"The temple bell stops but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers." ~Basho
For someone who enjoys silence and
solitude I jumped at the chance to be apart of this year Sacred
Landscape Yatra. Buddahfield's Yatra is a walking retreat where the
walking is done in single file and in silence. This year the
retreatants walked from Goring-on-Thames to Stonehenge across the
Rigdway before leaving this ancient trackway to walk across the
plains to our destination. We passed through hillforts, places of
mythic significance, through Avebury before ending with private
access to the stones just as the sun broke clear of the horizon at
Stonehenge. I was on the team so I joined the retreatants in walking
every other day.
The Yatra was wondeful, so simple in
its transience, toucing the ancient and the present as I passed
though it, deep and resonating. The first bluebells bursting out to
greet the growing days, leaves breaking free from their winter
homes, expanding and lifting to the sunlight. The myths, dragon hill
where St George slayed the dragon and where the dragon's blood fell
no grass grows again. The ancestors and gods, goddesses that we
called on to follow us. There was no pressure on me to conform, to
interact, to be any other way then what is me. A break from normal to
experience in as close as way to nomadic life as the modern day can
provide, following the white chalk trackways. Moving through
landscapes, noticing the colours of the dawn and dusk sky, noticing
and rejoicing in the raindrops falling on my head. Noticing how my
body moves and sways with each new step. Not needing to think, just
move and observe whatever caught my attention.
The juxtaposition of modern life
against the peace of natural world present every step of the walk.
Didcot power station central in the view from the rigdeway, smoke
rising against the rolling hills of Oxfordshire. The light pollution
from Swindon against the bright moonlight up on Barbury Castle, An
'A' road cutting in front and behind the ancient wonder of
Stonehenge. Swallowhead spring in Avebury, bone dry, no river to
feed, tree roots on the riverbank no longer drinking from water that
no longer flows past, such saddness inside a special space. Good and
bad is present in all moments in life, like the symbol of the vajra,
notice each and find the place of purity that presides in the middle,
rest there as often as it feels necessary.
The simplicity is what I am taking with
me, the need to not attach my emotions and thoughts to the good or to
the bad. The present moment as being the most important moment and to
stay away from the problems that sit on my horizon waiting for
attention, they are not in this moment so I will not attend to them.
I will feed my imagination, I took my family, my ancestors to the
stones as well. May my tears for the dragon heal the hill top where
he was slain so new life, new dragons can rise from the chalk. May my
water bring the spring to the surface once again. Tasty food
nourishing my body, warm tea warming my hands and insides on cold
frosty mornings, my foot hurts, I'll look after my foot. I'll tickle
the Ash flowers and stones of Avebury with a pheasant feather and
look with wonder at people's talismans as they offered them in
whatever way felt true to them. A staff of security for so many
peoples treasures ceremoniously and lovingly carried across the
country whilst an egg of new life in the form of a sprouting tendril
of a hawthorn is carried in the other hand. A blade of grass is my
talisman, forever present wherever I treat, grounding me, humbling
me.
Dropping sweet nectar into my
inspirations.
I will hold this retreat dearly in my
heart of many years to come. Thank you to all that made it special.
