Spells

Imagine for a moment that you were born 15,000 years ago in prehistory. You are a child living amongst the trees, rocks, and earth in a community of family, friends, and elders. You look up to these older folk, who have an assured and stable presence. They carry an air of centred contentment, with a sparkling glint in their eyes that tells you they are grounded in some kind of unseen knowledge. You can sense they are in tune with something — something deep and mysterious. They seem to understand the secrets of this world. Sometimes you see them appreciatively stare up at the sky as the wind ruffles their hair, as if they are communing with the clouds that sail across it.

Some nights, you sit huddled beside the comforting warmth of a crackling fire. An elder is the focus of attention as he tells you stories. His shadowy face flickers in the firelight as you listen, enchanted and mesmerised. These stories are as ancient as the land itself. They tell of the origin of this world — how the stars came to glisten, where the sun goes at night, and why the birds chirp in the morning. The elder speaks of the great mother that luminously courses and rhythmically flows through all of creation, pulsating as she animates the wind, the greenery, and all creatures, great and small. As the world breathes, a vibrant light of aliveness shines forth through all things. All sounds, sights, and smells are imbued with this vital, interpenetrative essence…