This sacred region in Wales where I live has been im-pressed by the imprint of man and beast for many thousands of years and has been touched by the hand of God for even longer.
Soon after I moved to this area of mountains and water seven years ago, accompanied by my husband and a small menagerie, I was told that it was part of our mission to embed our energy in certain places around us, and so for 100 nights, every night, come rain or come shine we put on our coats and went outside to walk the land. Sometimes it was an effort to leave a warm fire after a long day, but the ritual we created by doing this was, we knew important.
The path we took was always the same, and we always had companions with us, some of them physically apparent like badgers, otters, owls and bats as well as our own cats, but the ghosts of pilgrims who had trodden the same path on their way to worship were with us also, for this has been a centre of mysticism for ever, sometimes actively when the Temple of Light stood tall or when the Druids had a stronghold, sometimes dormantly when shadows covered the land.
As we paced silently and repetitively night after night our energies became merged with these venerable ghosts and with the elements all around, and the work eventually was done. I still walk the route from time to time and am amused to meet myself when I do while remembering how ordinary but how extra-ordinary those 100 nights were.
I have a sense we were sowing seeds for a future far ahead in what we did, and I have not sought answers as to why we were asked to do what we did, for it does not matter. If we look, really look, at any place in nature anywhere in the world we can see the shades of countless countrymen who loved it, of animals and birds from species now extinct, and can feel the infinite essence of Spirit in all that is. Nothing ever dies.