The call of a dragon and the pyramid stone(s)

She stands alone in the vast echoing darkness, as she does each day. Her hair ripples a night without stars from her crown to her waist. “Ammon Ra!” She calls through the portal. “Ammon Ra!” She raises her scepter to the apex, heralding the opening. “Ammon Ra!” Darkness slips away to the effortless lift. Stones becoming an illusion to weight. Her body, the channel for the sun, her voice, the gateway.  “Ammon Ra!” Dimension collapses into waves of light, filling the great pyramid it searches for the veins. “Ammon Ra!” The scepter meets the floor and gold spills into the ground in a vast web without endings. Below the feet of the priestess, Earth pulses with energy. Tomorrow she will return. And the day after that…

IMG_1717

It’s a hot morning in mid-July and I am climbing a mountain that has called to me through the channel opened to the higher self. I am not thinking of Egypt or a long ago time that has rippled back to this one. Instead, I am trying not to think, allowing myself to surrender to whatever will be. It is hot. Airless. Just as it was a year before when I climbed another mountain with my husband on our anniversary because it called me from a place beyond logic.

IMG_1719

Bring the crystal you were given at America’s Stonehenge

Instead I have brought a packet of tobacco leaves, as I did when I climbed to see Chocorua. It is not yet time to bring the crystal, now I know why my daughter dug the wand of selenite out of a sandlot six years before I would find myself inside a vision of  life that is woven into this one.

It’s no big deal. There are others who call in the opening, collapsing dimension in the path to the stars.

Admittedly, despite the attempts to expect nothing, I am looking for signs along the path. At Chocorua I had several: the ghostly figures of Native Americans watching us walk beside the sacred stream, the white feather fallen upon the path, two snakes, the crow greeting our arrival and the pileated woodpecker, my “feathered seer” calling through the silence. And, finally, the face of the chief in the clouds just before we turned for our descent, not having quite reached the peak of our destination.

Today there are no ravens promising magic, only a woman and her dog who quickly disappear ahead of us and out of sight. I have a feeling it will be a quiet walk and I will be watched more than I will see. This is often how it happens, I am learning. A trust needs to be earned, and I am heedful of my steps and mindful of noticing where I feel the nudge to drop a few leaves of tobacco for the spirits of the mountain.

IMG_1721

But the energy is there. I can see the serpents in the stones we pass by and I can feel the lines of water, even though it is nearly dried up.

IMG_1723

We find the spring empty of people and I am grateful for the chance to linger beside the stones (who watch us closely) and cool my skin in the cold, clear liquid.

IMG_1737

It is a place I’d like to linger longer. Light dances with water here, creating alchemy with color on the stones. The veins feel alive with the pulse of the dragon and the stones eroded in a way that does not feel accidental.

IMG_1726

But we have a long way yet to go, and I am determined to reach the peak, unlike last year. I don’t know what to expect, but I am expecting something. Our walk, though, is quiet and intense in its ascent. The path we have chosen gives us few breaks from the vertical climb and the heat is strong today.

 

IMG_1728

Before we leave the waterfall, I notice the metal on the rock. The chiseled words feel, well, perfect.

IMG_1730I take a final look that the stones and the light’s dance on the water. Grateful that it will be there on our return.

IMG_1739

Ahead of us is more heat and the rigors of our climb. But we will not rest in one spot for too long. The stones watch us while we walk, and I leave my trail of tobacco leaves hoping it is enough.

IMG_1733

I still don’t feel home here the way I do in England, walking the newer lands of America, but I am learning to trust that the pulse that feels like magic beats here just as strongly. Even if it’s not quite as close to the surface. I have noticed during my walks through the mountains and forest paths of New England, that the land here is cautious of my footsteps, as it should be. Our ancestors here have left a troubled path, and my veins do not course with native blood. I am often acutely aware that I am an intruder who needs to earn trust.

IMG_1744

Yet, the stones show me their faces and forms when I look close enough, and sometimes a bit of unexpected magic is revealed.

Like the cube of quartz we find as though it has been tossed to be seen, just inches from our feet in the bed of dried leaves. It feels like a gift to be left, but noticed. Not photographed. A reminder of what I will bring with me next time.

IMG_1745

Instead I photograph the tiny orange mushrooms that look like a trail of the fey, and we continue our climb to the strange little hut that I cannot imagine falling asleep inside.

IMG_1746

“You’d need to bring a pad with your sleeping bag,” I tell my husband as I press my fingers into the unforgiving metal mesh. I’d rather not think of what else might venture inside the opening in the darkness of night.

Did I mention my bladder has felt the need for release before we began our decent? A minor inconvenience that my mind returns to each time I take a drink to quench my thirst. For some reason I can’t bring myself to relieve myself behind a stone. There’s no one around.

IMG_1752

Just the stones of a former habitation as we get closer to the top.

IMG_1747

And lots of large, curious looking boulders that call for a better look upon our descent. But we are nearly there, the signs promise us our feet will soon reach the peak.

IMG_1755

I am expecting, even though I have tried not to expect, a vast rocky face with clear vistas, but instead we need to climb once more. This time it is stairs up to a guarded platform. Here, finally, we meet more visitors and it feels crowded on top of this large mountain.

IMG_1753

But I am not wholly disappointed. Up here I can see the peaks beyond and take in the contours of the land from a point not seen from the ground. And, I can see the ripples on the back of the dragon.

IMG_1759

But we are hiking in the midst of a pandemic, and others are waiting for the view, so we don’t stay too long atop the constructed tower. Besides, I still have to pee, it’s lunchtime, and the stones below are calling.

IMG_1765

Although there is a great deal of the mountain remaining for me to discover at perhaps another time, this place beckons to me. And soon I have an idea why.

IMG_1770

It’s not just the stones piled into caves that will have to wait for my eyes to peer inside, it’s the stone in the middle, curiously shaped like a pyramid. In the distance, far beyond sight, a bird calls through the forest. It is a pileated woodpecker. My “feathered seer.”

IMG_1766

To be continued, someday…

IMG_1774

The Guardian of the Serpents #Guardian #Writephoto

watchers
Photo Credit: Sue Vincent

The giant had been there a long time. As long, they say, as the serpents themselves. His body nestled into the cliff face hidden except for his stone face. Brows furrowed with concentration and lined with age warned even the bold to keep their distance. Not many were brave enough to mess with a giant, even one who looked like he hadn’t moved in ages.

Most failed to notice what he guarded, or wrongly assumed he was guarding them from falling of the precipice. Fools! If they fell it was no fault for him to own. Let them do what they will. Humans were often such careless creatures, believing their bodies would somehow defy death. Yet they had long forgotten how to fly.

The serpents watched, unnoticed. Their twinned noses pushed into the wind while their bodies pulsed Earth’s veins.  Few witnessed the power of their alchemy, because they had learned to fear lightning. But what a gift it was to watch! Fire called from the clouds as it sought the womb of water. To witness creation from their mouths…what a pity, the guardian often thought, that their minds had gone numb.

For Sue Vincent’s #writephoto prompt #guardian

The Chimpmunk & the Serpent: Part 2 of my visit to America’s Stonehenge

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. Out 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.