body, but you can with your mind. It was beautiful, peaceful and so healing for the land under the elegant sycamore that decorates the site. Pernicus and Pernicia, the Sea Foam Flint dragons I’d carried all the way from Dorset, looked very much at home there.
‘There’ll be a rainbow if that healing worked’ said Liz. And, sure enough, on the motorway home there was torrential rain ahead but by the time we got there a double rainbow was hovering over the hills. And then another. And another. ‘Homes for leprechauns,’ explained Gillian. Better than pots of gold any day!
The two day inner dragon workshop in the Shankhill Road was almost an anticlimax. Almost! It was wonderful, thank you to all participants from me and the dragons. As you can see, we had a few amazing crystals along too.
You can buy Crystal Skulls from Amazon or any good bookshop.
And Crystals and Sacred Sites here:
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