Strange
How your name
Has always tripped
My tongue;
Beginning alright
But faltering
Blurring
Fudging the end.
And then
Without warning
Accidentally
I see;
It all makes sense
And your name
Once fragmented
Is whole;
And in that wholeness
Is revealed
More mystery
Than before, when it
Lay
Splintered.
Your name
You were hesitant
To reveal
As my learning it
Was not to be taken
Lightly.
My name
I gave freely
Not understanding
That it was not the name
You sought.
I did not
Understand
As I do now
How important
Name
Can be;
The power in
The sound
The depths they
Enable
You to reach.
In learning yours
I discovered
Something new
Something wonderful
About my own.
As I learn yours
I want you to learn mine.
In the blending
Of our names
We share a
Merging
Of our souls
Of our hearts;
I no longer need
To reach
For you are here
Part of me
One
Infinite
Resplendent
Sound.
Bob explained to me as we were walking around sacred landscapes that it was important to get to know a place. To introduce your self to it and allow it to introduce itself to you. That was when I began to realise that place could be sentient; could communicate and feel. Whether it is the spirits of place or the landscape itself I think depends a lot on what you believe. Perhaps they are one and the same.
I didn’t know how to introduce myself at first. Bob laughed at my early attempts, but told me it was intention more than words and it was important to talk to the landscape in the same way it spoke to me if I wanted it to understand me. So I would talk and send images and feelings at the same time because that tended to be the kind of thing I received when talking with stone. Images of what it is to be human; of me and where I was from; a little of how I felt. Then to open and see what images and feelings came through.
Walking into Weyland Smithy for the first time felt very special. I was drawn to it and could feel it calling out. It was a very warm place; lived in and living. Unlike the West Kennet Long Barrow, which I had visited not long before and which had felt abandoned and cold. Perhaps the difference was because Weyland Smithy had been reclaimed by the living in some way where as West Kennet Long Barrow was for the dead. Perhaps for other reasons. My feet connected with earth and I felt my roots go down with every step. I felt welcomed and happy.
When communing with specific stones, I was shown yellow rectangles and pink looped lines and a blue-green spiral as I walked among them. The images came very easily as if the stones were eager to communicate with someone willing to listen to them. Similar types of stones had similar shapes and colours, which I found to be very interesting and thought was linked to their purpose. Bob smiled and said nothing.
A standing stone of the Hurlers stone circle; Bodmin Moor, 2010
I fell in love with stone from when I first set foot in Cornwall and it felt like home. I wanted to approach the stone: to feel it and get to know it: to communicate with it. But I didn’t know how and I guess I was a little afraid of looking ridiculous. So, I took a deep breath, walked up to the stone in front of me, and put my hands on its rough surface as if I did it all the time. ‘What are you doing?’ Bob laughed from behind me. I answered that I was was ‘communing with stone’ and he laughed even more. ‘In that case, you’re doing it wrong’ he said, showing me how I should be standing. Straight back, flat feet, arms at 90 degrees, and palms flat on the surface – otherwise the energy can get trapped inside, which can be bad. So I did. And it was amazing.
I saw an inrush of images, colours, shapes, way too fast for me to make much of (especially considering I had secretly thought I’d probably not see very much at all). Amazing, but way too much. I felt Bob come closer and touch my hair. ‘If it’s too much, just focus on one thing’ he said. And I chose shapes. Some came with colours, some were in shades of black and white, but every stone I communed with at the Hurlers had a unique shape. One came up in the form of a rodent with bulging eyes. Another was very like a millipede. Some were more like jagged or wavy lines than shapes. But for the first time I felt like I belonged in the pagan community – that I wasn’t deluding myself into believing what wasn’t real.
The stones were warm and welcoming, even if their surface was cold. And it felt wonderful to see the energies of the stones in all their vibrancy. Just a taste of what was to come, but it was enough and I was completely hooked!
Green and Grey 
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