By way of explanation, I produce my written meanderings as a way of expressing my empathic, spiritual and ‘ sensitive’ interpretations of my experiences. I seem to pick up on various energies, mainly from people and places. I try largely not to interpret what presents itself but to offer it up as a raw, objective ( as far as is possible ) interpretation. Any comments and thoughts from others are valuable as they give a different credence to my understanding.
I suppose I simply hope to impart the magic of our world in all its bittersweetness.
As I struggle stumblingly through the thick foliage and dead wood on the ground in order to reach my destination, I already feel the atmosphere around me begin to change. The branches and twigs snagging on my clothes and scratching at my hands and face almost seem to deliberately attempt to impede my progress, as if to infer that passage to the stones was to be as inhospitable as possible. There was to be no welcome to this place at this time. It was if they were acting as an organic deterrent to outsiders ensuring the sanctity and reverence of the site at this moment was not disturbed.
Entering the much overgrown copse where the large stones lay strewn, I could feel a sense of menace and reproach at my presence. The Autumnal sunlight was unable to penetrate the heavy and oppressive foliage seemingly forming a canopy over me to further keep the stones and whatever ceremony had been taking place from prying eyes.
The pungent smell of decaying flora seems to flood my lungs when I inhale, my breath forming small, wisp like clouds in the cold but somehow cloying air about me.
The seven or eight grey, lichen covered stones standing around five to six feet tall amongst the undergrowth had somehow seemed to almost become barely perceptible as if attempting to hide their presence in shame, in the hope that I would not discover their guilt at what practices they had borne witness to. The gritstone blocks which lay above the earth appeared as if they were large, barely identifiable faces of an ancient, ogre like race, twisted and contorted as they were made to behold dark and unspeakable acts committed in their presence.
A penetrating , icy chill took hold of my bones as if the the cold vestiges of the presence of Death had yet to dissipate. I could sense a hundred eyes watching me as I stood there, frozen with anxious apprehension. My expectation being that a malevolent force would at any moment suck out my soul and condemn my spirit to join others here for eternity.
It was as if all the warm, if somewhat shy, benevolent nature spirits that normally inhabitted the woods had been banished to be replaced with their shadow counterparts . From being a sanctum of love and reverence to Nature, the site was now an energetic antithesis of same. A place of conjuring of dark, primordial forces in the pursuit of power and influence in the physical world by the offering up of ceremonial spiritual sacrifices.
I quickly turned my back to the stones and hastily and rather clumsily made my way back to the road. Trying not to run ( as was my predilection) in order not to precipitate what I felt might become a chase I approached my car, fumbled with my keys, desperately trying to not look behind me.
I slammed the car door behind me, by way of physically putting an end to the experience. I sighed heavily with relief, trying not to reflect on my somewhat surreal experience.
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