The Chimpmunk & the Serpent: Part 2 of my visit to America’s Stonehenge #americasstonehenge #ancientsites #sacredsites #chipmunkmessenger #serpentstones

Continued from Part 1

IMG_9437

My body wanted to follow a path that wasn’t there. The arrows pointed left, while an invisible rope of energy tugged my heart to the right. I resisted the pull. If I had been alone, I would have followed the illogical urgings of the heart, but I was not. Deb and I had arrived without preconceived plans, but Sophia had brought her drum and offerings, and we both wanted to honor her intentions (I later learned Deb also had an impulse to walk a counter-clockwise path) so we followed Sophia’s lead along the marked path.

IMG_4636
A rather blurred photo of our small guide in the fork of a tree that guides the eye to a wall of (serpent) stone

She was, though, not our only guide. I noticed the chipmunk around the same time I noticed the serpents. Our tiny guide appeared throughout our journey at the spots that wanted to be noticed. There are walls of rocks that curve the hill of mysteries. Stonewalls not unlike those that cover the New England landscape, but there are differences. I noticed a pattern before we reached the top. Sinuous forms leading to large headstones with the faces of serpents. Many of them double-lined stone walls, processional walkways that seemed to guide the walker. The turn of a face at their ends, directing the gaze, the feet, the energy…I recognized these forms. I knew the energy that ran beneath them. Magic stirred within me as I looked at my furry guide who reminded me of another type of place. I began to think of the Eye, of Egypt, as well as that ancient land of Albion…I was beginning to feel like there was something here, after all, that connected a long-forgotten time.

Sophia had mentioned there being an Eye in the rock somewhere on the site before our visit…but the connections needed to form within me. The stirrings of latent energy I was not sure still if ever, existed here.The energy that effortlessly finds me on that island across the ocean, but feels so much more hidden here.

IMG_4627
A rather large serpent stone wedged between the trees marks the end of a wall of stone. Its open mouth and watchful eye have a distinctive dragon-like quality.

The serpent stones seemed undeniable. Sophia and Deb could see them just as easily as I, once I made the connection. Three crazy ladies, maybe, but something told me we were not. There were just too many signs that pointed us to something that felt like Truth. Could it be that there was serpent energy here on the top of a rather inconspicuous hill in New Hampshire? Is there, in fact, a connection to the ancient sites across the globe, which seem to share this universal, ancient symbol, which evokes the “dragon” lines of energy that weave the body of Earth?

IMG_4625
A pair of rather curious rocks following the path of the arrow

I could feel the familiar stirrings growing within. And, there was that curious guide of ours, popping up in just the right places to draw the eye. As I mentioned before, in many ways the walls look like ordinary walls, and, sadly, the walls of Mystery Hill in Salem, NH, show the marks of time. The bodies of stone collapsed and sunk into shadows of what must have been their original forms, marking possible boundaries, or something else. Not often, though, do you find these double walls of stone in this part of the world, harkening the processional walkways of ancient sites in other lands, nor do you find the marked endings with large, curiously shaped boulders, or the large, shaped, and seemingly deliberately placed standing stones in the middle of stone walls here, which mark seasonal paths of celestial bodies. Our guide seemed to indicate there was, in fact, something more magical than a farmer’s boundary happening here among the stones.

IMG_4619
Our small guide atop an unusual stone in the wall that corresponds with the seasonal path of either the sun or the moon (I can’t now recall where this stone is placed within the site)

Everywhere we looked, it seemed, there was something deeper, partially hidden and waiting to be found. Trees atop mounded earth and stone, curved, as Deb noted, in  alignment, besides their perfectly erect companions.

IMG-4523
This curious area had the feel of a vortex. Note the two dancing trees between the straight bodies of their companions, all atop a mound of earth and stone.

To be continued…

I discovered a wonderful post by Flowing Water Shamanism on the symbolism of chipmunk here for those interested in reading about it. 

I Visit America’s Stonehenge (again). A Hill Filled with Mysteries: Part 1 #americasstonehenge #mysteryhill #ancientsites #sacredsites

It had been four years and five months since I visited Mystery Hill in Salem, NH with my family to see America’s Stonehenge. In the time between my two visits, I would make three trips to England, traveling to the original Stonehenge, as well as several other ancients sites.  A lot has happened in those four years and five months, no wonder I thought more time had elapsed.

IMG_7394
The original Stonehenge in England, which is thought to be about 5,000 years old. This photo was taken in April 2016 during my visit. There is little resemblance to America’s Stonehenge.

Back in April of 2014, we were visiting the site with my sister and her family, and our four combined kids were more interested in climbing the boulders and chasing each other than searching for ancient signs and symbols, but magic was still afoot. It always seems to be at these ancient places…you just have to be aware of it.

IMG_3754
The kids atop boulders at America’s Stonehenge

While walking through the Visitor’s Center at the start of our visit, I admired the selenite pillars and remarked that I might purchase one on our way out. After watching the brief introductory video, we made our way outside to begin our journey at the Kids’ Gemstone Dig. Approximately two minutes into the dig, a large, rather dingy looking selenite wand appeared in daughter’s hands. Spurred on by the promise of a much larger reward than expected, three more sets of small hands began digging enthusiastically in the sand. Alas, only small polished stones appeared.

IMG-4640
What my daughter found alongside stones similar to what else was recovered by the kids’ efforts.

It seemed more than a coincidence…the talk of wanting a selenite wand, and within minutes having my daughter dig one up where there wasn’t supposed to be one…Later, while we were investigating the cave-like enclosures of rocks, a mysterious want of light appeared on the floor of one, where no light should have been. It looked, I thought, rather like the wand my daughter had dug up.

IMG_1731
This mysterious crystalline light appeared in one of the cave-like structures during our 2014 visit to America’s Stonehenge.

IMG_1732

Despite these mysterious occurrences, I found I was disappointed by the site. I think many people are. It really looks nothing like its namesake, at least on the surface, and although I hadn’t yet been to the original Stonehenge, I had certainly seen photographs.

The landscape at America’s Stonehenge is wooded and rocky, typical of New England, and the main attraction, when you reach it, is hidden from a distance and much, much, smaller than the megalithic structure across the pond. Yet there are similarities, more than at first meets the eye, to the original and to the many other mysterious, ancient sites across the globe.

IMG_4615.jpg
Astronomically aligned stones surround the distant perimeter of the hill. One of which aligns with a stone circle (which we somehow missed as we did not have time to explore the entire perimeter).

If you feel into the site, you will likely either notice a quiet peace, or a stirring of magic long forgotten. The effect is not as strong as being among the megaliths in England, but both sites wear the effects of footsteps and hands. The original structures have been altered by the imprints of humans. The energy that feels like magic dampened as though sunk deep within the body of Earth, waiting to be stirred back to life…

IMG_1759.jpg
What the central area of the site, now referred to as the Pattee area, looks like from the viewing platform on Mystery Hill.

Studies performed with radiocarbon dating show evidence that the site in Salem, New Hampshire is as old as 2000 B.C., but there have been many inhabitants since this time. Native American artifacts have been found in the area, including remnants of canoes and a 2000-year-old wigwam, as well as several stones that resemble animals (I will have to look for these during a future trip, as we were more focused on other things and found only one or two).

IMG_4569
The Ibex, or Running Dear carving, outlined with white paint, can be seen in the area that leads to the Oracle Chamber.

In 1825, a man named Jonathan Pattee took up residence on Mystery Hill. Why he claimed this spot for his homestead is still up for debate, but it is indisputable that he left his mark. One can only guess at what the site looked like before Pattee decided to make it his homestead. Many stones were altered and repurposed by his hands, some of which were used to create his fireplace, others part of his foundation and storage caves. There are some people who believe the entire area was created by Pattee. This seems highly unlikely when you realize the scope of the site, which extends far beyond his homestead area to include standing stones aligned with lunar and solar events that occurred approximately 4,000 years ago. Why Pattee would configure stones into an oracle chamber resembling those in Egypt and Greece seems rather odd as well, not to mention balancing a 4.5 ton slab above it to manufacture soap…but more on that later. It seems odd, in general, that he would choose this place for his home. I can only imagine what he would have seen if he allowed himself to.

IMG_1744
Inside the Oracle’s Chamber at America’s Stonehenge. April 2014

Whatever that might have been, we were here to find out. Three middle-aged women on a mission, carrying offerings for the ancestors and fey folk, a drum, water, and open minds. It happened to be a very hot, humid day for September, and we had only a few hours. We debated whether to watch the introductory video after spending several minutes surveying the artifacts in the visitor’s center. When we stepped into the auditorium, the movie was just finishing its cycle, but we were there just in time to catch words that spoke about America’s Stonehenge being on a line that connects it to Stonehenge in England and extends down to Newport’s Tower. I wasn’t even thinking about dragons until I stepped outside…

To be continued…

#Watcher #writephoto prompt #SueVincent

 

waiting
Photo Credit: Sue Vincent

I have been thinking about your presence held fast to the land. Your spirit woven into time, pressing against mine in a longing to be remembered, not for yourself, but for the body you cannot leave behind. In the moors, not yet turned purple, we walked the scars to feel the blade of separation. Parting the veil where the wound never healed. How can a spirit linger for five thousand years, if not for love?

You, the keeper of memories holding the gate to the heart wide open, yet how many have walked past as you watched unseen? The rocks, pressing their heads above Her body to mark time with you, waiting to be felt. You will not leave them. Not yet. Your hands have pressed more than mine, but not enough. Eyes refusing to be opened. Hearts refusing to feel the beat below to match Her rhythm once again.

And so you walk the moors obscured by mist, traveling a broken land. You, who remember the Light to show us where the darkness seeks to be cleared.

 

For Bratha, who knew Earth before she was broken. And for Sue, who introduced us. To participate in Sue’s weekly #writephoto prompt, please click here.

writephoto

The Dead Washer #recycle #Earth911 #warriorsoflight

 

IMG-4484.JPG
The Dead Washer

 

The washer is dead, the kids are back in school and the new neighbors are murdering felling all the trees in their front yard. The tears are simmering just below the surface, but I’m feeling the urge to rant more than cry. It’s one of those lifetimes days when you find yourself asking (over and over again), What is wrong with this world?!

Here’s the thing with the washer: I had a feeling it had officially kicked the bucket, but we decided to pay the $99.95 service fee to find out that it is not only dead but unfixable. Even if we wanted to repair its multiple issues (there was talk of the display board being broken, as well as the motor), we can’t. It’s ten-years-old, apparently long past its predicted lifetime, and its parts are no available to fix it. I’m really wishing we had not bought that new dryer still sitting in a box, waiting to replace our still-working, albeit-not-very-efficient, yet rarely-used-because-we-let-the-sun-dry-our-clothes-for-free-dryer that is at least forty years old, even if it is a fire hazard…because you see, there was a time when we built things to last, and not consume and throw away.

Yesterday, while emptying the dishwasher that is only a year old, I found myself putting more glasses in the sink than in the cabinet. Spots. Tiny spots, all over them. Thoughts of going back in time and living the life of Anne Shirley (my favorite childhood heroine) danced across my mind while I hand-washed glasses, and later, sodden laundry that smelled like gym shoes after being stuck in a locked, broken washer for two days. I could see myself in a gingham dress, my hair braided and tucked behind my ears while I sat with my bucket of clothes. My arms felt the satisfaction of racking the dirt free across the imaginary rippled back of the washer-board. And, I was smiling. It was a happier day in my mind. Life simple and unblemished by the advances in technology that distract us and push our minds away from the present moment. There is a certain satisfaction that comes with doing a job yourself, instead of letting a machine do it for you. I thought about how much I enjoy hanging laundry on the clothesline and pressing my face to the dry cloth that’s been kissed by the wind and the sun before I fold it away; running warm water in the sink and watching the bubbles multiply before I scrub clean the pots and pans I have used to cook a meal for my family.

Where do you think a washer goes when it’s time to bury it? I Googled the question, and actually found this article in Scientific American, “Where Do Old Appliances Go After They Die?” Since the author sounded like a kindred spirit, I decided to read what he had to say. I was already feeling a bit lighter after the first paragraph, which is actually a question posed by a concerned consumer who does not want to “add to the waste stream” and would rather repair her old appliances. Good luck finding parts, I smiled wryly before I continued on.

But, there’s hope, the article reveals. Utility companies will sometimes recycle your old appliances if you buy a more energy efficient one (at least when it comes to fridges and freezers), or you can go to Earth911.org to find a recycler near you. Aside from the annoying pop-up asking me to subscribe, I’m already loving this Earth911 site, which I’m pretty sure I’ve visited before. It appears to be updated regularly with great articles on how you can reduce, reuse, and recycle, and find more Earth-friendly products. It’s Lupe’s kind-of site, and I think I’ll dedicate this post to him.

Lupe_Sketch

 

“Each time his peers showed off their newest smartphones, Lupe thought of children in China walking barefoot through acres of discarded electronics, picking cadmium and copper from metal circuits with bare hands. He thought of poisons leaching into the porous tissues of skin, coursing through blood with oxygen along pathways to hearts and brains.” (chapter 5, The Labyrinth) 

 

It literally takes two seconds to type in your type of dead appliance and zip code to find a potential appliance recycler near you. I found one in the neighboring town. Looks like they take washers & dryers, so I’ll be investigating this a little further. There are also links on the Earth911 website for recycling a whole host of other products including yoga mats and nail polish. Yep, things are looking a little brighter around here (there’s also a LOT more sun in the neighbor’s yard).

The grinding of machines crunching tree limbs can still be heard, though, and I am doing my best to breath in the possibility of new life forming to replace what has been lost. I know we will soon need to take some of our own trees down that are dying and diseased, and top others to provide enough light for our solar panels. It will not be easy, I will be blessing the Earth and the trees once again for their sacrifice. If you have a moment to add a personal blessing to the trees and the Earth, adding with it the vision of new life flourishing next door, the elemental spirits, (Lupe), and I would be very grateful.

 

IMG_2700
Not at the neighbor’s but down the road where a forest was destroyed for a new safety complex

 

As for the kids going back to school. There’s not much I can say about that aside from this:  I feel like I didn’t sleep at all, but I must have because I can recall having a dream that I was their age, struggling to decide what to wear, and then missing the bus. They both made it to school on time, though, and it’s rather quiet here, aside from the machines next door. It will likely take me a couple of days to get used to it, but I will. Maybe that’s why I agreed to have a tooth filling replaced on my birthday tomorrow. A little pain distraction is sometimes welcome.

Wishing all kids and parents much happiness at this time of year, and if you’re in the market for a new washer or dryer, don’t buy one “made in China.” A word of advice from the serviceman who declared my washer offically dead. May she rest in peace and be repurposed into some new form. And, may our new washer last at least as long as she did.

 

 

 

 

 

Dancing in the Rain

It’s raining. Again. We have been having a tropical summer filled with heat and humidity. It has been raining nearly every day for the past month-and-a-half. There are usually breaks of sun in between, but the clouds seem to want to linger over this area of the world.

 

IMG_3130
Zelda the dog

 

I am sitting on the screened in porch with Zelda the dog, watching the fall of water from milky skies. We’ve had to empty inches from the pool more than once this season. That never happens. Usually, we are adding water with a hose after long stretches of heat without precipitation. This summer is not normal, but then again, neither is the weather normal for most of the world right now. The Earth is changing, trying to adapt to, but also protest, our impact. Some believe we are already in a period of crisis. It’s difficult to believe we are not. With fires raging worldwide, and too much rain in other areas, it’s hard to deny that there is a global imbalance to the elements. We like to blame Mother Nature, forgetting that she is merely trying to keep us all alive. Her children. Not just us, but all life on the planet, including herself.

 

DSCF3105
My Children Dancing in the Rain Several Years Ago

 

We are playing with extremes, testing her limits like unruly teens. Refusing to believe that there is not an endless supply of resources to sustain us, we turn a blind eye to excess in our quest for gain. We play a game of “I” v. “We,” without realizing both the “I” and the “We” are one and the same and no side will win if the other loses.

 

DSCF3113
My Daughter with Orbs of Elementals

 

I did not sit down to write a rant, but rather a reminder. Today, as I sit watching the rain fall, I am remembering joy. The play of my children as they danced amid drops of water many years ago. And, I, with them, taking photographs and laughing through the feeling of bliss. When hearts open to magic, it finds us. The simple joy of being breaks the veil of separation and the universe dances with you.

 

DSCF3112
Surrounded by the “Fairies” 

 

We knew we were not alone. I could feel the elemental energies dancing with us, and my camera saw them. My children, as many children do, also knew of their presence. I wonder, sometimes, if we have, collectively, forgotten how to dance in the rain with open hearts. To feel the sun not as a bronzer to the skin, but as a fire igniting the sun within. I wonder if wonder has been replaced with artificial pleasures created behind windowless walls. Have you forgotten how to dance in the fall of rain? To breathe fully the joy of being as the sun sparks the cells within? I know sometimes I forget. Too often, I believe.

 

DSCF2876
Rainbows remind us of the Joy of Balance

 

I wonder, if we don’t stop and remember, will the “we” and “I” survive? I know we will not thrive…for right now there is more of a global struggle occurring than a global dance.

We receive the gift of a bat while watching Victoria & Abdul

Sleeping girl in forest with bats
Night visitor. Photo Credit Pixabay

It was approximately 9:30pm, my husband and I seated on the sofa downstairs watching Victoria and Abdul, a bowl of popped buttered corn between us. Our son upstairs behind shut doors, our daughter and her friend taking a night dip in the pool after their evening run. The door dividing the screened porch open to the elements but screened from the bugs.  Or so we thought.

“How did it get in here,” my daughter later asked.

“Maybe it was following a moth. They eat moths, don’t they?” someone offered in reply.

We can’t say for sure what drew it in. It had never entered our house before, nor had any of its kind. It seemed to be in a hurry though, its beautiful, silent body flying soundlessly through the opened doors of the porch, past the mesh screen to dance a circle around our heads in pursuit of an unidentified prey.

“There’s a bat in our house.” I don’t know who said it first. More husband or I. We were both equally startled. We’ve had uninvited visitors before, mostly courtesy of the cats, but no cat had invited the bat in. Nor had the dogs, which remained, somehow, blissfully unaware of our visitor for the 30-45 minutes it was with us.

And so began the pursuit of our graceful guest. How does one catch a bat? I am not sure. I got a net from the pool box used for retrieving frogs and the unfortunate rodents who have ventured over the edge. My husband, a pair of leather gloves from the basement. Thinking that the net might not be enough, I grabbed a thick cotton blanket from the closet and began to search the rooms with my husband.

Here’s the thing about bats. They are not only silent and swift, most of them, like this nocturnal flyer, rely upon echolocation for their sight. They are much better at navigating space than we are. It was a comical chase, to be sure, but we really didn’t think so at the time, well not all of us. Bats have a way of opening our fears, as well as our sense of wonder. I realized in those 45 minutes what our unexpected visitors was triggering in each of us.

My daughter and her friend found amusement, laughing when they discovered what we were dealing with. They were also safely outside. My son seemed satisfied enough to stay behind the closed doors to keep the bat out of the room. Those of us tasked with the challenge of leading the bat back out to where it came from, were not as stable with our emotions. I was fine until it flew by, my husband less so. “I’ve been bitten by animals before,” he reminded me when I told him that our panicking would likely only increase the bat’s panicking.

When we stop to observe and watch ourselves in these moments when our fears are triggered, we can learn a lot about ourselves. Having had more practice in this than my husband, because of my studies with the Silent Eye School of Consciousness, and yoga, I was able to step into that role of observer.

What if you get bit? I asked myself. I thought of rabies and decided I didn’t like that option, but I also thought about the bat as a teacher and as a guest who was there for a purpose that might not be entirely obvious at first. Here before me was this magnificent animal, a mammal like me, but with the ability to fly at will. We were, I realized, both night-flyers. While I released the weight of gravity while I dreamt, this night-flyer was showing me the beautiful blind dance of trust in my waking state. And, I realized, when I took the time to be still and let go my fear of being bit, that before me was a gift.

How remarkably beautiful you are I thought as the bat flew a millimeter in front of me in search of an exit. There were moments, many of them, when I had no idea where our visitor was until it soared past on its silent wings. There was even one moment when I was hunched in the hallway as it flew around me when I thought it had landed on me. It wasn’t, I discovered, an unwelcome thought. I had this crazy notion that if I remained calm and still, it would land on me if it chose to, and we would both be okay.

Or was it so crazy? When we choose to dance beyond our fears into that state of stillness and peace, the world has a way of responding in kind. Those zen-like moments you read or hear about, and maybe even have experienced for yourself, are just that. The letting go of what binds us to our bodies and minds and allowing our cells to dance in unity with all that is around us. It is, in essence, like flying without effort. This bat, I realized while it was with us, had been a welcome visitor after all. I was almost sorry when my husband declared after our second attempt at releasing it (we had at one point thought it had exited an open door only to discover after we had settled back onto the couch and our movie that it had not), that he had, in fact, watched it exit the same porch door from which it came from. It’s job here, it seems, was done.

 

Breaking free density: I dream of flying my dogs over an ancient landscape

It was a strange series of dreams, on the surface, but then again dreams are often strange…on the surface. I was in school, a large brick building that seemed nearly endless. My classroom on the upper floor and down labyrinthian corridors filled with turns and shadows. One could easily get lost there.

A labyrinth broken by darkness
The labyrinthian school in my dream reminded me of this labyrinth from my new book.

I was studying art. The assignment I was given was to fashion a multilayered piece that appeared one-dimensional until you turned it, allowing the light to reveal the inner layers that appear shadowed by the surface. The finished piece had been created, somehow, by my hands, hands that I did not believe could create a painting, much less a rather magical one that. A painting that when turned to the light at just the right angle revealed beautiful, hidden layers beneath. Like a hologram, but there were so many layers to this painting I had somehow created, I could not count.

We were to take our paintings outside, to catch the sunlight so that their depths could be revealed. That is when I started to fly, with my two dogs. Normally, in my dreams, I fly alone…

Dogs walking
The two dogs in my dream, pictured here on one of our walks together.

During the day, I had been thinking about density. How we create our own density in our bodies and in our physical environment. We fashion energy into dense forms, like the car I was riding in while I was thinking these thoughts. Cars to drive in, homes to house our bodies, furniture to rest upon, toys to play with…the list is endless. I had also been thinking about how the density inside of me lifts when I visit ancient landscapes where my inner child burst forth into a state of pure joy and sometimes it is as though my feet are so light they hover above the ground…

The processional avenues of Merrivale in Dartmoor
My feet “hover” above the rocks at Merrivale in Dartmoor as I walk in the pure joy of being. Photo Credit: Lara Wilson

I had also been thinking about rocks, nature’s way of creating density to store the memories of Time. These rocks that draw people like me to listen to their stories, and have the ability to somehow make us feel less dense and confined to the worlds we create.

Shapes in stone
This bird drew my eye to the heart in stone on top of a New Hampshire mountain years ago.

The day had not been particularly “light.” I had allowed myself to be bothered by others behavior and the nuances of life we can attach so much importance to but are in reality merely passing moments that we can either grasp or let go of. I was, you could say, feeling weighed down by the time I laid my head upon my pillow to go to sleep.

The mysterious realm of dreams
This image popped up on my screen this morning when I opened my computer. Sometimes there are no accidents in life.

I am not, therefore, surprised my dreams brought me into a school, where I was given the opportunity to learn and grow. It was a gift. An opportunity and I had a choice to hold onto the density within me or to examine the art of my creation and allow the layers of light to reveal themselves.

In The Labyrinththe character Sula, and her five fellow teen protagonists must face their trapped fears and release their density in order to open the gifts of their light bodies. It is essential not only to their individual journeys but also to their collective, as they realize they are each a strand of light in the network of light that connects all life. As warriors of this light, they come to understand they must embrace their true selves and learn to fly above their fears to carry out their mission of repairing the broken lines of light within Earth.

And they are not alone…None of us are. Sometimes we forget we are all connected. That the same fears and light reside within all of us, and we can either create more density together or reveal the light of our creation.

When I left the confines of the brick school building and walked out into the classroom of Nature in my dream, I found myself walking with my two dogs. As my feet lifted off the ground, so did theirs. I lifted first, but they followed my lead. Their leashes weightless ribbons joining us together in a trinity as though we were one-self. I felt rather felt like Santa Claus (yes, I actually had this thought while I was flying with the dogs in my dream), with my companions Rosy and Zelda flying ahead of me over the landscape below. A landscape filled not with mortored walls, but with the classrooms of the ancients. It was glorious to be flying over these places that draw my soul, and allowing myself to notice, but not stop and linger, where I felt the density of fear. I was there to discover and learn. I will remember this, I told myself, so that I can share it with others.

When I woke, I felt much lighter than I did the day before. That is the gift of these sorts of “dreams.”

Beware the “Spiritual” Cult Syndrome #cults #spirituality #thelabyrinth

We’ve all heard about the dangers of gangs and cults, but it is alarming how prevalent and insidious the cult-like syndrome is. I’m writing this post because I have fallen prey to it one too many times and I know so many others who have as well, many of whom are completely unaware that they are willing victims of this dangerous power-play.

My latest episode involved joining a group of “spiritual” practitioners and healers several months ago. A group that was not a cooperative, but an oligarchy. Mind you, there were red flags from the start (one that I could not ignore was the tagline of being “highly enlightened,” which goes against the heart and feeds only the ego. I do not personally believe myself to be “highly enlightened,” rather I learn in every moment) but I chose to ignore them because of my ego, as well as my idealistic heart. Despite all that I disagreed with, I really and truly wanted to help others, especially children and teens and thought I had found a venue to do so.

As I became enmeshed in this group, I became increasingly uncomfortable with the imbalance of energy that it was creating. Not only was it creating a financial drain (in the requirement of a membership fee that provided no return in the form of clients), it created an overarching energetic imbalance. Although I didn’t want to admit it until it became glaringly obvious, I realized the system I had bought into was more about feeding the ego than the soul. No one wants to believe that about a “spiritual” cult group. Yet it happens all too often.

Many of us have heard stories in the news over the years about dangerous cult-like groups and the horrors of what happens to their members. There are numerous cults who claim religious devotional ideals but corrupt the minds and bodies of their members due to the abusive nature of the ego. I was an unwilling victim of the Hare Krishna cult when I was two-years-old and the story is told in my memoir, A Girl Named Truth

I was also the more willing victim of my family (cult), which is also told in my memoir. A strong statement, perhaps, but when we look closer at how our family units influence and shape us, we often find cult-like parallels and behaviors. Often, as children, we are completely unaware that there is a gross imbalance of power, and sometimes dangerous abuse occurring, because we so very much want to be loved and accepted. This desire can continue into our adult years, even when we should know better because there is a part of us that believes we need to continue to prove our worth.

Whenever there is an imbalance of power driven by the ego, individuals can become subject to a cult-like situation that can be damaging and sometimes dangerous to their wellbeing. It can happen in religious groups, spiritual groups, family units, schools, the workplace, etc. and there are usually some common themes which should trigger red flags.

One or a few people placed in a position of power/authority over others will often use this power to take advantage of you. This can include asking for services without reciprocation. (The leader of the “spiritual” group I was recently a part of would often ask for free services from the practitioners in addition to the payment of their membership fee. This is a gross imbalance of power and energy.) In corporations, sexual harassment and assault often occurs from misuse of power/authority due to hierarchical structures. “Favors” are requested from individuals who believe they deserve these favors because of their “position” in our life. In families, children are all too often abused sexually and physically because of the belief from their caregivers that they are subordinate.

What is, perhaps, most disturbing about this behavior is that it is often completely justified by the perpetrators. Some of which are completely unaware that they are doing anything wrong. In their egoic minds, it is justified. Why? Because we seem to be conditioned to believe that imbalance is acceptable. That there is a hierarchy to our worth as individuals and that it is okay to be above or below another. Not so. This needs to change.

Unfortunately, we see it all too apparent in our political systems. Dangerous misuse and abuse of power leading to harmful consequences, yet we continue to enable it. Why? It’s a tricky question, but when we look closely at ourselves and our vulnerabilities we may come to learn that there is a self-worth issue that needs to be addressed and healed. It can become a (sometimes painful) opportunity to heal and grow ourselves. When we heal the energetic vulnerabilities within us, we are less likely to attract those who tend to abuse and steal our energy and rob us of our self-worth.

I believe our individual and collective history repeats until we decide to heal and evolve individually and collectively. The inner tends mirror the outer, and vice versa. We are a funny race, as humans. We tend toward the belief of superiority and inferiority in our own cultures, but also when we compare ourselves to nonhuman beings such as animals and plants. The irony in this is if we want to ascribe to the belief of superiority then we are naively fooling ourselves. Nature knows better than we do that the web-of-life is about balance and cooperation. If we just watched and listened to what is occurring both within and outside of us, we would come to see this more clearly. We would see that when we struggle, so do those around us. The planet is in crisis, and so, I believe, are we. Our egoic minds struggle to hold onto the false belief that we are greater than others, when in fact, this division only breaks the One Light that threads through all of us. The light that is Life itself. When will we learn?

One of the driving forces behind this concept led me to write my newly released book, The Labyrinth. It is written as a young adult book, with its six teen protagonists, but it is not intended to be limited to this audience. I have, and continue to learn, from the characters in this book series, which I am calling Warriors of Light. Characters who must face their darkness to repair the light within and without. I still hold a crazy vision that unity can one day be achieved and that the broken lines of light in Earth and within Us, can be repaired into wholeness once again. That one day we may look at each other and see ourselves mirrored back, and the look given and returned will be filled with love and only love.

The Labyrinth by Alethea Kehas
Meet Aponi, one of the six warriors of light in The Labyrinth.

Dartmoor’s Merrivale Settlement Shrouded in Mist

“We can do Merrivale,” Larissa had announced after researching the sites of Dartmoor that were on our drive home. This time we were taking the scenic route to drive through a bit of the park. “We’ve got two hours, tops, so we have enough time for the crop circle.”

“I don’t like the name,” I kept announcing, without really knowing why. It just didn’t seem to fit. It still doesn’t, but sometimes we just have to go with what our more modern ancestors decided to call these sacred landscapes.

The day began with mist and ended with sunshine. I knew Larissa was a bit nervous, but truthfully I was in heaven as we drove through fog so think you could not see more than a few feet in front of us. My only regret was that I knew I was missing a lot, but the effect was all too perfect. Sometimes you have to accept the gifts of the elements, even when there are definite drawbacks to them.

 

IMG_3818.jpg
“Dragon’s Breath” on Dartmoor

 

It was a little bit of a challenge finding the spot to pull over. Thankfully the navigation did a good job leading us there, and it wasn’t really a surprise that no other cars were parked in the lot. The weather really was messy. I rather like the term Stuart and Sue use for the heavy mist on the moors that gathers over the ancient sites. “Dragon’s breath,” along the dragon lines…

IMG_3820.jpg
Larissa walks into the mist. Once you ascend from the carpark into the dragon’s breath, you are swallowed.

We were drenched by the dew by the time we returned to the car, but it didn’t matter. We knew we had a heater. I also could have used the umbrella I was carrying, but as so often happens in these places, the right side of the brain takes over.

IMG_3866 2.jpg
A Guardian of Merrivale. One wonders how large the stone really is, with only its upper-half exposed and chin rested upon another stone.

A rather notable stone juts out of the earth and marks the ascend into the ancient settlement.  There was no visible signpost erected by a modern hand, and we later realized we were not likely parked at the main lot. Just as well, though, like the mist, it seemed intended for the necessary effect.

IMG_3852.jpg
Another notable guardian stone inside Merrivale. This one rather looks like a dolphin diving into the body of a protective seal.

I knew nothing about Merrivale before our visit, aside from it being an ancient settlement among many notable sites in Dartmoor. I like it this way. There is much to be said about starting your journey into an ancient land without preconceptions, allowing the nonlogical mind to take over. Here is where the landscape of the senses thrive, and the land of Dartmoor provides the ideal place to open the inner eye.

IMG_3837
A sheep surveys the landscape.

Although there were no other people to be seen through the few feet of mist around us, it was not surprising to encounter sheep. They seem to own the landscape of Dartmoor, along with the famous ponies we, unfortunately, did not meet. The Bodmin Beast was also nowhere to be found, not that we were looking for it…

IMG_3834
Sheep v. serpent stone face-off

So we had only the sheep and rocks to guides our footsteps, along with a rather fortuituous crow that kept appearing at just the right moment when I questioned whether I should continue on. There were signposts of sorts, but one could easily get lost in such a thick fog. Truthfully, I wouldn’t have cared all that much, but I did have my friend’s welfare to consider, and we did have that date with the crop circle…

IMG_3847.jpg
It was rather comforting to have the sheep present while we walked through time.

Even so, time seemed to step aside to accommodate, allowing us to walk through the veil of its passage and return to a past now long forgotten.  The stones and the sheep watched but didn’t interfere with our footsteps and I succumbed to the glory of just being in the magical landscape.

IMG_3831.jpg
There are rocks everywhere, but their placements are deliberate, even though many seem much more hidden by the earth than they once were.

These places are mysterious, but not completely elusive. The arrangement of stones signal sites of burial and also gathering places. Avenues line streams and circles encase sacred space.

IMG_3846.jpg
A place to gather?

IMG_3862.jpg
Stones surrounding a probable cairn

 

IMG_3861.jpg
Burial chamber?

 

Each footstep led to a place of wonderment, and I soon realized I would not be able to travel the full breadth of the settlement. The further I strayed, with the urgings of the crow that appeared through the mist atop the stones, the more nervous I knew I was making Larissa. She, though, was very obliging. We both knew what general direction the car lot was, and that we needed to descend into the midst to get there. At the very least, the avenues and stream would lead us back, once we found them again.

 

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

A stream divides two avenues of stones at Merrivale. One is longer than the other. I walked the length of the one near the road when I entered the settlement, and the other upon my return. To our surprise, another visitor had quietly entered the landscape while Larissa and I were wandering. An elderly gentleman, whom I surmised must have been a local as there was no sign of another car when we drove aways, was seated nearby the marker stone at the end of the avenues. He lifted his head in a slight acknowledgment of greeting, and I glanced at the easel before him, and the unopened umbrella beside his chair. Noting, as I did, how seemed to be more than happy to be present within the dragon’s breath, and perhaps would rather us not be there with him. There was a sense that he belonged there more than we, and we quietly left, leaving him covered in another time.

IMG_3851.jpg
Trees in the distance beyond where we walked looked like a mirage.

I climbed reluctantly into the car, noticing for the first time how soaked by the dragon’s breath we were. My jeans were an uncomfortable second skin thickly glued to my legs, and I turned the heater on full blast as I turned the car around. I would miss this landscape and its assortment of living stones.

IMG_3850.jpg
Each stone held a story, but there was not enough time to stop and listen to all of them.

As we drove away, through the winding hills of Dartmoor, the heavy mist started to clear. The transformation was quite dramatic, and I found myself wishing I could pull over to photograph the land unveiled to the light above. It did not escape me how lucky we were to be given the magical effect of the dragon’s breath, followed by the sun-kissed landscaped in its full, bare beauty. As we turned corners, wonders appeared, included a large stone circle tantalizingly close to the road but with no layby to pull over. And, we were now pressed a bit for time.

We did, though, stop at the bottom of the hills of Dartmoor to admire a river running with the light of the sun. There were much-appreciated bathrooms too, and just enough time to take a few photos.

 

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Turning Back Time: I visit the Hurlers

I am climbing the walls of an old church. There is only the outer fortification of stone, smoothed into mortared slabs. Each slab is chiseled with symbols, hieroglyphics of an ancient language my cells remember, but my mind has forgotten how to read. My hands grasp the hollowed frames of windows, climbing through the inside through levels until I know I have reached the 3rd floor. Here my hands let go of their grasp and I find I am hovering weightlessly. My body prone, I look down to the depths below. And then I begin to turn, like a clock. My body the hands of the hours going backward.

I had this dream about a week ago, and it has lingered with me since then. It has been more than a month since my return from England. My third trip there in as many years. I go to this land to turn back time.

After we descended from Brentor, and I paid my respects to the guardian stone, Sue graciously offered to take us along in her car to the next site, and Larissa and I accepted without negotiation. I was more than happy to take a break from driving on the wrong  left side of the road down the winding narrow lanes of rural England, and I knew Larissa shared my fear that there was a good chance we would get lost following Sue who drives with the skill and ease of a professional racecar driver.

IMG_3804
I drove down this lane and many like it.

So to The Hurlers we went, with Stuart navigating using a traditional paper map as Sue manipulated the stickshift gears on her race compact car. Larissa and I were impressed, to say the least, and kept breathing large sighs of relief that we were not in the front seats and could enjoy the views that flew passed by. And, we never got lost. Well, that is until we got there and I started to wander…

IMG_3729
A ewe leads the way to The Hurlers

To be honest, I rather wanted to get lost, but at that critical moment the brain won over the longings of the heart, and I turned around. But, I am getting ahead of myself…

IMG_3730.jpg
It’s difficult to describe just how vast and complex the landscape of Dartmoor is, which covers 368 square miles of moorland filled with the evidence of ancient civilizations. Pure heaven for someone like me.

The Hurlers is the remains of three large stone circles in the wild moorland landscape of Dartmoor, which just happens to be aligned with the star cluster Orion and sits on the Michael ley line. To say it is a place of magic is an understatement. I knew I was home before I stepped out of the car.

IMG_3771.jpg
The Hurlers are larger than they appear, and are perfectly aligned with the stars…

As tends to happen in these ancient lands, my feet began to move as though driven by some deep cellular memory, responding to the forces of the land. Find the seer’s stone, the command kept entering my conscious mind as it whirled with the energies of the land.

IMG_3739
The seer’s stone sits in the center of the Hurlers

The land was damp from rain, and a puddle had formed within the well around the central stone. I could not comfortably sit here, as I had at Bratha’s stone in the Peak last April, so my visit within the circle was brief. After paying my respects, I walked the perimeter stones in two of the circle, while my eye caught upon the portal stones, briefly. I will return after, I promised myself.

IMG_3778.jpg
Portal through time.

I could not ignore the intense pull to the land beyond. The hill with the balanced stones of giants felt like a magnet drawing me ever-closer to its energy. The land, as I have learned, beyond stone circles is filled with secrets of the past. Stones litter these ancient landscapes and each has a story to tell. There were too many to linger beside here, and my feet did not want to go slowly.

IMG_3754
One can imagine a gathering place here, where the stones do the talking.

The vegetation of the landscape of these sites is always worth noting. How it grows along the ancient tracts…when it is interrupted, swirled or corse…

IMG_3749
An uneven landscape that seems to have been modeled by deliberate hands.

There are many ditches around the Hurlers, as well as deep circular depressions. As Sue noted, it could be from mining the lands for ore, or for some other, perhaps ritualistic reason.  There is the sensation of falling inward to another realm near some of them, and the grass often swirls in imposing tufts which speak of disruption.

IMG_3744 2.jpg
Several depressions threaten to tumble the unsteady.

My feet, though, kept racing toward the hill beyond, where the Cheesewring sits like a giant stone bird. Was I following the Michael line to some sort of apex of energy? It felt like a force beyond logical reason. Yet, I stopped at the edge of the stone settlement, just where the land starts to dip before it climbs. I looked at the imposing hill just beyond with longing, before I turned around. I was far, quite far, from the other three I had come with and logic told me it would not be fair to follow my heart into the mist. And so the climb would have to wait for some other day, perhaps in the future.

IMG_3767
I got tantalizingly close before I turned away.

Something told me, though, that if I had stood long enough between those to standing stones, I would have gotten there sooner.

IMG_3773 2