This is the tenth post in the 30 days to Druidry series.
I’m a manifest theist, a pantheist and half an animist.
The key bit of that is “animist”. I believe non-human entities can have/be souls/spirits.
Spirits of the Land
Plants can be affected by our thoughts. Our consciousness can affect them. I view this as connecting to THEIR consciousness. Connecting to their part of the big energy field Deity and the world is.
Okay, so essentially I am Pocahontas, believing that trees and rivers have a sense of spirit in their particles.
The spirits of the land is a little different to this; suggesting that specific areas of land have spirits which guide and protect and hang around there.
Have you ever gone somewhere to feel really at home? To feel a chill that isn’t there?
Places have vibes and I’m attracted to those which have a welcoming feeling. This is quite often spaces like Churches; where energy is often invoked [and of course it’s possible they’re placed on old religious grounds too].
Spirits of the Place
I went to a secondary school which used to be an Empresses’ house. I stayed after-school in the library with maybe 30 others to do homework, and sometimes, would need to walk back to the classroom to grab a book (or to stretch my legs as the sisters hated movement of any kind).
Walking through the dark corridors past the haunted tapestry and those paintings with eyes that followed you, I’d walk to the other end of the school – through the refectory, down the corridor past the music room, past the chapel entrance and the tuck shop, past the locker-room and up the winding stairs which still have the marks where the empresses’ heavy wrist-jewellery knocked the wood so much it left indents. I’d run up the stairs two at a time, past the languages office and the other classrooms to my own. In first year, my books where kept in my desk, under the fold-up lid: seriously old-school for a desk in 2002.
And then I’d run back, afraid of the dark, of the paintings eyes and of the creaking floorboards. I’d usually run the other way in case some spirit had followed me – I didn’t want to run head first into them.
So I’d run down to the maths block and then slide down the metal banisters [I miss my school skirts for this reason; they were very easy to slide on] of the stair well by the science block. Running down to the main hall where we had assemblies I’d begin to walk because the room echoed so loudly and if you’re scared in the dark, you don’t want to hear echoed footsteps behind you. But as I re-passed the chapel; now facing the doors themselves I’d stop and feel okay again. I remember standing the choir’s area at the top/back of the chapel and feeling something there. Something real.
To get there, you had to go up about 150 stone steps on a conical staircase – each step less than the length of my foot. But at the top; there was a locked door. And I could always feel something behind it.
And again, in my final years, I would hide down the bottom of the Maths block – the handrails were metal, the steps were stone or cement of something – and there was a door with a NO ENTRY sign on it; and a tiny window. No-one went down that far as it was a dead-end. And I would sit, afraid of how dark it was, but needing space to sit and write.
After two years of spending most of my breaks and lunch-times there, I found comfort in that space. I found peace and darkness; where I could meld into the shadows and just be free of people, of chatter and of expectation.
Minus that one time my Math’s teacher found me and thought I was doing drugs because, why else would a teenager hide at school. INFJ lady, INFJ.
Land Meets Place
If you spend a lot of time in a space, you come to feel those vibes yourself; you can come to know the spirits of that land. And spaces that once felt fearful can cradle you in safety.
The spirits of the land are still unknown to me; but I’ve my spirits of place and they’re the first step towards knowing the world, in all its energy.