Unexpected Transitions ~
What to expect from unexpected transitions? About what you'd expect. Yes, I'm joking you. Writing from a wayside café in the Highlands of Scotland, hearing the 'voices of home' in the background, I can only shake my head at the twists and turns that have brought me here.
Where is here? I truly couldn't say. Though yesterday was a bit of a clue. On one of the hike/wanders, a monument stone was spotted, erected as a standing stone on a nearby hilltop. While others wandered up, I elected to practice sunburn avoidance and take the road less traveled, as tends to be my usual.
A fellow adventurer showed me a photo of said rock, up close and 'poisonal'. Lo and behold, it had a shadowy look to it. On further mystical observation, its energies had originally been set in place to act the part of guardian. Those energies, as is true of those in so many powerful places, had been tethered into a kind of submission. Their full purpose had been thwarted. I sighed heavily, knowing what must be done.
Now that's funny, that is, because I foreswore my Creation Goddess warrior stance some time ago. I sat myself down at the dining table of my little hire cottage, enfolded by the moving green of the trees at every window. I called upon the Creation Energies of this land... those of the Cailleach Béara and Brighid, the two sides of the energies of Sovereignty of Place. She who creates the land, lives in the bones and is death and winter, and She who is the life and green of spring, milk, honey, and song. She who is both and one at the same time.
I have seen the face of these essences daily during my time here. There are the famous mountain silhouettes and the less famous ones, of the sleeping Goddess in her form as lesser mountains. Just the day before I had seen her silhouette, so plain, so blessed, as I sat upon a rocky rise, surrounded by heather, sheep and the whispering of the wind (and the midgies).
Silently I called her name, giving my thanks, "Blessed be the Goddess of this land," sent from my heart to Hers on the whispers of wind and water. A chorus erupted around me in the wake of that whisper. Glad twinkles, tinkles, sparkles, bursts of light and the drums of the faerie glens echoed my heart's gladness. I smiled through tears of shared delight, as I waited for my companions and the hike homeward.
Seated at the solid oak dining table, Her greenwood at my back, I felt the presence of the forces of creation, of Faerie and of Grace. I focused on the stone, feeling into its tethered state. I wondered if my request for its freedom was appropriate, only to be answered by another burst of light. All of Faerie and its presence is considerable here, rose to the call.
In my memory, I heard the rousing call of Buckland from Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings, the Raising of the Shire. "Fire! Foes! Awake!" It made me laugh through the tears coursing down my cheeks. The same tears that the pipes inevitably evoke. Always for the heroic is Faerie! Great deeds, great drama. As the lights flashed forward, through and surrounding the stone, I felt it connect to a local flat-topped mountain, named for the clan Laird hereabouts. "The sword needs a shield" I heard the whispers say and watched as the table mountain shed its guise of local landmark to join in the fray.
No more tethers, nothing to hide!
A connection was made to another feature, a cirque and needle configuration in the mountains of the Quiraing. Driving past the feature, one feels the ancientness of the cirque, the wonder of the needle jutting upwards at its side. Satellite dish and old-style antenna? I couldn't get that thought out of my mind. Now I knew why. On the inner planes, the coverings lifted. What had felt dead or dormant was now in play. The dish hummed with otherworldly light as the antenna cleared itself like a piper clearing his chanter before filling the bag and drones.
I felt the three features connect, the cirque and its needle, the sword/stone, and the table/shield. They rang like tuning forks struck with giant mallets or like crystal bowls whose rims were circled by the oceans of the world. I felt the deep connections through the leys and the waters. I felt the smile of the Goddess as Her work completed. It was never my work, but Hers, you see. I was the focusing instrument, convenient to the need of the moment and the light.
When I last had the honour of this work being done through me, it was also on Celtic lands. Features in Normandy and Brittany were released, re-lit and re-connected. Ancient grids came online with a new purpose. With this latest, I remembered what I had heard on those other occasions. "The Celtic grids must be reawakened. Their light must come back to the world."
As I remembered, the tears that had been flowing down my cheeks dried to incandescence. My smile lit the room as the awakened light filled my heart. I felt the standing stone connect with others like it. A connection was remade between it and the other henges, between it and the recently-visited circles of Callanish, where She made Her presence known through the breath and feel of a weeping stone. I felt them all light up and come alive. I felt the hum. I felt the joy. I still feel the wonder.
I happened to look up as I write and, of course, the standing stone is visible from where I sit. I blinked at it a moment, its 'hooded' aspect clearly visible from this direction. "I will remain cloaked to the unobservant," it sent in my direction. "Ah," I thought. "As is Faerie, in most of this world." As Oracles and Priestesses we walked cloaked among the masses, and respect was given that our meditations not be disturbed.
"So, what then?" I asked of the Infinite. "Am I to take up a warrior's work once more?"
"This is different," was the answer. I knew that. Different it felt and different it was. And yet...
We are what we are what we are until we aren't... then perhaps we are again.
So how was your solstice week?