Sunday, September 27, 2009

The Dolmen as a Gateway to the Underworld

I’ve been reading the Inanna story intently. There have been moments of ‘ahh’ throughout this whole experience.

I keep seeing flashes of the beginning, when I was laying on the floor of my bedroom last year, feeling myself dying and struggling and finally breaking. And then back to the present, with the moon as my guide, and a little bird as my friend and mentor.

We stopped the car in the right village at the right church. While we were waiting for Albert to see if the tourist office was open, a dragonfly alighted upon the side mirror of the car.

Dragonflies were my messengers last year, following me everywhere and bringing me great love and joy. Little winged serpents. Dragons that fly. The earth and the heavens in one.

This reminds me that I did my English Literature thesis on D. H. Lawrence and the search for self in Women in Love and The Plumed Serpent. Do not mistake coincidence for destiny, as Mr Echo and Locke say…

The walk is two hours. We’re going to see a Dolmen, called ‘the gentle stone’.

We see some beautiful trees and plants.

The path is quite easy most of the way.

Jett sees the hill first and runs up calling to us ‘this is magnificent’ and ‘this is really something’. I was starting to think this pile of stones was going to be huge.

A tomb, to people long gone.

I greeted the area respectfully. Approached with all ears open and sat down beside the rocks to meditate and offer my silence, my receptivity.

I heard that the land was chosen up on a hill, because it was closer to the heavens. The stone was used because it was to endure, like the gods and like the spirit once we die. Its not the same material to be used for when we live.

I heard that the stones were from the earth, dug up. As symbols from the under ground. Offerings were laid upon the flat rock above, as appeasement to the gods.

I heard that I could feel the details of the ones inside – but in fact, it was the same. It was life, and death. It was light, and darkness. It was creativity, and suppression. It didn’t change. I felt pain in my right hand. I placed it upon the rock – and let it go.

We said our thanks. We walked home and looked up into the glorious green of the canopy above.

1 comment:

ordinary sparrow said...

Tiffany thanks so much for sharing this, so beautiful and could feel the sacred. . .Thank you. . .