This is the second of three parts of a modern-day faerytale of George and the Dragon. In the first part I was meditating at Wayland’s Smithy and heard an instruction to “go for a ride”. I was in little doubt that this advice referred to the nearby ‘White Horse’ etched out in the chalk hills above Uffington village, and so I made my way there in the glorious August afternoon sun to see if I could work out where exactly I should be, and to see what would happen if I found the right place.
As I arrived at the top of the formation I couldn’t work out where I was relative to anything so I walked straight down the hill arriving almost immediately at two protruding straight lines. Odd! Looked like a mouth or something, so I plucked out the crab appleI had been carrying and placed it neatly between the “jaws”. I smiled – it looked like it was eating the little apple – a huge horse with a tiny apple. I could see other chalk paths now, but was careful not to tread on them. I moved fiurther down the hill and to the right, realising I was near the head. I was looking for the shoulder and flank, so I headed right and down.
Oddly, I didn’t use my dowsing rods to locate the spot. Instead I reasoned that a good spot to ride any animal might be the junction of the head with the back of the figure, and that’s where I went – straight to it. Conveniently there was a small man-sized hollow at just that point, and I made myself comfortable, lazing in the afternoon sunshine, welcoming the break from work and enjoying the view down the hill. From my vantage point three elements became apparent to me:
1. The ‘horse’ had a forked tongue
2. The plainly man-made folds of the hill below me spread out like a wing…a dragon’s wing.
3. The small flat-topped hill that was enclosed by this ‘wing’ I remembered was called “Dragon’s Hill”
Then it dawned on me – this was no horse. Only from this particular spot could all of the three unusual aspects of this figure be seen from the right perspective to make this apparent on the ground. Faint memories of other people having said the same thing floated through my mind. From that moment of revelation onwards I could no longer see this unique feature as a horse again! Sure, there were other chalk horses in the area, but they looked like horses – in their proportions and their features. This elongated chalk figure was nothing like those carvings at all. It was uniquely different. For me this will now be The Uffington White Dragon.
I meditated on this and tuned into the landscape, dissolving my sense of self into the sunlight, the winds and the view. Before long I felt the familiar surge of some inner notion and felt it connecting, becoming aware of the movement of nature, its interactions, and at the same time its one-ness. Such metap[hysics never comes across well in print. When it is felt, however, experienced – then its beauty can be appreciated. A semi-blissful state of mind, body and spirit – some days fleeting, others seemingly forever.
In this moment I was focusing on Dragon’s Hill without purpose. It just fell into view. I saw the mound in motion – the twin dragons of male and female, the red and the white, intertwining, writhing. A curling column of energy launched from them upwards into the Oxfordshireair and fell towards me. I could see an egg shaped object inside its mouth as it fell into me in a sudden plunge and I felt the egg land in my chest. I could see it spinning in me – white, then gold, next time I looked it was white again, then gold when I blinked. What was this thing, I mused to myself? “The dragon egg – the golden heart.” I answered myself.
After the shock and the bliss state had worn off I seemed remarkably unperturbed by the whole event. I felt a little proud and excited at this. What could this be? By its tenuous link with perception it was clear to me that it was an invention of my mind, yet it felt incredibly physical too – like I was wearing it inside my chest. I practised not noticing it – yes, I could still operate in the rational world – no-one was staring at my white then gold chest, I wasn’t glowing or anything, and I still had my wits about me.
I started to get up, and as I did so I saw a negative image of the Dragon’s Hill in my eyes – it looked like a stone circle. It flashed momentarily then there was only a faint after-image. Too long in the sun! I told myself. Where were my sunglasses when I needed them?
A stone circle. A stone circle. Circle. Another kindly signpost. Would that be where I could hatch this “egg” – the golden egg? It felt like an episode of The Goodies! The Christmas Special episode of the late 1970s where everybody’s running is speeded up as they’re chased through various old children’s stories like Jack and the Beanstalk and the Goose That Laid The Golden Egg.
I went back to the car to check the maps. Stone circles in the area…stone circ…Avebury! Of course. It was late afternoon now. I would be there just as the light was beginning to sink to the horizon. Perfect timing, by coincidence. What an over-used word.
Sliding down the scales of The Dragon