Watchers on the PowerPoint
Friday April 6, 2007
Two of us made our way up the spiral path to the PowerPoint. We were warm from the dancing and glad to be in the coolness of the moonless night.
Climbing through the trees, we entered the sheltered circle at the hill’s summit. We stood under a starry sky. Incongruously, police sirens mingled with the occasional hoot of an owl and reminded me of the night sounds of my North London home. We were hear to give thanks for the week and to say goodbye to the spirits of the land.
We called the directions and invoked the spirits. I walked slowly around the circle of rocks, tracing in my mind the journey I had taken this week. In time, I stopped walking and came to rest against the trunk of a large silver birch.
Leaning into its solidness, I allowed my mind to drift away as the beings of the hill came forward between the trees into the open. Indistinct but very present, they stood quietly watching, like silent witnesses to my reflections. I reached into my pocket and fingered the round stone I had picked up on the beach the day before. AS my fingers stroke, a deep stillness held me.
The tree and I breathed. The beings seem to mirror my repose. It was as though we were sharing a prayer. I offered thanks to the spirits of the place, the participants and to my personal angel for the week, the angel of faith -the leap of faith.
Reluctantly, I moved away from the tree and stood with my companion under the starry sky and sang. We sang a farewell to the trees, the hill and the land, our voices a counterpoint of simple weaving harmony in the stillness of the night.
Below us, a clock chimed midnight. It was time to go. We opened the circle and headed back down the hillside and out into the world.
Friday April 6, 2007
Two of us made our way up the spiral path to the PowerPoint. We were warm from the dancing and glad to be in the coolness of the moonless night.
Climbing through the trees, we entered the sheltered circle at the hill’s summit. We stood under a starry sky. Incongruously, police sirens mingled with the occasional hoot of an owl and reminded me of the night sounds of my North London home. We were hear to give thanks for the week and to say goodbye to the spirits of the land.
We called the directions and invoked the spirits. I walked slowly around the circle of rocks, tracing in my mind the journey I had taken this week. In time, I stopped walking and came to rest against the trunk of a large silver birch.
Leaning into its solidness, I allowed my mind to drift away as the beings of the hill came forward between the trees into the open. Indistinct but very present, they stood quietly watching, like silent witnesses to my reflections. I reached into my pocket and fingered the round stone I had picked up on the beach the day before. AS my fingers stroke, a deep stillness held me.
The tree and I breathed. The beings seem to mirror my repose. It was as though we were sharing a prayer. I offered thanks to the spirits of the place, the participants and to my personal angel for the week, the angel of faith -the leap of faith.
Reluctantly, I moved away from the tree and stood with my companion under the starry sky and sang. We sang a farewell to the trees, the hill and the land, our voices a counterpoint of simple weaving harmony in the stillness of the night.
Below us, a clock chimed midnight. It was time to go. We opened the circle and headed back down the hillside and out into the world.
posted by Blackbirdowl | 1:02 PM
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