Contagion: To Love the Land

by Wendy Hawkin | Nov 26, 2020 | Book Review, journal, spiritual work, writing journal

This Old Golden Land is a book about Orkney written by Helen and Mark Woodsford-Dean of Spiritual Orkney. Helen is a British archaeologist who fell in love with Orkney over several visits and moved there permanently. Helen provides, not only the archaeological perspective with the expertise of an experienced and knowledgeable tour guide, but also includes her own journalistic musings and, at some points, a window into her soul. She is a mystic and poet, as well as a scientist. I did not always agree with her opinions, but she did make me think.

The book is subtitled “An Alternative Orkney Guidebook for Spiritual Seekers, Mystics, and Pilgrims.” I most definitely fit into the latter three categories and was intrigued by the book when I heard my favourite Druid teacher, Philip Carr-Gomm, read passages from it during “Tea with a Druid #146.” I ordered it from Helen and Mark, who self-published it, and it came, inscribed, a couple of weeks later, all the way from their home in Orkney. I read it right away and added my own musings. One suggestion I have for the authors if they do another print run is this: use a bigger darker font. The book is packed full of information and beautiful photographs but the font is too small for these old eyes, even with my thick reading glasses and I found I was straining to read it in bed (which is where I do most of my best book reading.)

Helen writes: “In many ways, Orkney is the golden land. There’s a strange light here. We’re at 59 degrees north, so the sun never gets directly overhead, not even at midday in midsummer; we nearly always have the sun at an angle and that gives us the oddest light. This light is desired by artists and photographers — they flock here . . . “

My Orkney Saga

Indeed. I traveled with my friend Jackie to Orkney in August 2009 for our “Men in Kilts” tour and experienced the old spiritual sites in this golden land. We rented a car at Glasgow Airport and drove up through the Inner Hebrides (where To Sleep with Stones is set), across the Highlands, and then to the far north coast of Scotland where we caught a ferry to these incredible islands. We stayed in Stromness and Kirkwall while on the Orkney Mainland where most of the big stones stand. Then, we caught another ferry that took us all the way north to Sanday.

Orkney has only been under Scotland’s jurisdiction since the 15th Century. After the Indigenous people (Picts) were — I’m not sure what word to use here as it describes a history much like what happened to Indigenous people all over the world particularly in my country, Canada, and twists my gut — overtaken by Norway, Orkney was Norse for about 700 years. This affected the language, dialect, and place names which evolved from Old Norse. When you walk the streets of a town like Stromness, the feel is definitely Scandinavian, not Scottish. Sadly, there were no men in kilts except the tour bus driver we encountered in Kirkwall; although I swear I saw the girls from Doc Martin walking down the narrow street.

The people are wonderful and the land beautiful. Golden. We went to Orkney Angora and I bought hand-dyed angora yarn from the woman who raises the rabbits, spins the wool, and runs the shop. We saw cows. Lots of cows. We went to the Italian Church built by WWII prisoners of war. We went to an amazing ice cream shop in the middle of nowhere, except that it was somewhere. And we adored the stones.

The Ring of Brodgar

One of the sites that impressed me most was the Ring of Brodgar. This four-thousand-year old Neolithic circle is one of the largest in the British isles. It currently has thirty-six stones of a possible sixty, twenty-seven of which are still standing. When we arrived there in July at the height of tourist seasons, there were few people there and, as is often the case, after traveling from British Columbia all the way to Orkney, who do we meet but a woman from Vancouver! The circle faces northeast which is the direction in which the sun rises at Summer Solstice. It is enchanting.

Helen says that if you stand in the centre of the ring and speak normally, anyone with their back touching a stone can hear you as if they’re standing right beside you. Is that magical or what? I would have liked to experience that when we were there! Unfortunately, that’s not possible. The centre is a sensitive area and off limits. But think what this meant to the Neolithic people! Did they build this effect into the structure? If you happen to know why and how this phenomenon occurs, please leave a comment to explain. I’m quite blown away by this. I mean, what would happen if someone chanted or drummed in the centre? Could it create an altered state of consciousness? I want to experience this.

Skara Brae

Another famous site is Skara Brae. It was uncovered in the 1850s when a storm swept it free of the sand dunes that had hidden it for who knows how long. Archaeologists believe it was constructed over a period of six hundred years while it was in use, beginning around five thousand years ago. It is very much a seaside stone community. It was excavated by archaeologist Gordon Childe (1928-1930) and Clark in the 1970s. Helen says that the First People who lived here in these houses did so for about three hundred years and produced middens of domestic waste. During the three-hundred-year phase, the people built covered passages through the middens that connected about ten houses. Can you imagine walking through a covered stone passageway to your friend’s house five thousand years ago? Maybe taking a bowl of oyster and crab chowder to your grandmother? There are rock beds and rock dressers or altars, sunken stone and clay-lined refrigerators. It’s also been hypothesized that Skara Brae was not a cluster of familial homes at all, but a spiritual space for pagan magician/priests to meditate, something akin to a Neolithic monastery. But who really knows?

A year ago, during meditation, I conversed with a spirit who may have come from this place. At least, I believe he did. This is what I heard and wrote.

He began dramatically with this: “enfolding, folding in on itself like a flower that dies after its bloom, your earth is disappearing into the void slowly.” As apocalyptic as that sounds, he went on to say his name was Siarba (it sounded like Sharpa but I saw it written as Siarba.) He was once a shaman, healer, builder of the stones. “You are right when you see the stone houses. They are ours. We traveled up and down the coastline. We built houses. We lived, weathered the storms and winds of the seas, raised our children, ate the fish, smoked the seaweed to see things when the moon was full, rattled shells and blew the horns of the sea gods. I loved you.”

When? “When the earth was fresh and clean and not folding in on herself. When the birds sang of stories and told us where to find the fish. When the whales came. When the world was plenty and love was full like the moon.” 

Where? “There (I envisioned Skara Brae) and when the wind came and the sea raged we walked south crossing waters. Moving, always moving, thousands of your years. But there is no time once you surpass the physical and move into spirit. Don’t fear it. The earth changes but spirit does not and in the ever-growing darkness there is light and love.”

Contagion

Helen writes of a term called “contagion” — not the kind of contagion we think of during a pandemic, but a different kind. This contagion is an archaeological term that refers to the “spread of power or energy through the senses.” Basically, when generations live in the same place, ancestral power and energy are transmitted through the land. I like this. I know this. Dylan McBride reveals this in To Sleep with Stones.

Sometimes, when we are open and walk the land we sense this power and energy. This love for the land transcends time and space, transcends generations. It is ever-flowing energy. We might touch a stone or shell or other artifact and feel it like a rush or ripple up our arm. Put our hands in the earth or sea and feel alive and empowered. It is one of the reasons, spiritual pilgrims walk the land barefoot and meditate in sacred sites. It is one of the reasons people go to the wild places to heal and pray for miracles. Why they pick up stones and shells and bits of driftwood as they wander.

Almost everywhere I’ve traveled, I’ve picked up stones that called to me and brought them home. In Sanday, the farthest island north, I found a perfect sand dollar on the white sand beach. Yes, Sanday has blue water, white sand beaches, and very few people. We stayed in a charming cottage there and breathed sea breezes that refreshed our souls.

I will go back and stay longer. I will go back and ask Helen to take me on a tour behind the scenes to experience ritual and the magic of this golden land. If you are considering the same, please do connect with her and buy a copy of her book before you go. You can find more information here. Tell her I sent you.

Call Helen. Go there. See for yourself. This is a magical land . . . a golden land.