The Druid's Garden

Spiritual Journeys in Tending the Land, Permaculture, Wildcrafting, and Regenerative Living

The Ancestors, the Descendants, and the Stones September 4, 2018

The Stone Circle at Four Quarters

The Stone Circle at Four Quarters

What would our descendants say about this time period? How would we, as a people, be written into their histories? What stories would they tell of us? Perhaps our ancestors would say that this was a time of recklessness, willful ignorance, of extravagance, and of excess. They might mourn the loss of ecological diversity and habitat that we did not protect, they would lament the loss of cultures and languages, the loss of so many things. Perhaps our descendants would say that we pillaged the land and many of its inhabitants by not knowing how to curb our own greed; that we were victims to our own quest for abundance; and that we filled the air with carbon simply because we wanted to move faster.

 

Or, perhaps, our descendants will tell a different story. Yes, they would say, the larger culture and government leaders didn’t want to make change and thereby created a more difficult, less ecologically stable, world. But there were others, their ancestors, who thought differently.  Their ancestors saw with open eyes the destruction surrounding materialist patterns of life, and they worked to change them physically and spiritually. Their ancestors paved the way for a new paradigm of thought and action: one of balance, respect, and nurturing for the living earth and all her inhabitants. And the reason that the descendants are here to record this history was because of their ancestors’ bravery, determination, and commitment to the sacredness of the land and the interconnected web of all life.

 

The stones await their newest additions

The stones await their newest additions

It was with these thoughts of future generations, and what legacy that we might leave them, that I journeyed to Four Quarters Interfaith Sanctuary for my second year at Stones Rising. As I wrote last year, as we engaged in the physical activity of raising a very large standing stone to add to the growing stone circle, we created something powerful. Stones rising is not just about us in the present moment, but rather, about building something that will last generations and cultivating a community that allows that work to continue to happen. And so, as I arrived at Four Quarters for Stones Rising, I was on the land once again, I was with my tribe once again, and we had sacred work to do.

 

As we gathered at the top of the mountain in the quickening darkness in preparation for pulling our first stone, we sensed the heaviness of that moment. Our ancestors were watching. Our descendants were watching. In the deepening darkness, by torchlight, we strained at the ropes to guide this new stone carefully, perilously, towards its new home. The magic is in the pull–the quiet on the lines, the breath of anticipation, the stone crew guiding the process. Fire and earth are in perfect synthesis as we complete our journey to the stone circle with the first of our two stones. Our ritual that evening invited us directly to engage with the past and the future.  We call forth and talked with our ancestors in front of the western “father stone” in the circle.  They are proud of the legacy that we are now living.  We then called forth and talked with our future descendants, in the east, near the “mother stone.” We listen to their voices, spanning through the ages, thanking us and urging us to continue our work now, so that they may come into being.

 

The next day, we prepare for the long pull. It is aptly named–we are pulling the second stone, the one we will also be raising this year–and it is a 5 ton stone, two tons heavier than what we pulled the night before and we have to pull it a much longer way. We once again assemble at the top of the mountain; our stone is strapped to a simple wooden sled, ready to join its brothers and sisters in the circle. We take three breaths and pull.

 

We pull for the ancestors, whose DNA floats in our veins and whose song we can hear on the breath of the wind.

 

We pull for the descendants, those young people among us, those in the womb, those yet to be conceived.

 

We pull for the land, our battered and beaten land, who, despite humanity’s treatment of her, still has skies that fill us with air, whose soils still produce our food, and whose rivers and storms still quench our thirst.

 

We pull for our community, strained as though it may be, knowing that this work is good work, and necessary work.

 

The stone does not move.  We strain at our ropes. Living in this time sometimes feels like the first long and desperate tug on that rope–when you keep pulling and pulling and nothing happens. When your feet slide in the grass and sweat drips from your brow and nothing happens.  When you feel your muscles straining to the point of collapse, and nothing happens. When everyone around you is likewise straining, giving it their all, and nothing happens. And then, when you know you can’t pull for another second, the stone finally moves a few inches, and then it moves faster, and you know no matter how hard it is to pull or how much time it takes, you will get there.

 

Pulling the stone during the long pull

Pulling the stone during the long pull

Hours later, we arrive with our stone in the stone circle. We break, and have more ceremony, feasting, and song.  The next day, the entire tribe gathers, first to be fed the delicious rolls of bread baked all night by the corn mothers. With nourishment in our bellies, we go as a community into the stone circle, making our commitments to the work, the land, and each other. We hold space as a community, and participate as we are able, to raise the stone into its place in the circle.  People sing, the drummers offer a steady beat, the crones offer a cup of tea, and the most delicious pickles can be found at the snack table. We sit among our tribe, celebrating this moment. Ropes are brought out and we move the stone into position.

 

Everything happens very slowly, ever so slowly, as only a stone can move. The stone raises up, inch by inch, with careful guidance and steady hands. The stone is a lot like the cultural and ecological challenges before us–the stone can only move an inch at a time.  It is a very heavy stone. We can’t expect change all at once. We need to endure, we need to understand that we are beginning the work of generations, and it will take us and our descendants to fully realize the dream of centering us, as humans, back in line with the living earth.

 

The stone is seated into place; a cheer goes up among the community. Now, we celebrate. Now, we feast. Now, through ceremony and song, we welcome the new stone into its home in the east. The East. The direction of the descendants; the direction of spring; the direction of new beginnings and new hopes. There in the east, our descendants stand watching, holding their breath, and dreaming of a tomorrow not yet here.

 

Our newest eastern stone, raised!

Our newest eastern stone, arisen!

The challenges we face as a world are so severe. Sometimes, I can’t fall asleep at night, my spirit heavy with the burden of the now, and even heavier with the burden of the future. When I look at little children, I think to myself, how will this world be for them when they grow up? What can I do now to ensure that they thrive? What about their children’s children?  When we welcome that new stone in the east, I felt my heart lighten. We are in incredibly difficult times, where change seems impossible, but like the slow raising of the standing stone, we–as a an earth-centered spiritual tribe, as a people dedicated to the land–are building a better paradigm for ourselves, our community, and our descendants. Each stone we move is a legacy for those yet unborn and for the stories they will tell, for the histories they will write.

 

We are in the process of becoming ancestors. Whatever our larger culture may offer future generations, we can leave a legacy that offers the seeds of hope, of re-connection to the living earth, and of living in balance. And, we can leave them the stones.

 

Walking Meditation Garden with Hugelkultur Beds June 24, 2018

As a practitioner of permaculture and as a druid, I am always looking for ways to work with the land to create sacred and ecologically healthy spaces.  That is, to create self-sustaining ecosystems that produce a varitey of yields: create habitat, offer nectar and pollen, systems that retain water and nutrients, offer medicine and food, create beauty and magic.  But conventional gardens, even sheet mulched gardens, can falter in water scarce conditions.  So building gardens long-term for resiliency and with a variety of climate challenges in mind is key.  At the same time, I am also looking to create sacred gardens, that is, not just places to grow food (which is simple enough) but to develop sacred relationships and deepen my connection with the living earth. Given all of this, I developed a design for a butterfly-shaped garden that would use hugelkultur raised beds and allow for a space for walking meditation and ritual.

 

Meditation Garden

Meditation Garden

When I came to the new homestead late last year, one thing was clear–any gardening was going to be rough going with the acidic, heavy clay soil full of rocks.  Digging down into the sunny part of the yard that was once excavated for a pool revealed virtually topsoil or humus content–basically, I was going to have to grow on clay subsoil.  A soil test revealed practically no phosphorous either.  Becuase I also have abundant wood on the property, digging down and creating some hugelkutur beds seemed like a great idea.

 

Hugelkutur beds were popularized by Sepp Holzer and discussed in his book Sepp Holzer’s Permaculture. They are used widely around the world as a way to create beds that are enormously productive due to their ability to create vibrant soil biology and hold copious amounts of water. The key to these beds is sinking a good amount of wood–large pieces–that slowly rots down over time. As the wood rots, it becomes a spongy mass ready to hold water.

 

The Hugelkultur beds certainly take some sweat equity, but they will pay out dividends in the long run. Each year that passes, more and more moisture will be held in the bed from the wood.  Microbial life will flourish in this wonderful, undisturbed system of nutrients and roots. Each year with the hugels is more abundant and productive than the last as the underlying soil structure grows more connected and diverse.

 

Choices for Hugels

One of the challenges with Hugelkultur is doing it without heavy equipment or fossil fuels. I’ve seen people make amazing hugels using a backhoe, tractor with an attachment, etc. They dig a big hole then use the machinery to pile up even more wood, making these enormous hugels. I don’t have knowledge of how to operate such machinery, so I was going to do mine on a smaller scale by hand. The question is–what can we do by hand, given these conditions?  Can we still make abundant and productive hugels on a smaller scale?

 

One of the key conditions for us was the heavy clay soil–when it rained, the water pooled in the space.  I thought that if we dug down, then the water would pool in there a bit, being able to be sucked up by the rotting wood.  After digging out the hugels (but before wood was added) this proved to be true–the water literally just laid in the heavy clay, forming pools that took days to dry out.  Yes!

 

Others, however, may find it more beneficial to go up rather than down–the key is to get the wood in it and get some layers of compost and such on top.  Your own conditions beyond that determine a lot of how you want to create your beds.  Here’s how I created mine!

 

Choices for Garden Design

In permaculture, one of the principles is “stacking functions.”  The idea behind this is that you should try to get as many different functions out of a single space as you can.  For example,  the greenhouse offers not only a great growing space for fall and spring crops, it offers shelter from frost for seedlings, and it offers a wonderful place to hang out when its 35 out and you want some sun.  Its multiple purposes, then, contribute to the overall goal of the greenhouse.  In the case of desginging a garden itself, this is also critical. The title of this blog is, after all, the “druid’s garden”–implying not only a garden but a sacred space.

 

The Lawn and Potential Space

The Lawn and Potential Space

And so, I think it is really important to consider the role of the sacredness and design in a garden space.  It’s not just a space to grow things in, to serve the pollenators and create ecosystems….but also a place of sacredness, where the act of gardening is sacred work and considered sacred practice. As is the act of being in the garden for non-gardening purposes, such as meditation and ritual.  To me, making garden spaces that can “stack functions” in this way is an important part not only of gardening, but of living a sacred life more generally and building connection and communion with nature.

 

So for this garden, I had a limited 2/3 circle space after putting in the greenhouse.  I toyed around with a large number of designs before settling on a tree of life theme.  As the garden developed, I realized I didn’t just want a set of “branches” but rather a space to do walking meditation like a labrynth, so the tree transformed more into a moth/butterfly design.

 

Building a Hugelkultur Walking Meditation Garden

Now that we’ve talked through both the mundane and sacred aspects of this particular garden design, let’s take a look at how to build one of these gardens!

 

Step 1: Observe, Interact, and Create a Design

I already had a good sense of the sunniest part of the land that was near the house and easy to access; this, was where the old owners had once had a pool.  It was here that I decided to place both the greenhouse and the walking meditation herb garden.  I observed this space in rain and sun, and also measured it out, thought about how I wanted to move among the garden, how big the beds should be, and so on.  To do this most effectively, you can get some garden stakes or sticks and then string–actually map out the location of your beds, see how it will be as you walk it, etc.  If you don’t have this, some old flour also works, just pour the flour down where you want the beds to be in lines, so that you are essentially “drawing” with flour.

Once I had a plan and was ready to proceed, I called out some friends to help get me started.

 

Step 2: Dig Down

I was blessed with some serious help from friends one weekend just after I moved in to help dig out the hugels.  First we had to remove a burn pit the previous owners left.  Then, we dug them down about a foot and a half–as far as we could go. The clay will be used for a cob wall project(more on that later in the year) that will go in the back of the greenhouse. This doesn’t look like much, but it was literally about 5 hours of work by six people!  Clay is heavy and doesn’t play nice.

Clay garden beds dug down

Clay garden beds dug down

 

 

Step 3: Add Wood

The next step is to add wood to your hugel bed. A lot of it.  As much as you can fit in it.  Here you can see me completing one half of one of the hugels. I used a lot of medium sized logs, some sticks, and also large huge logs along the bottom (not all of which you can see in the photo). The bigger logs will take much longer to break down, but that’s ok!

 

Most wood is fine to use with hugels, but you want to avoid a few kinds.  First, don’t use any woods that have chemicals that prevent the growing of other plants (black locust, walnut and alanthus come to mind). You also want to avoid rot resistant woods (cedar, black locust) as the point is to get it rotting down quickly. My beds primarily consisted of maple, cherry, and oak, as that was what was available.

Adding wood

Adding wood

Step 4: Add Additional Soil-Building Materials

The next stage is to cover the wood with anything else you can–any non-weedy garden waste, leaves, fresh or finished compost, manure, and so on. I threw some old pumpkins that were rotting in there, coffee grounds, a good pile of leaves, mulched grass, horse manure, and more.

 

In traditional hugel building, you would replace the topsoil upside down on top of the logs and keep adding more materials.  The issue I have with that is that I have 100% clay, and I don’t want to have any additional clay in my beds.  So I instead removed it for another project.

Adding leaves and materials

Adding leaves and materials

Step 5: Add Borders (optional)

A lot of people make hugel mounds and don’t add borders, but I find that the borders are really helpful to get them higher, especially with the design I was using (which consisted of fairly small beds.  Also, the borders give a clear demarkation line bewteen what your path is and what a bed is–and for good garden design, this is critical.  Paths determine garden space, after all.

 

After seeing my two friends who made a cool hugel garden with uprightlogs as borders, I thought I could do something similar.  In fact, this does not work:

I put the logs upright and then sunk them in the clay.  But…frost heaving in the winter knocked them all down.  I couldn’t dig down far enough to get them firmly in the soil without some kind of auger…. So I scrapped this idea and went to shorter beds with a rock linked edge.

This looks cool, but won't survive the winter!

This looks cool, but won’t survive the winter!

Since there is copious amounts of stone on the property (I just have to go digging and searching for it) and so I instead spent a lot of time hunting for stone on the property and moving stone for these beds.  It is empowering work!

Stone is quite heavy and moving it is a very good workout!

Moving stone is a very good workout!

 

Leaves and Stone

Leaves and Stone – I lined the beds with stone before adding the final layer. I packed the stone in with clay.

 

Step 6: Top with Finished Compost

The final step for the bed creation to top the bed with finished compost–I added about 5-6″ of compost over everything and then let it rain and settle, then added more.  This gives the plants you plant some room for growing. The beds, being so young, are otherwise difficult for the plants to take root.  Even so, the first year of the hugels as things are just starting to rot down can be not as abundant for plants.  You also want to suppliment with nitrogen–as carbon starts to break down (which is what most of your woody material is) it does suck the nitrogen out of the soil.  The most readily available form of nitrogen is, of course, liquid gold!

Adding finished compost to the bed

Adding finished compost to the bed

Step 7: Establish Paths

Becuase I wanted this to be a walking meditation garden, I needed to also think about the paths between the beds and creating them with something that would last.  I have done a lot of paths in the past at my old homestead with cardboard and wood chips; they are excellent choices, especially for a vegetable garden. Eventually, the wood chips and cardboard breaks down, and you end up with great soil you can move into your beds, then add another layer in.  However, these kinds of paths require regular yearly or at least every-other year maintenance and the paths quickly get lost.

 

But for this garden, which was more permanent and meant to also be a sacred space, I chose to use landscape fabric (which has a 20-25 year life and is breathable) and pea gravel from a local supplier. You could do a lot of things here for paths: brick work, stone work, other kinds of gravel, cardboard and wood chips, etc.  The key is to create something that you like and that fits the vibe of the garden.

 

So I laid the landscape fabric down and used steel pins to pin it in place. This fabric allows water to permeate but will not allow grass or other plants to grow.

 

Laying out the landscape fabric

Laying out the landscape fabric

Finally, I topped this with a 2-3″ layer of pea gravel (locally sourced) for walking paths.

Pea gravel going in

Pea gravel going in

 

Step 7: Plant!

The hugels can have both annual and perennial plants, trees, shrubs, etc.  I opted for this garden as a walking meditation garden filled with healing plants and some food plants.  There are three inlets and you can walk a figure eight or a loop in the garden and commune with the perennial plants.  The garden is planted with a variety of perennials and a few annuals: calendula, yarrow, horseradish, basil, thyme, new england aster, wood betony, garlic, chives, tomatoes, chamomile, rue, echninacea, St. John’s wort, and much more!

Butterfly-Shaped Meditation Garden Complete

Butterfly-Shaped Meditation Garden Complete

Another view of the garden

Another view of the garden

It is amazing to see how far this beautiful garden has come from the green, consumptive lawn.  It will now produce food, medicine, habitat, nectar, beauty, and a wonderful space for ritual and meditation work. This is just one variation–of countless others–to combine solid permaculture design techniques with sacred gardening.

 

An American Ley Line Network: A Ritual of Creation May 7, 2018

This past weekend, we had a delightful time at the 2nd OBOD Mid Atlantic Gathering of US(or MAGUS). It was a wonderful weekend full of positive energy, community, and celebration of the land. I was involved heavily in the ritual planning and work this year and was the gathering’s keynote speaker, and we once again did a Galdr ritual (a chanting ritual) using Ogham (sacred trees). This year’s theme was “Sacred Time, Sacred Space” and as part of this work, we decided to re-enchant the land by establishing a new ley line network. We are co-creating a new ley line network across the land.

 

Motherstone at Four Quarters Interfaith Sanctuary

Motherstone at Four Quarters Interfaith Sanctuary

The overall goal of this ritual was to re-enchanting our landscape, connecting sacred spaces and creating sacred spaces across the landscape, and connecting our broader druid community. The work involves empowering, connecting, and eventually, dispersing a set of stones to the broader landscape. I wanted to share parts of our ritual and work here as part of my “Sacred Landscapes” series. I say “share parts” because you can certainly talk the magic out of something, and I think that this is key for this particular ritual moreso than some others we have done in the past.  However, I will share enough that others interested in this work have a blueprint for building their own ritual and the foundation of their own energetic work.

 

Overview of the Work:

The most simple way of creating a sacred ley line/energetic network is to think about linking one or more places together.  These could be any number of things:

 

  • Sacred points you create along a landscape on a piece of property, say, between a sacred grove, spring, and shrine at  tree
  • Sacred points you create along a larger landscape: say, your sacred spot in a nearby forest and a nearby meditation spot you use regularly
  • Sacred points between two outdoor stone circles (shared between friends)
  • Sacred points connected between many groves and individuals (what we did at MAGUS) with a central “hub” (the Stone Circle at Four Quarters).

 

Even connecting two or more points is a good start to think about how the energies might flow between the two sites, enriching them and exploring the magic and energy that can flow between that connection. And this can be really simple: a standing stone you set up on a hill to bring down the solar current, connected to a sacred grove deep in the woods. Many ley lines of ancient times were only a few miles in length–in today’s age, without whole cultures behind us, doing smaller things is totally appropriate.

 

So if you’d like to try this out, let’s first go through two kinds of background information and then onto some specific things you might do.

 

Background: Ley Lines and the Telluric Currents

In order to prepare for setting up even a small ley line network, we need some background information.  I’ve shared this in my blog before at various points, but here is an overall summary:

 

Sacred Mandala as part of our MAGUS 2018 Ritual

Sacred Mandala as part of our MAGUS 2018 Ritual

Ley Lines and the Re-Enchantment of the World: As I’ve discussed in previous posts in this series, re-enchanting the land is, I believe, part of what we can do as druids, particularly druids in North America. The basic premise is this: at one time, humans across the globe recognized the sacredness and enchantment present in the land and worked, in collaboration with nature, to bring that sacredness into manifestation through various earth works, stones, and old straight tracks (ley lines). They did this both physically on the landscape throughout the world and energetically using various magical and ritual techniques. This was not done by a single group of human ancestors, but by many of them over a period of millenia. The specific ley lines, rituals, and beliefs obviously took on their own local flavor, but several key aspects were consistent across time and culture:

 

  • The sanctity of “straight lines” as a sacred feature on the landscape
  • The use of various kinds of sacred features and alignments across the landscape (sacred sites, stone circles, earthworks, connected by paths, marker stones, etc)
  • Usually, some kind of “central point” from which energy radiated outward
  • The relationship between energy flows/land healing/blessing and  physical markers on the landscape
  • The use of nature-based augury for conditions to set the lines and ensure right placement (birds, weather patterns, astrology)
  • The ability of people, over time and space, to shape these energy flows and enhance the magic of the land.

 

If we take these six premises, we have a roadmap that our ancient ancestors offer us for the kind of re-enchantment of the world and creating sacred landscapes for here and now.  There is so much we could do with this.

 

Telluric and Solar Currents: A third piece of our Galdr ritual this year is the interplay and work between the Telluric and Solar currents. I described these in much more detail in an earlier blog post, but will briefly talk about what they are and how we are working them there. Most peoples, save modern Western Civilization, have some concept of “energy” and how it flows across the land. The model I’m describing here is based in conceptualizations from the Druid Revival tradition, but you’ll find that other traditions offer similar or complimentary understandings. In this view, we have two main sources of energy: the solar and the telluric, and one that is created through a synthesis and harmonious combination of these (the lunar).

 

  • The Solar Current: Is the energy of the sun and the celestial heavens. The solar current comes down to the earth, and, as the ancient lore suggests, can be channeled and brought to/in/across the earth in various ways: through a properly set standing stone (see John Michael Greer’s Druid Magic Handbook), through a properly aligned temple or church (see John Michael Greer’s Secret of the Temple), or through a properly aligned ley network (see Pennick and Devereaux’s Lines On the Landscape, final chapter.). The solar current brings life, energy, vitalization, and power.
  • The Telluric Current: Is the deep energy of the earth, rising up from the earth’s core. The Telluric Current comes up from the earth, and, as the ancient lore suggests, can be purified and enhanced with the Solar current. The earth’s energies are disrupted now, particularly with so many destructive activities taking place below the earth’s surface, fracking being the absolute worst of these.

 

Most of the time in various cultures and in various ways, these energies were shaped and enhanced through human activity to bring healing, vitality, and abundance to the land. And that, too, is a primary goal with our Galdr ritual and Ley Line Network here we are creating through the MAGUS gathering.

 

Background, Part II: Raising Energy through Sacred Chanting and Tree Energy

There are countless ways you might raise energy for the purposes of creating even a small ley line or alignment on the landscape. Here are two kinds of energies that we’ve been working with at MAGUS for the last two years that have worked particularly well for this purpose:

 

Galdr / Sacred Chanting:. We again used the idea of “Galdr” (which is a Norse word for “chant” or “incantation”) using our voices, chanting in unison to raise energy to enact a specific purpose. For us as druids, chanting Ogham (sacred trees) is more appropriate  than the runes, so that is exactly what we used. I offered many more details on the Galdr and its origins in my first post from the 2017 MAGUS gathering, so I will direct your attention there. The Galdr chanting works well with a group of any size; with 70+ druids at this gathering, we used the Galdr chanting in four separate groups to raise a network of interrelated energies. If you had a smaller group, or individual, you might use a series of chants in succession. The point here is simple: you can use chanting (and we used sacred tree names) to raise up energy and direct it for the purposes of establishing a sacred network of sites, stones, or anything else.

 

Four Sacred Trees and Ogham: Our ritual again uses Ogham (the Celtic tree alphabet, adapted to North American trees) for raising and shaping the energy of the ritual. These trees, using their sacred names, are chanted to raise energy. The two ritual co-creators (myself and Cat at the Druid’s Well) sat for many months with sacred trees to see who would aid in our work.  Since that is part of the “magic” of the ceremony, I’m not going to reveal much more here–but those wanting to do something similar should find four dominant and powerful trees on their own landscape that can aid in this work. One should be a tree that invokes peace between humans and the land, one should have some deep connection to spirit/otherworld to help create the network, one should help support that work, and one should serve as a container/strengthener to help hold the space.

 

Ley Line Chants

For our gathering, Loam Ananda, an incredibly amazing composer, wrote a ley line chant, which I have permission to share here. This is part of how we raised energy and brought everyone together.

 

You can hear the full chant on Soundcloud here. Here is the melody to the chant (for one person or a small group).

Singing up the Ley Lines Chant

Singing up the Ley Lines Chant

If you have more than one person, this is the chant for a larger group, with four harmonious parts. We have our four sacred trees in the bass part, but you can replace that with any other energies you are working to raise energy and connect space. This chant was taught to everyone prior to our main ritual and used both when we placed our stones for blessing/connecting/empowering during the gathering and also when we removed them to take home.

Singing up the Ley Lines

Singing up the Ley Lines – Group Chant

 

Now that we have a framework and some ways of raising energy–one possible framework among countless others–we can look at two ways we can directly do some of this work. One would be in a larger group setting and one would be something individuals could do.

 

A Simple Approach: Connecting Sites and Energies

Individuals can certainly do this work of establishing ley lines and sacred landscape features on their own, thinking about the connection between two or more sacred sites.  The layers of complexity come in depending on how far you want to go, how many sites you want to build/connect, and the number of people you might get involved.

 

If you want to create a sacred alignment individually, you might start with these aspects:

  • Listening to the spirits. Follow your intuition and communicate with the spirits of the land about the work you’d like to do.  Get a sense of what, where, and how you might to about doing this work. This may be as simple as a gut intuition or signs from nature (remember that the Roman Augurs often looked to weather patterns, birds, and clouds to determine “right alignment”).
  • Once a site has been selected, spend time attending to the energies of the land. Before a sacred ley line can be created, you want to make sure the spirits of the land are in line with this purpose and that any land healing and energetic work that needs to be done in advance is done.
  • Using stones or other features to connect two points. Take a stone from one place and set it ceremoniously in another place, raising energy while doing so and envisioning the two points linked. (See above for how you might do this)–we used sacred trees and chanting, but you can use the four elements  blessings or any other magic you regularly practice.
  • Regularly attending to the new line. Ley lines are both physical and energetic, and so it is useful to think about how these lines might be attended to regularly with seasonal celebration and ritual. They grow with power as we, as individuals and groups, attend to them over a period of time.

 

Carving stones with ogham at our stonecarving workshop at MAGUS

Carving stones with ogham at our stonecarving workshop at MAGUS

A More Complex Approach: An American Ley Line Network – Celtic Galdr Ritual at MAGUS 2018

What we did for MAGUS this year was in the spirit of what I discussed above, but a bit “bigger” since we had six ritualists as planners as well as numberous interconnected workshops and ceremonies. But the principle is the same. I’ll walk you through some of the basics of what we did.

 

Part 1: Stone Selection and Attunement

When people came to the gathering, the ritual began almost immediately.  In an opening workshop, people a These are the activities that we did to move attendees into part I.

  • Finding a Stone, Making it Your Own: Upon coming to the gathering, each participant was asked to find a stone–a stone that they would work, as an individual and as a group, to empower and eventually take home and ceremonially place in a sacred manner somewhere on their landscape. This stone becomes one of many “nodes” of our sacred network.  In our case, since we were building something bigger, we thought it was important that the stones all come from the same place (Four Quarters Interfaith Sanctuary) as they will already be connected and our work would simply be to connect them further.
  • Attuning to Stones: At the gathering, participants did a variety of things to attune to their stones. We had a wonderful stone carving workshop led by Forest Green, and druid attendees were able to carve ogham into their stone. The druids were also able to spend time in the larger stone circle at Four Quarters and attune to the energy there. Druids learned about chanting through a great workshop from Tom Dannsarach and Loam Ananda. Druids learned about sacred mapping and sacred place names from Cat Hughes. Four quarters forms the central “node” in our network and so, it was critical that our stones–and participants–were aligned with this sacred space.
  • Attuning to the Four Sacred Trees: As part of our pre-ritual workshop, each attendee was able to draw an ogham to place them in their group and then spent some time, attuning to the sacred energy of the tree they were working. Each group also had an opportunity to learn more about their tree and the mythology, magic, and specific energy that tree was bringing to our ritual. Each group did this differently, as each group’s role was unique in the ritual–some sat with the tree in question, others journeyed inward to meet the sacred tree and receive a message, learning how to hold sacred space, and so on.
    •  We spent months selecting the trees and each of the “ritual leaders” spent more months researching their trees and being prepared to lead their group in raising the right energy for the ritual.
Ogham staves, attunement materials, and scrolls for our ritual

Ogham staves, attunement materials, and scrolls for our ritual

In sum, we worked to attune participants to their own stones and sacred trees, in order that we might begin to connect them and weave in the ancestral magic of the ley line.

 

Part II: The Galdr Ritual to Connect and Empower the Stones

Space Preparation: Sacred Fires and Sacred Circles

As part of the preparation for the ritual, eight fire tenders built and consecrated sacred fires (a central fire around whih we placed our stones) and four quarter fires. Further, a group of druids also created a cornmeal sacred circle using ogham prior to the ritual; this allowed us to again, place a physical manifestation on the landscape of the energy we were invoking.  The sacred circle had a number of conentric circles and lines featured both ogham as well as material from our sacred trees.

 

The Main Galdr Ritual

The Galdr ritual itself did not have a specific “script” of words, although we certainly had a script of actions and flow, unique to this gathering and space. We begain by honoring the trees, the stones, and the fire. Then, we did a similar thing to last year’s Galdr at MAGUS, where we had participants in four groups chanting, moving, and circling.  In this case, participants were circling a sacred fire and the stones that we were blessing. After raising this energy, we left the stones in that sacred space till the end of the gathering where once again chanting, each participant was able to take his or her stone and recieve instructions for how to place his or her stone.

 

Part III: Creating the Network: Setting Stones in Sacred Homes

Once the stones were empowered, at the end of the gathering, each participant came and gathered up their stone. Each particiapnt was also given a scroll with instructions on what to do next. Each participant was asked to find a sacred place for their stone of their choosing, to establish a sacred space (using OBOD’s grove opening or any other method of their choosing), to set their stone and chant all four sacred trees, and then to envision a line traveling from their stone back to the stone circle at Four quarters. As they envisioned this, they would once again use our “singing up the ley lines” chant.  We also asked participants to “map out” where their stones went on a Google Map, so we can literally see the lines being created after the gathering.

 

Final Thoughts

There’s a lot of information here to get you thinking. The thing that I like about this is that we are responding in a positive way, building anew, something that is ours, unique, magical and choosing to see the land as the enchanted, sacred place that it is.  I hope that other individuals and groups will find the above information inspiring and I encourage you to experment and see what you develop.

 

This idea and ritual is the creation of many minds and hearts! Contributors to this ritual include Cat McDonald (blog: A Druid’s Well); Loam Ananda (blog: Loamology.com); John and Elmdea Adams; Brom Hanks; David North and Nicole South; and Dana O’Driscoll here at the Druid’s Garden.

 

Sacred Landscapes, Part IV: Sacred Time, Sacred Space April 8, 2018

A woodburned sign bidding druids to enter a sacred space

A woodburned sign bidding druids to enter a sacred space

“This is sacred time, this is sacred space.” At the end of the opening of every OBOD ritual, this powerful statement is made.  But what does “sacred time, sacred space” really mean? What is “the sacred” and how do we know it?  What is sacred in the context of American Druidry, where we do not have an abundance of ancient stone circles or accessible sacred sites? In this post, I want to spend some time today thinking about the ways we might enact the sacred in our own lives and lands as part of building sacred landscapes and re-enchanting our land.

 

In my first post in this series, I talked about the “disenchantment” of the world through industrialization and the rise of a religious tradition that did not acknowledge the land as sacred. And truly, a disenchanted worldview–where only the physical matters, and where the physical landscape is viewed only as a resource from which to extract wealth–literally strips the sacredness from everything: very little is “sacred” in our current culture. In this culture, money, and the pursuit of it, is the most sacred thing. Some of our national landmarks are tourist attractions, and may hold sacredness for someone (like the Veterans memorial for someone who lost a solider at war) but even these spaces are fairly rare. Churches, mosques, synagogues and other such places may also hold some sacredness still, but even that seems fairly minimal. Most major natural wonders are now tourist attractions, and tourists are anything but respectful or reverent. Even sacred places around the world, like Stonehenge, are routinely desecrated through garbage, graffiti, and more.

 

I think that what I’m describing is the reality of living in a disenchanted world, where nothing is truly sacred any longer. If we don’t know how to treat anything as sacred, how can we re-enchant our lands? In this post, I start to explore some of the building blocks and considerations for doing this.

 

The Building Blocks: Intentionality, Time, Meaning, Symbolism, and Energy

In order to create sacred spaces, we need to consider a number of different building blocks that help us pick up the pieces and begin again.

 

Intentionality. The first building block of bringing the sacred into everyday life is about intentionality and acknowledgement.  Sacredness happens in many cases because we choose to make it happen. We choose to offer an event, a place, an object, a mantra or prayer, or even a person some special meaning, some important significance, something that takes it from an everyday “mundane” thing and into something that has meaning beyond the every day. That that object , place, event, mantra, and so forth is something different, something out of the ordinary, something that requires reverence and special treatment in some way.  Individuals can create the sacred, but so can groups, on a different level.

 

Cherish Earth Sign - made from old barn wood

Cherish Earth Sign – made from old barn wood

For example, declaring intentions at the start of a ceremony where you are establishing sacred space and time (such as the OBOD opening) is a sacred act.  Speaking the words is a powerful act that sets your intentions. When I was homesteading in Michigan on my land, I created a lot of signage that also set intentions. My garden had a sign that said “Cherish Earth” (which will go on my new garden this year).  That sign set the intentions for me working in the garden each day–as a place of sacredness, as soil to cherish and nurture.

 

Time. Time helps us build a relationship with space. The more that we acknowledge and engage with a sacred place, thing, object, prayer, and so on over a period of time, the more sacredness it begins to take on. This is both because of human psychology (repeated patterns become individual rituals) but also because of magical reality (the more energy you put into something, the stronger that thing becomes). A simple analogy here might help illustrate this point. Let’s say you start with an empty field, and each time you visit a sacred place, you bring a stone. After 10 visits, you have 10 stones, and have built a stone cairn. After 100 visits, you have four stone cairns at each of the quarters as well as a whole stone circle and spiral labyrinth. Thus, repetition and time can certainly build sacredness in a space. This is an important concept in an American Druid setting and offers us one of the keys to sacred space and time here in the US.  Time, by the way, is one of the pieces often “missing” for American druids. We don’t have that sense of history and presence of old stone circles in the way that our UK counterparts do. Given that, we have different kinds of work and possibilities here on our soil.

 

Meaning. Ultimately, something is sacred because we choose to give it meaning. The nature of that meaning, and the spiritual experiences we may gain through that meaning, is paramount to establishing anything sacred. Part of the reason we have less sacred spaces, times, and places is that the only thing that has real meaning and singificance is money in our culture. Recognizing the meaning and importance of other things is part of establishing the sacred.

 

Symbolism. Symbolism here, also plays a role. We can draw upon existing symbolism (Awen, ogham, the pentacle/pentagram, runes, colors, animals, directions, etc) to bring more meaning to new places/objects/prayers, etc. that we want to bring more sacredness to. Symbolism is connected to meaning–some symbols have long-standing relationships with particular themes (like the pentacle and pentagram, which have been protective symbols for over 5,000 years and are woven into the fabric of our landscape). Symbols, then, help us shape meaning and establish the sacred.

 

Magic and Energy. Sacred space and sacred time is also, ultimately, about magic and about energy. The kind of energy that you can raise in a group setting through ritual (see next section, the kind of inherent energy that collects at the bottom of the waterfall, the telluric energy gushing forth out of a spring. In the hermetic tradition, the simple adage rings true: as above, so below; as within, so without. When we create sacred spaces in the physical world or interact with them, that raises energy on the inner planes. When we raise energy by calling the quarters, chanting, dancing, singing, and more, we bring forth energy, direct it, and shape it in some way. And for many sacred places and sacred landscapes, that energy stays in some way. In the case of the ley lines, as I described last week, the lines themselves faciliate the raising and transmission of energy all across the land.

 

 

Creating Sacred Time and Sacred Moments

Now that some of the building blocks have been covered, we can turn to ways to bring in the sacred on different scales and in different ways.  Sacred moments and time are not permanent sacred places, but ways of powerfully bringing in the sacred to everyday life.

 

Sacred Moments in Everyday Life. Let’s start by thinking about the different ways in which humans experience the sacred in everyday life.  Again, thinking about the building blocks above, we can bring in sacred meaning to everyday life in any number of ways—the key is to take a moment in time, give it meaning, and set intentionality.  When people say a prayer at a meal, for example, they are taking a sacred moment in everyday life.  You can also do this with natural events, as my example will now illustrate.

 

Snowy Oak Tree

Snowy Oak Tree

Here’s a simple example: in late November or early December of 2017, the first snowfall happened. I happened to be at work that day, on the 5th floor of our building (the top floor). I went into this lobby area in my department and began watching it in awe and reverence—the snowflakes were big and lazy and beautiful.  As I stood, another colleague of mine also came to the window. We acknowledged each other and our mutual love of snow, and then we stood, watching it, for probably about 10 minutes. We recognized, in each other, that the first snowfall was a significant and sacred event, and we took a quiet moment in an otherwise very busy and hectic day to revere it. This is a simple example of observing a natural event, in every day life, and taking a moment to respect and honor that event in life.

 

Sacred Times through Ritual. Another way in which we intentionally create sacred space and sacred time is through ritual. A lot of effort in the druid tradition goes into opening and closing a sacred space—usually about half of our ritual time is devoted to this activity. Why is it so critical?  For one, it takes time to do it right and well, to acknowledge the powers and call them forth, to protect the space, to cleanse and bless it.  But really, I think a lot of the time spent is in the mind—helping us come out of the mundane and cross the threshold into sacred awareness. We also declare it in some way, by declaring the space open, declaring sacred space/sacred time, and so forth—the declaration of it, the acknowledgement, that all of us are in agreement (in a group) or that you are doing this sacred thing is critical to the task at hand. We use intentionality, symbolism, and time to do this work.

 

Sacred Actions.  Another kind of sacredness we can bring to everyday life is the idea of living life in a sacred and intentional manner.  This is the kind of ‘everyday’ living that brings sacred awareness to your life.  For me, this involves ecological living and permaculture: I use permaculture principles as a guiding light to help me make decisions and recognize that with each moment, I am interacting on sacred land—my actions can help or harm that land.

 

Sacred Places: Natural and Created

Moving beyond moments, we can think about the kinds of natural and created larger sacred spaces that we might engage with, particularly here in the US, in places were we don’t have bountiful stone circles or ancient sites.

 

Sacred Places: Natural.  There are those places that have such inherent beauty and magic that they are already sacred.  These are places that we may come upon that simply have an existing “energy” about them that is so powerful and potent that you move forward with reverence and awe.

 

I’ve spoken about one of these places at length, here, on this blog: Laurel Hill State Park’s old growth Hemlock grove.  I remember the first time I walked into that grove, it had such a sacred presence about it. It took my breath away.  I had never seen anything like it—the ancient hemlocks, powerful and wise—just stood, waiting for me to do something. It is extremely dark, the understory is minimal, and the trees just go up and up.  Their trunks are so wide and old. It looks nothing like the other forests of Pennsylvania, who have all been logged multiple times and are in the place of regrowth.  Since that moment, I’ve spent a lot of time seeing other people, random people, not just druids I bring there, interact with the space.  They enter the grove, their eyes light up, their mouths open, and they grow quiet. It is spectacular, it is sacred, and it is meaningful to the everyday person.

 

Sacred Places: Intentional. Then there are those spaces that we create, that we build, over a period of time.  This might be individual or small sacred spaces like I’ve written about before: stone circles, sacred gardens, bee and butterfly sanctuaries, etc.  These are wonderful ways of bringing the sacred into our landscapes and everyday lives.

 

Stones at Four Quarters

Stones at Four Quarters

Or, this might be spaces that we create together, with our hearts and hands, like the stone circle at Four Quarters Interfaith Sanctuary. Four Quarters has been engaged in an ongoing ritual to create a stone circle for almost a quarter of a century—and it shows. When you walk into the space there, the stones sing to you. They greet you. They each have personality, presence, magic. It is unlike any other place I have been on this land in North America.  There can be a social aspect to creating sacred spaces. The idea of people coming together, for a common goal and vision, and lending their energy to meet that goal is a powerful experience.

 

 

Sacred as Relationship and Co-Creation

Creating sacred space and sacred time is ultimately about relationship.  It is about you being in relationship to something else: a waterfall, a moment in time, a stone circle, your relationship with what it is that you feel is sacred.  It is about you taking time out of regular, busy life to engage with the sacred and to co-create the sacred.  We co-create the sacred with each other, and we co-create the sacred with the power of the living earth. For me, this is why regular visits and regular rituals/moments are a critical part of thinking about sacred spaces and places. Like an old friend, I am building a relationship with a sacred space or place and that simply takes time.

 

 

Sacred Landscapes, Part III: Ley Lines and the Energy of the Earth April 1, 2018

Over the last two weeks, we’ve been exploring the idea of re-enchanting the world. Two weeks ago, I introduced the idea of re-enchantment through a discussion Max Weber’s claims that the world has been “disenchanted” by industrialization. Re-enchanting, then, is potential work that we as druids and earth-centered spiritual people might do. If we want to do this re-enchantment, however, we need to draw upon and better understand the ways in which ancient humans created sacred landscapes. In last week’s post, we explored the historical understanding of “ley lines” and alignments on the earth to understand some of the physical tools that ancient humans worldwide used to enchant the world. Today’s post continues this discussion in a more metaphysical sense–understanding the more modern “ley line theory” as it applies to earth energy and considering the energetic work we might do.

 

Ley Lines as Energy

Line of stumps in January - strong telluric energy.

Line of stumps in January – strong telluric energy.

As I mentioned in last week’s post, many people today in the metaphysical and druid communities think that ley lines are only energetic in nature, as in they are lines of energy flowing across the earth’s surface.  But ley lines have much more ancient roots that were also physically embodied upon the landscape through old straight tracks, mounds, marker stones, trees, stone circles, sacred sites, and much more.  The picture is a bit complex: it is clear that ancient humans had energetic/metaphysical/spiritual purposes for their ancient physical alignments (which I will explore more in this post) but, as “leys” were rediscovered, the physical and metaphysical features were also considered in isolation.

 

The modern conception of the ley line as an energetic line is traced by Pennick and Deverux in Lines on the Landscape. They argue that this conception began with a footnote that Dion Fortune read in W. Y. Evans Wentz’s The Fairy Faith in Celtic Countries published in 1911. Wentz discusses in his footnote how fairy paths that “circulate the earth’s magnetism.” Fortune expands upon such an idea in her Goat Foot God (1936), where her characters are having a discussion of how to purchase a house for a ritual to invoke the Old Gods. This discussion includes a discussion of the lines of power that go between sacred sites, and how the house should be located along one of these lines of power (but not that close to the sacred sites themselves, due to tourist energy). By the 1960’s, with the publishing of John Mitchell’s The View Over Atlantis, Mitchell also picks up on Wentz’ footnote and expands this ley theory with the influence of Feng Shui and the dragon paths (lung mei), which he notes must be part of the earth’s natural flow of force or magnetism. Another term he uses for these energetic leys is the concept of “dragon currents” which I have heard also used in the modern occult scene. The View Over Atlantis led to many other discussions of energetic ley lines; this idea spread far and wide.  For example, dowsers picking up on the idea of earth energy and dowsing for ley lines. Another place that this energy of the earth as metaphysical reaches back into the old druid revival texts, although I haven’t seen it referred to as “leys” (the druid revival pre-dates this) but as “currents” of energy–the three currents: telluric (earth), solar, and lunar.

 

Of course, scholars working in a disenchanted worldview would dismiss the above discussions as hogwash and focus primarily on, physical features, but we have already established that western civilization is the only civilization in the world who has abandoned the metaphysical entirely–and look what a mess we are in!  Dion Fortune, W. Y. Evans Wentz, John Mitchell and other occultists were certainly onto something important–and something that ancient humans clearly knew and understood. The idea that ancient peoples knew and understood–and worked with–energy is certainly there in the historical records. Let’s now look at three ancient peoples and how they conceived of these “energy lines” to better understand the energetic side to ley line theory.

 

Ancient Chinese: Qi and Spirit Roads

In China, the concept of “Qi” or energy is still known and worked with.  Qi to the Chinese is understood as “universal energy” and they believe it flows in patterns similar to water.  We druids would call Qi by another name–Nywfre–the spark of life. In Ancient China, the long-standing practice of Feng Shui included working the landscape for harmonious living and being. Feng Shui literally means “wind-water” and focuses on the harmonization of features (physical and metaphysical) for the working of Qi. The Chinese believe that Qi is concentrated in the landscape in varying amounts, depending on the shape and features of the landscape and how humans have built into that landscape. The Chinese, then, can subtly shape landscapes over time with human-created features to bring the flow of Qi into harmony.

 

If there are “unfortunate” features in the landscape that would make Qi sluggish (which would cause a loss of vitality and fertility to the land) or flow too fast (which would cause burnout to the land), the practice of Feng Shui has means of altering the landscape through various techniques to remediate these unfortunate features. Straight mountain ridges or artificial straight lines (such as streets, railways, and so on) speed up the flow of Qi, and the termination points of these places (such as the end of a straight street) are considered to be problematic as the Qi flows too quickly and breaks up harmonious accumulations there.  These lines are also known as the “secret arrow.” The secret arrow is mitigated by dispersing the straight line with a wall, water fountain, building, windmill, and so on–these features will channel the Qi to the surrounding landscape in a more harmonious way.  Only the Chinese Emperor himself was able to harness the full power of Qi in the form of straight lines and straight tracks due to his rulership–which is critical also to understand the “energetic” aspects of leys.

 

Rulers, Royals, and *Regs

Sun rising over a straight ridge

Sun rising over a straight ridge

Many of the ancient ley lines were also connected to kings and rulership–as we see in a number of myths, a king or leader figure can literally represent the embodiment of the land and help hold the land’s fertility (this, for example, is the root of the ‘Great Rite’ ritual).  In fact, Pennick and Devereux argue that Kingship itself derives from a “straight movement” through the etymology of the indo-european root word *reg (to set straight).  Reg becomes regal, regency, regime, regin, realm, royal, rule, regulation, or regiment (p. 247).  A “ruler” can be both a straight edge and a king; these etymological connections take place in many languages other than English including German, Dutch, Old Saxon, Latin, French, and Hindi. The etymology is fascinating, and some researchers have surmised that the Indo European *reg traces the whole way back to the European Neolithic period where nomadic peoples began to transition to agricultural ones and the regs were those who led their people straight (the most ancient form of *reg may be some kind of ley surveyor) (p. 249).

 

Sacred alignments, likewise, were used in China, Egypt, and by the Aztecs all to “radiate” the king’s energy outward for rulership and to bring fertility of the land (p. 255).  For example, as Pennick and Devereux describe, the Emperor of China, sitting in the middle of his throne in the Imperial Palace in the Forbidden city, has a series of four cardinal gates, opening outward in the four directions–the energy of the Emperor himself radiating outward to his kingdom (p. 250).  Pennick and Devereux also note that the Imperial tombs have “spirit ways” that have long straight roads; it is said that spirits travel along straight roads.  These roads are not meant to be used by the living.

 

The Inca, likewise, used a Ceque system (a system of lines, radiating outward, appearing like a sunburst) from the Inca Temple of the Sun, where the Coricancha (the ruler of the Inca) sat, just like the Chinese Emperor. The Ceques were physical roads that radiated outward like rays on a sun; it is likely that the Cueques were laid out based on the Milky Way galaxy (p. 253).  The Ceques were leys–that is, they were marked straight paths- that led to huacas (shrines).  These Ceques led to 333 shrines, with 170 of those being springs or stones (p. 253). As Pennick and Devereux write, “The fact that ceques, like all ley-style alignments around the world, had multiple functions, with various degrees of utilitarian application.  The only common factor is that they all seem to have had some holy or magical quality…the straight line in the landscape was seen as a sacred line, whatever other function it had or came to have.” (p. 254).

 

Leys as a Vehicle for Spirits

As the Chinese example above describes, the Chinese knew that Ch’i (or spirit), flowed through straight lines. Pennick and Devereux also describe other cultures where the leys are seen as a vehicle for spirit: on Bali, for example, small “spirit walls” were built behind temple entrances to prevent certain kinds of local spirits (travelling in straight lines) from entering (p. 255). Fairy paths, likewise, were straight line roads between sites that were used exclusively by the “good people” in Celtic world, predominately, in Ireland.  To build a house or to sleep on one of these paths would surely draw misfortune. For example, in The Secret Country, Janet and Colin Bord describe a number of problems that people have had in Ireland with fairy paths: owners of a house built over a fairy path  would need to have doors on opposite sides, which could be opened to let the fairy through. In other cases, a corner of a house that was on a fairy path was knocked off to appease the good folk. W. Y. Wentz, in the Fairy Faith in Celtic Countries, notes that the Welsh Fairy, the Twylwth Teg, put to death humans who walk on certain paths.  These pathways are only for the spirits to use.

 

In a similar way, Pennick and Devereux describe the spirit path that is established between a Native American sweat lodge in the Sioux tradition. According to Lame Deer, a Sioux Medicine Man, the sweat lodge itself is believed to house the spirits of all living things.  The hole in the center of the lodge, the hole that will hold hot stones and have water poured to create steam, is considered to be the center of the world.  The soil from this hole is made into a mound outside, an unci mound (grandmother earth) about 10 paces from the lodge in a straight line.  Another 10 or so paces, also in a straight line, the fire burns.  This is known as a spirit path. When the ceremony begins, the power of the Great Spirit, as well as a powerful, beloved, ancestor (relative) will also be present in the pit. None can cross the line between the fire, the unci mound and the lodge itself.

 

Some paths can be walked, and others cannot

Some paths can be walked, and others cannot

Aboriginal Songlines & Singing Paths Act of Creation

Bruce Chatwin wrote The Songlines, which explores the Aboriginal Australian’s mythology surrounding the sacredness of the world, the creation of the world, and energetic “songlines” that cross the landscape.  These songlines, according to Chatwin, were “the labyrinth of invisible pathways which meander all over Australia and are known to Europeans as “dreaming-tracks” or “songlines”; and to Aboriginals as “Footprints of the Ancestors” or “The way of the law” (p. 2). The Aboriginals’ world creation myth included the ancestors as singing the land into being. Because of this, the Aboriginal Australians believed that the entire landscape of Australia was a sacred site. One of Chatwin’s informants, for example, also told him that the Aboriginal words for “country” and “line” were the same word–the Aboriginals saw the lines on the landscape as a sacred typography that was sung. His informant explained how “each totemic ancestor, while traveling through the country, was thought to have scattered a trail of words and musical notes along the line of his footprints, and how these Dreaming-tracks lay over the land as ‘ways’ of communication between the most far-flung tribes…a song was both map and direction finder. Providing you knew the song, you could always find your way across country” (p. 13).  The Aboriginal Ancestors’ songs were the acts of creation; those modern Aboriginals who went on ‘walkabout’ were making a sacred journey, a singing of re-creation, singing the original song and walking the original path of their ancestors who created the world.

 

Arkady, Chatwin’s primary informant, also describes the Aboriginal philosophy about the land as follows, “To wound the earth is to wound yourself, and if others wound the earth, they are wounding you. The land should be left untouched: as it was in the Dreamtime when the Ancestors sang the world into existence” (p. 11).

 

Remembering and Re-Creating the Sacred on the Landscape

What these examples above have explored is the idea that physical leys, in a number of places, are connected to energetic understandings of the world and the sacredness of the world.  In the case of the songlines, the leys do not even need to have physical markers–the songs themselves help determine the pathways.

Pennick and Devereux conclude by making the argument that, as the songlines themselves suggest, that the straight line ley is a universal concept, an archetypal one, that all major peoples understood and enacted in some way. They conclude their book with the following, “The straight line in the landscape, the result of another kind of human awareness interacting with a differently-percieved environment, reminds us that we have forgotten certain things.  We have forgotten about our inner life; we have forgotten that the land is sacred, and we have forgotten the interaction between them both” (p. 262). Ley lines, and their associated metaphysical connections, is ancestral knowledge.  Not knowledge of a particular people or tribe, but knowledge that all humans once had.  This is the deepest kind of ancestral knowledge, the kind that cannot be fully eradicated by a disenchanted world.

 

We all know of the sacredness of the land, in some way, even if our conscious mind in its disenchanted cultural conditioning disallows such knowledge. We know, subconsciously, of the magic woven into the fabric of the land by countless generations of human ancestors that came before us. Even today, people would rather look out their window at a forest than a busy street. People “vacate” to natural places, to hear the rhythmic crash of the waves or the splendor of the mighty waterfall, to feel themselves being restored and renewed. It’s why natural wonders of the world have millions of tourists each year coming to witness their splendor.  It is why, when I spend time in the old growth hemlock grove that is such a rare and wonderful place, hikers go silent upon entering.  This knowledge may have been largely forgotten of in the conscious mind, but it is still present with us in our blood, in our bones, in our spirits.  The ancestors whisper–it is time for re-enchanting our land.  It is time for us to understand, sense, and create the subtle flows of energy upon the landscape.

 

Our ancestors have left us a roadmap–a roadmap that I’ve been working to share over the last few posts. This roadmap is clear: there is magic and sacredness in the landscape, and we can connect sacred points within it, over short or long distances, with both physical and energetic means.

 

And so,  ancient people wove physical and metaphysical aspects of the sacred into their landscapes through stones, through songs, and through sacred sites.  The question is, what will we create? What will we do? What does our re-enchanted world look like? How do we, as individuals, as groups, as humans, take up this work again?

 

Sacred Landscapes, Part II: Ley Lines and Old Straight Tracks March 25, 2018

As a child, the my family’s property had what we called “the old roads”. These were  flat roads, of packed earth overgrown with brambles and grass, that were running perpendicular to the slope of the mountain.  They ran directly  north to south. Someone had made these perfectly level, with a bank on the lower side, and they went quite far.  There were two of them, an upper “road” and a “lower road” about 100 or so feet down the mountain. My father told me that they were “old roads” and he had no idea how long they had been there or where they had gone–just that they were there. We played on these old roads, walked them, built cabins on them, and thought nothing of them.  Who knows the history of these “old roads”, their straightness and alignment seeming out of place in a more modern time.

 

A stone circle at Sirius Ecovillage--rebuilding sacred landscape features

A stone circle at Sirius Ecovillage–rebuilding sacred landscape features

So many  remnants of ancient roads, of  ley lines and trackways, infused with sacred purpose and intent, can still be found in the out-of-the-way places on our landscape around the world–on every continent where humans have lived.  These roads represent a different era of human conciousness, an era when landscapes were infused with magical power, and where humans literally lived and moved at the intersection of the physical and the metaphysical. While the term “leys” currently has a number of conflicting meanings, I’d like to delve into the earth-based discipline of ley lines and what they were, historically, as a precursor to discussing work that we might do to re-enchant the land using some of these ancient principles.

 

In last week’s post, I introduced the concept of the “re-enchantment of the world” after exploring the “disenchantment” that has taken place in the hearts and minds of modern humans, and through the destruction of the physical landscape due to industrialization. The basic argument was that the world is already an enchanted place, even if many humans fail to see it, but as earth-honoring people, we can work to make it even more so. But in order to think about how we might re-enchant the world, it is useful to know what ancient humans did, how they created sacred landscapes in collaboration with nature for many different purposes. In order to continue to explore this, then, today’s post delves into the history of the World’s ley lines through a review and discussion of the work of Alfred Watkins Old Straight Track book and the work of Nigel Pennick and Paul Devereux in Lines Upon the Landscape. And so, let’s go ahead and dive into ley line history in order that we may build something anew.

 

Defining Ley Lines

Before I can talk about the ancient systems of human alignment that were originally known as “leys”, I want to start with some definitions.  When one says “ley lines” today, chances are, they are talking about “energetic” lines, lines that run across the landscape and carry energy in various ways.  These energetic lines, and the idea of lines of energy in a grid, tied to the earth’s magnetism, is the most common definition.  These ideas rose over the 20th century with the works of W. Y. Evans Wentz, Dion Fortune, and John Mitchell.  I will be talking about energetic understandigs of leys in next week’s post–but this week, we are going to delve into physical alignments along the landscape. But to be clear–even if a ley traditionally means a physical alignment, as this post will show, the physical alignments reflected metaphysical and spiritual understandings of the world.

 

Sacred Alignment and Straight Lines

A key feature of the ley lines throughout the world, including in the UK, is that they are straight–very straight. They do not deviate from their straightness, even if it means going over a moutnain, over a river, and so forth. To the ancient peoples all over the world, there was something very sacred in a straight line path. Pennick and Devereux note that straight line features were regarded as sacred, and they write, “The fact remains that the further back in time we go we can see that the engineering of straight linear landscape features, even if for ostensibly utilitarian purpsoes, was accompanied by a sense of veneration.  Even the Romans, we ahve seen, had wayside dieties and gods of the survey….in recent times, straight landscape lines have been simply a form of fashion, or utilitarian, for geodesy or a means of getting wheelend transport from one port to another in the shortest distance.” (246).  They note that as Western history moved on, the sacrendess of ancient alignments moved to the profane (246).  Today, it is hard to fathom that a landscape could have once been infused with such sacredness.

 

The Old Straight Track: Features of Ley Lines in the UK

Creating sacred landscape features

Creating sacred landscape features

Alfred Watkins, in the Old Straight Track, wrote about his findings concerning what he called “Ley lines” in Britain.  The most traditional use of the term “Ley” is as Watkins coined it–it is a feature of “alignment”, or as he writes, “alignment across miles of country of a great number of objects, or sites of objects, of prehistoric antiquity…straight trackways in prehistorical times in Britian…the old straight track decided the site of almost every branch of human communal activity” (xx).  Watkins discovered these leys after extensive fieldwork all over the British Isles and studying maps. Watkins chose the name “ley” (which has many different spellings/forms: leigh, lay, lee, lea, leye (153) due to his understanding of more prehistoric etymology based on place names (159).  Another term he uses is “old straight track” for the leys.

 

Leys in the UK often include multiple objects over many miles, with physical markers (mounds, mark stones, standing stones, sacred sites, churches) at various points along the ley.  I want to share some of the features of the British ley systems, because I think knowing this information can help s as we are envisioning our own sacred landscape features.

  • Straight lines: As noted above, ley lines are straight–over many miles.
  • Mounds:  Mounds, according to Watkins, are a “a separate heap of earth, or earth in stones, usually circular in form, but sometimes of a longer shape. The word is also used to infer an artifical structure, not a natural knowl, although suchanatural high point was often empahsized by slight artifical addition, and then becoems included in the designation.” (1)  Some of the mounds are long, others are round or oval (2).  Further, some mounds have a concave top, almost like a mound with a bowl at the top.  They are often placed across ridges or high points; and were arranged so that as travelers walked them, they could be hidden from people who might be below (3).  Mounds are part of the ley system.
  • Mark Stones: Mark stones are distinguished somehow from other stones naturally occuring in the area, either by shape, size, or appearance; Watkins notes that the smallest mark stones are a foot or less high and are typically distinctive but unworked, but often of altar shape. Watkins surmises that the purpose of these stones was to let the traveler know that he or she was on the right track.  Many of them are planted near sighting mounds, to signal the direction of the ley and others are placed at the crossing of two leys.  Some in Great Britian also have clear grooves; Watkins believes they may have been set with lights (23-25).  Many of the stones that Watkins describes are also named and the names persist to this day.  Watkins notes that many mark stones are places of assembly for people or even for sacred work or ritual (143).
  • Trackways: Watkins was able to see, in many places, the physical pathways still marked (with mark stones) along the landscape. People had clearly used them for travel, by foot, or with a pack animal (but not a wheeled vehicle) (40).  Wheeled vehicles would have been to large for the ancient Leys that Watkins mapped, indicating they were created before wheeled vehicles were used. Watkins notes that tree lines were often planted along the old trackways.  Even if a more modern road or track swerves away from the ley (the alignment between two points), the trackway will come back in alighment with the ley at the point where two leys cross (37).
  • Water: Ley lines were often constructed with water features; Watkins describes moated mounds (45) as well as other small ponds (possibly human-created) with small islands which leys run right through.  Watkins surmises that it is possible that water features helped people follow the leys in the darkness, specifically using the “beacon hills” described next.
  • Beacon Hills: Likewise, Beacon hills were part of the ley network that Watkins outlines; these were likely used for pagan celebrations of Beltane (he notes the terms “May hill” or “Beltany Hill” for beacon hill names (110)).  Watkins notes that “beacon” and “beckon”, which are both Anglo Saxon words, come from identical roots and mean “come to me.” (110).  Watkins believes that by day, these beacon hill points could offer a signal of smoke during the day and a fire at night to light the way directly down the ley (112).  He also notes that the use of water features would allow for the beacon fire to reflect from the water below, allowing someone who was on the high point near the beacon fire to see exactly the direction where to go in the night from the reflection on the water.  This means that the leys were clearly used for day travel, night travel, as well as ceremonial purpsoes.
  • Sighting Notches: These are large features, like a notch, road or deeply cut grove, through a mountain ridge.  Watkins surmised that they were used as sight guidelines so that people who were on the valley floors know which way the trackway went (50).
  • Initial points were where leys began: Often, a ley started with either a “natural rock structures used for early ritual or ceremonies” or some other kind of sacred feature, like a sacred well (58-59). This suggests that people may have used the ley line to travel to a particular sacred place: a well, a ritual space, by day or by night.
  • Mark Trees: Trees were also likely used to mark ley lines, and he builds a good case that Scotch Fir (Pinnus Silvestris) as a primary ley line tree.  Other trees he mention are oak, elm, yew, ash, and hawthorn (64).
  • Camps: Watkins refers to ‘camps’ to mean areas that are enclosed areas, on high ground, with an eathen embankment (65); leys would touch the boundry wall of the camp.
  • Sacred Sites: Watkins also describes other kinds of sacred sites, such as old churches (often built on older pagan sites), stone circles like Stonehenge, and the like that are also tied into the Ley network. (106). These ancient sites were aligned with the sun, and Watkins concludes that the sun alignment is also critical to the leys.
  • Orientation/Direction: Watkins notes that orientation (direction the ley faced) was another key feature of ley lines.  For example, Stonehenge’s road, on a ley line according to Watson, is oriented with the Midsummer sunrise (129).  He also notes, however that many leys were not necessarily laid out with the sun, but for more “utilitarian” purposes of travel. This topic of orientation, particularly of churches and temples, was further taken up though John Michael Greer’s recent book The Secret of the Temple.

 

What Watkins was describing was a set of intentially-created prehistoric alignments all over Great Britain.  Certainty about what these lines were for, and how they were used, is lost to pre-history.  It is clear that these leys, these alignments, had sacred intent and were used both for sacred and mundante purposes.   However, as we’ll explore more next week,  Pennick and Devereux take Watkins’ material, along with material from many other sources, and describe some likely uses of these ley lines in terms of a sacred landscape.  I also will note that there are also deities associated with the pathways and trackways, like the antlered goddess, Elen of the Ways / Elen of the Old Straight Track.

 

This information above would be fascinating enough of it were relegated only to the UK.  But As Devereux and Pennick demonstrate in Lines on the Landscape, these same features are replicated over and over again in the world.

 

The Etruscan Discipline: Sacred City Planning in the Graeco Roman Tradition

In other parts of Europe, for example, in the Graceo-Roman tradition, we again get the sense of the physical choices for placement being based on sacred intent.  A very good example of this is the Etruscan Discipline. Discussed in Varro’s Antiquities (47 B.C.E), the Etruscian Discipline describes a sacred practice of straight-line planning that was used to survey, plan, and design all Roman cities. As Pennick and Devereux describe, the Etruscan Discipline was a system of divination, ritual, and processes that used augury and sacred geometry to lay out cities. Part of this work included dividing the landscape into quarters (north east, north west, south east, south west); this quarter division was the basic plan used for all Roman city planning (ironic how we still use sacred quarters!) Later in the process, the city plans were divided further into 8ths and 16ths. Each of these sections then, were dedicated to various dieities: Gods/Goddesses of earth and nature being located in the south, the “chief deities” who helped humans in the north; the west held deities of fate and also the “infernal powers” (p. 97).  Further, an auger engaging in the Etruscan discipline would look for various signs on heaven and earth: the flight of birds (particularly songbrids or flock birds), weather features (wind, clouds, lighting, storms, etc), and the heavens (astronomical features).

Standing stones in Bangor, PA (recently set)

Standing stones in Bangor, PA (recently set)

Of this process, Pennick and Devereux write, “With all of thse factors assessed and assimiluated, the newly founded city, or laid out road, would have the best possible inauguration, because the Etruscan Discipline was the relfection of objective spiritual processes and cosmic laws through the medium of a technique which accessed information directly from nature. By founding the undertaking at both the right place and the right time, according to prescribed rules, the venture would be in harmony with both the material and non-material worlds. The Etruscan discipline thus expresed a world view in which the material reflects the spiritual, and the spiritual is revealed in the material.” (p. 98).

The Etruscan discipline is one of many, many sacred pieces that ancient Europeans used to create sacred landscapes.

 

Lines in North America

On the other side of the world, Ancient Native North Americans also used straignt line features, or what Pennick and Devereux call “Linear Earthworks.” We have far less information about the Native Peoples and what they did with these earthworks due to the genocide of the Native North Americans, but the physical features are still present in some places on the landscape.

 

The Adena peoples, who lived more than 3000 years in what is modern day Ohio and Pennsylvania,  created elaborate earthworks. These earthworks included burial mounds and sacred circles (of up to 200 feet in diameter), sometimes with other geometric features. One such mound is the Serpent Mound in Peeble, Ohio.The Hopewell, were a tribe of trade-oriented native people that lived around 150 BCE to 500 CE, also in the Ohio valley. They, likewise, produced elaborate mounds with complex and precise geometrical earthworks.  These earthworks included giant circles, squares, and straight parallel lines running outward from the circles. Other such earthwork features have been documented in Georgia, Mississippi, and California.

 

Although there is much less documentation than on the leys in Europe, the North American Indians also had a “straight track” system of trails. These are poorly documented in many regions, but the 19570 Laetitia Sample described them as follows, “The trails on the sierra regions followed natural passes….They seem to have gone on straight lines…without detouring for mountains along the way…trails were marked in various ways…somtimes piles of twigs or carins of stone along a trail have been called markers. ” (Quoted in Pennick and Deverux, p. 171).  The Anasazi people, likewise, created “arrow straight” roads demonstrating that they had some advanced surveying systems to lay out their roads in straight lines (p. 175).  The Anasazi roads are a great mystery–they have parallel features to the roads, they are much too wide for a culture that did not have wheeled vehicles, and there is evidence that they connect potentially sacred sites/locales (known as the Great Houses).  Pennick and Devereux suggest that the evidence points to the roads themselves as holy; other archeologists have labeled them “ceremonial highways” (p.179).

 

These are several of many such documented “straight line” trails– others exist in  Arizona, Colorado, New Mexico, Utah, and more.  Pennick and Devereux note that many more Native American earthworks and straight tracks all over the east and central USA that have been destroyed with modern farming, road construction, and so on.  Many such straight tracks and trails in the East are now non-existent due to this kind of activity.

 

Other Straight Line Feature Globally

Pennick and Devereux detail many other “straight line” features around the world: those created by the ancient Mayans, the ancient Inca, and the Aztecs. The ancient Aztecs had a very elaborate system of straight lines on the deserts that are still visible (p. 182) and likely were representations of astronomical features. The lines can only really be appriciated from the air, however, calling into question what exactly the Aztecs were buildilng the lines for!  Likewise, lines can be found in the Islamic world, in China, Japan, and Indonesia.  As this post is getting long, I’ll refrain from going into more details on these lines-if you are interested, you can read Lines on the Landscape for more details.

Labyrinth in Bangor, PA

Labyrinth in Bangor, PA

Re-Enchanting our Landscape

In this post, I’ve done my best to share and summarize some of the ways in which ancient humans created sacred features upon the landscape: through old straight lines (leys), through sacred roads, connecting and marking pathways between temples, and more. In compiling this information, it is clear that creating physical sacred landscape features was something shared by all ancient and even not-so-ancient humans: the idea that the physical world and features we create should be in alignment with the non-material world.  It seems hard to understand to the modern mind, immersed in a disenchanted world, that ancient cultures, all over the world, saw the land as such an enchanted place.  But if we are able to take on this ancient mindset, and recognzie that our ancestors have paved the way for such sacred work, we, too, can re-enchant our land.

 

I want to close with a quote from Pennick and Devereux which sums up some of the challenges we face in even entering the mindset, “For us, the sense of travelling through a dark and elemental landscape, pregnant with magical and spiritual forces, is no longer experienced. We have separated ourselves from the land and live within our own abstractions. The road, the way, is taken for granted, and runs as a map in our minds, our mental perspective thus being that of the aricraft or sattelite.  It is such a perspective that makes our understanding of the earlier atrributes of straight lines so difficul for us.  But if we make the effort to look carefully, we can in the use of the landscape line–until the present, literally godless, culture–the unviersal expression of an archetype, a deep-seated sense, in the human mind” (p. 246).   When does this landscape, and its alignments we put there, take on magic of its own?

 

I do think it is not a concincidence that every major earth-centered religious group that I know of that has land is building some kind of stone structure–labyrinths, sacred stone circles, mounds, and more.  The ancestoral knowledge is  are swelling within those who choose to see the land differently, teaching us, encouraging us to build sacred landscapes anew. Even though, here on the East coast, these sacred landscape features have been largely erased from modern conciousness and the physical land–somewhere deep in the soil, the magic still sleeps, waiting for a new group to come and re-enchant the land.

 

Stones Rising: A Reflection on Raising a Standing Stone September 10, 2017

We gather to the outstretched rope lines, ready to move the 22 foot long stone weighing thousands of pounds by hand. Our goal is about a half a mile away, through hilly terrain. This stone destined for the a place in the ever expanding Stone Circle at Four Quarters Interfaith Sanctuary. All have gathered for one purpose: to move this massive stone using our hands and hearts, and to give it a home in the honored northern quarter of the circle.

Part of the stone circle that has been raised in previous years

Part of the stone circle that has been raised in previous years

So much preparation has gone into this moment; building this sacred space from the ground up, the years and years of work. Countless hours of developing expertise on how to move stones.  More recent preparations, from the “stone peoples intensive” volunteers arriving a week early to prepare the site, building and securing the moving equipment, developing the rituals, preparing the grounds.  And there are the stone movers– the huge group of people who have gathered from far and wide. The evening before, we held ritual around the flame stone and called in our ancestors to bless our sacred work.  The next day, we volunteered on one or more of the many paths of service necessary to help the event take shape.  Anticipation built, especially for those of us who had never done the work before.

Calling in our Ancestors

Calling in our Ancestors

And so, here we stood, on the day of the “long pull.” Our hearts, minds, bodies, and spirits ready for the work ahead. Everyone is quiet on the lines except those who are directing the activity. We stood in silent communion with the stone.  The order is given–pull slow and steady.  The stone people work closely with the stone, shouting orders, watching to see how it moves along the path, putting logs underneath so that it can roll along smoothly. The logs are particularly important for rises in elevation and flat areas (as the road we pull the stone down is full of many dips, hills, and turns). The leaders call out commands–we stop, we move left with our ropes, we pull.  We stop, shift again to the right, and pull.  We gather together to shorten the ropes and pull.  We move apart on the longer stretches and pull.  We breathe.  We pull.

A view from the back of the rope lines

A view from the back of the rope lines, the signal to stop.

We are many tribes within tribes gathered here to pull this stone.  And yet, on these ropes, there are no differences among us. Regardless of race, class, vocation, identity, skill, physical appearance, gender, sexuality, political orientation, or ability, we gather as a single tribe with our one purpose–to pull. We have three lines coming from the stone–I was in the middle line, with my small community of druids surrounding me. These druids are dear friends, people with whom I have long shared sacred space, with whom I’ve conducted the work of initiation, with whom I’ve spent many an evening at the bardic fire, sharing mead, stories, and songs. If I fall, I know they will catch me.  But I realize in that moment, looking to the broader tribe of people around me…so would any other person here today.  Whatever differences or divisions there were before this stone pull, they fade away, and with that, our small druid tribe flows seamlessly into the greater tribe, all working as one.

 

Doing the work of raising this stone requires an incredible amount of trust. It requires that we put aside our differences, our disagreements, our pain, whatever we carry with us, and simply trust the other people who are there beside us. You can’t have barriers between you for this work, because you can’t be anywhere but present in the moment. Anything else has no place. I can understand now, in ways that were unfathomable to me before, why the ancients built big things. They built things to build community. They built things to build bonds of friendship and trust that transcend any other boundaries. They built things to bring people together. You couldn’t hold a grudge against your friend or neighbor because the next day, that person you are angry at might be holding the wooden lever that is keeping 2000 pounds of stone from crushing down on you. The ancient monuments that still stand are symbols of that community and trust.

Moving the stone using rollers up a rise

Moving the stone using rollers up a rise

In fact, working in a community to accomplish so many tasks used to be a skill that every human had. Communities worked together to accomplish incredible feats, like building stone circles that stand for 10,000 years.  It is no wonder we need our ancestors here to support us–we reach deep within our own blood and reconnect with their wisdom to guide our hands, hearts, and spirits.  We are not a separate people, but one.  Pull, wait, move.  Breathe.  Pull. Pull, Pull!

 

As much as you depend upon your community during the moving of the stone, your community depends upon you. The stone is so heavy; every person is needed. You have to pull your own weight in the most literal way. At one point, we were pulling the stone up a really long hill, and it was really intense. If we stopped, we might not get going again, so we just kept pulling. Our muscles were burning, everyone was sweating, groaning, giving it our all. There’s a temptation at that point to ease up just a little, to not pull quite so hard, to catch your breath. But you don’t. You pull with all of your might because if you don’t, someone else in your community will have to do so, and that might be too much for them as they are already giving their all. This is another form of trust.

 

If there is one thing that can be said it is that anything worth doing takes time. And stones in particular, move slowly. To move a stone quickly would risk serious injury to either us or the stone. The stone forces us to slow down, to be in the moment, to simply be present, and listen, and attend to exactly what is happening right now. I had to be present in each moment to hear what was coming next. For four hours while we moved that stone, I was in an extended movement meditation where my entire existence was focused on listening for those instructions and doing it exactly as asked. We get into a rhythm. The pauses allow us to reflect on the moment, on the beauty of it. I look to my brothers and sisters of the tribe of the standing people, noting the hickories and white pines who send us their blessings as we slowly pass. As we wait, as we pull, as we move left on our rope lines, as we drink the water that other community members provide, we are simply in that moment.

Some of us on the lines--and there I am in blue, pulling on that rope!

Some of us on the lines–and there I am in blue, pulling on that rope!

 

Our bodies grow sore, but the journey has not yet ended.  For some of us, we spend most of our waking hours in our minds, disembodied, our minds focused on screens of information.  Our bodies come to life in the moment where we pull, our bodies are fully, and sometimes painfully present, to let us know that we are still alive.  Our sore muscles remind us that we are here now, and that we are making this living monument that will last for generations.

 

As our sled that the stone rested on broke, as our log rollers broke, as everything seemed to break and we moved the stone up the last rise by sheer determination, we continued to pull. Finally, we reach our destination. The stone is once again celebrated and we come together as a tribe. That evening, the warriors, the veterans among us and others who choose to join, hold vigil over the stone.  We let the stone know that the community is here, this day, and always.  That evening, we released our fears, doubts, pain, and sorrow and came together as a tribe for the great work, the rising of the stone, to begin.

 

Celebrating the end of the long pull

Celebrating the end of the long pull

The next morning, it is time for the stone to rise to its sacred place in the north. We gather in the morning. All night long, while the warriors held vigil, the corn mother tribe baked us bread. They offer it to us to break our fast. It is delicious, slathered with honey butter. This warm gift fills our bellies and hearts. We pull, pull, pull and the stone is in place. We watch as the stone people slowly use leverage to lift it up, inches at a time, building sturdy wooden foundations to hold it. We wait, we watch, we listen. Finally, it is time for the stone to rise.

Slowly raising the stone using levers and wood stands

Slowly raising the stone using levers and wood stands

Two ropes are laid out, and those of us who are at Stones Rising for the first time are given the place of honor at the front of the ropes so we can watch the stone rise into place. The drummers beat their steady rhythm, while the entire stone circle is decked out in beautiful colors; an outdoor sanctuary to the living earth.  We pull on the ropes, hand over hand, but this is easy work, as we are also using some block and tackle (ropes and pulleys).

The stone rising up!

The stone rising up!

Orren Whiddon, whose vision has created Four Quarters, is leading us in raising the stone.  He tells us that reason we are using block and tackle is because we don’t have the experience of working in a community together. We don’t have enough control.  We would get too excited, and we pull to fast, and so, the block and tackle slow us down. When we are 75% of the way, an additional tool is needed, and it takes time for someone to fetch it from the farmhouse. We hold the ropes. We wait. We breathe. It is not hard work with all of us here; we trust that the community will hold. Then, we are pulling again, hand over hand, as the stone raises up. With a final thump, the stone fits into its hole in the circle. We cheer and hug each other. The great work is done. Children are blessed, the community spends time in celebration, and later, feasting.

 

The main ritual that evening welcomes to the stone to the circle, it is powerful and moving and magic. I catch my breath and look around at my tribe, their faces shining in the dim firelight. I think about so many things there, as we stand in the firelight as a tribe honoring the new stone. Modern humans almost never have the opportunity to experience something like this. We have grown so dependent on fossil fuels and machines that do this kind of work that we have forgotten the most important lessons of trust, forgiveness, community, slow time, and craft. As Wendel Berry writes about in the Unsettling of America, the point isn’t to do something quickly.  It is to do it well. This is especially and poignantly true of building sacred spaces. Fossil fueled powered heavy machinery could never, ever compare to what we experienced here as a tribe. We might gain in efficiency in using fossil fuels, but efficiency comes at an extraordinarily high cost. In the case of building a stone circle or other sacred space, it may come at the cost of the heart and soul of a community. Fossil fuels have made life easier, quicker, but certainly not any more full.  Fossil fuels have stripped us of an extremely important gift–the ability to work together. Raising this stone has given us the briefest glimpse into the power of what that once looked like. And I want more.

 

This experience also has a tremendous amount of value to those of us here in the United States practicing nature-based spirituality. As any druid practicing here knows, we are in a bit of a pickle. We are practicing a nature-based spiritual tradition that originated with the Celts–their land isn’t our land. Some, but not all of us, can trace ancestry back to the British Isles in some form or another. That doesn’t really matter much when we don’t live on that soil. The truth is, here in the USA, we live on someone else’s sacred land. That unavoidable fact puts us in a serious bind–the most compassionate, respectful, and meaningful solution is to build our own sacred spaces. I’ve long advocated before the necessity of creating our own sacred spaces (and have offered some suggestions for how to do so), and this experience radically affirms and extends this idea. Building small spaces with a few friends, or very magnificent spaces, like the stone circle at Four Quarters, is part of our own flavor of what it means to be an American earth-centered spiritual person, an American Druid, an American anything else.

The "Flame Stone", the northern most stone of the circle

The “Flame Stone”, the northern most stone of the circle

The truth is, I’ve been attempting to capture in words an experience so sacred, words can never fully describe its power. But for those who do not have such an opportunity to raise a stone, I hope that my attempt to give the experience voice has given you pause for reflection.  To understand the work of the stones, you must do the work of the stones.  To understand a sacred place, at least the kind we are trying to create here in the USA, you have to take part in the creation of it.  Before I raised a stone, I really had no idea what the circle of stones there at Four Quarters meant, what their power was. I couldn’t hear the singing of the stones. But now, I understand that place. I am connected to it.  It is part of me, and I am forever part of it.

 

And, perhaps, I will pull stone with you next year, on Labor Day Weekend, for Stones Rising 2018! (And for those of you attending the OBOD’s East Coast Gathering this upcoming weekend, I hope to see you there!)

 

PS: I am indebted to Patricia Robin Woodruff, who took most of the photos in this blog post.  You can learn more about her and her amazing artwork here.