Monday 3 September 2012

Chapter 6: The Dance of Life and Bosnia


Here I continue with the next chapter in my serialisation of Waking The Monkey!, the true account of my experiences at the Hundredth Monkey Camp of 1995, one of the earliest meditation intention events aiming to work at building a morphic field of harmony so as to help heal the conflicts of the world ~ 'Inner Aid'.

In this chapter we begin in the early morning with the Dance of Life taught to us by Ivan McBeth, helping us to build a good energy for ourselves and the camp. We then continue into meditation on the conflict in Bosnia, followed by Allting ~ a Talking Stick circle in which we all may speak our truths ~ and find that harmony and agreement is a thing more easily talked about than it is to be found....

Many thanks to Ivan McBeth for the teaching of the Dance of Life, and for permission to refer to him by name.  Other names are either used with permission, or else are pseudonymised or first names only.
 
Links to previous chapters may be found at the bottom of this page.

 

Chapter Six

The Dance of Life and Bosnia


Monday 28 August 1995

The sound of Ivan’s flute passing behind my tent woke me.  The sun was already bright on the rear wall of my canvas home.  My body was all stiff from a third night of sleeping on the hard ground, and my mind drifted in and out of consciousness.

I had resolved to participate in the Dance of Life that morning.  My natural inclination was to remain where I was, to return to the recesses of slumber, but I managed to override the demands of my body, sit up and prepare myself to face the day.

A few minutes later I was standing next to Ana with about seventy or eighty others in a circle around the altar in the centre of the open field. 

The sun shone brightly.  The air still had the slight chill of early morning.  The distant Malvern hills rose from the thick mist which was still pooled in the spaces between trees and hedgerows, the grass yet damp with dew beneath our feet.

Ivan was talking with a couple of folk on the other side away from me.  He looked about and must have decided he had a sufficient attendance to begin.  I noticed he had on a faded Grateful Dead tee-shirt of yellow, pink and blue with a spider’s web worked into the design.  Taking his place in the centre he spoke.

“Thankyou everyone for joining us in the Dance of Life this morning.  I see we have quite a few more than yesterday, so I shall briefly introduce you to what it is about.

 “In the late nineteenth century, when it appeared that the Native American tribes would be all but wiped out by the European settlers, some elders of the Cherokee nation had a council concerning what they could do to ensure the survival of their culture and spiritual teachings.  The Dance of Life was created to encapsulate the essence of these.  The words or sounds which we chant have no specific translation, but performing them in the Dance is a powerful ritual which initiates one to an understanding of the core of Native American wisdom.

“The Dance itself is a balanced sequence of moves which places us at the centre of the four points of the compass, between sky and earth.  This is a core understanding.  You are always at the centre of the Universe.

“The moves signify respect to, and invocation of, the spirits of the six directions.  In drawing the energy from each direction we pass it through our own being before sending it back out to the Universe.  You can think of it as a means of purifying the energy we encounter in the world or indeed of purifying ourselves by bringing in the energy of the Universe to our hearts.

“But it is not necessary to specifically understand the interpretation of the teaching, as the Dance itself raises knowledge and awareness of its meaning.  It is part performance and participation, part mantra.  The chant and movements are symbolic, beyond language, and by doing them we stimulate our own latent deep inner knowledge. 

“Action does indeed speak louder than words, so I shall now lead you through the form.”

For one of such immense stature, Ivan was extraordinarily graceful as he ran through the basis of the movements involved.

“Ama tikki wo-oh”  he raised his right hand in a broad sweeping gesture clockwise from his heart, his right leg mirroring the action.  As his hand returned to the centre of his chest, the other was moved to join it and both were raised to the sky, opening out as if in adoration and supplication to the sound of the “wo-oh”.

“Ah-ne-oh-hey.” Bringing his hands together to the Ah, he rotated them forward about each other like the paddles of a water wheel to the “ne” as he bent down and touched the earth to the “hey”, almost squatting.

“Oh-oh sha-anna.”  Reversing the direction of his spinning hands to the “oh-oh” he raised himself to standing and again reached for the sky with his arms outstretched and spread wide to the sound of “sha-anna”.

“Hey-a-na, hey-a-no, hey-iyaa.”  Returning to the initial rotation of his hands he lowered his arms and to the sound of “iyaa” outspread his hands in a gesture of acceptance.

This sequence was repeated with the left hand leading.

“Oh-oh hey-a-no, ha-ah-i-iyaa!”  He leant forward, as if reaching for a rope, left hand in front of right to the “Oh-oh”, and to “hey-a-no” pulled it in hand over hand, till gathering it in his Solar Plexus he turned around and let it go, as if releasing a dove, assisting it with a push and the expulsion of breath to “ha-ah-i-iyaa!”

“Oh-oh hey-a-na, hey-a-no, hey-iyaaaah.”  He gently gathered in the energy to his centre as if pulling the rope back in and was still, returning to a position a quarter turn clockwise from that he had begun with.

“The chant and movements are repeated to each of the four compass points until we return to where we started.  I’ll run through it slowly - follow my movements, don’t worry if you don’t get all the detail, just try and get the feel of the rhythm.”

We followed him through the form, all arms and legs flailing but for those who had clearly done this before.  There was much amusement, nervous giggles and embarrassment.  I had to face a rising wave of anxiety and feeling of helplessness as we progressed through the movements.  I had learnt many yoga positions and a little T’ai Chi in my time but this was alien to me.  I endeavoured to mimic the moves I saw being performed, but falling behind began to contend with rising panic reminiscent of the occasion I had let myself in for a juggling workshop some years before.  I told myself it would all come in time and that I should not be concerned, but seeing Ana beside me striding confidently through it all only had me feeling more of a klutz.  Time for Ivan again.

“Okay, that was only a practice run.  We’ll go through it now and if you don’t get the correct movements, don’t let that bother you, if you can follow the direction to face that’s good for a start, watch the others about you and just remember to turn clockwise, to your right.  It’s a lot to learn, so if you’re new give yourself the space to watch.  It’s not a competition, think of it as a simple morning stretch and you’ll be surprised at how quickly you might fall into it.”

We began again, somewhat more synchronized, and I assuaged my waves of panic by focusing on the moves of our conductor.  Left and right got mixed up, I nearly turned the wrong way, and realized that I was far from alone in my confusion.  Halfway through I was facing out from the centre and was not able to refer to Ivan even from the corner of my eyes, but then locked onto Ana’s near perfect recitation of the enchantment and almost ballet-like performance of the dance.  Turning for the last quarter I was able to mirror her actions as I stood behind her.  Though she was somewhat older than my own forty years I could have taken her from behind for a teenager from her slim and lithe figure as it was visible to me there.  For a moment I thought I saw the hint of a native American matriarch as she let loose the energy from the final quarter in my direction  and came to rest.

I felt invigorated by the exercise so early in the day, but had also been aware that energy of sorts was being passed round the circle by the movements we had engaged in.

“Well done everybody.  I’m sure you’ll all be confident with it before many more days have passed.  Now to finish let’s send some of that energy we’ve raised out to the rest of the camp and the world.  On the count of three I’d like you to turn round and send your energy out with all the vigour you can muster.

“One, two, three….”  We drew in our breath and turning round expelled it with a roar which caused heads to be turned in our direction from those pottering around the nearby campfires.

I felt much warmer than I had a few minutes before and the sun was already brighter and stronger.  The discharge of our energy coupled with the relief that the session was over had a wave of chuckles rolling about those assembled and several hugs were exchanged.  It was an opportunity to speak with and get to know better our companions.

I turned to Ana and said, “When I saw you doing the Dance from behind you could have been seventeen.”   I was inspired that this mature woman could dance like a teenager, and felt old and klutzy, though perhaps a decade her junior.

The gathering was breaking up now and people were heading for the cafĂ© for breakfast.  I gathered my cup and cutlery from my tent and joined the queue which stretched out into the field from the entrance.

I waited patiently in line as we marched slowly under the canvas.

There in front of me on the perspex display was my missing purse.  I reached out, picked it up and opened it.  All the money which I remembered was there. 

I beamed at the person behind me in the queue who had been watching me.

“I lost it yesterday, I must have left it here by mistake.”  I looked over behind the counter.  “Morning Trudi, do you know if this was placed here recently or if it’s been here all the time?”

“Couldn’t say, don’t recall it.”

I smiled and shrugged my shoulders as we moved on.  I was simply relieved.  I went to find a seat and sat on my own, thanking my stars for this close escape.

A variety of experiences had started to come thick and fast. 

I was beginning to recognise faces, individuals who would enter one’s perceptual field before disappearing off at some tangent.

Those who had it in the first place were beginning to lose some of their city polish.  By now the smell of the woodsmoke had already penetrated every pore and we were not aware of it on our neighbours let alone ourselves. 

Feeling that I should keep myself to myself a little after the rediscovery of my purse I limited myself to grinning at the others sitting down to the rickety trestle table beside me, who probably thought me quite mad.

I had finished my porridge and was onto the toast and marmalade when I noticed Swami saunter in.  When he had collected his food he cast about the tables with his gaze and I caught his eye.

He joined me and after morning greetings I told him of my serendipity.

“You must be protected” he said, winking in his mischievous way.

Sitting with someone who seemed to know everyone on site, or at least everyone who had ever been involved in the camps or Glastonbury scene before, is a good way of being introduced to people.  I wouldn’t say that I had reached the stage of getting to know anyone at that stage except for Swami himself, but I was beginning to feel it was all a little less unfamiliar than it had been as yet.  I was still the newcomer, the outsider, but gaining footholds in that reality, and a little confidence, however erratically.
                            *                                          *                                              *
Back at my camp circle Sean and Tina were cooking breakfast.  The children were all over the place, a scene of domestic chaos from which I did my best to remain detached.  The entire camp was in a state of bustle preparing for the morning’s business.

Ana processed about with the tinkly little bell announcing time for the meditation. 

The trickle of individuals making for the big top swelled to a flood tide and joining it I was swept inside.  All was movement. 

The Angel Card lady offered me her velvet bag.  I thanked her and looked away in a kind of ritual nonchalance as I took my lucky dip.  ‘Communication’.  Hmm, we could all use that, especially when it came to the warring parties in the former Yugoslavia.

Glancing about I chose to sit on the Northern side of the circle on that day, and stepped to my right, finding a space almost opposite my position the day before.

I settled down and reached for a stillness inside of me which was not yet present all about.  The smell of the wafting herbs, the humidity of the grass and its scent gave a unique ambience.  All around the central shrine candles and tea lights were lit.  A dozen or more burning joss sticks were added to the atmosphere.

Just as the day before silence descended on the multitude.  A couple of late arrivals entered, looked around for an empty space to sit in and hurriedly made for them.

The sunlight spilt through the entrance and the distant voices of children came to us through the still air over the birdsong from the wood.

On the Western side of the circle Ana and Palden sat, facing where the light slanted in.  This reminded me of how in Mongolian guaires the elders always sit opposite the entrance, which in their case is in the south to face the sun.  They nodded at each other and Palden rose.

“The subject of today’s meditation is Bosnia.  As you may recall from the first mailing it was the chronic sense of impasse and blockage in the war in Bosnia which was a major catalyst for this camp coming into being.

“Historically the conflict has roots both in the recent collapse of the communist block which was the precursor to the dismemberment of Yugoslavia and also much further back at least as far as the middle ages.  The name Yugoslavia means the union or joining of the Slavs.  However this is a misnomer to some extent in that the Muslim population do not see themselves as Slavs, but rather identify with their religious roots.  This is not unique to them, Croatia is predominantly Catholic, rather than Orthodox and identifies more strongly with the West than with the Slavic world because of this.

“The concept of Yugoslavia depended on a suppression of these individualities to an extent, and while it worked under the strong hand of a Tito all was quiet.  However, once he was gone there was no strong unifying leader and the different groups each  pulled in their own direction.  Serbia is the strongest individual nation within the federation, it perceived itself as having given up the most and when the formerly dependent states seceded took this as an opportunity to reassert itself under the guise of defending the union.  But whereas under Tito it had genuinely been an equal partner with the others, now under Milosovic its interests achieved primacy.  When it became clear that fragments of the old union such as Slovenia and Croatia could no longer be kept within its hegemony it began trying to ring-fence those territories which it felt it could still dominate.  The Yugoslavian civil wars of the last three years are the result, as ethnic and national groups which have lain dormant to a large extent for many years have resurfaced with varying degrees of success.

“The situation in Bosnia-Herczegovina has become especially intractable because of its complex ethnic mix.  You can’t understand it unless you know that the Balkans were the frontline between warring Christians and Muslims for hundreds of years.  Serbia still commemorates battles it won in the fourteenth century and the last major war against Islam was fought and won as recently as the eighteenth century when the Ottoman Empire nearly defeated Austria.  The Balkans are a complex mix of settlements by different groups from waves which have swept back and forth through the region.

“The intricacies of human development are such that some of these pockets of settlers have learnt to get on with their neighbours better than others.  I make the distinction here between intricacy and complexity.  Life is intricate, a clock is intricate, a purposeful interaction of many parts each having reciprocal relations with those others about it.  Complexity does not necessarily imply such purpose, but can rather simply be the accumulation of layers of chaotic mixing.  You see this in a tangled ball of string or the structure of granite ~ quartz and feldspar mixed randomly.

“Society is intricate its workings, but when too much complexity enters the system it can overload what has up until then functioned.  This is what has happened in the Balkans, the chaotic upheavals of past migrations have stretched the intricate adaptations of history, overwhelming local tolerance and co-operative co-existence returning the society to a point where only main force is understood by some.

“What we are here for is to help find other ways.

“Just before we start, I have been asked by some about the meditation technique.  There are two aspects, the meditation as recommended by the Nine, and individual meditation styles.  Remember to let things happen in your meditation, let the images and ideas come to you, there is no need to make it happen, try not to just follow your own particular views which you have brought with you.  Be open to new possibilities, new ways of seeing.  Focus on where we are going and watch the outcome of whatever happens.

“As to how to meditate, I’m not the person to give you a lesson on different methods, there are others here better qualified to do that.  Sometimes I find things come easily and it flows, other times I just sit there and wonder what to do.  I would say don’t worry about it, turn your attention to the location and the subject, keep an open mind; you will be guided where to go.  We are in the middle here, a conduit rather than controllers.

“Okay, let us begin.”

I was inclined to feel that Palden’s long introduction had been overdone.  Surely we had all heard as much as we were likely to need know about the background of the war in Bosnia.  Ok, well perhaps I was taking too much of an attitude; maybe not everyone had the depth interest in world history that I did.  I was also quite surprised and curious that he did not use any particular technique in his meditation other than to follow the outline given by his guides.  It made him more human…  I felt less and less the outsider.

For myself I was glad to have had the introduction to the chakras or energy centres yesterday, and happy to use it as the introduction to my own meditation.  It proved a valuable assistance as I endeavoured to close the outer world from my senses and find my way to a connection with the warring peoples of Bosnia.

I realized that the ground on which we were sitting was not as level as I had thought previously.  The grade sloped up away from me.  I had barely been aware of it the previous day, having the advantage of facing downhill, but now that I was at the foot of the incline it was obvious as I had to strain forward to sit upright.  No doubt the siting of the circle marquee had been made with the layout of the entire camp in mind, and it would hardly be adjusted purely for my convenience, so I resolved to sit on the uphill side from then on.  It occurred to me that those sitting on the equator of our circle as it were would perhaps not even be aware of the disparate levels in their own postures, although surely they must recognise it in their field of vision.

A practical distraction as I settled down and began to raise my attention from my base chakra separated from the earth by a few millimetres of cloth and cushion, but perhaps I should have reflected on the symbolism.  As relevant perhaps as the astrological aspects between participants or chance Jungian symbols: Bosnia was not a level playing field.

Ascending the rainbow bridge up my spine I reached the crown of my head and held the image of a glowing violet sphere, opening like a flower.  Reaching for connection with the Universe I stretched out my thoughts to the Balkans, focusing on an image of a map of the country we were visiting.

For a long while my mind was filled with nothing but images of fighting men and burnt out houses.  There just didn’t seem to be anything to latch onto.

Eventually the chaos of images settled on a village where the inhabitants were cowering in the shells of buildings.  It seemed that the Serbs had laid it under a barrage of mortar and artillery.  A contingent of Bosnian soldiers that the media would have labelled ‘Muslims’ but who were actually of mixed ancestry had arrived at the last moment and were holding the Serbian ground troops at bay.  However an outlying farm had been captured and men killed in defending it.  The women feared the worst, they knew the stories of what the soldiers did in such circumstances.  The eldest daughter of the dead farmer had already lost her husband to the war and now did a most courageous thing, attaching herself to the commander of the Serbian soldiers; giving herself she knew was the only hope to save her mother and sisters.

This was not a pleasant meditation to experience.  It was a noble sacrifice she made of herself to gain influence with the leader of the soldiers.  I did not see if it worked for long. 

While this may have gained a short term respite for the women of the homestead I wondered what difference it would make in the larger picture of the conflict.  The soothing balm of compassion can be an inadequate firewall against the raging passions of war.

I was interrupted by the delicate chime of Palden’s ting tings.  Hurriedly reversing the visualization of colours down my spine I returned my attention to the present.

A temporary mass exodus had begun, and while others stood around in the sunshine with their fags I dived into my tent and retrieved a piece of nicotine gum to assist me through the coming session.

Gently sucking the substitute drug I re-entered the circle with the crowd.  I could feel the addition to my bloodstream flowing through my arteries like liquid fire, warming and stimulating me.  I was grateful for the biochemical support, banishing as it did not only the gnawing hunger for it in the pit of my stomach, but also the wobbling mood I had become vulnerable to after the subject of my meditation.  I could well understand why the Native Americans had used tobacco as the stimulant for the Peace Pipe.  Only negotiators who are able to banish their fear will truly be able to come from a position of strength; their own inner confidence rather than the strength of their warriors.  No wonder either why the trenches of the Great War had been the place where this drug had taken its grip on Western society.  Used as an occasional ritual stimulant, a shamanic tool, tobacco was able to confer temporary resistance to fear, but relied on to hold that fear at bay perpetually it levied a high toll in terms of dependence.  Biochemists say that nicotine withdrawal can be worse than that from heroin.  Neurochemically speaking, replacement of the stimulant which has been acclimated to can be a slow process, and one which cannot be avoided entirely.

Psychologically or spiritually speaking I was finding that my consciousness was raw to fear and pain now that I did not have the artificial strength of tobacco propping up my ego.  Appropriate perhaps for healing.  The layers of protection were stripped away, exposing sensitivity which had been hidden.  The nicotine gum slowed this painful process to the point of manageability, weaning me off while I learnt to cope with the naked feelings which it had helped me for so long to avoid.

Strengthened by my fix like a large number of those about me I was able to relax and pay attention to the Allting.

There were two things that day which attach to my memory of what was discussed.  The first was the discovery of my unstolen purse reminding me of the better side of humanity.  The other had just occurred and at that moment I had no knowledge of it, but it was eventually to colour my understanding of what we had become involved in doing at a fundamental level.

The Talking Stick was picked up and passed round just as the day before.  We began with sympathy for the hard-pressed people of the land we had just visited.  There didn’t seem to be much in the way of change happening as a result of our meditations.

“I went to Sarajevo.  A family was living in the cellar of a burnt-out house.  The father was off fighting with the army, his wife was doing her best to look after the children but was worn ragged with anxiety.  Her sixty-nine year old father went out every day looking for food, and had a few vegetables growing in a small patch of ground between the rubble.  The grandmother had been killed when a shell had hit the house ~ she had been inside.  By a miracle the mother and children had been out of the house at the time.  I felt so helpless because there was nothing I could do to help except try and convey my support.  In the end it occurred to me that perhaps all I was intended to do was be a witness to this appalling scene.”

The morning was peppered with similar accounts, although not all comments were based on experiences which conformed to the pattern suggested by Palden.

“Why?  Why do the Serbs do it?  Ten years ago at the Winter Olympics Sarajevo was hailed as a shining example of multi-ethnic harmony if not integration.  Now it bears more resemblance to Beirut.  What is it that causes people to want to destroy something as good as this was?  Why would some people prefer to live in a pile of rubble strewn with dead bodies than get on with their neighbours in peace?  I am at a loss.  This seems to reflect only the worst of human nature.  And the European Union and NATO stand idly by.  They are complicit with Karadic and his murderers when they stand back and do nothing.  No wonder the Muslim world does not trust the West.  Would you trust someone who stood by and watched while a brutal murder took place when they had the power to stop it?”

Another:  “It is important to remember that this is one of the most volatile regions in the world when it comes to the potential for ethnic conflict.  Sarajevo was where the First World War was sparked off.  I can understand the reluctance of the great powers to become involved.  This could be the start of a fault line which if opened would split the world in two ~ nations would choose sides dependent on established loyalties and World War Three begins.”

The hand wringing was prevalent but not the only strand.  One contribution which had an oblique but constructive angle came to be an oft repeated mythologisation of the work the circle was doing long after the camp, even the Bosnian War, was over.

“A boy found a football.  He did not have anyone of his own age to play with so he just used to kick it about in the roads in his village.  Some enemy soldiers saw him with it and took to joining in with him.  Thus by sharing what they had in common, a love for the game, they drew closer.  It is easy to see only our differences and thereby we grow further apart and more in opposition.  But if we can concentrate on what we share and give our energies to that, we have hope. 

“In addition to this I felt that engaging in a game allowed expression of natural aggressive and competitive tendencies in a socially acceptable way which didn’t leave dead bodies on both sides.”

My own turn came and before I told of my meditation felt that another issue was worth mentioning.

“Some of you will know that I mislaid my purse with thirty odd pounds in it yesterday.  I would like to say that I found it this morning fully intact, and where I had left it in full sight; so I should like to thank everybody here in the whole camp for their honesty and integrity.  I feel very proud and honoured to be with so many people who would not consider stealing something even though it lay unattended in front of you.  This is a true statement of your purity of intention.”  It reminded me of Faramir telling Frodo that he would not take the Ring even were it strewn before him on his path.

I followed this with a brief account of my meditation and passed the Stick.  I immediately felt a certain embarrassment in that I had intended my remarks about finding my purse and how grateful I was to everyone for being so honest to be an affirmation of our worthiness.  Somehow I ended up feeling that I had insulted my audience by even having allowed the possibility of dishonesty to have occurred to my mind.  Where did that feeling come from I wondered?  I had intended no such disrespect.

My self examination was cut short by the emergence of a new strand, similar in vibration to one which had arisen the day before.

“You have to bear in mind that the Serbs are a proud and independent people who have been overrun more times than anyone can remember and survived with their identity intact.  Half the time the invaders have been from Turkey and the East, but the other half they have been dominated by the Roman Catholics of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, previously known as the Holy Roman Empire in an earlier incarnation.  The Serbs belong to the Eastern Orthodox Church, so neither of these sides has been favourable to them, they just see themselves as the ball which has kicked about between the two sides over the centuries.”  A sidelong reference to the boy with the football?  But a different angle entirely.  “I can understand how the Bosnian Serbs felt when Bosnia-Herczegovina seceded from Yugoslavia.  Like they were in danger of losing their identity, swamped by a different culture.”

Another point of view: “The Serbs are paranoid racists.  They are attempting to resuscitate a culture that belongs in the eighteenth century when we are on the verge of the twenty-first.  President Itzebegovich and his government were democratically elected.  If people do not agree with their policies then they can vote against them in elections.  Where would we be if everyone who had a different idea from the majority consensus took arms against it?  The multi-ethnic government is not discriminatory against Serbs, but in order to protect the rights of all its peoples it has to defend itself against the enemy who would destroy it from within and then annex it to Serbia proper allowing the development of a Greater Serbia.  This would most certainly lead to further ethnic cleansing of Muslims and non-Serbians.  The truth about what happened in Srebrenica and other enclaves is yet to come out, but large numbers of men have clearly disappeared.  There is behaviour here which would not have been out of character in Nazi Germany.”

Yet more: “The international community made a mistake in recognizing the breakaway states of former Yugoslavia as independent.  The world was too quick to allow, even encourage this to happen.  Bosnia had insufficient organization and strength to survive on its own.  A situation developed where Serbians felt threatened by all the secession going on around them.  The unified state in which they had been first among equals was seen as being attacked by the independence movement.  Serbs see this war in the same way as Abraham Lincoln did the American Civil War.  It is a matter of survival for them, Yugoslavia is something they have believed in and which they wish to preserve.  Secession from a united country is not recognized in international law.  Bosnia simply shouldn’t have taken the course it did.  It is no wonder the Serbs have been angered by these developments and the way they have been treated.”

Another: “The situation in Yugoslavia in the early nineties bears no comparison to the United States in 1861.  The Southern States attempted to leave the Union because they feared that Lincoln would be abolitionist.  He was not elected on such a platform, and probably would not have introduced such a policy if the Union had not been threatened.  The attempt by the Confederacy to break away was actually what historically led to Lincoln’s move to abolition, their lack of respect for the Constitution and the Union.  He probably would have moved much more slowly towards abolition had not the Confederacy seceded.

“Whereas Yugoslavia under Tito may have been the most independent Communist country and one which was not beholden to Moscow to the extent that East Germany, Poland, Czechoslovakia and the others were, but it was nonetheless an artificial creation left over from the end of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.  Idealistic to an extent in drawing all groups under the one flag, but the suppression of individuality for which the Tito regime was responsible is what has led ultimately to the conflict we have seen over the last few years.  Bosnia needed to breathe and find itself.”

But.. “I am not sure we should necessarily believe the Bosnian propaganda.  All I see in this situation is that they have the ear of the media and that the Serbs are held as the bad guys.  I mean, how do we know that the civilian deaths we hear about are really caused by them?  Another version has it that several of the shells and mortar explosions which have apparently killed Bosnian Muslims were deliberately inflicted on their own people by their military in order to be used as propaganda.

“How can we really know what is going on?  I recall the Prime Directive from Star Trek which states that you should not become involved with the conflicts in alien cultures.  I believe this applies here.  Of course it is good to meditate and help the people in this conflict to find their own resolutions, but taking sides doesn’t help.”

Then: “Should we stand by in a school playground and watch the younger children being beaten up by the older and larger ones?  Isn’t this just allowing a Lord of the Flies scenario to develop in which force majeur is the deciding factor?  This isn’t about discussion of a way forward, because some people aren’t interested in going forward in an equal manner, but about survival of those who are simply trying to live their own lives and organize their own affairs; the bullies aren’t satisfied with this and want to be in charge without the benefit of a democratic mandate.  Some people aren’t happy unless they’re screwing it up for everyone else.”

And so the debate went on.  There weren’t many meditational visits to report, but a lot of strongly held opinions. 

“The Bosnian state is too weak.  It doesn’t have the strength to hold together internally so why should it be recognized internationally?”

Or: “Civilians are being targeted and slaughtered by Bosnian Serbs.  Sarajevo has become no more than a shooting gallery where the snipers pick of the civilians when the come into their sights.  The international community should show them by its actions that this is not acceptable in our modern world.”

Then: “I am Cornish.  The ancient Kingdom of Cornwall is a remnant of the old Celtic world that flourished on the Atlantic seaboard of Europe.  It is almost an island.  Not only because it is the tip of the West Country but because the River Tamar runs for over nine tenths of the length of the boundary with Devon.  I can sympathize with a people who feel that they have been marginalised because of this.  The Celts of the West have been pushed to the edge of the sea whether it be in Scotland, Wales, Ireland, Cornwall, Brittany or Leon and Galicia.  We are an ancient people, the first settlers of North and West Europe long before the Romans invaded and imposed their laws.  We are proud of our ancestry and the warrior traditions which enabled us to survive in the face of ethnic cleansing and settlement by migrating tribes from the continent.  But it would not be right for us to make war on our neighbours in order to increase our territory.  We are wary of incomers, and take a long time before we trust them, but we are not actively hostile.  We maintain our identity because it is strong and rooted in our past and the land.  A people that feels the need to control the country which they are a part of by warring against their neighbours who have done nothing but belong to a different culture must be overcompensating for their own self-doubt.  We can live side by side with new arrivals if they respect us.  There is no such respect from the Bosnian Serbs.  They want to take land which has been lived in and used by others for hundreds of years.  Holding on to ancient grievances in this way is no good.  We must accept the changes which history has brought.  We can deal with issues which come up in the present, how we relate to those about us now, but if we are always trying to turn the clock back to where we were in the Middle Ages then we will get nowhere.

“If every ethnic group in the world waged war for territory it had once occupied then we would all be fighting over Africa, the ancestral home of the entire human race, overturning present national constitutions attempting to return to earlier arrangements which are not applicable to the circumstances which exist now.  I am not saying to give up all rights and claims to your heritage, the Native American Tribes have fought legally to have the conditions of the treaties they signed respected.  This has not been easy, the treacherous lawyers of the USA did all they could in the nineteenth century to prevent such a thing ever happening, but there is greater respect for the indigenous inhabitants now than there was in the past, and they have made headway in the courts.  It is the same in Australia.  These peoples have no chance of winning a war over these matters even though their causes are just.  It is better to seek resolution in the courts.  Original treaties can be resuscitated and enforced by the collective will of the international community.  Respect and consensus carries far more weight than threat enforced at the end of the barrel of a gun.”

No consensus would be reached here today.  Interestingly the pattern of representation reflected the situation we were contemplating.  Apart from the sprinkling of reports of visits to the war zone and a few from around the world, the majority view was in favour of supporting the rights of the fledgling Bosnian state to maintain itself, with a significant minority who, if not exactly supporting the Serb offensive, were sympathetic to their disgruntlement or at least were not ready to condemn them outright..

For myself, I was in two minds.  Surely it must be best if a negotiated internal settlement could be arrived at.  But should the international community sit by idly while hundreds if not thousands of civilians were rounded up like cattle for the slaughter?  An imposed settlement would, I felt, be in some respects a statement that our attempt at inner aid had failed.  But there were clearly factions on the ground who had no interest in mutual agreement, so what could we do? 

The Talking Stick reached its full circuit.  We agreed that we were complete for the day, but I was undecided.  I could reach no obvious conclusion.  I knew this was not required, all viewpoints had been expressed, but perhaps we had strayed from our purpose to observe?  I reflected that both today as well as previously we had not merely looked on and reported that which we had seen, but had gotten into expressing our opinions, we had started to take sides… A brief thought of ‘The Opposition’, those beings or energies whom the Nine mentioned as agents of division flitted through the back of my mind.

Communication indeed, but acceptance, perhaps not.  We were stepping into a space wherein ego identification might take us beyond letting go, into attachment to desired outcomes.  We would all need to learn that the Universe is beyond our control, even beyond our comprehension.

 ©  Claire Rae Randall 2012


Introduction to Waking The Monkey!

Chapter 0: The Fool

Contents

Chapter 1: Arrival

Chapter 2: And So It Begins…

Chapter 3: Mururoa Allting

Chapter 4: The Garden of Healing

Chapter 5: Herne The Hunter

 

The Dance of Life 

In this YouTube video I demonstrate the Dance of Life in my fire circle in 2011

 

 

Saturday 1 September 2012

Chapter 5: Herne The Hunter


Previous Chapters for those new to this blog.

Chapter 4: The Garden of Healing

 

Continuing the serialisation of my book 'Walking The Monkey!', the true account of my experiences at the ground breaking Hundredth Monkey Camp of 1995 which aimed to build a morphic field of understanding in order to help heal our  broken world.

In this chapter I have conversations with two shamans, one the feral but humorous and wise Barmy Swami, the other the famous builder of Glastonbury Festival’s Swan Circle, Ivan McBeth, who both share profound insights into the nature of reality and how we interact with it, and give me keys of knowledge that will be of crucial value to me later when I travel my spiritual gauntlet.

These conversations contain much of what I now consider to be core elements of my world view.

Many thanks to both for their inputs to this chapter, and to Ivan for permission to use his real name.  Other names are either used with permission, or are pseudonyms or first name redactions only.  
 


Chapter Five

Herne the Hunter

It was warm in the sunshine, and I was becoming ever more conscious of the fact that I had not had a shower since arriving at the camp.  I recalled there was a women’s only hour in the showers, but I could not remember when this was or if the time had even been announced.  I could probably have found out by going to the whiteboard in the restaurant and looking there, but need drove me to act while the sun was still warm.

I pulled what I needed from my tent and headed for the converted trailer which housed our mobile bathroom, located on the southern perimeter of the field slightly to the west of the café.

A thin plume of smoke rose from the wood fired boiler behind the covered trailer and I could hear that at least one shower was in use within its canvas walls as I rounded the corner to its open rear.  I saw a bearded man inside whom I had not previously met.  I hesitated for a few moments, but my need overcame my modesty and I stepped up on to the wet duckboards.  Deciphering which were the relevant taps in the Heath Robinson tangle of pipes I turned on the hot feed only to find myself nearly scalded, and recoiling reached for the cold supply to moderate the temperature.

The man departed and somewhat to my relief I was left on my own.  Privacy was a commodity at a premium in this camp.

Refreshed and cleansed I returned across the central plaza of our new age city.  A group of about five adults were gathered near the stump altar.  I recognised the tall man from earlier whom Ana had introduced.  He was teaching them a chant from sheets of music.  I disappeared into my tent to dry my hair and began to be drawn into the world of the song which penetrated from behind me.  At first they were clearly only learning fragments, but as the lines were assembled into their sequence a beautiful and delicate melody emerged.  Mournful yet somehow joyous it reached into my soul.  I  recognised the TaizĂ© chant, it evoked memories of my friend and the mediaeval town of Durham.  I basked in the ambience, taking the opportunity to pause and catch some rest.

The heat was dropping out of the day as the sun, westering, spilled into my little canvas cavern.  This matched the tenor of the choir, mellow and golden, but cool and soothing after a warm day, bringing gentle clarity to the mind filled to bursting with an encyclopaedia of new experiences and information.     

I entered a timeless place until the choir broke up and went their separate ways.  The incipient chill and now absence of heavenly choir caused me to bestir myself.  It was almost time for the evening meal.

I gathered my cutlery, cup and meal ticket, but to my consternation nowhere could I find my purse, filled as it was with my weeks spending money, and essential for extra cups of tea and snacks.  Attempting not to panic, but with concern about my missing money foremost in my thoughts, I made off for the cafĂ© tent, where the multitude was beginning to assemble for their vittles.

Reaching the counter I asked all the crew in turn if they had encountered my small black purse, but to no avail.  Clearly I had left it somewhere.  My thoughts distracted such that I was barely aware of the rich kidney bean shepherd’s pie or the sponge pudding with custard.  The pink cut flowers which the crew had thoughtfully placed in vases on our dinner tables also barely impinged on my thoughts.

Swami Barmy found me staring into space.  “Had a good day?”
      
“Oh yes, but I’ve mislaid my purse.  I don’t suppose you’ve seen it around the gate camp have you?”  I didn’t think I had been there since I last remembered using the offending item, but it was worth a try.

“Not that I’ve seen.  Why don’t you come back there later and have a look.  Join me by the fire if you haven’t anything else planned for the evening.”

“Yeah, thanks, I’ll give it a go.”

A slim woman of medium height with dark shoulder length hair wearing a long jumper with a mixed pattern of earthy colours, jeans and calf length leather boots sat down next to us.

“Have room for another Deadhead around here?” she opened.  Her accent was American.

“Always room for another Deadhead.” I returned.  “Glad to know we’re not alone.  Did you ever get to see the Dead ?”

“At Woodstock.” Came the reply.

“Hey, cool!  Greetings, I’m Claire.”  Swami also introduced himself.

“I’m Judy”

Dinner was spent sharing thoughts and reminiscences of our favourite band.  I was also pleased that a Woodstock veteran was with us.  Historical perspective may have muddied the message of the landmark rock festival, but it had meant a lot at the time to our generation.  I would have been just a little too young to go even had I lived in the States, but over the next couple of years the album and movie had become embedded in our collective psyche.

It had seemed to us then that music and love were all the world needed to overcome war and conflict, but the decades since had disillusioned us of that dream.  Still it was encouraging to know that there were those of us who lived through that era who were still trying for something better than had gone down since.

*

The Barmy one had left for his duty at the gate while I was still conversing with my new friend, and so the night was closing in by the time I approached the fire where I had had such apprehension just two nights before.

“I can’t find your purse here, at least not in this light.”  He said.  “Perhaps it will show up in the morning .”

I  cast around for a few moments myself, but all I could see were a scattering of cups, the tea makings and the large enamel kettle which Swami proceeded to place on a cast iron trivet, made from horseshoes welded together, sitting over a flaming log.

He reached down beside the sofa and found a wooden pipe with a long stem and small bowl.  Picking up a twig he scraped out the charred dottle, then loaded it with a sprinkling of green herb out of a small box he took from his pocket.

“Toke?”  He held the mouthpiece and a lighter in my direction.

“Cool, no tobacco mix.”  I commented, glad to see that I wasn’t  being tempted by my addiction, took the proffered tools and lit up.

“I had an Angel card this morning which gave me ‘Acceptance’.  Perhaps this is part of what I have to work with, accepting loss.  I guess I should keep my heart chakra open to all possibilities.”

His reply was to surprise me.  “Having your heart chakra open is one thing, but something people at this camp could probably do with learning about is the solar plexus chakra.”

“How so?” came my rejoinder.  I didn’t really like to admit that while I knew about the chakras intellectually, I had only that day actually worked with them properly for the first time.

“The solar plexus is the seat of the breath.  The heart chakra is about openness to feelings, but so often that can just lead to pain and distress if you open to the feelings of others before you are truly grounded in yourself.  To be able to work with the heart properly you need to have a firmer basis in your own bodies energies.  At a survival level the solar plexus is more important, it regulates your energetic rhythms.  It can be like a shield, a protection, and is the foundation on which the heart rests.”

He paused to take pull on his pipe which I had returned.

This was new to me.  For so long I had accepted the New Age notion of ‘opening our hearts’ as being the way forward.  And here was someone who seemed to have some knowledge or experience of chakras who was telling me it might actually be self-defeating, or at least premature.  I mused silently on what Roger’s opinion on this might be. 

“But how can we achieve what we have come here to do if we don’t open our heart chakras to the Universe?  I mean that’s where we can balance the energy and process whatever we pick up with unconditional love…”

He didn’t seem to mind my questioning his point of view.  Smiling he replied.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to suggest that having an open heart was bad or wrong you know!  It’s just that there are certain preconditions which need to be met before you can do it safely and effectively.  In my view this is why the sixties movement and hippies and all that failed in its time.  Of itself it was a good energy, but was undefended against attacks from those who saw it as a threat to their own power, not to mention corruption from the less idealistic for whom it was no more than a passing fashion.  You remember the seventies, how it all seemed to go wrong, and then we ended up with Thatcher and a world where money, greed and self-interest took over.  The former idealism was either derided as a hopeless aberration or at best dismissed as impractical.  What were the success stories of that era?”

“Er, feminism, civil rights in America and the end of the Vietnam war, I guess” I replied.

“And they all succeeded because people got up and did something about them, I mean marches, protests, changing their own attitudes in constructive ways.  Women taking their own decisions, black people finding solidarity with each other and draft conscripts burning their call-up papers.  The eighties only bounced back and won because the ground that Thatcher and Reagan chose to fight on was self-interest.  While the ideology of the sixties advocated everybody getting together and sharing, this was undermined by the promotion of self-interest as a perfectly valid and desirable value.  If some means had been found to protect the values we believed in things might have turned out differently, but it was a learning experience.  We had to learn what we didn’t know, and what we didn’t know was that there would be predators who would attack love and compassion at its weakest point, self interest.

“Take your purse for instance.  If it has been half-inched by some scum who has found their way into this camp do you think that opening up your heart to them will do any good?”

“Well maybe it would help them to see that what they have done is wrong?”

Swami chuckled.  “Maybe it would give them an opportunity to stick their knife into your heart and turn it a few times, eh?  Accepting that something has happened is one thing, but accepting that that is the way it always has to be is another.  The world is full of chaotic and dangerous forces and if we give in to them without question then they can do all sorts or harm.  Haven’t you come to the camp to find a way beyond this sort of reality?”

“I guess so…”  I hesitated.  “There’s that morphic field thing with the Hundredth Monkey effect, setting up positive alternatives for people to pursue.”

“Ah, that!  Well they have to be open to the possibility first wouldn’t you say?”

All the while my new friend’s manner remained cheerful and almost chuckling, and I never once felt that he was critical of me personally.  Rather that he was running through a familiar argument which he had presented many times before in one way or another.  He did not sneer or deride the idealism from which this camp had sprung, but only seemed to be challenging it to go further, to make it more effective, as though its intention were only half-way there.

I changed the tack of the conversation.  “How did you come to be at the camp if you are not so sure you follow some of its basic ideas?  I mean you said before that world healing meditations were not really your kind of thing, and now you’re questioning whether it can really work.”

His toothy smile only widened into a larger grin as he reached for the kettle.  Its lid was jumping and steam was shooting from the spout.  He poured the boiling water into the waiting mugs.  His eyes twinkled in the glow of the fire.

“I live just outside Glastonbury and Palden needed a groundsman to help manage the site.  Stevie won’t be here for a day or two so Palden asked me if I would fill the breach.

“This isn’t so different from what I’m used to.  I live in a field not far from the festival site.  There’s a community of about thirty of us.  We bought the field when it came up for sale a while back, managed to outbid old Michael Eavis too we did!”

“In a field?”  I was taken aback.  “How do you find it in winter?”

“Oh, I don’t live unprotected in the winter.  It’s not possible in this country.  You might survive a few nights in a well insulated bivouac bag, but it’s not realistic.  I have a small dome I live in, smaller than this one here, but a little larger than Paldy-wan’s.  I have a wood burning stove and it’s well insulated.”

“Paldy-wan?”  I presumed he meant Palden, but I had not heard this nick-name before.

“Paldy-wan Kenobi, you know after the Alec Guinness character in Star Wars.  Someone started calling him that back in the eighties as a bit of a joke, you know, Jedi knight who’s path is to save the Universe from evil.  Well he heard it and encouraged it, he even uses it himself sometimes!”

“You’ve known him some time then?”

“Since the Glastonbury camps of the eighties, and the Oak Dragon camps of which this is  the successor so to speak.  The Glastonbury scene has many varied aspects to it.  The New Age movement is not homogeneous by any means.  It’s only those who don’t understand it or wish to destroy it that stereotype it as being no more than a bunch of luvved-up hippies with crystals.  You certainly don’t want to go opening up your heart chakra to the likes of them if you aren’t protected!”

I was beginning to think there might be something in this feral wisdom.  So many times had I been hurt by people with whom I was trying to be open and honest.  I was still hoping that I might find a critical mass of individuals who did not act in this way, that could pull together and make a difference.

We sat in silence for a while with another pipe.  The sky was not as clear as it had been on the first night and the darkness was a void between the glow of distant campfires and the pinpoints of lamps which had been placed about the site.

Brigantia approached, gave us a wary glance and disappeared into the dome behind the armchair.  She rustled around inside for a few moments, emerged clutching something and disappeared into the night, her silhouette melting into the blackness.

Swami stood up and stepped toward the edge of our little illuminated world where the woodpile lay off to the side of the settee.  Pulling a sizeable chunk of log back with him he placed it carefully on the fire.

“The best way to keep wolves out of the circle is to have a good strong fire.  If the fire dies down and the wolves come in then you have to defend yourself more actively.  It’s better to have a good circle with a strong centre.  If the centre is weak then the boundary can’t hold and new energies will come in.  They might be hostile, in which case they will have to be fended off.  They might be friendly, beneficial and healing for the circle.  In such case perhaps they are needed and attracted synchronously, or they could be neutral, random things that are simply an indication of the wild card nature of the Universe.  How we respond can determine the nature of them sometimes.  Like some sort of strange quantum effect.  You know, Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle.

“It’s important to be able to tell the difference between actively hostile stuff and the rest.  Outside influences can be good.  Not everything outside the circle is necessarily a wolf, it could be a messenger, or a friend seeking help.”

I reflected on this: “I find myself thinking about the tight boundaries on this camp.  But they are porous to an extent.  I mean supplies and important messages can get through.  We have bread and milk delivered every day and a couple of crew members are I believe empowered to go to out of the camp for specific needs.

“I can understand why it was decided to keep the location secret, we obviously don’t want a convoy of old busses turning up and taking over the site.”

Swami was chuckling.  “They’re a fun bunch of guys on the Convoy” he winked, “but I’m as happy as Paldy to keep them out.  I was thinking in more subtle terms.”

He saw my puzzled expression.

“Well it’s not just humans who can get kept out.  There are all sorts of other beings who get quite interested in this sort of stuff and then wonder why they feel unwelcome when they turn up.”

“Such as?”

“Nature beings, planetary devas, extraterrestrials.”

“But this is a human thing to work out.”

“Why not accept help when it’s there?  Not all humans come from planet Earth you know.”

“What?!”  He had really lost me here.

“Well I feel I’m from Sirius, whatever that might mean.”  I was familiar with the Sirius connection from my Illuminatus!¹ days.  There was a persistent belief that the human race had been influenced by beings from Sirius in the distant past.  It was based on religious beliefs of the Ancient World, primarily from Egypt and Sumeria.  I had read ‘The Sirius Mystery’² by Robert KG Temple back in the eighties which detailed how this information had been handed down through the Dogon of Mali, knowledge of the dwarf star Sirius ‘B’ and its orbital periodicity which was only discovered in the nineteen sixties and other even more obscure material.

“Wasn’t all that a long time ago though?  I mean isn’t the idea supposed to be something like they came to teach us and left us to get on with it on our own?”

“Some of us might have decided to stay just ’cause we liked the place.  I mean someone’s got to care for it!”

“You don’t hold with the idea of leaving the material plane, or at least this planet of incarnation when you’ve achieved enlightenment then?”

“Well, what’s enlightenment except remembering what you’ve forgotten?  That’s why it’s like a joke.”

“Uh?”

“You know, like a joke that you keep forgetting.  And then you remember it.  But the remembering is part of the joke too.  It’s funny that you forget it, even funnier when you remember that you forgot it!”

“But didn’t Gautama Buddha say that enlightenment follows from non-attachment?”

“I think that was about suffering.  Suffering, pain and loss come from attachment.  Like your purse.  I’m inclined to hold that this sort of thing is a part of material incarnation.  We don’t come here just so that we can find ways to escape.  Your soul or psyche has attached itself to your material vessel.  This was a choice we all have taken on this planet.  To become embedded in matter and find out what it’s like.  Enlightenment is awakening to reality.  We’re here to learn how to care, not to not care.  Pain is a natural part of organic life, and can be a great motivator.  Sometimes it’s the only thing which  can cause people to move from their rut.  Two opposing characteristics of life which work together.  The attachment to fixed forms, and the pain this can lead to, drives us on to movement and growth, change.  Not to no forms at all, but to new and developing forms.  Evolution and growth.  What life is all about. 

“ There can be other reasons for staying around the planet though.  We could move on or we can choose to use our path for the help and protection of things that have become a part of us, like this beautiful planet.  The archetype which I identify with is Herne the Hunter.  He’s the wood god, the spirit of nature, like Pan or the Green Man.  There is a movement in this world which takes people away from the natural world.  It sees nature as hostile, dangerous, uncontrolled.  Red in tooth and claw.  But that is it’s nature!  It may be dangerous, but it’s not essentially hostile.  Like riding a wild horse, or a dragon.   It is wild and chaotic, a source of energy.  Those who would set themselves against it fail to see that they are against their own roots.

“If some of us didn’t come back to keep on making sure the old ways get used and protected then the city folks might end up thinking they had it well sussed.

“Herne is not only about the predatory aspect of the Universe, but the protective side also.  He walks the boundaries between the different worlds.  Like Anubis in the Egyptian Gods.”

I was familiar with Anubis from my studies of Tarot and the occult which derived largely from the ancient religion of Egypt.  He was the guardian of the gates to the underworld, his head that of a black desert jackal.  Loosely related to Cerberus, the three headed hound who was chained at the gates of Hades, but rather less ferocious.  I had always felt his energy to be characterised as searching, enquiring, penetrating to the truth of the soul, guarding against deception.  And beyond this, when the test had been passed, to initiation into higher truths, paths and understanding.  Outwardly his aspect is fearsome, but the path which he opens to those worthy is that of the Philosopher’s Stone, the Holy Grail, the Horn of Plenty and the Elixir Vitae.  Not material wealth or power as some have thought, but knowledge of the inner workings of the Mind of God, understanding that the Soul is a window on this and that following the true wisdom which this reveals can lead to no harm.  He is the guardian of The Path.

I realised that I had seen both aspects of this archetype in the Swami.  The first, when we, as outsiders, arrived.  Entering the bounds of the camp I had been aware of him as the guard dog and had taken a while to get past this when he had quickly accepted me, like a visitor who takes some time to relax in the presence of an unfamiliar but otherwise friendly pooch.

That stage being done we had moved onto the inner stuff fairly speedily.

He had shared a lot of thoughts quite spontaneously with little input from me.  We paused.

“So what brought you here then?” he said.

“Wanting to join in helping to heal the world I guess.”  Came my rather predictable reply.

“Oh, not that, I mean what have you really come here to do?”

“Erm, well I’m not sure I know exactly what you mean.  I’ve been into meditation for many years, off and on.  I first took up TM in my first year at University back in the mid-seventies.  I’ve been with a small meditation group in Leeds for the last two or three years, and I’ve been doing stuff with the White Eagle Lodge, you may have heard of them, they’re a mystical Christian healing Lodge, quite Glastonbury in their feel if you know what I mean.

“This camp came up as a spontaneous connection, and it looked so interesting I had to follow it up.  In fact it almost felt like it was made for me, like the Grateful Dead or Narnia.

“I guess I have a lot of thoughts and ideas which I would like to be able to share.  Changing perceptions of the world.  And there’s an awful lot more to find out about from people who are into things I want to know about.”

“You sound like you’re looking for your Path.”

I laughed.  “Well, I’ve been on a Path which has led me here, so in that sense I’m not looking for it, and I’ve had a few interesting life journeys on my way here.  I do feel rather in awe of some of the great and grand folk who are here though.  They seem to be a long way ahead of me in what they have learnt and achieved.”

“Don’t count yourself out.  Remember what I said about getting stuck in rigid forms.  Maybe it’s easier to find the next stage if you’re a bit less attached to the present one?   There are some well travelled people here to be sure.  But don’t make that an excuse to put them on a pedestal and yourself down.  You could be stuck in your own rut here thinking that others have the answers.  What makes them feel so grand anyway?  Probably just their familiarity with the camp situation, the customs, a network of acquaintances from previous camps.  Some interesting and colourful clothes.  You just feel like any newcomer would.

“If these folk are so great and grand and have knowledge that’s worth anything then maybe they should share it.  But I wouldn’t be surprised if some of them would rather use it to keep themselves above everyone else.  That’s the way of the world and we have to be prepared to find representatives of that mentality amongst us, even if they have convinced themselves that they are here for the job of healing the world.  Maybe the real purpose they have come here for is to find out that they too have learning to deal with.  We all have new experiences to encounter. 

“Your own path could be like that.  You don’t feel you have a lot to offer other than a few unique perceptions.  But if they are unique, then they are valuable, as valuable as anyone who comes here with a fixed idea of their importance.  Probably more so as your ideas are offered in humility.  The world is full of people with fixed ideas overwhelming other less assertive views.  That’s not what we’re here for is it?”

“I guess not.  I just want to do something that will make a difference.  The world is so full of conflict, there must be a way forward.  I’m fascinated by ideas of archetypes, cosmic beings, nature spirits and so on, but it is all rather ethereal.  I feel I need to bring it into the material plane to make it work.  For instance, I am involved in the campaign against closure of the local allotment site behind the flats where I live.  There is a lovely little orchard which I took on before I had a major illness a few years ago, and I am putting what energy I can into protecting it.  The campaign to save the site have asked me to speak as representative of the resistance at the public enquiry which is coming up this winter because they think my posh accent and University education will help make a good impression on the Government Inspector!  But what can beings from the Inner Planes do to help with something as down to earth as this?”

“Help you to believe in yourself, and inspire you with the  best ideas to go forward with.”  He replied, matter of factly.  “It’s your own higher being and the connections that makes which are worth opening your heart to, not the enemies who would run you down and do their best to destroy you or take away the grove that you love and protect.  Perhaps you will find that this is the occasion and opportunity to get to know and trust these higher connections which we all have.  But we must actively work with them, respectable beings from the Inner Planes will not intrude into your life unless you specifically ask them to.  If you do so then perhaps you may even come to embody them in some ways.”

“We have begun to do some stuff of this type with our afternoon group leader, Roger Keenan.  I hope you will meet him later.  He has introduced the concept of ‘Guides’ which I suppose are like what you say.  It’s so much easier though to read it in a book or have someone tell you about it.  One’s own mind can be so full of distractions and random projections that you don’t know if you’re inventing it or if it truly is real.”

“Go on how it feels.  Only you can know your own mind.  People have followed others for too long.  It’s back to what I said about those folk who seem to know so much but probably aren’t open to a new idea or interpretation.  Just  ’cause they’ve been to a few Oak Dragon camps or say they belong to some esoteric group doesn’t mean anything.  That’s just an ‘in-crowd’ thing which you seem to be picking up.  It’s great to be part of something, and edgy not to be, but you are part of this something now.  Don’t let the self-inflated posture of some know-it-all lead you to believe you have nothing to offer.  It’s only because you don’t have enough confidence in what you bring that you think like that.”

I recognised truth in what he said.  The irony was that it had always been my different perceptions which had caused me to be on the outside of most circles I had encountered before.  I welcomed the idea that this was what made my contribution valuable, but at the same time it raised the spectre of these perceptions being treated in the same way as I had encountered before.  For instance, at the end of the 1980’s I had taken Psychiatric Nurse training since I had been unable to find work as an Art Therapist.  I soon found that my knowledge of this not only failed to meet with appreciation but was actually held against me.  Personally I should have thought that any opportunity for a little extra understanding of one’s patients that a psychiatric nurse could bring to bear or help that they could give would have been appreciated all round.  However this had not been the reality I had encountered.  The responses I had found from my peers had been hostile when I attempted to introduce Art Therapy concepts into discussion, and my superiors had simply said “You are a nurse, not an Art Therapist!”.

This was congruent with what Swami had said about people who used their power to maintain their position.  We hear a lot about sharing skills and bringing them to new situations in the modern work culture, but my feeling was that this was largely a sham.  Certainly I had never felt that any other than the rare individual had ever wanted to know more about my skills.  Rather my previous training seemed to have done nothing but give others a target for their competitive hostility.  Sadly I had found a similar if more subtle attitude in Further Education teaching of Psychology ‘A’ level which I had moved on to.  My illness had struck, leaving me bewildered as to my path forward.  My health was still fragile and I floated on the outside.

The Barmy Swami’s conversation had on the one hand encouraged me.  Perhaps I had come to a place where what I had to share would be accepted, even appreciated.  On the other hand he seemed to be suggesting that there might be rapids up ahead.  The former filled me with hope.  The latter with dread.  I was weary with the constricting attitudes of conventionality.  Surely he must be wrong about people who would take advantage of their experience or position in the camp to maintain power and influence.  The very idea seemed utterly contrary to all that I understood we were here for.

“I haven’t actually encountered anyone with a self inflated posture though, I should say, you know.  I’m just speaking from a kind of intuitive hunch, maybe I’m just projecting my fears that I won’t fit in or that I’ve said the wrong thing ~ that’s happened.  I think you’re right when you talk about it being mostly my own lack of confidence.  I’ve been through dozens of different mind-states about this one.  It seems to change every few minutes.  First I feel great and in harmony with all the green surroundings.  I seem to be in touch with an energy just beyond sight.  Then the next thing you know I’ll feel like a complete novice and klutz.  Half the time I seem to know and be familiar with woodcraft, building fires, living rough and in the open.  The other half I am one of those city folk.”

“It’s very easy to pick up random unfocussed thoughts and projections which people put out you know.  I wouldn’t be surprised if some of these things that you describe are like this.  Negative thoughts have to have a cause you know, they don’t come from nowhere.  Maybe you are stirring up unconscious stuff that has been put on you in the past, but I wouldn’t be surprised if some of it at least is coming from activation by the projections of others.  There can be an awful lot of covert one-upmanship at gatherings like this.

“This is such an open situation that if you’re not accustomed to it, it can be quite disorienting.  In a crowded street everyone has learnt to ignore everyone else.  But here there is a feeling of obligation almost, to connect.  So you get all the compensation mechanisms brought to play.  People in the modern world aren’t used to dealing with situations like this.  In the Glastonbury festival you may be overwhelmed by the crowd, but that can be turned to advantage, you can disappear, it lets you be anonymous.  With such a small gathering as this it would probably not be possible to get through the week without making eye contact with ’most everyone at least once.  Scary.  That’s where keeping your solar plexus guarded comes in…  It’s your diaphragm, a resonant membrane that can pick up all sorts of different vibes, sometimes you don’t really want some of them coming in, it can be overwhelming, contrary, and you can lose your centre, so you have to keep it firm, protected.

“All the unconscious adaptations to situations come out of the woodwork.  Getting back to nature like this works in many ways.  We’re not only more open for the meditations which is great for that purpose, but we also revert to, or perhaps I should say expose, our more ethological side.  Remember we still have plenty of primate behaviour patterns embedded not far beneath the surface.  And along with that goes the intuition which enables us to know what the subliminal signals mean.  We may not notice it consciously but the non-verbal signals we give out help us to deal with passing near a stranger who we don’t wish to talk to for instance.

“There is a certain hierarchy here of course, no harm in that, it couldn’t work without it;  but while the activities are well organised and co-ordinated, there is still a lot of room for fluidity.  I mean there is no complete hierarchy of everyone on camp.  The newcomers to the scene, such as yourself and many others have no specific place, and so you are all outsiders in effect.  I don’t really know if there are any simple answers to this.  All that we can hope for is that the old lags do their best for the newcomers.  Guides can learn too, they don’t know it all.  There is always a fresh perspective to see.  This is quite a new ball game.  I have to admire Paldy for setting it up, even if I treat it as more of an experiment than the simple goal oriented project which he considers it to be. 

“I would guess that contacting all these trouble spots might have unexpected consequences.  Newton’s third law of motion, to every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.  It may be the case that going and involving ourselves uninvited in a scrap could bring a taste of that conflict back here.  Perhaps we can’t stop things happening until we fully understand why and how they come about in the first place.  Experiencing that may be necessary.  Archimedes said ‘Give me a fulcrum and I can move the world’.  You have to have a fulcrum for the lever, and however long that lever is there must still be a counter-force, a reaction.  The meditation may be the fulcrum and lever, but you cannot write yourself out of the equation.  My firm prediction is that if this thing is really to work then it will work on those who have made it work, if you get my drift.  After all, we are part of the Universe which we are trying to change.  Change it, change ourselves, n’est-ce pas?”

“Yeah, I s’pose, but there is another view which would say the spiritual energies work at a higher level than mere material forces.  I mean, you yourself were just saying about helping out by coming back for reincarnation.”

“But you can’t come back and help without some sort of involvement.  Taking on another mask, carrying another load.  As Bilbo Baggins might have said ‘It’s a dangerous business going into incarnation’!  Enlightened beings reputedly reincarnate as avatars who take on imperfections which they can work on, both as thrustblocks for their own evolution as well as anchors to help them connect with the world and serve.   Spiritual progress is more than an intellectual pursuit.  From the point of view of the inner planes it is straightforward, but bring it down to the earth plane and it gets difficult, complicated.  You can’t move without affecting emotions, and they can have all sorts of repercussions.  There are material, instinctual levels of existence in our incarnate being which have to be dealt with.  This world is in some ways incomplete compared to the infinite realms of the spirit, but the linear nature of our time and experience allows us to explore how things work in ways that would not be possible on planes where creation follows  instantaneously from thought.  In the spirit realms anything is possible, including the coexistence of opposites.  In this realm they must interact and find ways to coexist which conform to the laws of material existence.  Everything must take its turn, day and night, the passing of the seasons.  I believe it is richer in that it allows evolution.  But it does not exclude the spirit.  It is a challenge for the spirit to find ingress, but it is always there in potential, just waiting for its opportunity.

“Matter relies on the spirit in the sense that it was created by it.  It existed as an idea, a potential in the infinite, and therefore had to come into existence.  However it is of course the very opposite of spirit, limited, linear and ever changing.  They are the yang and the yin.  Spirit has to create matter from itself, its own laws, and likewise in reverse matter cannot do without spirit;  it cannot create it, that is not within its power, but it does depend on it as the substrate which brought it about in the first place.  Spirit is hidden in matter.  You could say it is the hidden programme behind everything and how it works.  If you can access the spirit in some way then you have the opportunity to work beyond the simple laws of matter as materialist science has it.

“I know that is sort of the idea behind the camp, but it is easy to slip back into trying to make the spirit work in the way that you want it to, rather than allowing it to proceed by its own design.  Remember, matter is the servant of spirit.  The evils of the world are caused by those who attempt to make matter the master.  The so-called laws of economics which rely on trading in greed, rather than serving needs.  Those Bosnian Serbs who think that they will find happiness by controlling the land and expelling people with different ancestry. 

“They are actually slaves to matter, not its masters.  They think they are above others and in control, but they are not.  They would have control of themselves and their passions if they followed the path of the spirit and worked towards outcomes which treated all life and all beings with equal respect.  But instead they are like junkies who always need another fix.  This is the same whether it is greed for land, money, power or anything which would elevate them to status beyond their fellows.  Seeing themselves as no more than the body they limit themselves to its appetites, and so are trapped, ignoring the path of their spirit which would give new opportunities, freedom of choice rather than the limitations they see as their reality.

“Greed for spiritual power such as we see in the Churches and other religious type organisations is no different, except that it is less honest.  Materialists may be mistaken, or limited, but at least they are more open about their attitudes and intentions.  The quest for spiritual power over others is the worst vice of all.  The spirit makes the rules, but does not force compliance.  It is up to the incarnate beings such as us to learn what those rules are, karma we may call the outcome of disobedience.  It is not arbitrary, but pure logic and the way of teaching us the results of what we do.  Materialists contradict themselves because they ignore that 3rd law of Newton.  Not materially, but spiritually.  They believe there are no consequences other than physical, but the wave functions which we all emit are transmitted out into the world.  This is the Law of Return.  Eventually everything we put out will come back to us.  After all, we are the Universe!”

He chuckled, seemingly as much at himself and his cosmic rant as at the implications of what he had said.

It was clearly time for the kettle to find its way back onto the fire, and as if in response to this two figures appeared from the sea of darkness.  They were Brigantia and Ivan back from their rounds.

Ivan beamed at us as he settled himself down.  Brigantia’s demeanour was more reserved, avoiding eye contact.  As the teas were poured the conversation was of camp arrangements.  The returning wanderers had visited the crew’s encampment behind the cafĂ© and had been checking the paraffin lamps set in the open spaces between fire circles.

The conversation turned to mundane and practical arrangements.  Necessary details no doubt, but it seemed that my conversation with Swami was at an end, at least for the present.  I drank my tea and soaked up the warmth of the fire.  Although our conversation had hardly been filled with agreements on our different views, I nonetheless had felt remarkably at ease with the wild hunter of the woods.  But the ambience had now changed entirely.  While I discerned no difference in the attitude of my unexpected new friend, it was clear that he was a part of this band and I was not.  

Ivan was not much of a one for conversation it seemed, but as Brigantia exchanged news with Swami I had a distinct feeling of unease, that I was an outsider here.  I tried to suppress my rising intuition that this was what we had been discussing, that some of the old lags were not doing what they could for newcomers to make them feel a part of this. 

As I was beginning to feel excluded and ready to wander off into the night to retire to my own private space, the discussion of practicalities ran out.  After a moment’s pause Swami took a new tack.

“Ivan, Claire and I were just talking about circles and magical spaces and Glastonbury and all that ~ you should tell her about your own connection with the Vale of Avalon.  …”  Chortling, he winked at me in his cheeky but kind way.  “He’s like a neighbour of mine in a way.”

He had me completely lost, so I had to wait and see what rejoinder Ivan would make.

“Oh, you mean the Swan Circle?”  he replied casually.  Swami nodded grinning at this. 

“Have you been to Glastonbury Festival?”  Ivan enquired of me.

“Yeah, several times, back in the eighties, and then again, last year and this.”

“You’ve been to the top end of the site, the Sacred Space field then I imagine?”

“Uh-huh…”

“Michael Eavis commissioned me to build the stone circle there back in ’92”

“Wow, awesome…”  I was taken aback to be in the presence of the master megalith builder himself.  “It’s a pretty major deal to have gotten into.”  I was curious to know more.  “Stone circles are fascinating and amazing structures and all that, but how did you come to get into it?  I mean you don’t just start making a stone circle in your back garden one day and then the next thing you know you’re building the largest modern stone circle in England at a world famous location…”

“For sure…  it’s all about creating sacred space.  I began getting into this stuff back in the seventies.  I was a really unhappy disconnected kid who started looking for a way to get connection with the earth, a spiritual reality, myself.  It’s been a long pathway, but the essence is to create that space in which people can feel a deeper contact with themselves and the Universe which can facilitate healing ~ it’s about sacred geometry that allows us to experience a reverence within that space; the intuitive construction of that space so that you can hold the energy.  That is what shamanism is about, allowing the natural flow of energies to facilitate healing.

“I built several smaller circles back in the eighties, and in the early nineties Michael asked me to create one for him on the festival site.  Unfortunately it didn’t have planning permission, if you can imagine such a thing being necessary for a stone circle!  So it had be pulled down after that year’s event.  Then he approached the local council and got formal permission for a permanent one.  I was delighted to design and construct it.  I moved my dome into the field and sought inspiration from the lie of the land and the stars.  When the full moon in May rose behind the King’s Hill, where  Swami lives, I had the inspiration to make a circle based on the main stars in Cygnus the Swan.  I had to do quite a lot of thinking, looking at the ground, the way it lay, checking with my star maps.  I realised that I wouldn’t be able to make a circle as such, but that an egg shape would match the major stars.

“Choosing the stones, excavating the holes for them and getting them in place was a huge job.  The stone was local, Michael helped me choose them.  We had volunteers for the digging; to truly connect with the energies it’s important to have as much work done by hand as possible, although we had tipper trailers to bring them on site, and a crane for the final lifting into place.  That was the test of whether all my envisioning and preparation would work. 

“It was a moment of great relief and celebration when at Midsummer’s morn after a night long vigil with the Glastonbury Order of Druids, standing behind the belly stone I saw the sun rise right over the stone at the pointed end representing the head.  It would have been a major issue to realign the stones if I had got it wrong!”

“Interesting symbolism about the egg shape…”  I mused.  “A gestation space for people?  Somewhere they can develop in safety?”

“A kind of serendipity.  It wasn’t my primary thought, but it is a part of the gestalt and so gains meaning that way.  Sacred space is about entering into holistic structure.  In that relationship we can see ourselves better.  We have to become ourselves.  No-one else can do it for us.  It’s like that thing in the Hopi prophecies about the beginning of the New Aeon, the Rainbow Warriors who will come to save the world from extinction.  ‘You are the ones you have been waiting for.’  We will only remain children if we expect the angels or the space people or whoever to do it for us.”

“But what about things like this camp, where we are trying to reach out and help people?”

“We can’t do it for others, but we can help.  There’s a difference.  Demonstrating concern alone can make a difference, people knowing or feeling that they aren’t alone.  Or perhaps showing different ways when they are stuck.  There’s no harm in having teachers to show the path, we have always had those in one way or another.

“Absolute autonomy is what freedom is about ultimately, but understanding our responsibility for the consequences is an essential part of that.  Only when we have become ourselves can we truly see how those consequences flow out of who we are, that they are part of us.  Then we see the greater picture of how we are a part of the Universe, a microcosm of it which reflects back that whole.  Then we are free.  Before that we may think that we have freedom, that our separation releases us from obligations that we might see as burdens, but it is the other way round, we are trapped in limitation.  In sacred space you can come to see yourself and your integral relation.  It is humbling, but also empowering.”

“Interesting… there was a stone I felt a particular affinity with.  It was like that thing in Castaneda where he talks about finding your ‘place’.  I would go back there when I felt I needed to re-establish my centre – even amongst the chaos and noise of the festival I felt quiet and still at that point.”  I was recalling sitting with my back to the stone, base of my spine in contact with the earth, facing in towards the centre of the ring.

“That’s good to hear.  It’s how it should work if the stones have been placed in a good relation with the earth.”  He smiled.

He had a gentle passion in the way he described all this, and I sensed a hint of something in the way that he was master of the Gate ~ holding the boundary of the camp space.  Heimdall on the Rainbow Bridge of Bifrost at the Gates of Asgard.  He began to morph in my perception into a greater and more archetypal being than merely one of us who had come to the camp to participate, even than those who had come to serve.  He literally held the energy of the camp.  I determined to join the following morning in the Dance of Life which he led but from which I had truanted this first day, feeling that it would be a teaching of its own in addition to all the other powerful energies with which we were working.  

My feelings about not being engaged by the more established camp people changed entirely with this.  I felt that I had been brought into a deeper circle of trust, that all I had to do was be in the right place at the right time and connect to be a part of what was.  Layers of initiation peeled away, I began to perceive beyond the veneer of my own expectations, that there was a world deeper and wider than my timid persona allowed.  I remembered experiences I had buried, insights gained but with which I had been unable to connect in the narrow world of city and mass media.

“This is waking stuff up within me I had forgotten.”

“Haha!  Good!  That’s what it is all about!  What is coming back to you?”  he seemed genuinely interested.

“Well there is this whole ‘alongside’ life I have had, free festivals, going back as far as the Windsor festival of ’74, meditation, stuff that doesn’t fit in with the conventional world.  The Harmonic Convergence, that was a big one…”

“Oh yeah, there was an Oak Dragon that weekend, ended up getting kind of crazy, but I guess the energies got too powerful for some people and just needed to be released.  What did you do?”

“I went up to a local hilltop, one of the highest in Leeds, where there used to be some kind of ancient settlement, and watched the sunrise.  It seemed like ten million golden angels flying towards me.  But then there is always the return to mundane reality and you wonder what it all means…”

“It’s important to anchor, have some kind of continuity, a practice that will keep it awake and alive within you, otherwise you can end up feeling adrift, lost.  These connections to the Universe are subtle, they need encouraging; the world of the lower astral planes is very dense and can drown out the higher dimensional stuff which feeds the soul. 

“Glastonbury is a very special place for that, where many different traditions meet, it is a place of immense spiritual power, some say that it is the Heart Chakra of the planet…  The Druids venerate it, and it is the place where the mystical root of Christianity is in these isles.  The spiritual source, the magical landscape, the Sacred Wellsprings and the Holy Thorn.  It awakens the Spirit within.  Geomancy, with the stone circles, and in lesser ways, is about setting up the space to allow that Spirit to come through in our hearts, our perceptions.  The landscape of Glastonbury is a gigantic sacred space for that.  People get spiritually lost in the city not just because of the astral reality which pervades and projects itself into their minds, but also because the geometry, the space has no soul within it, it is linear, and not fractal…”  It seemed then to me that he held an internal hologram of that space, that structure within him, that he projected into the space about him, and in which we somehow were enabled to participate; deeper and more subtle dimensional realities underlying the physical.

“Implicit order… interesting.  You mean that the apparent order of cities, the geometric grids of streets, are actually chaotic?…”

“Yuh… because it doesn’t embed into a greater structure, it is fragmented, meaningless.  Linear space and time… but they aren’t linear, they are curved, spiral vortices which have implicit structure.  All space is sacred unless it is taken out of this context.  Then energy doesn’t flow because there is no way for it to be generated, nowhere for it to go without getting trapped and stagnant.  It is dead.  The ancient ley lines are how it moves in the landscape, but a lot of that has been damaged.  Starting with the Romans, they built on the energy hot spots, trapping it, taking it away from the land and the people.  One of the main purposes of the Druids is to heal the flow.  But it is a massive task.  We have to start with people, reconnecting with the land, the sacred space and then we can work together with the divine mother Earth who will help us as we do this.”

My own paths of illness and disconnection seemed to be implied within this world view;  I had always sought the ease which came with the lightness of being in touch with nature.  And yet I had suffered a health collapse; it had been the virtual slavery involved with pursuing a career within the system which I knew had caused this.  Commuting in crowded and pressurised transport systems, working on the production lines of ‘education’ had been the downfall of my energies which had not been strong or dense enough for me to maintain myself within that world.  Long had I felt guilty that I had not been able to make a success in that world that was so expected of me with my academic background.  But the Universe had had other thoughts in mind ~ it kept providing me with opportunities to explore this other reality which insisted on coming back, however gently and repeatedly.  If it was in my true nature, then servitude to the machine of the State was an illusion; the Spirit was greater and would provide me with pathways if I allowed it too.

We sat with the hypnotic aether of the fire, the logs gently creaking and cracking as they burnt softly and settled in the pit.  We had reached a sacred space of our own there in that place surrounded by the velvet night.  The camp beyond seemed also to have come to stillness and thoughts began to turn to the realms of rest and slumber.

“Well, it’s an early start in the morning, so I’ll be to bed.”  Said our Druid.  “Nice talking to you Claire, see you tomorrow, hope you’ll come to the Dance first thing.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world!”  we hadn’t talked about the Dance, but I could tell that it fitted into the greater worldview we had been discussing.

“Night all!”  and he disappeared into the large dome behind him as we too bid him goodnight.

I could tell it was time for me to retire as well, so I thanked Swami for his hospitality, nodded to Brigantia and made off into the night, following the lines of hurricane lamps which my hosts had ensured guided me between the scattered encampments in the darkness.  I was ready to sleep, but a part of my soul had begun to waken with all that had happened on that first full day of Hundredth Monkeying. 


¹ Illuminatus! (1975 Dell Publishing) by Robert Anton Wilson and Robert Shea.    

The Robert Anton Wilson Website - The Illuminatus! Trilogy

A darkly comic novel in three parts written in the early ’70s which introduced many of us to the background of basic conspiracy facts,  Adam Weishaupt of the Bavarian Illuminati and the rest. 
Vol I      The Eye in the Pyramid
Vol II     The Golden Apple
Vol III    Leviathan

²  ‘The Sirius Mystery’ by Robert KG Temple  

The Sirius Mystery (1998 edition) by Robert Temple 


Laird Scranton has done further extensive work on the Dogon of Mali, their knowledge of Sirius and the laws of Physics. 

The Science of the Dogon by Laird Scranton

Decoding the African Mystery Tradition    Foreword by John Anthony West



Welcome to Ivan McBeth.com 

Ivan McBeth's Website.  This is a wonderful space with oodles of great information and pictures of stone circles and shamanic thingies.   I cannot urge you strongly enough to check this out!

also on Facebook   

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Venerable Dhyani Ywahoo - Sunray Meditation Society

The website of the Venerable Dhyani Ywahoo who taught Ivan the Dance of Life

Venerable Dhyani Ywahoo | Facebook

 

The Dance of Life 

In this YouTube video I demonstrate the Dance of Life in my own fire circle.



©  Claire Rae Randall 2012