The Hedge Druid

Sometimes it’s lonely being away from home, but since I have been following a druidic path this has never arisen! There’s way too much to be doing, and so much to interact with, that you really have to try hard to become bored or lonely.

Whilst in southern Germany one evening I made the decision to drive towards the area around the town of Sinsheim whilst I had collected a hire car that evening. The area looked nice on the road map, and it was close to a site that I had read about on the Megalithic Portal (thankfully now European in extent) where some tumuli were supposed to be located (although there was no indication of their exact whereabouts, sadly). Maybe I could find them? There were also reports of crop circles in the vicinity, so this also helped me decide that the area around Sinstein might be interesting.

Trouble At Mill

Couple of slight flaws to my plan:

• I was in a left-hand drive car that I was unfamiliar with, and…
• It was 9:30pm when I decided to go out. There was only going to be about half and hour of daylight time left, and I reckoned I would have to travel most of that to get to the area. I went anyway,  and I was glad I did.

I let intuition take over and guide my car journey. I had a rough idea of where I was heading, and sometimes the signs even helped, but I didn’t know the roads, the names of towns or villages in the area, or even have a final destination to get to! So I let my right-brain drive!

Half an hour later I pulled up at a lay-by that was next to a forested hill that had a telecomms mast on top of it. Normally averse to masts due to their ability to quash energetic working and meditation I was surprised that I had chosen this spot in the lee of the mast’s summit. I didn’t have my trusty staff with me, and this felt so much like a druidic outing as the sun melted into the trees that I felt a bit lost without it. I did have my dowsing rods, however, and so I prepared them and asked them to direct me towards a suitable place to find a staff. They pointed left – at a field. A field of corn. What? I put them away and walked along the edge of the field boundary into the deepening gloom of the on-coming night. What was I doing? I asked myself on more that one occasion as I stumbled across uneven ground.

You can’t get the staff these days

At the corner of the field I stopped to take stock. The wind picked up and blew across my face making me look away to my right. There on the ground was a fallen branch, seven feet long, the same size and thickness as the staff I had at home. What a coincidence, i remarked. I asked permission of the nearest tree to take it and felt an urge to continue, so I picked it up and snapped off a small rotten branch. Now it was perfect for my use and I knew that I should go back the way I came. I thanked the tree and stumbled back, this time testing the muddy ground for holes with the new staff. Much easier.

I returned to the road in the full veil of Lady Night. As her cloak enveloped the treetops the road became one of the last remaining discernible objects. I wandered across the quiet tarmac to the other side. Once there I saw that the dark spot I had moved towards was an opening in the trees. It was in fact a path leading into the deep gloom of the forest. Onlya gap through the tips of the trees showed the remains of the day.

Facing the darkness

If you’re a regular reader you’ll know about my pair of posts called ‘Alone In The Dark’ in which I faced my fears of the dark – a fear which I think we all have drummed into us by our cultural inculcation. Perhaps it’s an entirely natural thing. There are arguments both ways, as there inevitably are in a media-led multi-cultural society where information is prime – a society that values the visual cortex above the cebebral cortex. To understand through experience is something that I value as the most direct and reliable information.

Fear of the dark is something that I had chosen to attempt to overcome. Each time I worked with nature this fear, this boundary, was something that I was encouraged to work on. It was a frequent insinuation from meditations in nature. And so I was working on it – right here, in the middle of nowhere, alone, lost,  and yet strangely bouyant about the idea. It was liberating as much as challenging.

I stood before the dark path into the mixed pine and deciduous forest and stared along the path. Behind me a few cars passed. I waited for silence to return then asked for, no, felt for a response to my questyion as to whether I could enter. I awaited for a response again, and when I felt an encouraging tug in my midriff and a lightening of the air I walked forward slowly and respectfully. I could just make out the path beneath my feet. Then a boom of thunder grumbled from behind me and a gentle warm swift breeze pushed me further inside.

The trees enfolded around me, cloaking me in their ermine folds. There was a prickle of the impending storm flowing past me on the breeze. I walked slowly into the forest. I whistled a little tune that I made up for the occasion, and the ambience retreated a little way from its smothering closeness. The tune attempted to mimic some of the rhythms of the sounds of the evening: the swoosh of a car on the road, the occasiona waltz of branch with branch, the quiet clockwork whir of distant crickets.

Finding your place of power

As I walked further the path bent back towards the road. Realising this I stopped and surveyed the area around me. Nearby there was a small clearing next to the path, where I could sit beneath a tall pine tree on a bed of dry leaves. It was an inviting seat, so I placed my coat down on the ground and settled with my back against the tree. Very confortable. I laid out my set of handy crystals in a protective formation using the rods to determine an appropriate location for each. The shape they formed seemed familiar to me – perhaps I could do this without the rods soon, I mused. I settled into place.

As I looked around, just being rather than acting in the world, I looked up. Above me the tips of three trees leaned together. The shape of their canopies formed a five-pointed star framing a backdrop of  stars that faded in and out with the passing of thin cloud. I began to sing “Catch a Falling Star” to myself and the woods at large, as it seemed appropriate for some reason. The bizarre idea arrived to me that the woods were german and it might not translate – then the idea seemed to lose its impact, and I slowly quitened again. A few drops of rain tickled my nose, then stopped falling. Point made – focus!

The Main Attraction

As I brought my attention earthwards again there was another rumble of thunder as two clouds rolled together, the wind picked up a little, and the backdrop of tree trunks was illuminated for a split second by sheet lightening behind the forest. Here was the “sturm und drang” of the thunderstorm that had promised to pay a visit all evening. I was treated to a sound and light show for a further fifteen minutes or so before it passed over and headed off northwards in search of more sleeping people to awaken. But I wasn’t sleeping. I was out in it – revelling in having a great seat for the show, sheltered by the trees.

I left shortly after the storm passed. I passed out of the forest quietly myself, leaving the new-found staff at the side of the entrance near the road. This inadvertant piece of wood had been a conforting presence in my hand as I walked, testing the ground and providing me with a rhythmic beat with which to serenade the silent trees. Occasionally I asked myself if it could get any madder. I didn’t think so. I felt I should be try to express the magic of this encounter with the thunder and lightening when writing this episode up. The quest demands a little effort in expression, with the intention of communicating the wonders that can be experienced on the druidic path - at least that’s the hope.

This night I left the forest  happy and fulfilled having breathed deep of the forest at night. Fear had been rapidly vanquished and I had felt free and accepting of the storm, the moon, the forest and its creatures. Driving back I retraced my route without getting a single turning wrong. Something was guiding me that night, perhaps? When you’re on the right path the going is easy.

Gwas

Guided by lightening