Death had come again in life.. life is death, death is life.. and it seems many around me kept bringing it up. Conversations had been flitting about my little sphere on the fear, the process, the use of graveyard dirt in spirit work, spirit work in general.. many things. My dreams were full of the dead.. bloated white and trapped beneath still waters grasping out for me. It wasn’t long after these dreams that I found the notes on guideposts.. very vague but seemingly important to the niggly part of my brain. What were these guideposts exactly? And written alongside – “no wisdom leaves the world”. I had not jotted the source or even any real detail, but for some reason the notes brought to mind my past pledge and a monument in that graveyard. I felt a revisit was needed.
When we pass and our bodies are laid to rest, they become one with the land.. as do all things. The rain washes over and through as it carries on and so goes the journey. We become part of all that is. “No wisdom leaves the world”.. it is why I walk in sacred places with bare feet, why I touch and whisper with the plants, why I scry in rivers and commune with the ocean, why I call upon the nature spirits.. the knowledge is there, we just have to listen. It is still within the land and still within us.
And the revisit? My fellow hedger and I trekked out there a few weekends ago. I again stopped at the gate to request passage before heading to the monument that I felt surely must be tied to these notes of guideposts. I was certain that there was some great reason for all of these things brought. I knelt and asked for direction before finding my way to several stones nestled beneath a tree. I paid for some dirt for use in later working, then I knicked some bits of tree and moss.
I was unsure of which had called, those whose bodies rested or the nature spirits they lay beneath.. or even if it mattered being so intermingled. Kneeling there with my hands thrust in the dirt while the ants fed on me I got a sense of, well.. nothing. There was just a great feeling of quiet and of needing the quiet, for whatever sense that makes. I left some of rabbit tied with red thread and an offering of whisky. I would work with the gathered bits later.