Tag Archives: stone circle

What the stones said…

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“So, Robin Hood is a Moon-Man?”

“It would appear so.”

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“And what of Maid-Marian?”

“Maid-Marian is the Sea.”

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“Marion, or Mary is always the sea,  even in Christian tradition Mary is the sea, she might be ‘the sea’ as subconscious, or indeed for most people ‘the sea’ as unconscious but what does the ‘Star of the Sea’ ultimately bring forth? And what do we still call the soldiers of the sea?”

“The Navy?”

“‘Navy’ comes from ‘navigation’ which on the sea is via the stars, or at least it was originally. The stars, then, would probably be Robin’s Merry Men…”

“Heaven help us!”

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“Quite, we call the soldiers of the sea, Marines.”

“And it was all going so well… I would, though, like to see this place under a night sky.”

“Me too.”

“A clear night sky.”

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“It would have to be… Could we risk the over-friendly sheep?”

“Would they be in the fields in winter?”

“Possibly not.”

“And Little John?”

“Little John is the Sun.”

“I feel like weeping.”

“And the wind… cries…”

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Overkill Hill…

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Never look back!

It is good advice, unfortunately, in story-telling this advice, when given, is never adhered to.

Orpheus…Lot…Dr Faustus…

They are all concerned with Soul.

The Soul that turns to look back is caught in time.

It may be an ‘intention thing’, like trying to serve two masters, do not walk one way and look the other.

There are any number of mythological monsters depicted in this way to prove it.

Tiamet…Nergal…The Dread Beast of Mercia.

The hero ‘slays’ them all, by moving forward.

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But going back to take another look, that is different.

That is part of going forward.

And it is also inevitable.

This time we inadvertently found ourselves following our own advice from one of our books.

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We started at Hordron’s, that hoary old receptacle of time, went on to Strines, the ‘Peacock Pub’, and finished up at the Old Horns Inn.

And this time when we got to Bradfield, ‘Castle Hill’ was illuminated.

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No need to wonder where we will be heading next then.

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But first, we had another encounter with one of our mounds to experience.

We needed more photographs.

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And photographs…

Were duly forthcoming.

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Once we had braved the curiously over friendly sheep…

Words beyond the tongue…

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Faces Beyond Form…

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It is beyond question that what would, today, be regarded as three separate sites are in fact one.

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Though distinct, with individual identities, each facet works together with the other as one whole.

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Given that the Stride, from Hart Hill, sights, frames and tracks the midsummer moon we might be forgiven for thinking that…

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… Robin’s Hood is…

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…the Earth’s shadow.

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Stanton Drew…

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Names matter.

For practical purposes they are like elephants and flowing water.

They follow the shortest, flatest path to wherever they are going, and en route the jagged edges first get smoothed and then get worn away.

In this particular case we are on the path to understanding…

‘Standing Stones of the Druids’

‘STANding sTONes of the DRUids’

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Stanton Drew…

There are a number of ‘Stantons’ in England with an attendant ancient site, and for a long time these places were associated with Druids although we now know that they were around a lot earlier than the period normally associated with those infamous ‘Old-Time-Sages’.

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This ‘fella’, could easily be a druid, although he could just as easily be a she, in which case one would be tempted to call her a witch.

It is the first stone that greets you at the site.

If you look closely at the first photograph you can see some of the other stones lurking in the background.

On our first visit to this site we were struck by how utterly ‘other’ the stones appeared in relation to their environment.

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Yet another disappearing stone…

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“It’s got a ‘wen’ in it!”

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And if we had not already twigged

that really should have clinched it!

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“How are they pronouncing it anyway?”

“‘Bosk-a-Noon’ – ‘The House of the Elder-Tree.'”

“They’re ignoring the ‘wen-bit’ then.”

“Or, we could just call it hidden.”

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“How do they do that?”

“Do what?”

“Make a stone that size disappear.”

“Well, at least it’s not yet started walking…”

“Or dancing…”

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By the time we left, though,

all the stones in the circle had begun,

what we call, ‘morphing’…

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And somewhere a horn was sounding.

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“If I didn’t know better,

I’d say the Wild Hunt was abroad.”