Category: Travel Adventures

Castlerigg at High Noon #castlerigg #stonecircles #cumbria

On By Alethea KehasIn Gaia & Elementals, Memoir, Reflections, Travel Adventures14 Comments

I had been forewarned. Silence can speak volumes, and the early spring was impossible to overlook. Yet, there was that glimmer of hope that the mysteries of Castlerigg would somehow be open to me.

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The Welcoming Information at Castlerigg, which sits atop the charming town of Keswick.

We are waiting for you.

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Unlike some stone circles, Castlerigg is easy to find and access, and with unbeatable vistas it’s nearly impossible to have the place to yourself.

I had heard the ancestral call. I had felt the cells stir through centuries past with a visceral memory that fired my body into deep longing in the weeks, months, and even years before I made this journey. Yet it was not to be. Not this time anyway.

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The stones felt lifeless to me, as though their energy had retreated deep within their forms.

We drove up the hill that holds the stone circle known as Castlerigg at high noon on a brilliantly warm spring-like Sunday. Cars flanked the roadside, and at its crest an ice cream van sat in wait for the throngs of hungry tourists. The urge to turn around and hop back into the car nearly consumed me. You can’t erase first impressions.

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Castlerigg is an undeniably beautiful place any time of the year.

Sometimes, though, we must face our must crushing moments head-on and take the lessons they give us. Disappointment can be a gift, leading to surrender and acceptance. And so I climbed to the top of the hill and met the stones filled with visitors.

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I wanted to spend some time with this stone in particular, but as you can see it was a popular spot.

It’s a beautiful place, I am sure, in any season, and that day Castlerigg shone with the light of the noonday sun. Bright and golden. It lit the faces of the picnicking family having lunch in the sanctuary (hence the absence of photos of this intriguing area of the site). Its rays played through the shadows of bodies as they wove in and out of the standing stones, and lit the smiling faces of selfies posed amid the inert bodies of rocks.

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Although I didn’t do a great job capturing it, the stones of Castlerigg shadow the contours of the surrounding landscape.

The site was filled with energy, but it was not coming from the stones, or the distance hills that rim the landscape. Instead, it came from the revelers of humans visiting the site.  It was, in many ways, the antithesis of the encounter with Castlerigg I had envisioned.

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Even the faces one expects to find in ancient stones were virtually absent during my visit.

If I could, I would take it all back. I know that this may be the wrong response, but it’s the truth. There’s no point in lying to oneself, it merely pushes the truth into dark corners where it festers for light. It is not an easy thing to do, writing this post. It would be impossible to describe the full impact of my first encounter with Castlerigg, and its effects on me. Yet, it is for me, and me alone to process as I attempt to dig inside and find the gifts from this experience. Not the “why,” as much as the acceptance of the “is.”

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It was as though the spirits in the stones had turned their backs to me.

What felt, in the moment, as the ultimate betrayal and rejection — a date to meet the beloved, only to find the beloved had receded back inside the the distant hills — led to the inevitable acceptance that the beloved resides within. Always present. Yet, this is not an easy acceptance. I still long for that promised (re)union. To place my body supine upon that open hillside in the middle of the ancient stones and hover in the liminal space that bridges the Earth to the heavens. I still long for that moment where I can open myself completely to the spirits of the land and listen to all they have to say. To feel the wild wrap of the elements and the stirrings of a long held magic waiting, just waiting, to be brought to life in that perfect moment of union.

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Below Castlerigg, the lakes of Cumbria mirror the glory of the land.

There is, though, a comfort in the mundane, and the knowing that I made it through this trial. This test, of which I am still unsure of the answers. That I am unscathed, albeit a bit heartbroken. My beloveds surround me in physical form back home in New Hampshire, and little, in the greater vista of life, has been lost.

Later that night, when I closed my eyes to sleep I saw the girl standing in the hallway and the wrap of cloth around her eyes had disappeared. I still had two full days ahead of me, and I was determined to make the best of what was offered to me.

To be continued…To read the previous posts in this series about my recent visit to England, please follow the links below:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

I Journey from Long Meg to Little Meg #longmegandherdaughters #longmeg #littlemeg #stonecircles

On By Alethea KehasIn Gaia & Elementals, Memoir, Reflections, Travel Adventures21 Comments

The pulse of red spiral of light emanating from the Long Meg stone lasted mere seconds. As the stone returned to its outer stasis, I found myself catching my breath in wonderment. Had I imagined the red eye? I examined the place where it arose, and before me was a spiral, inlaid in the stone. Surely I had not, but what did it mean? I am not, by nature, prone to seeing the unseen with my eyes open. Each time it happens it feels like a rare and precious gift, and this was no exception. I had not expected to have a connection such as this at Long Meg. Rather, I had thought my moment was intended for Castlerigg.

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Long Meg looks over her daughters

Like with each visit to these sacred, ancient sites, I found the time passing all too quickly. Time that could not be spent with each individual stone, whereby it might offer some of its secrets. Instead, I felt the whole of the landscape as best I could. Opening to whatever it had to offer. As I looked from Long Meg’s vantage, down the rippling slope that held the oval wrap of her daughters in stone, I felt the blindfold slip from my eyes. There was a longing within me, but the longing was not mine alone. It came from the stone standing beside me, and in chronicled a time that stretched through thousands of years. It was filled with loss, but not the same ravishing loss that I had felt at the Raven’s Nest.  This was not the feeling of sudden, violent pillage and desecration. This was the loss of a slow diminishing of the magic held within. A loss spread out over centuries. And a longing for it to be returned. To be remembered and revered once again.

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I would have liked to have spent more time with this large stone, which shows a bird-like face rising from its left side in the photo.

There are stones in the oval below Long Meg that appear sad and forlorn. Others feel empty and forgotten. And then there are those that stir with life still held within. Some watch, while others wait. Some feel like they are missing entirely, and now only empty space remains.

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Some of the gaps, such as this one, feel purposeful, as though they mark an entry to the “circle” flanked by recumbent guardians.

As I relaxed my gaze to take in the landscape before me I saw the ghosts of a distant past. A ceremony filled with life and purpose played through the sacred space. I saw our ancestors walking through grass that rippled like water, the heavens arching above. I saw a merging of the sacred. Each element aligned within and without. As natural as the breath that is not held back. And I saw a path leading to a smaller circle down below.

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You cannot see Little Meg from Long Meg, at least not now, but it is not far away.

When we left Long Meg, I asked Steve about Little Meg. “It’s not far from here,” he told me. “I’ll take you to it if you’d like.”

Little Meg is tiny in comparison to Long Meg. The stones arranged intimately, as though to contain a fire. Not an outer fire, though, as much as an inner. Whereas Long Meg feels open and exposed to the outer, sharing its magic to many in a larger ritual of ceremonial reverence, Little Meg seems to represent a space for the individual relationship to the “teacher” within and without.

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Little Meg in its present state.

The path, if there once was one, which I feel strongly there was, is no longer marked from Long Meg. Instead, one must either wander through farmers’ fields and over stone walls, or drive as we did. The distance between the two sites is only 0.5 kilometers. Situated in a farmers field amid a rubble of smaller rocks, the circle of stones that is called Little Meg looks and feels disrupted. But, it has not entirely lost its magic.

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The stones of Little Meg are not likely placed as they once were, but they still hold a magic of the past.

It is still being used, and honored in individual ways. Most likely not the same as it once was. When I was there, I saw crow’s feathers arranged in its center, and the offering of a polished pillar of quartz. It did not necessarily feel misused, so much as neglected.

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The more you peer at each individual stone, the more faces and figures you see. These stones hold stories for those who wish to hear them.

During my brief visit to Little Meg, I had the impulse to sit in her center and open to the inner world that might be revealed to me. Yet time did not permit this. There was also the impulse to clear away the debris that didn’t feel like it belonged. The litter of smaller stones…the fallen branches…but there was also the feeling to let it be. That although in some ways forgotten and neglected, Little Meg was living out her legacy as a part of Earth and there was a feeling of peace to this acceptance.

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This stone looked as though it was missing a part, perhaps chiseled off years ago, but one cannot mistake the connection to Long Meg with its spirals.

It reminded me of circles I had seen in landscapes that were both intimate and vast. Like Barbrook and the Nine Ladies. It offered an inner wisdom for those who wished to find it. A union of energies. The outer to the inner. The masculine with the feminine. And, the human with the animal nature of self. It was both lovely and serene. And it offered a peace and acceptance I would soon need.

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The faces in this stone are hard to miss. A human face intimately joined to a feline/animal form hints at the melding of these energies that exist inside all of us.

Once again, I left with the pull of longing to stay.  Both Little Meg and Long Meg had offered gifts, and I was filled with gratitude for their presence. Tomorrow would not be easy to accept, but in the meantime, I had the companionship of my lovely hosts and their furry friends, as well as a delicious and grounding dinner awaiting me.

To be continued…

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

 

 

 

 

Keats & The First White Feather #keats #keatshouse

On By Alethea KehasIn Memoir, Reflections, Travel Adventures11 Comments

I woke to sunshine and the sound of my friend hollering across the room. I had slept for two-and-a-half hours, our agreed upon time so that we could venture into the land of Keats.

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The Bust of John Keats. A rather handsome man, as my companion declared.

More than two decades ago, I had fallen in love with the young poet and his bold, unapologetic, and hopelessly romantic poetry and writing. Before the tender age of 25 when he succumbed to death by tuberculosis, Keats had managed to produce an astonishing amount of work filled with the beauty and pathos of life. Truth and Beauty. Those words haunting the Grecian Urn to extend time into eternity. You can imagine my surprise and delight to discover that the poet was also an amateur artist of sorts and had drawn the actual urn he had poured his musings into.

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Keats’s Grecian Urn

And then there was his beloved’s engagement ring. A hopeless romantic myself, I had fallen in love with their love. So much so, I had written my honors thesis comparing Keats’s poetry to his love letters to Fanny Brawne.

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The ring Keats gave to his beloved. Sadly, they were never able to wed.

The house itself is both beautiful and understated, fitting for the young poet. Nearby is now a large library, of which we did not venture inside, but both felt a fitting honor for the poet. Outside the white facade of Keats’s home are beautiful gardens, which were in the full flush of spring. February spring. The day before I was in the throes of winter in New Hampshire. Wrapped tightly against 20 degrees Fahrenheit amid a land blanketed in white. Now, before me, purple and gold crocuses littered an emerald lawn where an old tree reaches toward the pathway that wraps the house.

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The guardian tree outside the poet’s home.

I felt the spirit guardians inside the tree watching me as I passed. Judging, perhaps, the worthiness of my feet to walk the path of the poet. It was, in many ways surreal. The sudden, early spring laid before me. I, treading the the role of voyeur through the rooms where Keats slept, ate, and wrote his heart’s truths on a wooden desk with quill and ink.

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Instead of the wall, I imagine the young poet gazing out the window at his gardens.

What did he see, I wondered? What was his land like many years ago? The house looked, in many ways, untouched. Outside, several of the same buildings still stand as they had during the poet’s lifetime. England is old, far older than Keats’s timeline.

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The poet’s home

It took but a short while to roam the rooms and gardens of his home, and we were soon venturing out in to his beloved Hampstead Heath. The afternoon sun beginning to turn the land golden. Its heady warmth lifting my sleepless form in a semi-somnambular weightlessness.

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Hampstead Heath is vast and filled with romantic beauty.

How many poems had been inspired by the poet’s walks through these woods? Woods so vast one could easily get lost inside of them. We did. For awhile, before we took out the phone and gave into the modern convenience of tracked navigation.

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This tiny pup stole our hearts with her brave determination to keep up with the big dogs.

It had been a full day. A day blessed with the quiet peace of a past mingled with the present. The woods were filled with dogs and their companions, the air imbibed with the mingled appreciation for the beauty of the early spring day.

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We ate outside, in the garden under a heat lamp. The air turning chill with the descending sun.

We had an early dinner at the Spaniard’s Inn before we ventured toward home. As I looked over the land, my eye caught upon a large white feather formed by clouds over Jack Straws Castle. I took it as a sign. Of what, I did not know, but there would be more white feathers. Many more, before my journey in England was over.

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White feather cloud

I had almost forgotten about the girl with the blindfold waiting in the hallway as we climbed the stairs to the flat. Overcome with the exhaustion of travel, the weight of the long waking hours over took me as I climbed once again into bed. I closed my eyes expecting immediate sleep, but there she was. Unmoved in the hallway. Waiting for me. The blindfold still wrapped around her eyes.

To be continued…

This is part 2 of my most recent journey to England. To read part 1, please click here. 

 

 

 

 

The Blindfolded Girl in the Hallway #travel #london

On By Alethea KehasIn Memoir, Reflections, Travel Adventures, Warriors of Light28 Comments
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Photo Credit: Pexels

It had been easy to plan. Perhaps too easy. My husband’s forwarding of the airfare deal had led to another trip across the pond that had been pulled together quickly and nearly effortlessly. I had two sets of gracious hosts, an almost absurdly inexpensive flight, and dates that fit the family’s schedule as perfectly as circumstances allowed. My feathered seer had appeared to me in dreams, visions ,and physical forms, and I felt I had to go. The pieces had seemingly fallen into place of their own will.

Perhaps too easily.

Life, I have learned, rarely unravels before us in the way we envision it. I had felt the shift. The silence in the weeks before my departure, but had tried to ignore it. The plan had changed, but I wasn’t sure how.

The inevitable test began during the flight to London. I was sandwich in the middle of the airplane, between two men, one much larger than the other. The armrests were taken and I knew I could easily succumb to the feeling of entrapment if I allowed it to cloud me in. There would be no slumber, not that I had planned on it. I rarely sleep on airplanes, even when the flights, like this one was, are overnighters. The large man to my right began to snore before the plane taxied down the runway, so loudly, heads turned from several rows away and looks of pity fell upon my face.

Yet, I was determined to make the best of it. I pulled my headphones out of my purse, plugged them into the seat in front of me, and scrolled through the dismal list of films. Two movies and one granola bar and yogurt later, we arrived at Gatwick. I, surprisingly alert.

The trip through customs was quicker than expected, and my train tickets easily purchased. My only mistake, not buying the combo tube ticket because the agent assured me I would get a better rate if I waited until I got to the station. Turns out it’s not so easy to get a ticket if you don’t already have one, or an Oyster card, of which I am now the proud owner.

After some minor scrambled confusion, I got my tube ticket, found the right terminal, and boarded the tube. My friend was waiting at the “meeting place,” and we set off to buy some provisions before we settled into her flat so she could get a few hours of work in, and I some sleep.

The bedroom was cool and welcoming. After I removed the layers of clothing that had enveloped me for the past night and previous day, changed into PJs, and brushed my teeth, I slipped under the duvet and closed my eyes.

And that’s when I saw her. The girl with a blindfold over her eyes. Standing in the hallway, beyond the closed doors. Waiting for me.

Part 1 in a series of posts to follow that will cover my most recent journey to England to study some of its ancient sites. 

The Pull of Stones Continues #wintersolstice #solstice #castlerigg #sacredsites

On By Alethea KehasIn Memoir, Travel AdventuresLeave a comment
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The circle that haunts me. Photo Credit: Lara Wilson

I wasn’t going to go. Well, I was, and then I wasn’t. As typically happens, I opted for  family before self, and my daughter had wanted to see a friend’s performance in “The Nutcracker.” The only show happened to fall on the Solstice, and so I decided I would miss my friend’s gathering last night.

When I picked my daughter up from school yesterday, she got into the car and announced, “I’d rather go to the basketball game tonight.”

“Are you sure?” I could hardly believe it. Suddenly, I was free to go to the gathering. I had no excuse not to, except no one really knew I was coming.

By the time I walked through the threshold and into my friend Deb’s home, I had no doubt I was where I was supposed to be for the evening. Three had became four.

“I didn’t know if you would be here,” Deb smiled as she embraced me.

Neither did I…

“The fairies said you might not come. That it was uncertain,” Sophia announced. “I drew a card for us before I left,” she told all of us. “It was called ‘Ancient Wisdom’ and it had an image of a stone circle.”

I was not surprised.

Minutes laster we are gathered in Deb’s yoga room, surrounded by the crystals of Earth. Four women seated in the four directions. I, positioned at Earth. In the center, our small altar is filled with offerings and candles. Hovering in a circle of energy around us are the ancients, holding space.

I nestle the rainbow goddess I have brought into the well of my throat and ease into a supine position on the rug. My mind follows the pulse of Sophia’s drumbeat down a stairway into Earth. I am in the ground below Castlerigg.

Minutes pass. More than I am comfortable with. Inside the canvas of my mind scenes morph and disappear. My body grows warm and restless, then cold. It wants to dance. To move. I know where it wants to go.

We are waiting for you, I hear before I return to the room.

 

Finding Home Inside a Ring of Stones #thestruggleisreal #castlerigg

On By Alethea KehasIn Energy Healing, Gaia & Elementals, Reflections, Travel Adventures2 Comments

 

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A land holding magic. Photo credit: Sue Vincent

I’m sitting here imagining myself sitting on a plane in the dead of winter. I’ve imagined it often over the last 48 hrs. It’s not the difficult to do. Me, flying to a land frozen in time for 5,000 years, shivering under layers. Just me, and a circle of stones. The thought alone pulls me deep within to an untouched place. One thought stirs the internal waters until they flood my eyes.

Crazy.

Or is it?

I thought I had moved into the land of acceptance, until my husband forwarded me the airfare deal. In case you still need/want to go…

Can I differentiate need from want when the thought pulls me to the unknown that seeks to be known?

The wisdom of the ancients tell us that home is not a physical place, but a state of being. Yet I sit inside a house that feels false in many ways. It feels dusty with  pretenses.

It took only a photograph years ago to pull the cells out of hibernation. Hills made white with winter surrounding a ring of stones. It’s not just Castlerigg, though. Arbor Low evoked a similar response in me. I had to go there to discover why.

I waited at the threshold after the slow climb, pausing to receive permission before the womb opened to receive. One step and I was home. Flooded with bliss. Untempered magic. And I was home in the soft sweep of the moors where I found peace. The settled sleep of death undisturbed. Balance. And, I was home at the nest of the raven clan, high upon the hill, where I felt the shred of sorrow ripping me raw. A rape of the womb that was everyone’s. Earth holding the pain. Yet, I was home. I could have stayed there forever.

I reside in a land that has become numb. The artificial has forced life to retread. My body feels the weight of the false, and the struggle for a return that is slow and uneasy. It longs for the place where it doesn’t have to hide. Where the energy courses with life. Real Life.

And I know, someday I need to go to a place called Castlerigg. In the physical body. To remember. To retrieve. What? I do not yet know. The dreams and vision pull me only as far as the hills. The stones wait in stasis. Trapped in the movement of slow time. Yet, the life stirs within them with a force that has the power to pull me to them.  Three thousand miles apart.  An ocean of expanse. And I sit in wonder, thinking. Is the time now? Or can I wait?

Castlerigg from a distance #acceptance #castlerigg #sacredsites #ancientengland

On By Alethea KehasIn Memoir, Reflections, Travel Adventures7 Comments

 

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Castlerigg at dawn. Photo Credit: Lara Wilson

I went as far as the hills in dreamtime while they gathered to greet the dawn below. Disappointment comes in many forms and sometimes it reaches out to hold the hand of acceptance. I’m not going to lie. This has not been an easy one to come by. The land at Castlerigg calls to me in a language the predates words. It speaks to the very heart of my being and fills me with the irrepressible longing for home. Yet, it is not my time to return here, and I know when it is, this body I wear must accompany my spirit. Sometimes the cells need to remember wholly and completely. And, Casterligg has called my whole being to be present someday. But not yet.

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Photo Credit: Lara Wilson. I love how the blurred image reveals the faces in the stones.

 

I didn’t know you wanted to go so badly, my husband told me afterwards. After he overhear words spoken with my dear friend who was there. I had, though, already chosen the hand of acceptance months ago, although sometimes I held only its finger tips. What do you do for yourself. I mean, only for yourself. You know, just for you? A friend had asked me a week before while the tears called despair rained from my eyes.

England, I told her. I go to England.

Yet, I was born here in New England. A cruel irony it can seem at times when one feels like she belongs in another land. This, though, is where I am, right now, and I have chosen to take that hand called “acceptance,” along with the belief that there is a purpose for me being here, and not there, for most of my time. This past weekend, instead of visiting a landscape that feels like home, I was home with my family. And, that was okay. More than okay. Love is limitless, even when it feels as though it is being pulled apart by longing.

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The season of long shadows. Photo Credit: Lara Wilson

I was here, but also there. You were never not with us, my friend assured me. I called your name as I walked up to the circle, you must have heard me.

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The hills that called me home years ago, still enfold me in wait. Photo credit: Lara Wilson

I was hovering in the hills, though. The stones below obscured by the body of giants. They called me back home before the stones did. Opening the body of the goddess to enfold. I can stay here for awhile longer. I can wait. Even though the head of the dragon beckons in stone.

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There is a deep sense of comfort knowing how much these stones and the land is loved, even though I am pulled with that longing. I read gratitude and love in the face of the stone gazing at Sue Vincent, while the guardian stone reminds me of the slow time of patience. Photo Credit: Lara Wilson

My lower body has been vibrating all week. Kundalini. The roots healing before the rise. We are often called to tend to the roots first. Healing the core of stability. Of origin. Our roots that bind us to one family, before we can return to another.

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Photo Credit: Lara Wilson

Acceptance holds my hand. I have taken her grasp in a firm embrace and she is becoming a part of me. I can wait. You asked for patience, did you not? I am reminded.

How lucky I am, that I can return to this place that feels like home. That I can allow myself to become lost only to become found, over and over again, filling each cell of my being with the memory of home. Until we meet in this lifetime, Castlerigg, I will hold the hand of acceptance.

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Photo Credit: Lara Wilson

A special thanks to Lara Wilson for lending me the use of her gorgeous photographs, and  to her, as well as the others who were at the Silent Eye School of Consciousness event this past weekend for taking me with them in spirit. 

 

The Oracle’s Chamber & the Stone of Sacrifice: Part 4 of my visit to America’s Stonehenge #traveladventures #sacredsites #ancientsites #americasstonehenge

On By Alethea KehasIn Memoir, Travel Adventures13 Comments

Continued from part 3…

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This curious serpentine slab above the wall faces west toward the “V” Hut

From the “V” Hut we began to move into the disturbed remains of the Pattee Area of America’s Stonehenge. Passing from the west, the place of the womb-like chamber of the V-Hut where water seems to collect intentionally before it is diverted through channels, the three of us followed the East-West Chamber east.

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I believe this is part of the restored wall of the East-West Chamber, but I did not get the site number in the photograph for confirmation.

I think this was around the time I grabbed my granola bar from my bag and started shoveling it into my mouth. Grounding was needed after the experience at the “V” Hut and I was not feeling wholly myself. We were now heading to the most controversial area of the site, the Oracle’s Chamber, which runs alongside and beneath the 4.5-ton slab of stone called the Sacrificial Table.

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En route to the chamber. There are several areas that are enclosed by chains, but the majority is accessible to visitors.

According to the Tour Guide Map, there may once have been two chambers here. Radiocarbon dating performed in this area of the site indicate that part of it is as old as 4,000 years. Unfortunately, much of what was once here can only be surmised. There are chiseled holes that may have held the posts of tents in the large open area where no structures remain aside from a small slab that might have been a seat.

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The stone-faced open area with channels and holes of unknown origin/cause believed to be post-holes for wooden beams and channels to divert the flow of water.

Walking along the upper edge of this rock face, you pass the Sundeck Chamber, which shows signs of having been altered over time. It is worth noting that all chambers aside from the East-West chamber on Mystery Hill face south.

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The Sundeck Chamber with my family above in April 2014

Some people believe this area of the site that we are now approaching resembles the oracle chambers found in ancient Greece and Egypt. Having yet to visitor these lands, I cannot lend my opinion on this, I can only tell you what I experienced during my visit. Others more skeptical of the age of America’s Stonehenge believe Pattee constructed these stone chambers for storage, hoisted the 4.5-ton slab onto its platform, and drilled a moat around its perimeter to make soap.

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As you approach the entrance to the Oracle Chamber, you get a glimpse of the sacrificial table behind the chainlinks.

There are some impressive stones in this area, as you can see from the above photograph. The stones in the walls may have been moved several times by hands over the course of many years, but the more massive stones have the feeling of permanence to them. I was both eager and apprehensive to be entering the chamber that stood before me. The sun was searing my skin, though, and while my companions Deb and Sophia studied the map and the stones before the enclosure, I ducked my head inside.

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My husband standing at the entrance to the Oracle Chamber (but facing toward the sacrificial table) during our 2014 visit.

Just in time, it seems, to see the chipmunk scurrying out the other end. My faithful guide once again steering my feet and directing my eyes.  It’s now time to go inward with me for the next part of the journey, into the narrow opening that awaits. In the above photograph, you can see the Chamber marked 28-A, walled by stone and covered by earth.

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The entrance to the Oracle Chamber at America’s Stonehenge

It is dark and cool inside the passageway, and the eyes take a moment to adjust after leaving the sunlight. No longer used by humans, small animals and birds find refuge here.

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A bird’s nest inside the Oracle’s Chamber. All photographs were taken with a flash, giving the deception of much more light than there actually is inside the dark chamber.

Although the chamber is not large, like the ones it may be modeled after in other parts of the world, there are places that draw the eye and make one think of what might have been. This is where the Running Deer Carving exists, chiseled into a side wall.

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The Ibex inside the Oracle’s Chamber

There are also niches and shelves…

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A rectangular niche inside the chamber can be seen at the end of this walkway.

A carved bench in a rock estimated to weigh 45 tons can be seen in the left foreground of the above photograph, where up to three adults can sit in wait outside the area that houses the “Secret Bed.”

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Across from the seat, there is a closet with a 21 ton stone below it. I’m not sure I took the best photograph, but it is marked here.

Sophia and I sat on the damp stone of the seat while Deb read from the Trail Map. I was seated right outside the entrance to the Secret Bed, and while Deb read, my eyes wandered to the dark tunnel within.

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“C” marks the entrance to the Secret Bed, which is a “niche large enough for a person to crawl into and be completely hidden,” according to the Trail Map.

I’m not sure how much I listened to Deb’s words as I turned away and peered into the tunnel. An overwhelming impulse to crawl inside consumed me, and I found myself grappling with reason. Don’t be silly, who knows what you’ll find inside, my logical brain told my illogical longing. The area did, in fact, look just large enough to hold my form lying down, but I knew the rocks would be even damper than the one upon which I sat.

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Looking into the Secret Bedchamber: The photograph was taken with a flash, like the others, and it is much darker than it appears here. All you can clearly see with your naked eyes are the two slits of light.

Visions began to play inside of my mind as I peered into the small tunnel. A pair of eyes peered back at me, the only light in the darkness before me. Inside my mind, I saw the table above the eyes covered by a sacrifice. I saw blood dripping through the eyeholes and collecting into a mouth open to receive as its body lay supine, listening without seeing.

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The Sacrificial Chamber: I’ve marked with a speech bubble where I think the speaking tube hole may be. The Secret Bed is just beneath it.

I don’t remember Deb reading these words, which are written in the Trail Map: “D) Speaking Tube. Words spoken through this stone-lined tube [the Secret Bed] exit under the Sacrificial Table (#31), outside the chamber, and give the impression that the table is talking — hence the term ‘Oracle.’ This small tunnel was found blocked at both ends with small stones.” I can’t tell you with certainty where this speaking tube is, as I was lost in my vision for most of our time in the Chamber.

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I found this photograph in my collection taken inside the Oracle Chamber. It may be in the area of the speaking tube, but I can’t be sure.

We probably spent no more than ten minutes inside the Oracle’s Chamber, and they were not wholly comfortable minutes. Although I had that eerie, nearly irresistible impulse to climb into the Secret Bed, I was also eager to walk back out into the sunlight. Even if it was blistering hot.

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The view from the ramp leading away from the Chamber: You can see the Table flanked by standing stones. There are more larger stones littering the area, making it difficult to know what it once looked like.
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This photograph taken, in April 2014, offers a wider view of this area. According to the Trail Map, #29 marks the “Exit to Ramp Drain. This is another stone-on-stone constructed drain; part of a series which begins near the “V” Hut, exits here and extends to the north of the Sacrificial Table.”

The Womb before the Chamber: Part 3 of my visit to America’s Stonehenge #americasstonehenge #ancientsites #sacredsites #traveladventures #dragonlines #dragonstones #mysteryhill

On By Alethea KehasIn Travel Adventures19 Comments

Please click on the highlighted text to read Part 1 & Part 2

It was hot last Wednesday, and humid, with temperatures hovering around 90 degrees Fahrenheit. My body does not like this type of weather, and I was quite uncomfortable at times walking the Mystery Hill, especially once we reached the top and shade was hard to come by. As I mentioned in my second post, we took the marked trail clockwise up the hill. During our ascent I noticed the curious walls of stone that always seemed to end with larger rocks bearing striking resemblances to the heads of serpents or dragons. Walls that curved inwards and outwards. Although the heat could have been a factor, there was a distinct feeling of being tested throughout my time here. As though my cells were being called to shed and be reborn.

These types of places tend to test, calling their visitors to pull the inner out to be processed. I felt this even more acutely later on as I gazed upon the curious rocks below that were found in one of the stone walls. One face seemed to pull me to the right, while a smaller rock on its back pulled to the left. It made me think of the circle around the hill, and how I had wanted to walk counter-clockwise…

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This stonewall, leading to the Astronomical Trail, contained an interesting hybrid rock, the bottom “being” seemed to pull in one direction, while the top, in the other.

A small south-facing stone chamber sits at the area below the site that is now referred to as the Pattee Area of America’s Stonehenge. Above its earthen roof, lilacs, presumably planted by the Pattees, bloom in May. It’s difficult to know what the original structure looked like, as it has been rebuilt over the years, or what it was used for. It is one of several cave-like enclosures of various sizes on the hill. Tucked into the body of Earth, it has the feel of a place where one could hibernate to await the rebirth of spring.

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The South-facing Chamber. The photo was taken during my April 2014 visit.

A well-like structure sits nearby, just to the upper right of the chamber. Its opening is covered in a wire mesh, and for a few feet in depth the unaided eyes can see a descending cylinder formed by stones. To the right of the south-facing chamber, the remnants of a stone wall that aligns with the true north-south axis leads up the hill a short way toward the central site.

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A stone wall on the true north-south axis leads up the hill. You’ll note the more modern fencing cutting through it.

To the left of the well there is an area referred to as “The Pulpit,” which is speculated to have been used in more modern times as a loading dock for quarrying stones. Nearby, and further to the left, a large stone slab with a 90-degree hole chiseled through it can be found. A remarkable feat even by modern standards.  The ground turns to stone ledge here, and there are many areas marked with white paint, speculated to be chiseled channels for tool sharpening and to direct the flow of water (or perhaps other liquids…)

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A passage for water has a distinct vulva-like shape as noted by Deb. It exists nearby the Mensal Stone and the V-Hut

I am not altogether surprised I did not take many photos of this particular area of the site. By the time I reached the Mensal Stone, en route to the V-Stone, my inner sight had begun to pass me through time.

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The “Mensal” stone is a 6-8 ton slab tucked into rocks.

I was present, but not wholly present, as the three of us approached the womb and joined hands.

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The “V Hut.” There is no explanation in the brochure for this structure, which I refer to as “The Womb”…

I can recall Deb remarking about angles and wondering why the lines needed to be drawn straight into a point when we arrived at this mysterious structure…the dropping of items we had brought beside our feet…and my voice rambling words to describe a landscape that only partially remained around us…

I saw serpents in the living stone surrounding the hillside, drawing the fire inward and outward, swirling the waters within. I could feel it building inside of me, cooling the water in an alchemical dance of convergence at the womb where one enters to be reborn. I could feel the elements surging through the rock upon which I stood, rising through the soles of my feet and out through my pores which had opened to receive. Every hair on my body was standing on end. “Look,” I told Deb and Sophia, as I stretched out my arms.

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We knew, as we stood before this distinctly feminine structure,  we had found the place where we were meant to gather. Three women stopping to be present with the land while the sun burned down upon us as we formed a trinity of hands. A triangle of energy like the one before us, drawing the sacred feminine to meet the dragon’s fire as it entered the V…

To be continued…

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

On By Alethea KehasIn Animal Messengers, Gaia & Elementals, Travel Adventures14 Comments

Continued from Part 1…

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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.

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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.

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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?

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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.

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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.

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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.