Yesterday, I set off from my home on foot to walk up my mountain and there I found what I’ve been looking for ever since I moved to this locality six months ago. I found my sacred place in nature where my own special tree was waiting for me.
I finally reached a place I’ve been meaning to go. It’s an old quarry, a sunken world, now totally reclaimed by nature. More than that, it has become nature’s temple.
This sacred grove is isolated, on private land that I have unrestricted access to, it sits far away from paths or human places. It is left entirely in peace. It’s a wet, soggy hollow with woods of oak, willow and hazel, some birch on the higher slopes. On one side hangs a high cliff-face of earth and greenery. It abounds with bracken and bramble, ferns and moss. There are sparkly drusy quartz-covered stones, glinting in the undergrowth, bedrock long since quarried and abandoned. Corvids hold court here, the jackdaws, rooks, crows and majestic ravens are all around, calling and swooping through the woods. Also in attendance are robins, blackbirds and little jenny wrens.
It was exciting when I finally came upon the narrow entranceway that led down into the wide amphitheatre of lush green mystery. Three oaks called to me as I passed, on each I saw the face of its accompanying tree spirit. I knew the moment I approached the third oak that this is the one that’s been waiting for me. All the trees are bedecked from head to toe in moss, a veritable green world, this is.
Having formally approached up to the edge of the canopy, I asked permission of the oak to draw near. I placed my hands on the broad trunk and bent my forehead to the bark, giving my name and asking the tree for his, which was received. I sent my love to this tree, and through it, to the great oak consciousness. Then, I sat at the foot with my back to the trunk and opened myself to the energy of nature, but not before opening my mouth and throat to sing of my power from the depth of my lungs. As shamanka, my song lets the spirits of this sacred place see me, know me and feel my authenticity, integrity and power. I am demonstrating my right to be here. My raw notes rang out loudly, echoing through the grove, unheard by human, but a wind appeared from nowhere and met my song, letting a shower of oak leaves fall with each piercing note, ceasing to stillness only as the last note trailed away.
Eventually, I moved further down the wide corridor of the grove into further wetness until I reached the opposite end. Thank goodness I wore my wellies. From there, I climbed up to find the sky and summit as I tried to find a shorter way home, but it was not to be. All in all, I was up on the mountain for just short of five glorious hours yesterday. Now, I sit cosy in my little tree house, knowing my sacred grove and beloved oak tree await me for another day and another adventure.