Dark Heart - Chapter Six

   A few days later my life changed dramatically. I had the chance to go abroad, to Lapland, which was great, as the day before I had secretly asked, in jest, if I could somehow have snow, I love the snow, anyway to say my life after that was a whirlwind is an understatement.  
  Things happened so fast it was just wonderful. Does this make religious? I don’t think so. It made me more aware, and I keep learning new stuff almost on a daily basis. Being spiritual to me, means being in tune with what-ever it is we don’t understand about in this universe. But I’m learning. I’m not stagnant. Are you?”
   Kia looked up into Jacks face.
   “I think I’ve seen soul once.” She expected him to laugh, or give her a funny look, but he did neither.
   “I had a pet once. It got very ill, on the way to the vets, it started to have like a little fit, it really upset me, but it kicked again and just lay there. I knew it had died, but at the same time there was a sudden shock-wave of bright white and yellow light. A shock-wave coming out of this little body, there was no sound. It lasted less than an instant. It came out of the animal, and it was so beautiful. Which is certainly not what I was expecting, and I was really upset.”
Jack thought about telling Kia that he’d had an experience with a bubble of yellow light, and an immense feeling of love that had enveloped him, but decided to say nothing. This was Kia’s story, and he didn’t hold the talking stick. You shouldn’t jump on the band-wagon and give a better tale. Or add to one, not unless it’s your story to begin with. This was her time to speak. He closed his eyes, and took a look at her memory.
   “It is beautiful.” Jack suddenly said.
   Kia looked at him with puzzlement.
   “Have you had the same thing happen to you?”
   “No. I can see it because you have seen it. It was wonderful Kia. I think although you had a loss, you were also very privileged to have been shown that. The old Britons would have loved that. They believed in some really cool stuff. They would have talked about that, a bit like the Norse-men would have told that story round a fire, and given that story a soul.”
   “It was weird.”
   “I love that word, Wyrd. Look that up too. That’s interesting, the Anglo-Saxon aspect of life.
   "They thought our possible destiny. Connecting us to everything by threads, our thoughts, feelings, the cosmos, like a giant spider web, all our healing, creativity, love. (Celts) knew that too of course.”
   “So what can the Anglo-Saxons teach us?”
   “They can teach you a lot. Maybe you should use your brain!” Jack looked at Kia, he wasn’t sure where to start, there was so much that they had given us, but like everything else on this island, it blended in to other things. A lot of place names were Anglo-Saxon, Jack wasn’t sure he liked that, as some of the old names had then been lost to time.
   “It’s part of our heritage. They were very similar to the Celts, like a lot of people around at that time, long story... They too thought things like birds were used to take messages to and from the Gods. So did the Greeks of course. Odin had two on his shoulders, thought and memory. The meat-eating birds such as the raven were harbingers of death, well that makes sense. They would have cleared up after the battles all round the globe. They read the way they flew, called, lots of other stuff. The raven and the dove represented each side of the moon. The magpie, one of my favourites, was also a messenger bird. Look at its behaviour, it’s a valued thief. It likes to steal, so has stealth. People took cunning from that bird, it taught them. He’s a bit prone to spontaneous robbery, but birds have been important to most ancient practices since time began. They could also do something very special that we could not. They could fly.

   Animals and birds were studied, and copied. We used their tracks to track our own food. We adopted their skins to smell like them, so we could hunt them, but also to become them.
   Animals are magical.
   The Anglo-Saxons recognised the cosmic order of conflict. Order and chaos... Which is Wyrd? We are only just beginning to understand that again now, our eternal struggle with chaos. There are Lots of different types of magic.
   Odin’s is a cosmic religion. They believed in nine worlds. It’s kind of like having nine different realities, and dimensions. Now this is interesting from a scientific prospective. Talk to a cosmologist, and see what he’d say, or she, about the way the cosmos is structured. It would be an interesting conversation. Again it’s like they knew something were only just realising.
   Weather was important too. The Celts saw rain on a battle-day as a bad omen. That makes sense, plus the fact that they would slip in the mud, and who likes the rain anyway? The sky had its own omens, but I don’t suppose the Romans were too bothered, some of their war equipment wouldn’t have worked well in the rain either. That big catapult thing, erg... can’t think of its name.”
   “Erg... trebuchet?”
   “No that’s the French thing. They have a working one at Warwick castle. That’s really cool to watch that thing go off. Took my daughter to see it a few years back, got some cracking photos. It was really well explained. The Earl came out and told us about the poor bastards walking inside the thing, and if you looked at the blades, they got sick. Yuck! I wouldn’t have wanted that job. It wasn’t the ballista either, I’m sorry just can’t think of its name”.
   “Anyway, the weather is telling us something now.” Said Kia, as both she and Jack looked up into the sky.
   It was steel-grey. That wonderful storm coloured sky, when the light is just perfect to make all the trees and grass become so much greener. Jack loved it. There nature came alive, just before a storm. Needless to say It looked like heaven was about to open, all nine of them.
   “Shall we make a run for it?”
   “Erg, yeah I think so.”
  They ran, or rather jogged, and by the time they reached the car, wonderful cool little drops of rain were making little dark patches on their cloths.
If you think about it, the rain that falls on us is millions of years old. The air that we breathe is the same.
   Jack loved thinking about that sort of thing. He loved storms, especially at night when all its glory could be seen. Thunder and lightning was his favourite it was so full of power. The power of the rain was about to be unleashed, on them.
   Taranis streaked across the sky. Zeus the same power had been called by the Greeks, the big guy with the lightning bolt.
   Now Taranis’s followers had a habit of sacrificing by burning. Not a pleasant way to go, by any stretch of the imagination. Wicca-men spring to mind. He was loved by the Druids, lightning having a strong connection of hitting Oak trees, and of course, the Druids and Celts, loved trees, especially the wise old Oak, and the mystical mistletoe. His symbol was an eight spoke wheel with a lightning bolt either side.
   The Oak was sacred. It bestowed spiritual strength, stability, that sort of thing. It was strong. Anglo-Saxons used acorns to feed their pigs, so the trees provided food too. They had heavy fines if someone damaged or injured a tree. Cows enjoyed the early spring twigs. American Indians liked Oak too. They used the bark to tan leather, and apparently it was used to help with haemorrhoids too! Drink up!

   Male oak flowers hang from the branches, and the lovely catkins tickle the hand, while the female flowers are inconspicuous..... Find out if I’m right.
   Old wives, I wonder where that expression came from, possibly because old means wise, or supposed to, anyway, old wives said that amulets of oak heal and protect, and increase sexual potency. Aaaaahh, so that’s why the Druids liked the tree so much. That makes the connection to oak and mistletoe. This was seen as the seamen of the Gods. If you buy some at Christmas time, and squeeze a berry onto another tree, you will see why. You will also be transporting the seed to that tree, it may take ten years, but you might get some taking plant.  
   When you squeeze, you will understand what I mean.
   Jack had started the engine and began driving Kia back home.
   The little drops of water were now crashing against the car, turning quickly into a downpour.
   The water chased each other in a watery race along the windows. It was wonderful, exciting game water liked to play. Kids love watching the rain too, and of course splashing in the puddles. Forget Sulis, (Celtic Sul), Dylon, (not to be mistaken with the cloths dye stuff,) would have been proud. The God of the sea has a symbol of a seal. The same colour of the sky just before a storm. All water is playful.
   Jack parked the car outside Kia and Marys’ house.
   “Have you ever heard of Middle-earth?” Jack asked Kia, as he turned off the car engine.
   “Yeah of course, the books about the hobb.....”
   “Middle earth is Europe. It’s real. There are three worlds. Celts believed in the earth, sea and sky. There is the underworld, meaning our world and the heavens are the past, present and future. Celts loved the number three. The triple Goddess was three. Druids had a triangle as one of their symbols, or identification should I say. Anglo-Saxons loved nine, think of the cosmos.
   That’s your homework, to discover why.”
   Kia picked up her things and opened the car door, the rain splattered onto her cloths again, which she ignored.
   “When will I see you again?” She asked.
   “Tomorrow you have an intensive course.” He laughed knowing she had a lot of ground to cover. You have lots of information to seek out.
   Kia didn’t quite understand, but was beginning to realise that some things are best left unsaid.
   Mary opened the front door. She had been anxious and waiting for Kia for some time now. 
   She thought that mans’ trouble, but was a little unsure how to approach the subject. She didn’t want to worry Kia, so she kept her mouth shut. If she said something, that might make Kia want to see him even more, and she didn’t want that! What Kia saw in him was a mystery to her, he was so ordinary. Mary was completely unaware that Kia was looking inside, whilst she was only seeing skin-deep. Not that she was normally a shallow person, far from it. She worked hard at the church as she had done for years. She really was a lovely women, It was just she didn’t soul-feed much, so she couldn’t see what Kia could. She had eyes, but did not see.

   The nine worlds turned slowly and silently in perfect unison. Each had its own gravity, each its own position. Some made of ice and gas, others of fire. All were unique.
   The Gods and Goddess’s looked down from the upper world, and in the middle was middle-earth, reached to by Bifrost, but it was in the lower earth that something called HIS attention. Here lurked the dead, the dark elves, and of course Nidhog. Not to be confused with the great serpent, Nidhog was a dragon. All these lands were enchanted and Jack wished to know something. He knew what course to take. He would trust truth. Use the trees.
   That is why runes were cut from wood. That was what Jack was doing now, carving his runes. He had direr need of protection, in order to speak to a dragon......The primeval force.
   Kia had something completely different to do. Jack had given her a piece of paper, and written on it was a meditation, so she pulled this out of her bag and read...
   “This is quite easy. You just have to remember to feel everything...try to picture it. Use you imagination, so... She could almost hear his speech...
  It’s night. Gaze upwards. The sky is a dark midnight blue and there is a hint of clouds. The stars give off tiny silver lights, they flicker and shimmer, twinkle like little diamonds. They are looking down on you from millions of years ago. The moon is full, silent, majestic. Feel and see the silvery-blue lines of light, and bathe yourself in this moonshine. (That’s not to be confused with the American drink as I really don’t recommend you bathe in that, think of what would happen if you lit a cigarette; Woooosshhhh!) Not good. You would like one of Nero’s   Christian torches he had in his garden.
   OK, getting back to the point. Feel the gentle breeze on your face. Your feet are bare, so feel the grass beneath your feet, scrunch you toes up, squeeze the grass under you feet, feel the coldness of it, the tickle it makes. You lean against a tree, feel the bark beneath you hands, push you fingers into the bark, and caress the tree, run your fingers over the contours, know the tree is alive, It breaths just like you. It has strength and you can tell this as you lean against it, you can not push it down. The roots reach far below the earth’s surface, you can’t see them but you know they are there, feeding off the land.
   You hear a sound. Someone is approaching. This is a friend, you have no fear, and this person is here to help you, to teach you, or to keep you safe. You and your friend, both stand under the tree.
   Now just let you mind wander.
   Now, re-read this bit again. This will help you to remember what it is I want you to meditate on.”

   The trees had helped to map Jacks route. They were like markers, natural things in the landscape that could point the way. Jack knew a lot of the old paths no longer used nut still prominent in the countryside. These were the old trade ways.
   The dragon, the power of knowledge, was land-bound, not a drake, he couldn’t fly. This is the form it had chosen for its oncoming battle with Jack. Jack liked dragons. This one slithered across the earth like a worm. It protected its mound with poisonous venom and with fangs as Sharpe as the Bears claw, or a trained warriors sword. It guarded the treasure Jack wanted, and had done its job well for an age, an aeon.
   Now was the time. Jack was ready to battle the beast. He wanted the knowledge, the treasure the dragon guarded with absolute power...

I had no comfort, no spells
I cut runes, and bleed into them
Chanted my words of power
Into the wood of protection
I made my pledge
I sought the hidden knowledge,
That still hung from the tree.

The land was barren
No breeze to lift my spirits
I climbed the enchanted mound
And lo, beyond the forest the fire-breather dwelt,
I ran to the awaiting inferno,
Knowing my fate was webbed.

There within the circle of lofty trees, he lay,
Silent, still, eyes closed
But awake he was and menacing
Yet still the beast lay
Laughing invisible to mortals,
The expected attack crept closer

With Spear-slayer in hand, I went forward
Stealth, silent as the dead
I was met by a fiery doom
The flames took flight
Scorching the very air

Huge flames struck Spear-slayer,
In torrents of pain I leaped
The dragon quick of body and mind,
Swiped and tripped me.

I lay, the beast towered above me.
To death I would creep
In agony
Too easy the fight, a morsel I was.
No death honour granted to me.
But honour I had. The battle not yet won.
I drew out a rune stick,
Its power surged through my body,
Like lightning
It scorched the foe. Entered its flesh,
The fire-breather now consumed by fire,
Its inners boiled, it screamed in defiance.
The earth felt its anger, the hills shock with its cries.

I shouted the runes.
Spear-slayer, broken, thrust up and through,
Its aim painfully true,
Pierced the enemies throat, blood gushed.
But die the beast did not.
This slippery worm wounded, struck fast,
Fangs gripping my thigh
Its poison sank deep.

The memory of my life leaked out.
My cause, but a far distant thought, already fading
I tore the second rune from my bag,
And in a terrible voice I screamed the name.
His teeth of steel came squelching from my leg.
The beast slithered away.

Both friend and foe were wounded.
The battle undecided
Both to fight again
The triumph still to come
But to whom would victory belong?

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