The first thing that really struck me after the engine had been switched off and the tick, tick, ticking had ground to a halt, was the gentle murmur of voices occasionally breaking through the stillness. It was difficult to tell from what direction the disembodied mumbles came, but a man's voice conveyed a sense of reassurance, as he too seemed to be wondering where he'd stored his emergency clothing supplies in case of rain and whether he should head over towards the inner circle.
It occurred to me then that only four hours ago I'd been sitting in a circle seat of a large theatre in the middle of Birmingham watching a live dance performance by a well known company. I struggled to squeeze my Hudson Bay jacket over two thick woollen jumpers, and I couldn't help laughing out loud. What am I doing and what must I look like? Probably like Nanook of the North, but I didn't care, I was warm. I remember pondering upon how quickly environments can change the way you feel and view things. One minute eating an ice-cream and talking to my students about Bruce's choreography, and the next, being the student and slightly out of my depth. In the theatre I knew roughly what to expect - in fact that was my reason for going. I knew that I would probably come away from the theatre buzzing from the thrill of viewing a live performance, not to mention the chance to feel reassured that my usual line of work was still popular with the masses, but now. Well, I was in the middle of a car park, about to be part of what I'd read was a 'celebrated shared experience' yet not really knowing who I may meet, what I would see or hear. I felt like a fresher. 'What the heck...why miss out on such a golden opportunity' I thought with renewed vigour on tackling the jacket problem.
An array of images, constructed from the many descriptions of ancient rituals, popped into my head...but they vanished just as quickly as they had appeared as I closed the car door and inhaled the fresh moist night air. The momentary butterflies had dissolved into the darkness and I was ready for anything, well almost. The only decision to be made now was which direction to walk in; whether to amble towards the distant low drum beat sounding in the distance or whether to take heed of a more pressing consideration of the call of nature. I chose the latter and left my travelling companions nattering on the road, soon to return to find that they had hurried off towards...well...did it matter...they couldn't have gone far.
Paul and Steve were deep in conversation when I came upon them, one already nestling his back against a megalith as if sinking into a comfy chair for warmth by an open fire, the other listening intently, pacing around, revealing chink-by-chink his understanding of various constellations, his feelings on how he felt part of a larger picture and other subjects. Their conversation moved between the infinite cosmos and the sitting room, that is to say the mystical and the ordinary, yet at this moment it all seemed fascinating.
The night, or should I say morning, was still in its infancy. Within the hour, conversation evolved rooted in discussing the purpose of this monument as we each took it in turns to sit in the Devil's Chair. Nearby a family with young children were enjoying a picnic with candles providing a flickering light and glow. Passers-by would appear apparently from nowhere, usually stopping for a few moments to chat casually, to check the time, comment on the weather, or to enquire about the forthcoming ceremony...but not in the usual stand-offish British way. It was as though everyone we met were like old friends gathering after a late night meal to mull over topics, exchanging anecdotes. Occasionally a car would drive by illuminating the stones and the growing numbers of people each finding their own place to settle to welcome in the start of the summer.
I found myself constantly referring to my watch, and as time passed my excitement grew. I wondered whether there would be a chorus of cheering or clapping when it was officially June 21 or whether there would just be silence. There were perhaps a hundred people, maybe a few more, but they were spread out around the site so it was difficult to really know. The drum began repeating evocative rhythms just loud enough to let you know that somewhere else, another gathering of people were counting the minutes. 'Now this is what I call live theatre - man at one with the elements and the beat of the drum' I thought. I closed my eyes to savour the moment, so heightening my response to every sound. My companions had fallen silent too, listening. We were all restless.
Just as I began to translate the sounds into images and words I remembered my watch. Only five minutes remaining, so time to soak up the end of the spring and welcome summer, Bel and the Earth Goddess. I looked skyward yet it was still dark. A last glimpse at the numbers and...the drum kicked in with a passion that could conveyed an electricity and charging rush of adrenaline. It was as if there was an instant recognition of the moment. Nothing was too loud but everything could be heard. I continued to look upwards feeling as though at any moment my eyes would pierce through the blanket overhead and I would see the sun. Stupid I know, but the light did begin to change. I noticed the indigo and the violet edge to the clouds as the few wisps allowed a glimpse of the space and stars beyond. Looking towards my friends, I saw their features gradually being formed it seemed by the minute. The stones too began to transform growing larger and more powerful, and I became aware of bird song gradually increasing. I was determined to capture the moment for myself, building an imaginary bubble around me from which I could censor each action and sound. I shall never forget that moment.
We must have stayed there for around an hour, simply opening up the senses. The fresher was long gone. I felt so comfortable, if a little cold, that I wondered what I had been anxious about. My thoughts drifted to family, friends, work, my beloved garden and before I knew it I was sorting out a number of outstanding conundrums. The light brought with it a realisation that people were on the move. I could now see the colours of their clothes and began matching voices with faces. Some were collecting their belongings and making towards other parts of the site, but most were beginning to move towards the centre of the inner circle. Around ten figures had congregated and appeared to be preparing for some sort of discussion. We too moved closer and realised that they were in fact about to greet the day and season. Each held a rose and spoke in turn following the leadership of the main speaker. She led what I would call prayers although of no particular faith, and each spoke in soft voices, placing the rose in the centre of the circle they had created. A local tv news crew moved around at a discreet distance, and I, like many others, was content to witness a beautiful positive ceremony. As they sang their voices seemed to hang in the air. I recalled afterwards that this was probably the only time my teeth had stopped chattering as I was transfixed. As it drew to a close, I felt refreshed. And just in case you were wondering, there were no sacrifices made or catatonic trances and dances, just people being people.
We decided to head off towards the east side of the circle to sit on the embankment and watch the sun rise above the horizon. The ground was wet with the heavy dew and I remember thinking that the sensation on my feet felt as though I had been standing in glacial water. Yep they were really cold and very, very wet, but a good walk would soon get the circulation going. When we arrived at the embankment, three or four informal groups had already settled upon the same idea and were busy being busy. One man would occasionally play short melodies on a flute and others were quietly singing or humming rhythms of their own. Despite the differences the sound appeared to have been orchestrated for the moment. The concert would momentarily pause for private conversation, or the fulfilling of a solitary ritual. A few photographers had arrived to record the dawn and were eagerly extending tripods and checking the light intensity. Such a contrast to what was around them, but they were obviously contented too. I just sat and gazed out across the field, watching the crows dancing on the top of the hedgerow and the martins darting around chasing their breakfast.
I don't really know how long I watched nature at work, but just as it seemed the sun was reluctant to appear above the horizon, it opted instead for producing the most stunning silver linings before a brilliant burst of light at around 7.15. Some cheered, sang, clapped, and conversation burst into full swing. I say around 7.15 because time seemed unimportant now. A slow walk back through the village to the car was decided upon, and then with everything all bundled up in the boot we headed towards Glastonbury for a quick two-three hours doze in the car, a freshen up, dinner or should I say breakfast, before moving south to Stonehenge. We planned to split the day between the two sites, as we knew that there was a scheduled International prayer and peace meet at Stonehenge, all being well.
Steve fell asleep in the back of the car, and I fought to make conversation as Paul drove through the rain. We were both deep in thought. Thankfully the rain had held off until after the ceremony, but it poured down whilst we were catching up on the Z's in one of the municipal car parks in Glastonbury. We woke around 10.30, and were all feeling a little groggy but the shops were too enticing to miss and no doubt there would be others like us, so we spent a couple of hours just taking in the scenery. After a quick freshen up and bargain hunting, we feasted. To our surprise the local news covered the meet at Avebury, and there we were, blankets and all, for all the world to see, on national television, the subject of a news item all about the summer solstice. Rather than Nanook of the North, I looked like a bundle of bedding I thought, whilst Paul and Steve appeared as the archetypal pilgrims intently focusing on the celestial pyramid in the sky...
By the time we reached Stonehenge at around 15.15 the site was bustling with life. The sun had taken control of the day and it seemed as though the warmth had brought tourists and pilgrims from every corner of the country, some to view this ancient wonder, others to engage in the meet. We listened to the audio tour as first time visitors, and then found a quiet spot to sit and read whilst we waited for the 16.30 gathering. I had always planned to buy my own copy of 'Black Elk Speaks', having read it many years since when travelling in Canada and the US. I'd managed to find a copy in Glastonbury, and so began to read the opening chapters. The words came to life again and I allowed myself the luxury of picturing myself on the prairie, and then on the vast golden escarpments in Montana as time passed slowly on this longest day. Soon a group of about thirty people mingled and grew to about fifty as the moment approached, so I closed my book but held it fast.
Some I recognised from Avebury, carrying roses whilst others brought sounding bowls or pipes. One man led the group in the most beautiful singing you can imagine. Against the backdrop of the stones, all were focused on the purpose of the meeting. The informal ceremony lasted about twenty minutes with the people sitting in a close circle. Bemused onlookers passed by not daring to ask what was happening, probably thinking that the group were white witches or hippies...if only they had stopped to listen they'd have known and probably joined the meet. As part of the group we took a gentle walk around the perimeter of the stones to complete a full circle returning to where the meet had taken place.
People gradually drifted away, some making notes of directions on where they were going next, whilst others sat back down upon the grass and soaked in the vision before them. The stones looked almost blue to me in the sunshine, and the traffic on the road seemed miles away. I couldn't help but sigh a hefty sigh, and reflect upon my morning in Avebury, the vision of the sun rising above the stones, and their connection to where I now found myself. I resolved at that moment to return the following year if possible to mark the importance of the day, the meet, and the International calling for unity and positive change. Although my body was tired my spirit felt...as though it had taken a step forward if you know what I mean and the world looked just a little different to me. I wondered how it would look in '97. I could have sat there for hours but home beckoned and before I knew it we were on the road.
Soon it will be June 21 '97, and I have made plans to return to both Avebury and Stonehenge with Paul. Steve will be busy with other things but last years experience is one that he often savours. I think I know what he means, hence my desire to return. Who wouldn't understand once they've been part of such a celebration. Paul, like me, is excited at the thought, of a reassessment of the year and of a fresh start. Perhaps we will see people from last year's meet. The last year has at times been difficult but my experiences of that day have always been able to lift my mood. We both know this time to take roses with us to indicate a further involvement in the day, as neither of us will be unsure of what's what.
Having taken part in celebrating the summer solstice, the longest day, in a similar way to our ancestors, it is perhaps easier to grasp the significance of the stones, their location and the day itself as part of the calendar of life. Even if I still have no definitive answer, the searching for one is another reason to return.
Of course this time I also know that wearing better footwear and forgetting about the self-image helps, and that a thermos full of steaming tea will only bring an added pleasure to a magical day.
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