About half way up the east face of a small valley in an opening in a forest there is a shelf of stone, my sacred spot. The trees roll in from the north and west coming to an abrupt stop, only a few meters away. Eastward there is an excellent view of a section of the valley. From there I see foxes hunt and be hunted, elk and deer graze, birds of prey soar in search. Once I saw a wolf in the distance. Behind me the hill rises almost straight up forming a stone wall of sorts, about two meters high.
The hill descends eastward before me spaciously interspersed with thick stemmed tall aspen and a thick undergrowth of young aspen and birch. To my right in the south a large birch stands. The lay of the land and placement of trees combine to form a sheltered, shady spot with dappled light playing on the ground for most of the day.
As a little child, I'm told, an aspen frightened me. Its leaves began shaking and making a rustling sound that made me run away crying. My granddad told me on a much later occasion that Aspen was a magic tree and that the Ås would often pass through them. One only noticed it when the wind was still because when the wind blew everything moved and such a thing would not be noticeable.
There and only there, as far as I know, right at the entrance to the shelf seemingly guarded by the tall spearhead figure of a juniper there is a colony of Lilies of the Valley. They aren't spread out over the whole shelf which is about fifteen meters long. They grow close together in one relatively small area. The first time I ever saw one of those it was in a bunch of flowers in my mother's hand. She told me then that the ones with the little white flowers could both save lives and take them. They were both heart medicine and poison at the same time and traditionally were used in marriage ceremonies.
I had to walk through those lilies to enter and was of habit careful not to trample them. So it was on this occasion also. I remember that the air was still and the round leaves of the aspen were rustling. I remember carefully placing my feet between those Lilies of the Valley so as not to crush them. To do so meant getting the tip of my shoe under those broad leaves, under the stems and lifting as I slid my feet forward. The bell like flowers nodded with each step I took.
Their scent reached up and touched me. I felt happy as I looked at them and a sense of brotherhood with or perhaps being related to them filled me. I stood there still as the air around me while every impression that my senses took in was intensely pleasant. That sense of brotherhood, being related to, began to slowly stretch out and include the ground I stood on and all the plants on it, the trees close by then those further away and so on.
Every sound, sight and smell became more intense and pleasant. The birds calling in the forest, whom I had not noticed before suddenly sounded as though they were next to me and their song made me feel as though I were floating. Then, like the bus you didn't see, BAM, that sudden jerk sideways hit me, the feeling shifted from brotherhood to being part of, belonging and began rapidly expanding like a balloon that was being inflated by the Hulk.
At the same time I was standing there in the middle of those lilies and had never been more acutely aware of my individuality, of where my body started and stopped, of the air on my skin and of that rustling in the trees. I was experiencing both of those things at the same time. The greater my sense of unity, being one with all, the greater my sense of separation and individuality. They were two sides of the same coin and I couldn't have one without the other.
"Damm it" I thought "Dialectics really rocks"
The moment passed but it left me with that same gentle yet intense feeling, though not as strong. Over the next few days it slowly waned but never disappeared completely. I had been changed just a little bit or maybe a lot.
Villbjørn Ulvberg
When we do have these moments...it's hard to explain with words
- I felt melted into the scene, watching as a spectator
felling what you were feeling
thank you
