Sunday 30th May – Hill of Tara, County Meath. Ireland.
This is the final post relating to my chakra work in Ireland in late May this year. It has been a long haul for anyone who’s been reading them all! I appreciate you taking the time to stick with it. If you want to read them all in sequence then you just need to search for the tag “gwas ireland” to get them all at once. You think YOU have been babbled at? Wait until you hear about my final chakra encounter at the Hill of Tara complex on our final full day in Ireland!
The place was mobbed. Sunday visitors had the run of the place. We bided our time wandering around and went our separate ways for a while marking time and occasionally dowsing a few things to answer questions that popped into our heads. I went off to the far north of the site and found an entrance to the site. The entrance consisted of an arc of neutral energy forming an archway. At the base of the archway were two circles of neutral energy, each about two to three feet in width (how many megalithic yards is that – one?). The archway was about five to six feet in width and seven or eight feet in height.
I went in “properly” (i.e. with awareness of what I was doing) through the arcing neutral bridge. Often this changes the way a site responds to your work, and it may account for what happened shortly afterwards.
As I wandered back up the slop, following an earth energy line for the hell of it and snaking around from side to side, I decided I had time to visit some of the things that we had skimmed over on our last brief visit. As I had more time I went to each feature and tried to engage with it energetically, with awareness. This approach is always more rewarding that simply being a tourist and taking pictures and wondering why you are there.
The Un-Radiant Stone
I was trying to be clever when I visited this stone. I didn’t dowse it, but instead tried to “feel” it. Sorry. I was crap. I have no information to report back about the stone. It felt kind of…dead. I should have dowsed to see whether it had any energies surrounding it, but I didn’t. Possibly because it was dead? I like to hope so. So, what can I say about it…er…it had a radial brickwork pattern around it – similar to the top of Pendle Hill. The views from that point were stunning and expansive, and the stone was a major attraction for almost everyone visiting the site. I hear it’s a modern reconstruction. Probably why it felt uninteresting. People would arrive, look around, then move on.
Next on the pagan tick-list was the wishing tree on the western edge of the site. Clearly, this was a more “specialist” attraction. I found that the tree felt rather proud to be bearing the wishes and hopes of so many people – but again this was feeling, not dowsing. The hawthorn was in full bloom and smelled divine, which was reason enough to spend time around the tree. Some people seemed to have attached the most bizarre objects to it, though, including something that looked like a mini pink surfboard! I won’t mention the word “appropriate” in this context. It’s a shame that from the picture you can’t really make out the hundred other small ribbons discretely attached to every branch and twig. A lot of love is hanging on those small old branches.
Next I crossed back to the eatsern side of the site. I noticed that I could see Slane Abbey from this side. Of course, after my recent visit there, I now could make the connection between the sites. It was no longer just a tower in the distance, but a place of fond memories, and I pictured myself looking out from the abbey’s graveyard across to Tara and seeing myself looking back. Self-reflexive? In the dictionary it says “See ‘Self-Reflexive’“.
I decided that the best way to wait for the site to clear of the huge crowds was to sit it out. Kal had wandered off out of sight and I presumed he was doing something amusing and entertaining. Turns out he was, but he’ll get around to telling you, I’m sure. As for me, I asked the dowsing rods to take me to somewhere that I could gather some energy while I waited. They led me here….
Possibly the most overlooked area of the whole of Tara? A small hollow, large enough to hold my sleeping form. I dozed for an unknown amount of time and then awoke sparkling, refreshed and alive. Well, you might say, of course you did. Power nap. Yeah, something like that. Anyway, now the site was quieter and the really interesting work began…
Only a scattered few tourists remained now, Kal and I among them of course. It felt like I had had the space to work now, hopefully largely unobserved or ignored by the remaining visitors. I went to the top of the Mound of Hostages to survey the area and to decide what I should do next – how would I awaken, clear or boost the crown chakra, I wondered. What was this chakra all about, then? For me it symbolised a connection point with a higher intelligence, a conduit to unseen knowledge, a focal point for spiritual energies.
The Paths of Synods
I walked around the edge, feeling for an entrance. I passed a simple sign that simply said ‘Path of Synods’. It sounded ecclesiastical, which only added to my idea that this was some kind of spiritual testing ground. Path of the Synods, eh?It felt completely in keeping that this Hill of Tara had been an ancient site for the meeting of important people steeped in an ancient form of spirituality, and that this continued through beyond the Christian conversion that came with the advent of St.Patrick, whose statue dominates the entrance path opposite the former church, now Visitor Centre.
As I walked around it some things became clear – I needed to find an entrance, a proper entrance. I also knew that I had to do this all intuitively – no dowsing rods could be used to find the path. I also knew that I needed to carry the Neptune Stone, and that I would have to leave it at the end, if I made it that far. One final rule would be imposed – only one attempt could be made to find the right path. This was a one shot deal! No pressure then!! I skulked nervously around the edge, waiting to tune into the labyrinth and begin my journey.
I could feel the edge of the labyrinth with my hands. I must have looked rather strange, wandering around feeling for the edge of the aura. With a vague look posted on my face I followed the edge until suddenly it wasn’t there. Aha – an entrance? I felt my way in, and then began to concentrate on feeling for a kind of compass in my head. When I felt that my head was pointing in the right direction I followed, walking along the winding paths – back and forth, in and out, often going back upon my own route. I was snaking around for ten minutes or so until I ended up at a final point, a sort of promontory, a circular rise with only a path in and no path out. This was the end! I placed the Neptune Stone in the centre and looked up, expectantly. What would happen?
The Babbling Bard
Immediately a tramp, well, let”s say a “gentleman in reduced circumstances” who had the clearest blue shining eyes I have ever seen and a smell of carbolic soap was upon me. He was pointing out the local hills, naming them. From that moment for a full two hours he didn’t stop talking, spewing out knowledge, myths, facts, legends, lore, superstition, tales, history, politics – it didn’t stop. In those two hours I learned more that I could possibly have read in a short lifetime!!!
That was my gift. I was given some kind of monstrous download of garbled information – a condensed history in one lesson. It felt like the Reduced Shakespeare Company had told me the entire history of Ireland in one performance. My crown chakra had made a connection with a form of divine intelligence alright!! I got tales of the Fir Bolg, The Fomorians, The Tuatha de Danann and many many other tales known and unknown to me.
The Bard, for that was surely what he was, he was contrastingly amusing and bawdy, informative and un-intelligable. He had a catchphrase that was “Did you know that, did you?” which he would repeat in a dense deep Irish lilt like some form of gross punctuation point. Eventually, after he had told a joke about an Englishman, Scotsman and an Irishman walking in the desert. The Englishman and Scotsman are in suitable attire, but the Irishman has on duffle coat, big boots and a thick hat and carrying a car door to shield himself from the sun. After many miles the Englishman and Scotsman are sweating bucketloads and they say to the Irishman, “How on earth are you surviving in this heat with all that gear and carrying that car door?“ “It’s OK“, says the Irishman, “If I get too hot I can just wind the window down!“.
I had to take my leave. He followed us all the way to the car and warned me about having to do penance of I led a sinful life. I told him I lived a life of balance, completely without sin. His last words to me were “If you have no sins to do penance for, make some up!” I felt that was a fitting indictment of the current spiritual orthodoxy and the way it affects some people.
Thus ends my Irish Pilgrimage. Until we came to go home the next day when I learned a very valuable lesson.