‘Shadowing’ is our term for the phenomenon whereby a standing stone, or group of stones, recreates a distant landscape feature and thereby renders it immediately apparent or tangible.
Most other megalithic writers on the subject have also, independently, recognised this phenomenon although they usually refer to it, less accurately perhaps, as ‘mirroring’.
This being the case, it is highly unlikely for such a notion to be the product of fantasy, yet it is still quite difficult to credit the skill set required to so accurately render this technique, and especially so in a people still regarded by many as ‘primitive’ in relation to us.
There’s a lonely hill above a lonely valley, and no one treads the high paths anymore. Once there were forests they say, latterly herds of brown cattle and flocks of sheep, but the soil thinned until the grass grew brown as the cattle.
I really enjoyed getting this one put together. Who would have thought it would work out quite so well?
Can you believe how much stuff we were already working with, right back at the beginning? And we understood so little… but every quest has to start somewhere, even before you realise what is happening.
From our early speculations on how the layers of history and earth energies work together, through all the intertwined stories and weirdly interchangeable symbolism that doesn’t seem to mind to which system you apply it, and whether we found both clues and answers in stone circles, forgotten chapels or the great cathedrals… it has been an amazing journey so far. And we are not finished yet…
Jag Peters has one goal in his quiet comfortable life—to keep his karma slate wiped clean. A near-miss crash with a candy apple red Harley threatens to upend his safe world. He tracks down the rider to apologize properly. Slipping into a seedy biker bar, he discovers the rider isn’t a “he”, it’s a “she”, a dark-haired beauty.
Carved Norman arches, with Abbot Hugh’s Pillar in the centre. The distortion of some the arches is due to the church being built on sand.
We walked down the Norman nave, passing Abbot Hugh’s pillar, identical to those at Durham cathedral where we had been the day before. Was it only the previous day? Similar too to the great carved columns of Dunfermline a few days earlier. For an unplanned trip, we seem to have followed a trail where several strands were interwoven in a continuous knot like the interlaced pattern of the Celtic stones.
Tomb of Margaret de Pickworth, her husband lies in the aisle opposite.
We passed between the tombs of knights and their ladies… of bishops and dignitaries carved in stone to be remembered. How little we change, after all, across time and borders… how different in essence are our tombs and our desire to remain in human consciousness, to leave an indelible memory and our mark upon the world which is the cradle of our souls.
Fire blackened beauty
Near the Crossing a blackened wooden head… Christ or the Baptist perhaps… hangs on the wall. Its expression is one of both quiet joy and serenity. I can find no reference to dates or origin, but I wondered if the carving was a survival of one of the two fires that have devastated the church. Strange to think that without the apparent destruction, the building would not have evolved into the beauty it is today.
After Richard graduated from high school, he realized that, unless he followed in the footsteps of all the males in his family for generations, he had no prospects for employment in the small company town in West Virginia. He could not abide by the thought of working in the coal mine, the town’s only real employer for able-bodied young men.
Please respect the copyright of all original material and images on this site. You are welcome to use excerpts, reblogs and links as long as clear, named credit and appropriate links back to this site are used. Written permission is required for all other reproduction.