Dreaming Stones: Drawing in the Threads…

I turned the car down a narrow lane to greet Long Meg and her Daughters.  Leaving Kirkoswald church, we had taken the route we have travelled so often towards Penrith. We had driven up and down this road, backwards and forwards, on previous visits, on the reconnaissance trip for the Cumbrian workshop and during the workshop itself. We know this road… every tiny turn-off, every place of interest… we even pointed out a few of them and reminisced. So it was rather disconcerting to find that the most important sites along it had been screened from consciousness until we were almost upon them and waved, in passing, to the circle known as Little Meg.

Little Meg

Between one fleeting glimpse of the stone circle in its isolated field and the next side-road is a mere matter of seconds to drive… just long enough for a quick ‘should we?’… for the expectation of the usual answer at the end of an adventure… ‘no, let’s just get back now’… and a mental ‘yes!’ when the answer that came back was that we really ought to pay our respects… it would be rude not to.

We both felt the now-familiar jolt as we passed the unseen boundary where we had first been ambushed by the stones of this ancient circle, built around the same time as the megalithic temples of Callanish where we had woken just thirty six hours earlier. Even then, it seemed incredible that we had seen and experienced so much in just a few days. Perhaps the ‘blindfold’ we had been wearing was simply due to an overdose of wonder, but we have experienced something akin to this before.

There are times when we have felt that we have been led by the hand, where we can do nothing more than heed silent inner promptings, taking each moment on trust and accepting the gifts they bring. And each time, when the blindfold has come off, the adventure has brought a final gift that seemed to open inner doors and lead us down new and unexplored pathways.

This time, we realised how close we had come to missing this final gift.  Seconds later and we would have passed the turning for Long Meg and would have simply driven home. Instead, we greeted the tall presence, noticing that her ‘tattoos’ seemed sharper and more detailed than usual in the light. And realised that, by being here, we were ‘joining the dots’, drawing together lines of light from the sacred places we had visited and reconnecting them. Once realised, it was so obvious that we felt foolish for not having seen it before. But even the Fool must journey blind until experience opens his eyes.

Continue reading at France & Vincent

About Sue Vincent

Sue Vincent is a Yorkshire-born writer and one of the Directors of The Silent Eye, a modern Mystery School. She writes alone and with Stuart France, exploring ancient myths, the mysterious landscape of Albion and the inner journey of the soul. Find out more at France and Vincent. She is owned by a small dog who also blogs. Follow her at scvincent.com and on Twitter @SCVincent. Find her books on Goodreads and follow her on Amazon worldwide to find out about new releases and offers. Email: findme@scvincent.com.
This entry was posted in adventure, albion, Ancestors, Ancient sites, Books, Don and Wen, france and vincent, mystery, Photography, Stuart France and Sue Vincent and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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