Sunday, 29 December 2013

Closing the circle.

The coughing man on the London tube did not cover his mouth.
My son brought the chest infection home
One after one, the members of my family have suffered a tickley cough and a blocked nose.

Last night as we ate, there was a sudden loud bang, upstairs.
The bag that contains my compass and equipment for finding the lines at The Sanctuary had fallen from the shelf.

At that point I was already heading down into ill.
The bang and sense of fear it engendered in me reminded me there was still work to be done. And that I had known, when I chose to 'open' the older Sanctuary, that I would need to close it.

As my temperature rose and I began to shiver, as the pain began, I knew that the time had come. I was scared, but I know myself to be protected. I had known that part of the bargain was to enter this dark place, and to tell its story.

To thank the guardian of the place...I allowed the illness to take me down.

And so, to that end I welcomed the poison, I would use it to purify the poison of that place. Let it burn through me in a myriad tentacles of hurt. The guardian needed recognition, her hurt, her fear ran through me.

I held the visulisation until the early hours of the morning. I let the wooden posts of the Neolithic Sanctuary fall and replaced them, I pulled the fractured stones from the ground. I lay with the body as her life blood ran into the soil. I shared her pain and loved her.

Then my mind fell into stupid repetitions of annoying rubbish.

I took the pain killers and let myself sleep.
I do not believe in hidden codes or secrets encoded in prehistoric structures.

I don't believe in mystical structures placed to focus healing energy. Stonehenge has changed through recent use, but I feel the ashes, tears and murders it contains.

The Sanctuary never felt pleasant.
Just powerful.

The arrows and the burial, the evidence that the people of The Bronze Age would send a person to The Great is hard for me to respect this.

But respect was always a part of the bargain.

Now I'm swimming back to this world, eating oranges, drinking tea, letting myself sleep.

It is done.
Some hours latter.
A sense of wings- Apollo's swans- and of gold.
The sense of blessing...

I long to drink rose lemonade! Continue...