Falling backwards in Time
I had woken early in the little sea soaked Cornish village of Perrenporth. The evening before we had wondered amongst holiday makers. I went walking amid towering, sea hollowed Cliffs and just knew that I must return, alone.
I crossed a silent beach. Far away rain was rising in the west, but here the sun was approaching the world.
I think I just fell into breathing when I reached those face carved cliffs and their hollow ways. I felt, I knew they could lead me into a world beyond me.
I just needed to be alone.
As I stood there I was sure that this was a portal of some kind.
I felt my self falling somewhere instantly. there were hundreds of faces. They were here, Salt Gods and Rock Gods.
Primordial.
I fall, as if the sand caves in and No-Thing exists in my falling.
I am going to try and take you there.
Stepping through the molten lava, led their by the unknown Salt Gods, while dressed in the Wind.
Caught by the burning Sun as its spins across the sky.
Rumbling drums are beating the boundaries of the horizon, which are raising clouds who are swallowing the darkness.
Here my skin cracks open and my Heart is removed and laid onto a pool of water in a golden dish
An old woman places her hand upon it. My heart has not stopped beating.
She calls out then, in some language that I know yet cannot recall its meanings; she calls out and they, they appear.
The Salt Gods.
And their singing and their hands are in the water.
I am still dressed in the Wind as they pass their hands through my heart.
I know Time passes and I am still dreaming, yet now, in this moment, I realise that this is no dream.
Its a reawakening.
A returning to something that I left but have now been returned to.
Who called me back? I must believe it’s this ancient woman. god knows how old she is…but I know she has entered many of my drawings.
She’s been calling for some time.
And the Gods are here in great RiSinGs
For this is the Time for the Returning;
The Re-Awakening.
I feel this as the water ripples and my heart floats there in the golden dish, so vast now that it contains the whole. ocean and all who live there.
Beneath it, around it, holding this vessel, are the mountains of Gods all gathered unnamed but many named.
The world forms steam, steam from the molten rock become the shapes of wings in the sky embracing above. This all takes form of a bird, whose feathers are edged by life, life moving there on every feathers tip.
The bird suddenly and swiftly swoops down and in one movement, wraps its claws around my heart, then sours upwards, upwards with it towards the burning, spinning sun.
What Vision I watch is familiar yet I cannot recall the words being spoken by the old woman as she watches her work unfold in the shape and intention of the bird.
Yet I know her words well, for I have been here before and I met others there, You there, each of Us there.
Something has changed in me.
As the bird returned the Salt Gods received my heart and as it lay in their hands, they blew upon it: The Memory Road ahead.
Which is the Old Way wrapped in the footsteps, the meditations and reconnections as they fall perfectly forewards along the passage of Time yet to come.
And all will be well.
So there it is. A journey. A portal that inspires the Journeys of Elsewhere as they begin to unfold from Book Three onwards, yet were there before anything was ever written.
Cornwall July 21st