An epic poem written about the mysterious Islands where the past still mingles with the present, and occasionally speaks.
The Seeker of Knowledge arrives in the Orkneys.
Ancient lands, mother and sharer of knowledge
I come seeking to find that which is lost
From the memory of mankind, to learn
what was born on these isles
To pay honour and homage
To the deep mystery that dwells here.
The Chamber of Maes Howe.
What is this place? A tomb?
Yet what tomb has a door that
Can only be opened from the inside?
What mystery resides here?
What skill, what knowledge gave birth to you?
Mystery upon mystery, ancient cavern of wonder
Who commanded your construction?
And to what purpose?
The Stones of Stenness
Menhirs, standing stones, guardians of mystery deep
What knowledge, now lost, guided your placement?
A power, long passed, dwelt here once,
Ordered this construction,
Determined the placing of each Stone.
But to what purpose?
Mighty it must have been, and now
Only sea, sky and earth remember this work of man.
Stones of Stenness, first amongst many,
Father and Mother to every other circle of stones,
Tell me, what compelled your movement?
What power brought about this construction?
To what purpose was it wrought?
The Gloaming
It is the time of the gloaming,
I stand in the shadows, listening, watching, being,
Hearing the world turning,
Seeing the light leaving the heavens,
Even as the mists rise from sea and land.
As the world turns, the creatures of the day
Settle, slumber and are still.
Now the creatures of the night are awakening,
Their power rising, soon to stalk and to hunt.
For it is the moment of transition,
Yin to yang, light to dark,
One power to another,
Here I stand, and feel the world turning.
Mists swirl. Strange shapes gather.
I stand listening.
Watching.
Not comprehending.
Was that the wind?
What moved there?
A trick of the mist?
Or?
At my feet, paths appear.
Old, leading everywhere, leading nowhere.
Which shall I choose?
Wait! Now I hear a voice.
Clearly calling.
Come, she says, come,
Answers await you.
The appearance of the Ban-fhàidh.
Welcome stranger, to your past and my present.
For I have heard the questions you ask,
The answers you seek are long lost in the past
Come, come, through the swirling mists of time.
I am the One the Seeker of Knowledge searches for,
I am the One the Pilgrim journeys to,
I am the One to whom you bring your questions,
I am the One, the all knowing, all seeing, all being,
For I am the One.
I am the Ban-fhàidh, the creator, the source
Of the mystery of the Stones, the origin
The instigator of all that you see,
Trust, question not, and you will understand.
I am old, old beyond the measure of time.
Before the stars, I was, after the stars, I will be.
I am the creator, I am the life giver,
I am the all, there is nothing that is not me.
I am the hare, the hawk, the cloud,
The fish in the sea, the sea itself.
It is I who determines the motion of the stars,
Who sets the planets in the firmament.
I am the beginning and the end,
The alpha and the omega,
I am your soul, your spirit, your all.
No beginning was there, no end will there be,
Until unity and love abound,
And the One is restored.
Know me you will, for all travel the same road,
To the same destination,
Wearing the illusion of separation,
But bearing the Oneness of Love Eternal.
The mourning chant of the Islands.
Life is brief, love is deep, the soul sings,
As the seasons come, the seasons go,
What are we but passing travellers,
Leaving only footprints in the sands.
Leaving only footprints in the sands.
As the sea wave breaks on the rock,
As the clouds flee across the sky,
So we traverse this land, and are gone,
Leaving only footprints in the sand.
Leaving only footprints in the sands.
As the eagle swoops and soars,
So the deer come and go, the salmon spawn,
Child turns to adult, and is gone,
Leaving only footprints in the sand.
Leaving only footprints in the sands.
Land of sorrow, land of joy, land of blessing, land of toil,
From your bosom we are born,
To your bosom we return,
Leaving only footprints in the sand.
Leaving only footprints in the sands.
Each day is precious, each hour passed,
Is an hour fled, never to return.
Love, know what you have, be grateful
Praise the Gods for the gifts that come from land and sea.
Praise to the Gods
The Ban-fhàidh stands at the cliff edge, contemplating
The setting sun bathed and caressed her, covering her in robes of gold.
Beneath the cliff, the sea hailed her with breaking waves and crashing peals of joy.
For she was the Ban-fhàidh, the One who travelled between this world and the Other,
Who bridged the void all pass over, and none, but one, return at will.
Soon it was the turn of the rising moon to clothe her in raiments of silver,
And the strengthening wind to touch her face and smooth her hair.
From afar, she heard the singing of the whale, the bark of the seal.
For she was the Ban-fhàidh, and at her choosing, touched all, was all, was the One.
Her mind was still, her soul, her spirit, stretched out across the distant ocean,
Listening, absorbing, uniting with this world and the Other.
Above her, stars, planets moved in an endless dance, but only she heard the music,
For she was the Ban-fhàidh, and for a space, the pivot around which the whole Universe turned.
Enough. Enough. No human body can contain the energies that surged through hers for long,
Slowly, slowly, her soul and spirit returned, and her body reminded her that she was clothed in human form.
In need of warmth, nourishment, and shelter from the wind and the cold of the night.
The Ban-fhàidh she might be, but in this incarnation, she was still a child of the earth, bound by flesh and bone to walk its paths.
The Ban-fhàidh foresees the future.
She sat in front of her fire, secure in the cave long prepared, and distilled the essence of her mind.
Vast was her knowledge, deep her understanding, long, long her life.
But one day it too would end, and her soul would take flight. What to do?
The fire glowed, outside the wind spoke its muted song,
And slowly, the Ban-fhàidh sank into sleep, the blessed sleep that soothes the cares of the day.
But not for all. For she was the Ban-fhàidh, and with sleep, came visions.
Visions of tall stones, proud and erect, circling a sacred space.
Thus was born the Ring of Stenness, twelve stones, one for each village on the mainland,
A sacred space, a place to listen to the turning of the world, to the changing seasons.
A place of healing, a place to celebrate birth and death, to pay homage to the ancestors,
And to the Gods, who give provision from sea and land.
She stirred in her sleep, not enough, not enough, a voice cried in her mind.
The vision shifted and changed, a temple, a temple of learning.
Her knowledge must not be lost, but passed on, shared, to a sacred community.
Cherished, practised, by brothers and sisters, a gift to pass down the ages.
The work begins.
The Ban-fhàidh stands in the predawn
Watching the sky lighten
Feeling the coming of the dawn with her body,
Waiting, waiting.
Behind her stand the village folk, but she has no eyes for them.
Ahead of her stands the breasts that form the hills of Hoy**
Between them, the first gleam of light appears, a beam of gold,
Illuminating its burning path across the land.
There, there, she points, and the men run and plant her staff.
She watches, satisfied, then turns back to the sun.
Her own shadow casts a long line, beckoning,
Guiding, she turns, she sees, there, there it would be.
And so the marker stone and the site
that will become Maes Howe are laid out
according to the instructions of the Ban-fhàidh.
Note 1: At the Winter solstice the dawning sun shines in between the hollow of the Hills of Hoy and over the marker stone (known as the Barnhouse Stone) and directly into the interior of Maes Howe.
The construction of Maes Howe
As though disturbed ants, they came, they gathered, they sang.
They had many songs. Now it was the turn of the heaving song.
Ho and yo, ho and yo, ho and yo.
Slowly the great stone moves, ho and yo, ho and yo, inch by inch, breath by breath.
Halt, stay, men of Stromness, the Ban-fhàidh calls, take succour.
For the Ban-fhàidh knows that men must rest, must gather strength,
Breath heaving, bodies bent, they stop, straighten.
They have come many a mile, with many a mile still to go,
With many a mile still to go.
Ahead the path beckons, waiting, waiting.
Long prepared, well prepared, humps flattened, boulders removed.
Come, it says, one last journey, the way is clear,
An end to your mighty endeavour beckons.
Why?
Why? Why there? Why not here?
The men and women of Stromness
Whisper amongst themselves.
But only She knows, only She
Possesses the secret knowledge.
Their leader rises, and the men and women
Of Stromness rise too.
Their work is hard but blessed by the Ban-fhàidh
And so they start the carrying song
Once more to move the great stone
that will flank the sacred space yet to be constructed.
Singing
Bands of leather. Together we heave.
Bands of leather. Together we lift
Bands of leather. Together we carry
Then, for many days, the digging songs.
Earth, shift and lift
Earth, shift and lift.
Eventually, the song for the moving of the soil to form the surrounding henge.
Lift and carry, lift and carry,
Lift and carry, place carefully,
Praise to the Ban-fhàidh who commands all.
The Seeker of Knowledge watches, dreamlike, the construction of Maes Howe, as months, weeks, days fly by until eventually it is completed.
The why is answered.
She counted them in, as she would count them out.
For she was the Ban-fhàidh, and could read the hearts of men,
And balance what was hidden there, with the words said,
The promises made, the real intent,
The truth that might not have been spoken.
They entered one by one, fearful, frightened, uneasy,
Not knowing what was to be demanded of them.
Inwardly she laughed, knowing their real fear was of the place chosen.
For none yet knew the purpose of Maes Howe, the focus of all their labours.
When they were gathered, she increased their fears ten fold.
She beckoned to the last one in,
to close the door that sealed the exit.
Fearfully they exchanged glances, now truly frightened.
Was Maes Howe to be their tomb, is that what she would demand?
In the light of the few reed lamps that lit the interior,
they saw the Ban-fhàidh close her eyes in prayer and meditation.
Each followed suit, a few, a very few, managing to quieten their minds,
Accepting whatever fate lay before them, stilling their inner demons.
For five minutes they sat thus, but each minute felt like an hour.
There was a silence, a silence that could almost be felt,
It was as nothing they had ever experienced. True, the rush lights, crackled,
But absent was the sound of the Island’s everlasting companions, sea and wind.
Note 2: If Maes Howe is a tomb it has one strange feature. The rock forming a door can only be sealed from the inside.
The purpose is revealed.
“Welcome, to the temple of Maes Howe.
Fear not, the stone that blocks the way out, is easily moved.
This is a special place, chosen by the gods, venerated by our ancestors,
As we in turn will venerate it when our times comes.”
You see before you, the Four Guardians,
Mighty stones that you and your companions carried,
With great effort and pain,
East, west, north, south, they speak to the Earth spirits,
And in turn, each speaks to me.
The task has begun, but is far from complete.
Each one of you will play your part in this story.
For we are to build a ring, a ring of stones,
that will reach into the sky,
Even as each stone here stands proud and tall
So too they will be rooted in the earth.
To form a temple, a place where we each
will mingle with the gods, and with the spirits of our ancestors,
to celebrate, to mourn and to seek guidance.
The Ban-fhàidh reveals her mortality
Recall the mourning song,
“Life is short, each hour passed, is an hour fled.”
Soon, my time too will be passed, gone, lost,
taken by the passage of time. Like the ancestors,
I too will become a memory, fading with each new generation.
Fear not, that time is far off.
I shall live many lives of men,
and see your grandchildren grow and prosper.
But I must prepare. Maes Howe is but a beginning.
Many of you wonder at its purpose. Temple or tomb?”
Neither, instead a place of learning.
Here I shall teach your children to listen
To the songs of the winds, to the music that moves the stars,
I shall train them in the arts of healing, of herbs and potions.
I shall share with them all that I know
And they will become a band of brothers and sisters,
Who in turn will pass the sacred knowledge I have been given,
to their children and their children’s children.
They will be called the Druidii, and will be known
And respected across the breadth of these islands,
But also, far beyond, and many seekers will come
To ask of their knowledge and to share in their learning.
Soon, I shall visit each village and you will help me,
Find a child, boy or girl, who will follow in my footsteps
And learn the lore of life, the lore of the universe,
Who will in turn guide you all, in the ways of peace and prosperity.
“Now go, reflect on what I have said, and
tell each villager in turn of my coming, and it’s purpose.”
The choosing of the Stones
Here, here is the One, it calls to us.
Unbroken, formed at the beginning of time
It has lain waiting for its moment.
Now is that time, now is that time.
The Druidii of the village address the Stone.
Mighty stone, child of the earth
We seek permission to raise you
From earth to sky, to commune
With the sun and the stars.
Your companions come forth
From each part of the island
To join together in a communion
A fellowship of stone, of wisdom.
That will guide and direct us
We who are mere flesh and bone,
Whose time flowers briefly,
Then is gone, like the morning mist.
Mighty stone, child of the earth
Permit us to carry you, to fix you,
Deep in the soil, so that you may
Join with your companions
And together, each shall form the greater.
The Ban-fhàidh blesses the completed Ring of Stones.
Sacred ring, stones cast in the fiery birth of the world.
Look. Listen. Each stands alone, reaching out to the heavens.
And all hear the sound of the stars in their journey across the firmament.
Even as the Ring reaches deep into the magic of the earth, uniting both.
Earth energy, heavenly power unite in each stone,
Reside in the combined power of the Ring.
Twelve stones brought together, in one special place,
To bring peace, harmony, healing and understanding together.
Samhain, Imbolc, Beltain, Lughnass, the ring reveals all,
Tells all, prepares the people of the Islands for the time of planting,
For the time of harvesting, for the time of celebration,
When the power of the earth and the music of the heavens runs through all.
Visitors
Many came from afar,
As the Isles of Orcadia
Were a favoured crossroads
For the sailing ships that carried
Goods and produce to exchange
And trade one with another.
Standing tall and proud,
The Stones of Stenness
Dominated the headland
Causing many who came, to stay
And take part in the rituals,
And ceremonies of the Druidi
The Might Warrior
In the waning years of the Ban-fhàidh
A mighty warrior came out of the sea mist
And strode the land with his companions
Searching for the great ring of stones
That travellers spoke of far and wide.
It was at the Ring of Stenness that
The Ban-fhàidh and the Druidii met him.
There, he and his companions trembled in fear
For old though She was, the Ban-fhàidh had lost none of her power
Which flowed around her like the wind of a howling gale.
None could hold her eye, not even the mighty warrior.
He and his companions bent their knees,
And bowed before her presence, awaiting their fate.
And so came about the end and the beginning.
The end of the Ban-fhàidhs days, and the spread of her knowledge.
The Seeker witnesses the beginning of the end.
Blue sky, mighty waves, white crowned, framed the scene.
Yet aloof in their indifference, the mighty stones of Stenness
Dominated, silent guardians of the knowledge
Of the Ban-fhàidh, they cast their power and majesty over all.
Only One could compete with their grandeur,
The Ban-fhàidh, standing serene, casting a power
Felt by all, a power beyond this world, rooted elsewhere,
In the spiritual realms whose entry is barred to the living.
Behind Her stood the Druidii, some fifty of them,
Hooded in long grey cloaks, drawn up in a semi circle.
Male and female, thus masked, they added to the mystery,
For they looked as sea sprites formed from the sea spray might.
Fearful all this must have seemed to the travellers
But it was not so, for a great feast had been prepared,
And as the Druidii moved forward
It was to reveal behind them tables and benches
Laden with food and ale, an abundant banquet of welcome
The Ban-fhàidh spoke, and the noise of sea and wind
Seemed to mute, such was her power still.
“Welcome strangers, strangers for the moment, but
Simply friends we do not yet know. We have long awaited
Your coming. For us and for you it heralds a new beginning.”
The Seeker of Knowledge understands
Thus was the final act of the Ban-fhàidh revealed.
The visitors had come seeking knowledge,
The deep knowledge of the Druidii
That was buried within the Ring of Stenness.
Knowledge of the movement of the stars and the moon,
Of the passage of time and the seasons,
Of the celebrations of the rites of passage,
From birth to death, of the Gods and of the ancestors.
Yet more than this. Much more than this.
The Ring of Stones had brought about peace,
An end to conflict, for its building had united peoples and tribes
Into a shared construction far greater than themselves.
And in its use, it called together peoples from far and wide
To celebrate, to feast, to give thanks for life and love,
To be healed, to mourn, to remember the joys of life, the passage of time,
And how short the span of human life can be.
Thus was her great plan fulfilled, the conferring of her knowledge,
Gleaned over many centuries, on her pupils, the Druidii
Who would now travel with the visitors to the far ends of the world
And in turn share her knowledge with many,
Through the building of other hallowed Circles of Stone.
All became clear. The mighty Standing Stones of Stenness
Would be the first of their kind. Perhaps not the mightiest,
For over millennia other great circles of stone
Would be wrought elsewhere across many lands.
But the Ring of Stones of Stenness would always be the first.
Sky father and earth mother of their children of Stone,
Sentinels of knowledge, connecting, man, sky and earth
With the great mysteries of creation.
Thus was revealed to the Seeker of Knowledge the purpose of Maes Howe,
a Temple of Learning through which the Ban-fhàidh shared her knowledge,
and from the seeds thus planted was born the Ring of Stenness,
the first circle, the parent of the many to follow.
Note 3: no weapons of war or evidence of conflict have ever been found in these ancient sites.
Note 4: Stonehenge was one of her children.
The Ban-fhàidh bids farewell to the Seeker of Knowledge.
So, Seeker of Knowledge, hunter of wisdom,
Now you know, the intent of the Stones of Stenness.
A calendar you might say, a repository of knowledge also,
But beyond all of these, a centre of power,
A meeting place, for worship, for celebration,
and for peace too.
For each village that entered into its creation, thereafter
Shared a common bond which transcended conflict.
As it will it be with the other great circles of stone that will follow,
Over the forthcoming millennia, their creators will maintain them,
Meet and celebrate, and there will be peace and harmony,
Between each other, and with the wider world.
Do not mourn my passing, for I continue.
I am the thousand winds that blow,
I am the foam that crowns the waves,
The stream that flows down the hillside.
And my knowledge, of earth and stars, winds and sun,
Of healing and law, will live on, and fly across the seas,
Carried by the Druidii.
Standing atop the cliff edge,
the Ban-fhàidh raises her arms to the wind,
Turns toward the Seeker of Knowledge, smiles,
And is gone, never to walk this world again.Above, the dark clouds part, as if in acclamation.
A single bright star is revealed, one which outshines all others. The Morning Star, known by many names.
Venus, Aphrodite, Isis, Ashtarte,
But to the Seeker of Knowledge thereafter,
To be always known as the Ban-fhàidh.
Reflections on life in Poetry and Prose. 