Stonehenge was beautiful.
Wondrous to stroll around, where so many have before. Pondering as I did how those who built it did so with so few tools. Lifting stones that were massive, retrieved from some far away distant place.
I’d been driving across the English countryside, learning how to maneuver on the “wrong side of the road”. It was delightful. Valleys and hills, charming towns and villages.
Woods so thick one can almost imagine the fairies and pixies that people have believed for centuries live in them. Large white carved reliefs set against the hills of horses and a very well endowed stick carrying man.
A drive past where Merlin, King Arthur’s personal mentor of wizardry and sword retrieval, is buried.
Children’s myths and fairy tales, the stuff we are raised on, all coming to life before my eyes.
The stones of Avebury stand near to one of these charming small towns.
I purchased a book at a local Avebury bookstore that promised to guide me to mystical sites throughout Europe. I couldn’t wait.
Near to Silbury Hill is a remnant of a small stone circle that clearly demarcates where men once sat during a very ancient time. I stood in its midst on a bright sunny afternoon. Suddenly, everything around me turned into night. There was a warm fire lit in the middle of this circle. Seated on the stones surrounding the fire were men wearing leather and fur and rough clothing. Their hair was long. Their demeanor rough, strong. Weapons were attached to their sides, or laying by their side. And I felt like I was a part of this group. I could clearly look around and study everyone’s faces. They were happy, laughing. Some were speaking, while others listened. There was the presence of some stout or strong alcohol. And I felt like I was one of this group. I felt I could remember their faces, of everyone sitting around this circle this night. Almost remember their names, these men seemed so familiar. Friends, good friends, from long ago. We were a bunch of guys having a great drunken conversation over a large fire out under the stars at night, sitting on these stones a long time ago. And it all felt very real.
Suddenly it was sunny again, a bright afternoon, and I was back in the present. Was my experience just now a dream? Or was what I just saw and heard a memory from a past life? Could I be that old? If I was, well then, I was looking pretty good for my age.
A friend joined me that evening as we stayed up all night on Adam’s Grave, a hill’s summit that he promised would offer a rare visual vantage point should any UFO’s fly by during the night to create a few crop circles.
We watched a group of young Germans making their way up an adjacent hill where they crawled into some nearby bushes in order to hide so as to pursue their own UFO watch. But we could also hear that they had brought beer. Soon these Germans were drinking. And then they were singing, badly. And soon we heard snoring. They were out.
But we were not. And very early in the morning while it was still quite dark we did watch as some distant lights in the sky, just above the horizon, behave strangely in a manner that we just simply could not explain.
My friend had me catch up on my rest by allowing me to sleep the morning away in a guest room at his mother’s home. Built during the reign of Queen Elizabeth I, this home was filled with hidden doors and secret passageways that I was delighted to explore.
The next afternoon I drove around the beautiful hills and valleys that make up this area. And there, very close to Silbury Hill, was a crop circle. Newly formed. It most definitely wasn’t there the day before. And here it is now, right in front of my eyes. Amazing.
I parked my car along the edge of the country road and walked over to this newly formed circle set in the midst of a farmer’s field. It was a perfect circle, just as so many others have been described. With the shafts of the farmer’s crop perfectly bent over in a consistent precise formation, creating a clear geometric reflection that mirrored the circle’s outer rim. I stood in its center, wondering if I was picking up any energies. Any “vibes”. Or maybe, if I was being watched – from “above”.
I had my headphones with me, attached to how I privately enjoy listening to music. Do I dare? I placed my headphones over my ears, punched in a few of my favorite songs that always relaxed me and made me want to move. And all alone, in the middle of a newly formed crop circle, on a beautiful sunny day in England, I began to dance. I was dancing in the middle of a crop circle.