GORDON STRONG

Writer - Speaker - Magician

WORLDWIDE MYSTICAL SITES

The Painted Hills

Eastern Oregon

 

The Painted Hills lie between Prineville and Mitchell - two towns, that were once havens of the Old West.  Dating from thirty million years ago, this area is one of the trio of sites in the John Day Fossil Beds.  Only visual images can hope to relay the grandeur and beauty of the landscape. 

 

At dawn, we are alone, ensuring that the awesome silence of the place is enhanced.  The great age of the land ensures that its purity remains, and with it the heart of the Native American.  The spirit of the eagle is so strong here as to make the traveller fall to the ground, there to let his soul be taken into the endless sky and beyond. 

 

From a rock face the image of the head of a cougar stares down, the guardian of the majestic, timeless Painted Hills. The symbol of leadership and power, this reclusive spirit stands, with the black bear and the grey wolf, aloof, independent and eternal. 

 

Earth Energies of Oregon

 

 

 

The landscape of the Pacific North West is spectacular to observe and contains within it powerful elemental forces.  These phenomena are particularly active at the Winter and Summer solstices.

              

              

                                                'Haystack Rock at Lowtide'

 

At Cannon Beach a group of rocks stands near the shore.  Accessible at low tide, these stone pinnacles resemble a giant version of the stones at Stanton Drew in England.  Haystack Rock, the largest of them and has a benign presence.  Meditating near it can produce sensations of a physical shift.  Earth and water meld, neither one dominating the other.

            

 

 

 

 

 

                                      SIlVER FALLS

                 

 

Silver Falls State Park contains ten separate waterfalls.  The most impressive, fed by Silver Creek, is South Falls.  In 2008, swollen by a snow thaw, a wall of water plunged into the mist-filled canyon below.

The sight was unforgettable.  The water jostled along the banks in great sepia waves, then, like a great creature unleashed, it whirled and twisted until finally tumbling headlong into the abyss.  Its action resembled the Fool as he rushes without a care into another dimension.

      

        

                         All Pictures Courtesy of Shama

             

Chartres Cathedral

 

The old town is as evocative and as charmant as any of Vielle France but it is the Cathedral that is Chartres.  Massive, towering over all below yet somehow as light as a fading dream - that is Chartres.

 

The darkness that greets the visitor who enters through the West Door is almost tangible.  It is made so by memory. For over a thousand years, this place has been sacred. The well in the crypt is deep, as if connected with secrets hidden in the Earth. They are guarded by the Past.

 

Mass is celebrated, probably with the same well-ordered ritual that a devout peasant might have seen in the Middle Ages. The light illuminates the chalice, gleaming in the cupped hands of the priest. If there was no magic an instant before, now it is impossible to deny.

 

Notre Dame de Piler, the Sacred Veil, the Black Madonna, all are in majesty here. It is as if the Goddess knows the power she owns and is content to bless all with it.  To kneel before her is to be wrapped in the holiest of robes, protected from all hurt unto eternity.

 

As the wanderers circle the nave, all manner of form and every hue imaginable are there in the great windows above.  To walk this ground  is be bathed in glory - a privilege indeed.

 

To follow the Labyrinth is to play a part in an allegory of life.  Children scamper, the old march slowly. Faces stir recollections, ancient passes modern in a divine rhythm. Time becomes a presence that may be recalled only if it is so wished.  The journey continues until it ends, then begins again.

 

All the world is here, as if a splash of clear water in a pilgrim’s shell. This is Chartres, the kingdom where devotion does not cease.

 

 

~o00o~

Carnac

Brittany has an air of mysterious calm, the landscape seeming as if it ought to play host to some incredible manifestation.  The traveller and the pilgrim are not to be disappointed.

 

Les alignements, beginning with Le Menec, are impressive, not just for the extent of the site with its endless rows of menhirs, but for the individual presence of the stones themselves. The area known as Kermario plays host to a group of lively characters, imposing yet protective.  When lit by a full moon they are giants, just as alive as those who stand in awe before them.

 

Quadrangles not circles abound.  The stone rows at Le Manio perhaps mark the extent of a once great tumulus. Guarded by Le Geant, this monolith has watched over its stony brothers for many millennia.  Le Quadrilair du Knonen is a temple where all nature worships beneath the skies.  It invites meditation like many of these sacred sites and is a place where animals and birds shadow unseen spirits.

 

Le Moustoir was undoubtedly the most sublime of all the tumuli we saw. Welcomed by a great golden hound that echoed the colour of the stone slabs within, we loved this warm and womb-like place.

 

The tumulus of Saint Michel is crowned by a chapel. More pleasing was the fountain some distance away where the waters gently flow and the only sound is bird song. Carnac is truly a monument to the wisdom of the ancestors.