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Greetings friends,
Ah, finally I was able to put some words to
this experience. I had saved and savored the job, thinking to
do it first thing on arriving in Copenhagen. But the events of
the past week have been so overwhelming and demanding that I
couldn't find the heart. As we prepare to enter another set of
airport challenges tomorrow en route to Russia finally the energy
opened, the words flowed.
I open with a description of our experience on Tara, and then
continue to catch you up on some of the other details of our
past weeks adventures.
The earth was green, so green.
Two massive circles touching, dancing in a figure eight of infinity,
the Hill of Tara, The Heart and Soul of Ireland.
"It is the Mother Herself," we were told by a laugh
creased steward of the area, Michael Slavin. "There are
many legends, different opinions about the meaning of the name.
But I think ultimately it is the Great Mother Herself."
We heartily agreed.
We danced the 21 Praises of the Great Mother Tara there on that
green hill, with eleven dancers, a perfectly balanced mandala.
Tara Dancers came from the North where the conflict has been
most recent, from the South which is the independent Republic
of Ireland (Eire), from the West where Gaelic is still spoken
in the homes, and from the East, we had one dancer from London.
When we started our three hour drive from Belfast in the morning
it was raining and thick with dark gray clouds. I sent a prayer
heaven wards, in Irish brogue to make sure she got the picture,
"Dear Mother Tara, it's looking really heavy, the sky, and
I understand it might be difficult for you to give us a radiant
blue sky day. But would you consider just maybe making a hole
in the clouds for us. Up there. On that Green Hill?"
It was cold and windy as we made our way up. Michael, author
of the book, "The Hill of Tara" accompanied us, sharing
local lore and personal charm. A cluster of friends from Dublin,
a fellow from the only Dharma Center in Ireland and the local
farmer who had owned the hill until the Government bought if
off of him recently were present.
We chose the circle where the ancient Kings of Ireland were crowned
for our dance. Legend and history tells us that the King could
only be accepted as the True King if the ancient stone, standing
upright in that gentle circle roared. Only then would the people
know that he would protect them, and that the lands would be
blessed with fertility.
Though the circle is not very high we had a vantage point that
allowed us to see into 10 of the 15 counties of Ireland, and
to many of the sacred sites where the Goddesses of Ireland were
honored. Just down the hill a mound contained a tunnel which
was constructed to fill with natural light during pagan festival
times. Stones just inside the protecting grate showed a spiral
carved into the stone. A place where ritual had been done for
thousands of years.
As we lifted up our hands to begin the refuge prayer we were
all delighted to see blue sky above us. It was as if a gentle
hand had soothed the clouds, played them like a harp so they
got very thin and so gossamer that the blue radiated through
them. The cloud playing fingers must have been moving in a circular
motion, since it was a broad circle of opalescent blue above
us. We all became very light hearted and the dance took on a
playful element.
Because of the cold I led the dancers in the movements of the
qualities although we kept the integrity of a spiral mandala
and each dancer danced two praises. Our joy grew as we danced.
Tara #10, the Tara of Joy and Laughter had us all in stitches.
When we sent our prayers out into the world with the power of
the mantra we blessed this land in the name of She Who Embodies
Wisdom and Compassion. Fingers trembling with the delight of
the last line.....Blessed by the One who Blazes With Glory.....
we rested for a moment, merging with the infinite space around
and within us. And then we knelt. And put our palms on that sacred
Green Mother and pressed our face into Her tender love and prayed.
We had left Tucson, Arizona August 31st. It
had been 107 degree weather. We arrived in Heathrow to 45 degree
weather. Interesting contrast. We wrestled three of our five
seventy pound bags to a luggage holding service, rented a car
and drove (on the left side of the road) to Anahata's father's
house, three hours north of London.
The two day visit went well and we prepared to drive the car
back to the airport, drop it off and head for London to celebrate
Anahata's birthday. We had reserved a hotel room near Covent
Garden, the theatre district. The English video crew from the
last pilgrimage had gotten us prime tickets for one of the plays.
We were going to be Big Grrrrls in the Big City.
Our departure from the Darbyshire District was a bit late and
we decided to brave the London roads and drop the car in town,
very near our hotel.
Wrestling with the map we ended up taking what we thought to
be the wrong turn but what ended up saving us from a terrible
road construction scene and driving through the London neighborhood
where Anahata was born. Kentish Town. On her birthday. Which
was also Full Moon. Wow.
With the help of a group of card playing cabbies on a side street
near Regents Park we got the directions to get us very near our
goal. And then another cabby guided us to the car depot, swept
our luggage into his cab and delivered us to the hotel. The Raddison
Edwardian Marlebourough. Ahem. The room was tiny but lovely.
We walked to the theatre and watch "My Fair Lady" and
it was fantastic.
We thoroughly enjoyed our time in London. We had dinner in the
Soho district with The Boyz (two of the video crew), Anthony's
lovely wife and Poonam, the Film Director who had sweet talked
us into letting them come with us on the pilgrimage.
Early the next morning we grabbed the paper as we hastened to
the airport to bring the Tara Dance to Belfast. The headlines
were shouting with the recent disturbances in Ireland. The Protestants
and the Catholics, lined up on opposite sides of the street and
as Catholic children were walked to their first day of school,
they were jeered, spit at, stones thrown. It was certainly a
demonstration of the lowest form of human behavior. There was
one death reported. At the airport counter the agent heard our
story of Dancing for Peace and took all of our luggage, no charge.
"Please bring some of that peace of yours to that area",
he said with grim determination.
We were met at Belfast International by our dear friend Marion
Bellow and a burly fellow Andrew who had driven a BIG car the
hours distance to pick us and the luggage up. He was from the
Steiner Community where we were holding the workshop and dance.
Marion gave us her bedroom and the run of her lovely cottage.
Our room faced the Loch, a narrow finger of water that led to
the sea. It was beautiful and cosy. The weather was wet and blustery.
We went to visit the Steiner Community just around the corner
from us and based on 90 acres of prime land bordering the loch.
They practice all the Steiner methods of agriculture as well
as maintain a residence/school for differently-abled children
and adults. They were to be our main audience.
The hall was large and boasted a professional stage with modern
stage lighting. The women gathered and faced the challenges of
learning the complexities of the dance. From the first meeting
on Friday the situation around the corner and down the way from
us was never forgotten. People were facing each other cultivating
ancient hatreds and traumatizing another generation of Irish
children. Several of our dancers broke down in tears during the
course of the weekend, describing with horror growing up in a
war zone where bombs were common and people died for no reason
other than ignorance and hatred.
The Offering Sunday night was magnificent. We danced on stage,
a dear man who was suffering from Multiple Sclerosis ran the
lights. The Steiner community members participated with assorted
yodels and comments throughout the dance, showing their delighted
approval. Marion's mother whose 75th birthday we had just celebrated
got up and did the Dances of Universal Peace with her husband
and other members of Marion's family. Two big circles of Love.
Shalom we sang. I come in Peace, I go in Peace. Kyrie Eleyson.
Lord have mercy. And then, the benediction .... White Tara. We
relentlessly demanded that the power of our offering bring peace
to the area.
And the next morning we heard that the streets were quiet and
the children went to school unharrassed.
Savoring that blessing we drove to the Hill of Tara and returned
Monday night exhausted. Tuesday was rest day in preparation for
Wednesday's flight. I had a Thai massage and was just returning
from the land of extreme openness, comfort and healing when I
heard the news. And we turned on the TV. And the world was changed
forever. It wasn't just rocks and spit. Hatred had now destroyed
airplanes and buildings and thousands of lives. We were prostrate
with grief.
The next morning airport security was horrendous. Hours waiting
in line for every bit of hand luggage to be meticulously gone
through. But the British Midlands attendant at the counter accepted
our bags with grace and no extra charge. I felt like a walking
wound. One security guard, marshalling the hand luggage through
the x-ray machine asked me where I was from. America, I said.
"Oh you poor dear", she exclaimed, "I am so so
sorry," bringing me to tears.
Anahata was on the side having her guitar examined. As we assembled
our bits to continue on, the same security woman came over to
me and gave me a hug and told me that her prayers were with us
and the American people. We could barely see our eyes misted
with the realization of how dear people could be.
It took hours for the plane to leave. And then once in Heathrow,
changing to SAS we were forced to gather our big cases and walk
from Terminal One to Terminal Three. Almost a mile of winding
halls. There were no porters. Luggage could not be checked all
the way through, it had to be unloaded at every disembarkment.
There were teeming people everywhere. Americans not able to get
home. All Flights delayed. And yet there was a spirit of resigned
acceptance. No real irritation displayed. Gentleness, good manners,
grace. The world was pulling together. At least that corner that
we happened to find ourselves in. SAS managed to find us a seat
on the next plane to Copenhagen. No extra luggage charge. We
were only four hours late. Dear Kate whisked us home to her little
house in the country side outside Copenhagen. We have had time
to rest. We are ready for the next round.
Prema and Anahata
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