Tag: Dolmen

A Lifetime in Every Moment

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In my beginning is my end. Now the light falls
Across the open field, leaving the deep lane
Shuttered with branches, dark in the afternoon…

The dahlias sleep in the empty silence.
Wait for the early owl.

Dawn points, and another day
Prepares for heat and silence. Out at sea the dawn wind
Wrinkles and slides. I am here
Or there, or elsewhere. In my beginning.

Home is where one starts from. As we grow older
the world becomes stranger, the pattern more complicated
Of dead and living. Not the intense moment
Isolated, with no before and after,
But a lifetime burning in every moment
And not the lifetime of one man only
But of old stones that cannot be deciphered.
There is a time for the evening under starlight,
A time for the evening under lamplight

Love is most nearly itself
When here and now cease to matter.
~T. S. Eliot, verses from “East Coker” in Four Quartets

I’m reminded daily of my limited point of view; I can scarcely peer past the end of my nose. It takes a special kind of vision to see the young barn owl, still covered with downy blonde feathers, sitting among the stones outside its big barn home.

How can I possibly begin to understand the increasing complexity of the world around me as I try to look beyond, behind and through the here and now right in front of me?

I’m not alone. For uncounted generations, people have sought answers when confronted with the indecipherable mysteries of existence. We create massive monuments to the living and the dead to honor, appease and somehow maintain access to them.

We make up our own stories to explain the inexplicable rather than seeing and listening to what has been handed to us.

The Word as given is all the story we need.

All shall be revealed – still, we wait and wait as our lifetime burns through every moment, watching the Light illuminate our darkness as Love is laid down as never before.

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On the Lip of the Solstice

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It’s deep time here, this barrow grave five thousand years old,
where we follow like sheep behind the guide to the heart
of its cruciform center. I’ve never been in a space so dark.
What was it like to fear that the sun would not return,
that crops would wither, deer flee, that night’s dark cloak
was all there was? But miraculously, on the lip of the solstice,
the light returned, liquid and golden, ran down the narrow corridor,
hit the back wall, splashed in the stone basin, and they knew summer
would come back, run to fruit. Light, dark, freeze, thaw, seedtime,
harvest, wheel of the year, the spiral dance. What would they make
of our device-laden lives, fossil-fueled cars, over-stocked larders?
Who stands in the dark and listens now, gaping at the stars?
— Barbara Crooker, “Newgrange” from The Book of Kells

Finnis Soutterain underground

Finnis Soutterain underground

There is nothing so dark as centuries-old underground tunnels and portal tombs, some positioned with an opening to capture a beam of light exactly at either the winter or summer solstice, illuminating what dwells in blackness the rest of the year.

The more recent ninth century soutterain tunnels were refuge for Christians hiding from invaders, keeping whole villages safe from capture.

The dolmens and portal graves are Neolithic structures built before the pyramids. They still exist today as they were constructed to last by people serious about their beliefs. Though those people are long dust, the stones and tunnels remain as they were, to protect the spirits of the departed.

What would they think now of our extravagance, our plethora of goods and foods, our modern ways of crippling others with the weapons of internet words and hacking, rather than stealing, pillaging and enslaving strangers?

We moderns are lost in our over-abundance of light year round, scarcely noting the calendar or the passing of the longest and shortest days.

What remarkable people of strength have preceded us, seeking to preserve the significance of Light in their darkness.

Legananny Dolmen, Northern Ireland
Legananny dolmen
Kilfeaghan Dolmen
Goward Dolmen at the foot of the Mourne Mountains

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Wait for the Early Owl

barnstormingblog4 Comments

In my beginning is my end. Now the light falls
Across the open field, leaving the deep lane
Shuttered with branches, dark in the afternoon…

The dahlias sleep in the empty silence.
Wait for the early owl.

Dawn points, and another day
Prepares for heat and silence. Out at sea the dawn wind
Wrinkles and slides. I am here
Or there, or elsewhere. In my beginning.

Home is where one starts from. As we grow older
the world becomes stranger, the pattern more complicated
Of dead and living. Not the intense moment
Isolated, with no before and after,
But a lifetime burning in every moment
And not the lifetime of one man only
But of old stones that cannot be deciphered.
There is a time for the evening under starlight,
A time for the evening under lamplight

Love is most nearly itself
When here and now cease to matter.
~T. S. Eliot, verses from “East Coker” in Four Quartets

As I grow older I’m reminded daily of my limited point of view; I can scarcely peer past the end of my nose to understand the increasing complexity of the world around me – to look beyond, behind and through the here and now.

I’m not alone. For uncounted generations, people have sought answers when confronted with the indecipherable mysteries of existence here. We create monuments to the living and the dead to feel closer to them. We make up our own stories to explain the inexplicable.

The Word as given to us is all the story needed as all shall be revealed – still, we wait and wait, watching for Light to illuminate our darkness and Love laid down as never before.

Kilfeaghan dolmen
Goward Dolmen at the foot of the Mourne Mountains

The World is Wondrous Large

barnstormingblog2 Comments

Legananny Dolmen, Northern Ireland
Legananny Dolmen, Northern Ireland

legananny3
yes, this dolmen is in the middle of a farm yard

legananny1

In the Neolithic Age savage warfare did I wage For food and fame and woolly horses’ pelt.

I was singer to my clan in that dim, red Dawn of Man, And I sang of all we fought and feared and felt.

Still the world is wondrous large,—seven seas from marge to marge— And it holds a vast of various kinds of man… ~Rudyard Kipling from “In a Neolithic Age”

Today we acted like archeologists in Northern Ireland, traveling the countryside looking for the numerous “dolmens” or stone formations from 4000-5000+ years ago constructed during the Neolithic period in human history.  These are considered “portal tombs” and like Stonehenge, may also have astrologic significance to these prehistoric peoples.  Interestingly, they are scattered across the Irish countryside, mostly found in farmyards and fields, with hardly a sign to show the way to find them.  In two cases, we needed to parkbeside a barn, open  (and close) several gates so the cows and sheep don’t get out,  to make our way to the dolmen.

The world is wondrous large indeed, as Kipling says in his homage to the Neolithics (and in the rest of the poem critiquing his fellow “modern” man).  To think that humans, way before the pyramids, way before Abraham walked the earth, managed to figure out how to honor their dead by constructing formations of multi-ton stones on top of one another.  They are so perfectly balanced to exist as they were intended for thousands of years.  A vast various kind of man did this, a singer to his clan, in the “red dawn” of human history.

I am awed and humbled.

Nothing I have done could ever last like this.

kilfeaghandolmen3  

Kilfeaghan Dolmen
Kilfeaghan Dolmen

This dolmen is above the Irish Sea
This dolmen is above the Irish Sea

Goward Dolmen at the foot of the Mourne Mountains
Goward Dolmen at the foot of the Mourne Mountains