How I Got to Stonehenge Again

I was in my thirties.  It didn’t look like I was going to get married, and I wanted to settle down in Brunswick, Maine, where I had some friends.  I’m lucky enough to be able to live on the money I inherited from my family, so I bought a house, but didn’t have to have a job.  The usual struggle with depression and anxiety led me to join a therapy group.  I had decided that I wanted to be using my intellect, so I thought of going back to school and getting a PhD in Geology.  While I was still in California, I had seen a map of the state with many areas in the Sierra Nevada marked “unmapped.”  I had a fantasy of hiring a mule and going into the backcountry to map the strata.  In group I had been talking about how I wanted to register for a geology course at Bowdoin College, and that I didn’t seem to be able to get over there.  Someone asked what was holding me back, and this sentence came out of my mouth:  “If I actualize myself as a professional scientist, I will be so threatening that no man will marry me and my life would be wasted.”  Wow.  Essentially I was saying “If I actualize myself….  my life will be wasted.”  I went to the college the next day and registered for Geomorphology — the science of how the landscape gets shaped.  The artist in me found it fascinating.
One day, at the library, checking out the geology books I moved on down the shelves and found books on Archeology.  I saw a big tome, Aubrey Burl’s classic “Rude Stone Monuments in Britain.”  I pulled it out flipped through the pages, saw a picture of Stonehenge, and said to myself “I have to get back to Stonehenge.”  Notice that I did not say “I could never afford that.”  I just put the book back on the shelf and went on with my day.  Around Christmastime I received a copy of the magazine of the Natural History Museum of New York.  At first I thought it was a gift, but no such information came.  In the magazine was a description of “The Island World of Britain.”  It involved taking a small cruising boat from Southampton to the Scilly Isles, to the islands off the coast of Wales, to the Island of Lewis in the outer Hebrides where we would see the stone circle of Callanish, to the Orkneys and the Shetlands and down the east coast on the way home.  The group would be smallish, 30 or 40 people, and we would have people from the staff along to tell us about what we were seeing.  There were bird experts and garden experts, even a Celtic expert.  I mentioned it to a friend in dream group, and she said she had seen it and was interested. Shall we?  Yes, let’s do it!  So we each sent in our $500 deposit.  I didn’t know where I was going to get the rest of the money, but I remember thinking, I’ll get a loan, I’ll sell some stock, I’ll get a job, I’ll do what it takes.  (Later I learned that those were the magic words, to be “willing to do what it takes” allows manifestation to happen.)  Less than a week later, my parents called saying “We’re giving you $3000 again this year (this was the amount wealthy people could give their children tax-free) do you want it in stock or cash?”  I said “Cash please I’m going to Europe.”


Cara and I went over a week early, rented a car, and drove to Land’s End in Cornwall, visiting Stonehenge, and every little circle and standing stone we could find on the maps.  We went to Glastonbury and the Chalice Well.  After the cruise, she went to Findhorn (which I had told her about) and I rented a car, took it across the Channel, and drove around Brittany.
It was, in fact a pilgrimage.  Looking back now, I see that the Universe was practically shoving me in the back, saying “This is your Cosmic Job.  You are the Keeper of the Calendar.”

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