Victorian Valentine's Day Card

With Valentine’s Day approaching, “Love Is All There Is”, started echoing through my mind. When I looked up this old Beatles’ song, I saw that I had the lyrics a bit wrong.

What I was hearing, of course, was the refrain from ‘All You Need Is Love’, their anthem that was broadcast around the world in 1967. And what I saw looking at the titles of the 214 songs The Beatles recorded and released in the twelve years they were together, was that 21 of their songs include the word LOVE in the title. Many more – without counting, I would guess most – are about love.

It seems The Beatles were obsessed with love. As their music evolved, their love songs moved away from expressions of over-the-moon, stomach-churning, romance. I don’t know if it was the drugs or their trip to the Himalayas to study meditation with the Maharishi – or both – but in the end, their music reflected the more spiritual aspects of this high-frequency emotion.

There are those who believe that our souls separate from their polar opposites when we incarnate and that we spend our lifetime trying to heal the pain of that separation. If this is true, we have good reason to be obsessed!

But ultimate healing comes only with union/reunion with the SELF. In Conversations with God, Book 3, God – through Neale Donald Walsch – says that we are love and through the expression of love, we are seeking to know Who and What We Are. And to experience Who We Really Are is our sole purpose in becoming human.

Which begs the question, “Who are we – really?”

God/Walsch – tells us that we are all ONE. I am you, you are me  . . . Wait! I’m hearing The Beatles again: ‘I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together’ (I Am The Walrus).

So here’s where it gets tricky  . . . If we want love, we have to give it first to ourselves. God/Walsch says, “Now if Who You Really Are is a person who is kind and considerate, caring and sharing, compassionate and loving – then, when you are being these things with others, you are giving your Self the grandest experience for which you came into the body.”

The last lyrics on The Beatles’ final album, Let It Be, are ‘And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make‘.

It would seem that Walsch and The Beatles were channeling the same source.

When The Beatles broke up in 1969, John had married Yoko, Paul had married Linda, George was on his spiritual path, and Ringo was writing songs and acting. Like all relationships, theirs had changed. But it’s been said that they represent the twentieth century’s greatest romance. I like that.

The Beatles

The Dance of Youth by Pablo Picasso

A few months ago, I stumbled upon six guys dancing their guts out to wild African music on So You Think You Can Dance. I got so excited that I jumped up and started moving. And I promised myself right then and there that I would find a way to start dancing again.

DANCE had been at the top of my ‘to do’ list for years. But every time I even thought about dancing, my goblin appeared and provided a laundry list of reasons why I couldn’t do it. I was too busy. I didn’t need to dance because I was doing Tai Chi. And besides, I couldn’t possibly find a decent school; after all, I didn’t live in New York any more.

But after my reading with Dr. Steven Farmer last fall when he advised that dancing would help bring about the changes I felt coming, something shifted and I was finally able to give myself permission to do what I wanted to do.

All of a sudden, I had plenty of time. And a quick Google search revealed a dance school affiliated with a world-renowned dance company within walking distance from my house. Best of all, the school’s mission to provide students an opportunity ‘to re-connect heart and mind’ could not have been more perfect for me.

From the very first class, I was hooked. The teacher was so full of joy and passion that even though I hadn’t put my body through such a rigorous workout for a quarter century, I made every effort to jump and leap across the floor with the 20- and 30-somethings.

I’m not saying I succeeded. In fact, I could barely follow the choreography and my lungs were imploding halfway through the class. As I walked home – very slowly – every muscle, every sinew, every tendon – in short, every cell in my body was screaming, “What have you done? What do you think you’re doing?”

It was my goblin again. But this time I wasn’t going to listen. I loved the feeling of pure joy I’d experienced so much that I knew I had but one choice, and that was to put my goblin to rest and step outside my self-imposed prison.

Spiritual intuitive Colette Baron-Reid uses the term goblin to describe the shadow self whose job it is to keep us stuck in our current reality. When our intuition surfaces encouraging us to do something that would disrupt the status quo, the goblin does its best to keep us from paying attention to it. According to Reid, we can free ourselves from this entity by acknowledging it and transforming it into an ally.

This sounds good, but how do we do it? Dr. Bruce H. Lipton, author of The Biology of Belief : Unleashing the Power of Consciousness, Matter, and Miracles tells us that we have the power to change our reality with our beliefs. We’ve heard this before, right? But for those who need something a little more substantial, here’s the good news: this information is coming from science.

Cellular biologist and pioneer in the science of epigenetics, Dr. Lipton produced breakthrough studies in the early ’80’s connecting the principles of quantum physics and the information-processing systems of the cell. His research showed that the outer layer of the cell is the cell’s equivalent of the brain. This ‘cellular intelligence’ allows the exterior environment to operate through the cell membrane and to control the cell’s behavior and physiology. These discoveries not only challenged the established scientific belief that life is controlled by the genes, but also pointed to the power of the mind.

How exciting is that? If our cells respond to our thoughts, beliefs, and perceptions, it would seem that we can use our conscious mind to create health, happiness, abundance – anything and everything we desire. But this is possible only if our thoughts are in harmony with our subconscious programming.

Over the past decade, Dr. William A. Tiller, Professor Emeritus of Stanford University’s Department of Materials Science, has expanded the proof that human intention does affect physical reality. When we repeat emotional processes over and over, our brains create neural pathways that direct our behavior. Using brain scans, Dr. Tiller’s research showed that when we imagine something long enough and with enough detail and energy, new neural networks are created.

This would explain why meditation, visualization, and affirmations work. Simply making the choice for a change can work, too. If you’ve been yearning to do/create/try something new and you’re meeting with resistance, look your goblin straight in the eye and JUST DO IT!

*Thanks to celebrity portrait photographer and recording artist Lynn Goldsmith for the title of this post inspired by her self-help comedy album of the same name.

Last night in the middle of my usual sleep-challenged state, I saw SMITHSONIAN in big black letters, all caps, on a white background. I had no idea what this meant, but I knew it wasn’t a fragment of a dream because this wasn’t the first time I’d received a nocturnal message consisting of nothing but a few numbers or letters. But it was the first time information came through directly in response to a request.

Inspired by Elizabeth Gilbert, author of the breakaway international bestseller Eat, Pray, Love, I’d asked Source for help sorting out my ideas for various creative projects. In her TEDTalk last year on nurturing creativity, Gilbert tells us how she challenged God when she “fell into a pit of despair” in the middle of writing her book.

“Listen you,” she said (and I’m paraphrasing here). “I don’t have any more than this. If you want this book to be better, you’re going to have to show up and do your part of the deal.” Well, I guess he did!

So the first chance I got the next morning, I Googled Smithsonian. Skipping past links to the museums (I just wasn’t ‘feeling’ it), I hit the link to the online magazine and within two minutes I found something I didn’t even know I was looking for: an interview with author Mary Collins about her new book on Amercia’s sedentary culture. This helped me in two ways: #1) it provided me with additional material for a post about the joy of movement that’s been marinating in my head for weeks; and #2) it helped me focus my attention on this particular subject and move it to the top of my list.

I’m not sure what’s at work here. But I don’t think we’re meant to tromp through life alone banging our heads repeatedly against the wall until we ‘get it’. As Gilbert and so many writers, artists, and musicians before her have discovered, help is available from the Divine if we just ask for it. The trick is recognizing the answer when it shows up and then knowing what to do with it.

©2010 Charlene Nevill

A few weeks after I returned from Greece, I found a box of books in front of my house. Now this in itself isn’t unusual; people dump clothes, food (remember the artichokes?), computers, furniture and all manner of unmentionables on the sidewalks in my neighborhood on a daily basis. But this box was directly in front of my house. And inside I found the following: seven of Carlos Castaneda’s twelve books; the Individual Reference File of Extracts From the Edgar Cayce Readings; The Art & Practice of Caballa Magic; The Magic of Incense, Oils & Brews: A Guide to their Preparation and Use; Beyond Hypnosis: A Program for Developing Your Psychic & Healing Powers; and Communion: A True Story (in which award-winning author Whitley Strieber describes his abduction by aliens).

What are the chances? Shaminism . . . Psychic readings . . . Magic . . . Aliens . . . It was as if the Universe had gathered up all the knowledge I was meant to absorb at this moment in time and placed it in my hands. At least that was my first thought. But after reading up on Castaneda and looking over each of the other books, I’m not so sure.

Years ago, I read two or three of Castaneda’s books about his training in traditional shamanism with don Juan Matus, an old Yaqui Indian. At the time, I was vaguely aware that there were questions about the authenticity of his experiences, but I had no idea the extent of the controversy nor that don Juan probably didn’t exist.

In 1973 after the publication of his first three books, Time published an article, Don Juan and the Sorcerer’s Apprentice, which called attention to inconsistencies in Castaneda’s background. And in an exhaustive article that appeared on salon.com in 2007, The dark legacy of Carlos Castaneda, Robert Marshall calls Castaneda ” . . . the 20th century’s most successful literary trickster . . . ” and exposes a lifestyle that can only be described as a cult.

Shortly after the Time article appeared, Castanda disappeared from public view. Inspired by L. Rob Hubbard’s Scientology, he developed a movement he called Tensegrity, a kind of “Kung Fu Sorcery” supposedly based on a group of movements passed down by Toltec shamans. Three main female devotees known as ‘the Witches’ who were required to break off all ties with family and friends, were used to recruit new members – specifically “women with a combination of brains, beauty and vulnerability” -  into the ‘family’. After Castaneda passed into the great unknown ten years later, the remains of one of the Witches was found in the desert and the other two disappeared but were presumed to have committed suicide.

Despite criticism of Castaneda’s writings, he’s been acknowledged by such luminaries as George Lucas and Deepak Chopra for inviting readers to examine the nature of reality and for opening the doors to perception. And even after academia discredited Castaneda, his editor, Michael Korda, insisted on the authenticity of his experiences, and Simon & Schuster still classify his books as nonfiction.

In his article Shamanic Personal Transformation, shamanistic practitioner Hank Wesselman talks about the trap of equating ‘ideas’ about the nature of reality with true, face-to-face encounters with transpersonal forces in the deep psychic and subtle realms. He also points out the importance of intention. ” . . . as you do journey work and start to enter into relationship with transpersonal forces . . . are you seeking connection to ‘get something’ material? Or are you doing work from a place of service for the highest good for yourself, those around you and those you are connecting with?”

I can’t help but question Castaneda’s actual experiences in the realms of nonordinary reality. Were they nothing more than imaginings fueled by psychotropic drugs? According to author Amy Wallace, one of Castaneda’s numerous lovers, “He became more and more hypnotized by his own reveries. I firmly believe Carlos brainwashed himself.”

And what of his intentions? It seems clear that his editor and publisher were intent on one thing only, and that was to keep the money machine going. And if, as Wallace contends, Castaneda had lost touch with reality we can assume he also lost his ability to control it.

So I’m left wondering about the reappearance of Castaneda in my life. As one who has always been a tad too trusting, for the first time in my life I’m looking at things with a more critical eye. You might even say I’m becoming a bit of a skeptic. And it’s with this new perspective that I intend to revisit Edgar Cayce and to examine the other offerings from my mysterious benefactor.

Blue Moon © Josephine Wall

For those of you who have been too busy with the Holidays to pay attention to the celestial cycles, I want you know that there’s a full moon tomorrow night and it’s very special. Because it’s the second one this month, it’s a BLUE MOON! But that’s not all . . . it’s also the last full moon of the decade and it falls on New Year’s Eve for the first time in twenty years.

Astrologer extraordinaire, Jonathan Cainer, tells us that there’s something about this particular confluence of heavenly events that loosens our inhibitions, and he advises that this is a good time to think ‘outside the box’. “Imagine what you wouldn’t normally dare to imagine. Hope for what might usually seem way too far-fetched.”

Donna Henes, urban shaman, ceremonialist, and author of The Moon Watcher’s Companion, proposes that we welcome the new decade with a lunar ritual: “A True Blue Ceremony in the Spirit of Universal Beneficence.” As with the breathing in the moon ritual, Henes tells us to close our eyes, sit very still and breath in great draghts of air. If we sigh deeply and open our hearts, we can perhaps feel the presence and the power of something bigger than ourselves and begin to remember our connection not only to the moon and her cycles but to every living thing on the planet.

Whether you choose to celebrate New Year’s Eve with the traditional champagne and fireworks or with a new ritual, may we all enter this next decade together with greater awareness as responsible, empowered participants in what Henes calls the connective universal plan. And yes, Jonathan, it’s time to think outside the box and dare to hope for and imagine a decade of peace.

On my last day in Delphi, I found myself back at the Gymnasium sitting at the foot of the ancient olive tree absorbing every last bit of sun as I gazed at the hills below. Despite the resistance I felt before I left on this journey and all along the way, I knew I would miss this sacred place. My first sight of the steep forboding cliffs rising above the Sanctuary, my visceral interactions with the Omphalos, and my vision of Delphi bathed in golden light will remain with me forever. And I’m feeling boundless gratitude for the luxury of just ‘being’ for that period of time with no distractions or obligations.

Pandora by John William Waterhouse, 1896

This adventure started with a serendipitous discovery of the Pythia and grew into an obsession to experience firsthand the world of ancient Delphi. I realized that my desire to ‘feel’ any kind of connection or to garner information about my past here might require some sort of a transformative experience. And while I found the idea of a flash of insight exciting, I didn’t really think I was ready for a total paradigm shift.

Since my return, I’ve wondered if my beliefs limited what I was able to experience. In my deep soul writing, Source has indicated repeatedly that information would be revealed when I’m ready for it. I left home with one question and came back with dozens more. And like Pandora, having opened the proverbial box (which I have learned was actually a jar), all I’m left with is hope – hope that some day I will come to know if it’s possible to connect with aspects of ourselves from previous lifetimes and whether knowing our past serves us in the present.

Galaxidi Town Square ©2009 Charlene Nevill

When I told Socrates, my seatmate on the flight from London to Athens, that I was spending FIVE days in Delphi he was aghast. I explained that it was really only 4-1/2, but he refused to hear me. Having grown up in Livadeia, a small town between Delphi and Greece, Socrates had spent a lot of time in Delphi over the years, but never five days in a row. He assured me that I would be bored out of my mind after two days and suggested I take a day trip to Galaxidi, a village on the Gulf of Corinth below Delphi.

I was beginning to think a ‘day off’ might be a good idea. I’d visited the Sanctuary several times, I’d toured the museum, and I’d walked up, down and around every street in Delphi. Still reeling from my latest conversation with Source, I thought a day away might offer some perspective. And even though I had no great desire to see Galaxidi, visions of a stroll along the waterfront and lunch at a seaside cafe were playing around in my mind. But I wasn’t ‘feeling’ it. And instead of listening to my instincts, I listened to Socrates and made the trip anyway.

Nothing really horrible happened that day. But from the moment I arrived at the bus station that morning, I had a nagging feeling that this trip was not a good idea. And there were signs all along the way telling me it was a mistake. I needed to purchase a ticket but the bus station was closed. It finally opened just before the bus was due to arrive, but then the bus was 20 minutes late. A trip that would take 20 minutes by car took an hour and a half by bus, because we had to transfer in another town and wait another 30 minutes for the next bus. When I finally arrived in Galaxidi, I was famished. I found several restaurants along a small cove that vaguely matched the visions I’d been entertaining, but none were serving lunch. In desperation and after much gesticulating, I finally found one that agreed to serve something other than coffee.

As I sat alone waiting for my lunch, I thought of my college friend Patty. After graduating with a double major in French and German, Patty moved to Germany to teach English. I never really understood what happened, but one day after she’d been gone for a few months, I got a call from her mother telling me that Patty was back; she’d had a nervous breakdown and was in the hospital. I was in shock. Patty was not only beautiful and intelligent, but she was the happiest, most joyful person I knew. At the time I thought, if this could happen to Patty, it could happen to me. Now all these years later, I understood what had happened. She was away from home living in a foreign country for the first time. She was alone and she felt totally isolated. And that’s exactly how I felt as I sat there alone eating my Greek salad and drinking my white wine.

After I finished my lunch, I had another hour before the bus was due for Delphi. Sitting in the town square listening to the leaves fluttering in the breeze, I realized that there really was no reason for me to be here. I’d come to Greece for one reason only: to connect with my past. And I knew with certainty that I had no past in Galaxidi.

When I finally arrived back in my little room in Delphi that afternoon, I felt like I’d come home. And then as if on cue, I heard bells. I ran to my balcony and there right below me was a parade of GOATS! It was almost too much to be believed. There were black goats and brown goats, white goats with brown spots, baby goats, billy goats, goats with great curled horns, goats with beards, goats of all kinds and sizes, and they kept coming – walking, running, leaping and bleating with bells clanging. My wish had been granted. Perhaps there was a lesson here. Or maybe two. Number one: don’t be afraid to ask for what you want. And number two: listen to THE VOICE and follow it.

Goats in Delphi ©2009 Charlene Nevill

]]> http://www.breathinginthemoon.com/2009/12/10/the-longest-day/feed/ 1 http://www.breathinginthemoon.com/2009/11/23/putting-the-question/ http://www.breathinginthemoon.com/2009/11/23/putting-the-question/#comments Mon, 23 Nov 2009 22:17:01 +0000 Charlene Nevill http://www.breathinginthemoon.com/?p=1844

The Pythia Themis and King Aigeus of Athens at Delphi by the Codrus Painter, circa 440 BC

By now I had become attached to the idea that I was one of the hundreds of women who had served as an Oracle in Delphi. But I was anxious to find out what Source had to say . . .

C: Dear Spirit, PLEASE let me know if I was here and what role I played.

S: You were the wife of one of the great priests in Delphi. As such you assisted him in his work with the Oracle by offering insight into political and religious events of the day.

C: Does this mean that I was not an Oracle?

S: That is correct – you were not. But one of your daughters was chosen to be one of the first Pythias when she was but 18 years old.

C: Are my husband and my daughter from that lifetime incarnated with me in this lifetime? If they are, will you tell me who they are?

S: The priest and your husband in that lifetime is your current husband in this one, and your daughter is your friend Laurel (not her real name).

C: That would explain my connection with her, being with her when we both recognized her husband-to-be and my husband’s connection to her which I have seen and felt.

S: That is correct. And you are correct in imagining the identity of your other daughter in that lifetime as that of your husband’s friend for whom you have had such a profound dislike.

C: What was the cause of my negative feelings toward her?

S: She was extremely jealous of your close relationship with your husband and her sister. Because her sister had been chosen to be the Oracle, she felt totally out of the loop of this ‘holy trinity’ – the ‘odd man out’ if you will.

C: That would explain my husband’s feelings toward her in this lifetime  - his wanting to help her.

S: That is so.

My pen had stopped moving. I was stunned. And incredulous. And not just a little disappointed to learn that I had not been an Oracle after all. Then I remembered the lecture I’d overhead at the Sanctuary about the priests being responsible for delivering the prophesies with little or no help from the Oracles. Could I have just pieced all of this together? It seemed a little too neat and tidy. But at the same time, as much as I didn’t want to believe the words in front of me, it explained a lot.

For one thing, Laurel and I became instant friends when we met, and we’d been mistaken for mother and daughter even though both of us would agree that we look nothing alike. When I found John Collier’s painting, ‘Priestess of Delphi’ I sent her a copy of the image. At first, she felt it was ominous because of the dark background and the fumes coming up through the crack beneath the Pythia’s feet. But as she looked at it again, she experienced a feeling of comfort. At the time I thought this was an odd reaction.

And I had never understood my nearly pathological dislike of my husband’s friend, Jeanine (not her real name, either). We met her at a business function, and while the two of them connected immediately, my reaction to her was so negative that I wanted to leave.

When Jeanine surfaced in this session with Source, I sensed that one of us in that lifetime had experienced a tragic and untimely death. And I feared that it had been my other daughter because according to Source, she had been 18 when she was chosen to be an Oracle. Initially, young chaste girls were chosen to be Apollo’s mistresses. But these innocent virgins did not fare well. Diodorus, an ancient historian tells the story of Echecrates the Thessalian who became enchanted with the Oracle and violated her. This was probably not an isolated incident because the custom was soon abandoned and the Oracles from that time forward were selected from women over fifty.

So what had happened here? I couldn’t begin to guess what, if anything, Jeanine may have done to contribute to such a tragedy. It was all too much. Still suffering from jet lag, I wanted nothing more than a quick lunch and a nap. Back in my room, the sun was spilling in from my terrace. I lay down and as soon as I closed my eyes, I ’saw’ the temples, treasuries and statues at the Sanctuary, all in their original pristine condition bathed in an intense golden light. In my dream state, I felt the power of these structures touching the core of my being. Then the vision vanished and I descended into a deep dreamless sleep.

Sanctuary of Apollo at Delphi by A. Tournaire

Siphnian Treasury Frieze ©2009 Charlene Nevill

I had passed the Delphi Archeological Museum several times on my way to and from the Sanctuary, but I hadn’t stopped. I knew that all the treasures that had been saved from the fires, earthquakes, mudslides, avalanches, rockfalls and plunderings of what had been one of the wealthiest places on Earth were cloistered inside those walls. And having explored as much of the Sanctuary as possible, I was ready to see if the architectural fragments and remnants of statues and gifts sent to the Oracles might reveal something about my past in Delphi.

The Twins of Argos ©2009 Charlene Nevill

The museum was extremely crowded that morning with wave after wave of tour groups. Slipping around the throngs in the first gallery, I entered the next room and came face to face with Cleobis and Biton, a pair of gargantuan marble statues. According to legend, the brothers pulled their mother in a wagon five miles to a festival because their oxen hadn’t returned from the fields. After feasting, they lay down to sleep in the Temple of Hera and never woke up. Whether mythical or historical figures, they represent the ideal of masculine strength and piety in the early 6th century BC. I didn’t know if it was their massiveness or if there was something more, but I gasped when I saw them and felt a twinge of recognition.

Moving ahead of the crowds, I came to a large gallery with statues lined up along each wall. One of the most impressive monuments from the Sanctuary, the 42-foot-tall Column of the Dancers, stood in the center of the room with an ornate Omphalos next to it. Even though I knew this Omphalos had once sat at the top of the column and was but another reproduction of the one that sat in the Oracle’s chamber, I wanted to ‘test’ it. I surreptitiously held my hands a few inches from its surface at the center, top and bottom as I had done with the Omphalos at the site, but there were no vibrations at all. As beautiful as this artifact was with its relief of roped netting, it felt cold and dead.

Statue of a Philosopher, circa 280 BC ©2009 Charlene Nevill

I had been avoiding one wall of statues, and when I finally turned my attention in their direction, I understood why. In the center of a multi-figure group stood a well-preserved statue of an aged man presumed to be a philosopher or a priest. I knew instantly from the depths of my being that I did not like this man. Typical of early Hellenistic art, the facial features were not idealized but instead revealed the actual characteristics of the individual. The more I looked at this statue, the more I saw ‘father’. I didn’t know if what I was sensing was coming from this lifetime or from another, but my feelings for this man were very strong and they were not good.

After walking through the remaining galleries, I decided to leave thinking I’d return when it might not be so crowded. It was another hot, sunny day and there were as many people at the site as in the museum. But I was intent on one thing only, and that was to visit the Omphalos again. Approaching the stone, I saw that I would have to wait for the crowds to pass so I could get close enough to give it my test. As before, I felt vibrations in both hands at its midpoint, not as strong as the first time, but intense enough to tell me it wasn’t just my imagination.

Strange vibrations, feelings of melancholy and fear generated by mountains, statues, and the wind . . . What did it all mean? I hadn’t had a conversation with Source since I’d left home, and I felt the time had come. I set off for a sheltered spot at the far edge of the site and found a stone bench beneath a grove of pine trees. Enveloped in the intoxicating fragrance from the trees, I thought of the Pythia sitting on her tripod inhaling the vapors that induced her prophetic state. So how about it, Source? Is there any information for me in this sacred place?

Temple of Apollo at Delphi ©2009 Charlene Nevill

It wasn’t yet noon, but the sun was beating down on the Sanctuary with an unbearable intensity. As I squinted up at the Temple of Apollo, I tried to imagine the three hundred statues that once stood in the open air on bases, columns, pillars and under colonnades, brilliant light reflecting off white marble and gilded bronze.

Castalia Spring ©2009 Charlene Nevill

Longing for relief from the heat, I set off for the lower part of the site, home of The Sanctuary of Athena Pronaia and the Tholos. Along the way, I hoped to find the Castalia Spring where the Oracle bathed before each of her sessions with Apollo. This purification ritual was such an integral part of her preparations that I was convinced that if anything might trigger my ‘remembering’, it would be this sacred spring.

By the side of the road, I came across a small fountain with a steady trickle of water. Just a few feet away, I found the actual site of the spring, but sadly it was closed off. Neither this derelict reservoir nor the miniscule fountain I’d just passed bore any resemblance to the spring in my imagination. But I was determined to test the water, so I retraced my steps and placed my hands in the tiny stream. I felt a refreshing coolness, pleasant and most welcome in the mid-day heat, but nothing more.

The Gymnasium at Delphi ©2009 Charlene Nevill

Moving on, I saw that the only hope for shade was an ancient olive tree in the middle of the parched earth and piles of rubble that had once been The Gymnasium. It was here that the youth of Delphi were educated and the athletes trained for the Pythian Games. There were rooms for teaching and for conferences, dressing rooms for the athletes and stone basins for bathing. And at the far end of the site was what remained of the Tholos – three reconstructed columns. Once an impressive circular structure with an outer ring of 20 Doric columns and ten interior Corinthian columns, the Tholos was believed to be connected with cthonian or underworld cults.

Olive Tree at the Gynasium ©2009 Charlene Nevill

After walking the entire length of the site in the scorching heat inspecting hundreds of giant stones, I returned to the olive tree to rest. As I sat next to its gnarled trunk relishing the shade and the slight breeze touching my skin, I felt something. A presence. A stirring of deeply-buried emotions, sadness tinged with longing for something or someone I’d known long ago.

And then somewhere in the hills above me, I heard the bleating of a baby goat. From the sound, I knew it was lost and wanted its mother. I had been yearning to see goats – an entire herd of goats with their bells clanging – but aside from the goat-crossing sign I’d seen on my way into Delphi, this was the first indication that such a sighting might be possible. I stood and scanned the cliffs above me and the hills below, but I couldn’t see the goat. Then I heard a lower-pitched bleating – perhaps that of an older, male goat and I heard a bell. I was relieved – and hopeful that I might get to see a herd of goats after all.