After work bimble through the woods

 My work is constantly stressing me out, and thusly I am always grateful for the ability to just hitch the bus afterwards and just disappear into the thicket. The woods keep me sane, even if a passers- by would maybe not exactly agree;-). I just took my pack, and, taking off the shirt and the tie, taking off my shoes to feel the earth, I ventured into a valley that has a rare quality: It is a deep crevice in the ground, crossed by few hiking paths, and silent and solitary. Seldom do I meet Humans there, and if this is the case, those few are of a better quality. It is a realm where the fairy tales still thrive and prosper apart from the mayhem that is our so - called everyday life.

 The woods are full of roe and sika deer, wild rams, wild pigs, owls, buzzards, of hare and fox and predators. Their tracks are everywhere, and I tread carefully and respectfully when I cross them.

 Those are the halls most beloved to my heart, better than a king´s palace are the pillars of the trees, vibrant with bird songs and the breeze in the soft treetops.

 Over wood and stone and yonder hill I tread and listen to the maagical song of the water.

 Got resin? I took some home for concoctions, for treating wood and illness alike.

 Across the runes written by the tracks of deer and ram, of hare and fox, that tell wild and wayward stories of the hunt and the feast.

 The sun was shining, and in the distance I heard some rustling noises, and, carefully not to make too much noise myself, I threaded along the creek.

Under those green, green leaves I walked, breathing the balsamic air.

 Everywhere where the unmistakable signs of wildlife.

 Everywhere there were the sounds of a life alien  to modern man, a life that is great enough for me to be a part of, a thread in a web weaved by  a gentle hand that needs no names and no agnition, but mere existence.

 Into the hazel grove I went...

 ...drew out a circle, and had a cuppa woods;-).

 Yummy...

 All too soon the hours had passed.

 Across paths seldom trodden that felt like I trod the stairs of time I went back into the world.

And at the frontier... where the veil is thinner...


colour.

Following the fox-a spiritual bimble to the Hünenpforte (giant´s gate)

 I was feeling a bit queasy*ggg* all day and thought of foxes.... erm, WE thought of foxes all the time*ggg*.

 So I remembered the local legend of the "giant´s gate" (Hünenpforte):


"Ein armer Wanderer war vom Rheine hergekommen und wollte nach Limburg an der Lenne. Ein Stündchen hinter Schwelm, nicht weit von Voerde. fragte er nach dem nächsten Wege. Der Gefragte war ein Zwerg und gab zur Antwort:„Der kürzeste Weg geht durch den Berg. Hier ist der Eingang. Doch damit du nicht irregehst, so nimm diesen Fuchs mit dir! Du brauchst dich nur an seinem Schwanze festzuhalten, so bringt er dich sicher ans Ziel." Unser Wandersmann befolgte den Rat und kam in die Klutert, eine Höhle mit vielen Gängen, die sich stundenweit ins Gebirge erstreckt.
Nicht immer konnte er aufrecht gehen; manchmal musste er auf allen Vieren kriechen; immer hielt er jedoch den Fuchsschwanz fest. So sah er endlich den Ausgang schimmern. Da hörte er plötzlich ein sonderbares Geräusch. Vorsichtig streckte er seinen Kopf heraus. Wie erschrak er, als er dicht vor sich auf dem Rasen einen gewaltigen Riesen sah, der sich im Schlafe geschüttelt hatte!
Rasch versteckte er sich in den Felsspalten der Höhle. doch so, dass er den Riesen immer im Auge behielt. Der erwachte mit großem Geschnarche, richtete sich auf er war wohl sieben Ellen hoch - reckte sich und stöhnte, dass die Felsen widerhallten. Dann schritt er zur nahen Quelle, füllte sein mächtiges Horn und nahm seinen Mittagstrunk. Endlich aber wendete er die Nase nach allen vier Winden. „Es muss ein Mensch in der Nähe sein“, sprach er bei sich, doch so, dass der arme Wicht in der Höhle jedes Wort verstehen konnte.„ „Wie gut sollte er mir schmecken, wenn ich ihn nur hätte! Hungrig bin ich ja noch; die drei Häschen, die ich heute erst gespeist, haben mich noch nicht satt gemacht!“ Er fing an zu fluchen und stöberte zwischen allen Felsen umher; nur dachte nicht daran, in die Höhle zu blicken. Denn dass der Mensch da zu finden sein könne, fiel ihm nicht ein. So entging ihm die Beute. Er wusste sich endlich vor Zorn und Wut nicht mehr zu fassen, riss Bäume aus mit ihren Wurzeln und wälzte sie den Berg hinab; auch mächtige Steinblöcke riss er los und schleuderte sie ins Tal. Bis dahin hatte der arme Hans immer noch seinen Fuchs festgehalten. Als er aber das grässliche Getöse vernahm, erschrak er so, dass er den Fuchsschwanz fahren ließ. Der Fuchs ließ sich`s nicht zweimal sagen, dass er nun frei sein sollte. Voller Freude sprang er aus der Höhle heraus und an dem Riesen vorbei in den Wald. Der Riese lief mit großen Schritten hinter ihm her und erhob sein Jagdgebrüll, das wie Donner rollte. Aber es ward immer schwächer, je mehr sich der Riese von der Höhle entfernte, und unserem Reisenden kam die alte Munterkeit wieder. Er eilte aus seinem Versteck hervor und lief spornstreichs hinunter nach Limburg, das vor ihm im Sonnenstrahl erglänzte. Aber es dauerte noch einige Zeit, bis er sein fröhliches Lied wieder anstimmen konnte. Seit der Zeit wird die Öffnung der Höhle, vor der der Wandersmann den Riesen getroffen hat, das Hünentor genannt." From:http://kudg-holthausen.de/holthausen/interessantes/huenenpforte/sage-huenenpforte.htm


I translate:


"Once upon a time, a poor wanderer, coming from Rheine, wanted to get to Limburg at the Lenne. One hour of travel after Schwelm he met a dwarf in Voerde and asked him of the direction. He replied: The shortest passage is the one through the mountain. Here is the entrance. And unto you should not go amiss, I give this fox to you. he knows well where to go. Cling to his tail, and he will guide you." The wanderer took the advice and came into the Klutert cave, which is a  widespread tunnel system reaching for hours deep into the mountains, and always did he cling to the fox´s tail, until he saw daylight. But how frightened was he when he learned that near the entrance slept a giant, well over ten feet high! With a mighty roar he awoke, shuffled over to the nearby well and filled his giant drinking horn and took his lunchtime drink. Finally he sniffed along the four winds and muttered: "There must be a human  around!How well must he taste, for I have but eaten three little hares today, and they could not satisfy me!" He started to curse under his breath and rummaged around the cave, between the rocks, and by the well, but that the wanderer was in hiding in the cave, he could not think of. So he could not find the poor wanderer, who sat there in hiding, utterly frightened, and he was getting more and more furious.And the wanderer cowered ever lower in his hiding, until he let go of the fox´s tail. The fox ran away, and passed the giant. And the giant let go his hunting roar and pursued the animal, and ever farther away from the cave the fox led him. The wanderer, however, escaped and finally arrived at Limburg, but it was a long time until he found his blissful song again."

 The weather was being fine, and the woods were murky... a very special atmosphere lingers around the place, and I took it in in deep breaths. The saga is old. Could it be that the dwarf and the fox might act as psychopomps? Is there a Shamanic background? The Klutert cave has never had a connection to the Hünenpforte geologically. So why has the saga been told that way? Is it a case of simple analogy? Who is this giant? Local legends often have an older saga as  a predecessor, and you can rely on dwarfs, giants, animals, white women and other figures and personae relating back to pagan times. The older versions were corrupted for several reasons:

-folkloristic trading often leads to many things getting lost in the process
-Christian monasterical recording in most cases corrupted local legends by purpose
-Adaptation of graver topics as child-adequate in the enlightment movement
-Romanticism often went to grave libetries with the subject

If you know how it was being made, you get a grammar as to how the subject might have been changed.

 The path is narrow, though, and truth is hard to find;-) and the trail was narrow and difficult indeed, with a good deal of climbing involved.

 Raspberries were blossoming.

 Evergreen covered the ground, thick as a matress. There was this contrast of light and murk everywhere. I passed by the ruins of an ancient tower. 

 Submerged deep in the green, there lies the arch of the giant´s gateway, all but undisturbed by the roaring traffic on the highway below.

 Into the darkness I ventured, deep into the stronghold of the earth.

 At the entrance, at the side with the well, there was this "rock formation";-). Below it someone had heaped roses and wildflowers, draped systematically. There, I offered my respect to the place and the force of the land, and to the Earth mother, and I sat down and meditated.

 It was happening when I was deep in meditation when a pointed nose and two pointed ears, clad in red fur looked around the corner. In broad daylight, a fox came by the place. It was so unreal, I was asking myself if I was dreaming. Of course, I fumbled my camera. And he seemed to grin as he went on his merry way. I wished him a good journey. I was sitting there, quite amazed, but with a deep peace filling my heart and soul.

I left the place.

 Through the giant´s gate I went, into the enchanted sunlight.

And on my way back, a legend was forming in my mind.

Watch this place;-).

Vibrations of reality-a visit to an ancient menhir site

 After our visit to the reenactment fair, the magic troll had that smile on her face that told she had a surprise prepared. And so we drove through the aetherical landscape of the Wetterau, with a big sky above us.

The sun was singeing through the clouds, making for a dramatic background. Rays of light touched the rolling hillsides, tingeing the green ever so much greener.

 There is that historical hiking path, including stone age, bronze age, iron age and modern sites.

 She was so lovely with this wreath, that I simply had to pick her some flowers...

 In the hedge, along which we walked, caterpillars had set to work. There was a silken web spun between the leaves. A tale;-).

 Elderflower was blossoming... spring is there full tilt, and summer on the way!

 Dog rose (rosa canina, in German: HUndsrose). Great for syrup, schnapps, honey, lotions, body oils. Good against arthrosis, rich with vitamins and minerals, and simply fragrant. I also use them for incense smokes and tea.

 A view towards Münzenberg castle.

 The sky was high, the earth was strong and pulsing vibrantly beneath our feet.

 Common yarrow (achillea millefolium, in German: Schafgarbe) Good for tea, against bronchitis, cramps and the like, ...and....

 ...not good against witches at all;-).

Another view towards Münzenberg castle.

...

 Then we arrived at the site. It is a prehistorical burial site, a neolithic stone cist grave. It is called "Der heilige Stein" in local colloquial language, meaning "The sacred stone".

Sage (Salvia officinalis, in German: Salbei) is very rare in Germany as a wild plant. Here it grew, and was in blossom.

I looked into the darkness of the grave. I greeted the North and the South. I greeted Earth and Sky. We kissed, gently, and it began to rain, very softly. The sheep on the pastures went mad for but a brief moment, and birds twittered loudly all around us, and all of a sudden.

And we knew.

We remembered, and we will remember. Aeons have passed since our souls were born, aeons will pass over the scarred rocks. We will die, as we have died, and live, for death was never, death is not but a wanderer in reality. Rain and sun will beat upon the rock, and wear it away, and the stars will dance above the ruins.

But the flowers now blossom, and birds sing. Is there more to say? I daresay not.