We had spent the morning at Newgrange and Knowth amid massive crowds of tourists. The obligatory guided tours allowed us to see these impressive monuments but were filled with dry narrative and afforded no time to connect with these ancient sites. We longed to be in silence, in solitude, and in ceremony. So we made our way to mystical Na Faurchnoic, known today as Four Knocks.
Winding through the countryside I could feel the anticipation of what lay ahead. At this magnificent mound we would step into the final ceremony of our journey. The beautifully preserved stone carvings and 138 square feet interior would provide the perfect setting. With its remote location and access only with a key kept by a local farmer we would have this amazing 5,000 year old cairn to ourselves. At least that had been my experience on previous visits. But today would be different.
As we pulled our cars to the side of the road near the entrance, we discovered there was a road rally in the area and part of the route was not a block from where we were parked. There were loads of people milling about. Undaunted and with key in hand we walked the short distance to the mound. As we arrived others were leaving. Not knowing about the key required to get inside, many folks leave after a short time. Yes! We were alone.
Anthony unlocked the door while I shared a bit about our ceremony. The focus would be gratitude. For all that we had received on this journey. For this time with this ancestral site. For this magical journey together. We began singing. I stood by the entrance as they entered one at a time. The precious moment I had with each of them as we looked into each others eyes, often with tears, was deeply powerful. Once inside we continued singing, our voices resonating within the stone structure. Then we sat against the stones in meditation while I drummed. When we were finished the depth of the silence was both intense and palpable. The spaced was charged with an energy that took my breath away.
After a few moments Anthony quietly began to share his knowledge of this place. Of its sacred mythology. Of its extraordinary architecture. Of its astronomical and lunar alignments. Of its relationship to other megaliths throughout the Boyne Valley and beyond. He had just started when we heard the iron door hinges groan. Suddenly a group of young people, shouting and laughing, spilled into the center of the chamber. With the dimly lit interior they didn’t see that we were there and clearly had no clue about how to enter and be in a sacred space. Their presence was beyond jarring.
I glanced at Anthony and could see he was hesitant to confront the group. At the same time I could feel the energy we had created begin to fracture. So I began to ohm. Softly at first. It was immediately picked up by the others around the cairn and our visitors were soon encircled with the crescendoing sound of it. They left as quickly as they had arrived.
Without a word we cleared the space and cleared the energy. Without a word we avoided any confrontation or alienating conversation. Without a word we returned to peace. It was as if the Oran Mór, the great sacred harmony, was wrapped around us once again.
Judith – firstname.lastname@example.org