Do crows have accents?
That may seem like a poor attempt at humor, but hear me out. The crows in Ireland seem to sound different than the ones you find in the Great White North.
In Ireland, their voices are softer, higher pitched. In Canada, they are harsh, loud, and seem to be accusing us of forgetting. Unlike Ireland, rich in history, mythology, and all the stories that go along with it, I find that we have cast aside the past in favor of progress.
Are they screaming? Using their harsh tone in an attempt to remind us? Begging us to reconnect with the land and all who came before?
Airmid's Cairn
Bones of the Ancients
lie undisturbed
within the heart
of Airmid's Cairn
Corvids
Corvids take to the sky
surveying the landscape
as only they can
with generations of understanding
Stone walls
cascading down rolling hills of green
Cottages
changing hands
through the generations
Crumbling ruins
still withstanding
the test of time
The trees
whispering stories
hidden language
Corvids return to their home
to ponder the world
as only they can
through the eyes of ancients
Quiet reminder
A small smudge
the brightest green
a souvenir
from Heapstown Cairn
My manifestation quartz pendant, charging among the moss at Heapstown Cairn.
Heapstown Cairn
Very much alive
untouched
laying in slumber
Energy builds
to be experienced
by those who
do not visit
with the intent to take
but rather
to share
in a moment
The Other Crowd are strong at Heapstown. They're all around you, luring you into all the little nooks and crannies.
Time seems to have no meaning. What feels like just a few moments is actually 30 minutes. What feels like 30 minutes is over an hour. What seems like an hour is closer to three. Everyone seems to have the same reaction. They feel themselves fading into the Otherworld and go willingly. There isn't any amount of time that is long enough and when we finally accept that it is indeed time to leave, we do so very slowly, pausing every few steps to take it all in.
I was pulled into a small grove, bathed in green. I stood there, dumbstruck. Uncertain what to say, I broke the rules.
"Thank you."
I regretted it as soon as the words left my lips. That is the number one thing you NEVER say to the Good Neighbors. To thank them indicates an acknowledgement of debt and if there is one thing you do not want, it is to be indebted to them.
I searched in vain for something to say, some way to make it right. I removed a piece of Labradorie from my pocket, placing it on a branch. The intent was to photograph it in this beautiful setting. The moss would be a gorgeous backdrop.
It remained there for only a second before tumbling to the ground. this unintended gift, lost to me forever, but hopefully well-received.
IN ORDER FOR AN OFFERING TO HAVE VALUE,
IT MUST BE A SACRIFICE.