Previously:

“One thing I read in my research is, since at least before the 20th-century, many believed the churches were built on power plots which were previous Pagan gathering places. So it seems these energies were perceived long before churches were built.”

Cordelia shuddered as she said, “I suspect we’ll be seeing many churches or cathedrals on our venturing. I don’t know why that thought makes me want to scrinch up, but it does.”

*************

Tipping my head to one side, I nodded, signaling my understanding. After all, she was the inner dowser. “After we leave Stonehenge, also on the Michael line, we’ll head up to Avebury to experience the Standing Stones.”

“Oh, cool, that sounds like a nice change.”

“Well…”

“Well, what? What now? Ole Michael doesn’t reach way up there too?” 

“Maybe, more significant, it’s where the Mary line crashes into the Michael line. So, it should be very interesting energy there. When we travel from one ley line to the area influenced by the other, we will sense a noticeable difference.                                                    

“Also, I may have originally told you, within walking distance from there is Silbury Hill. Now that excites me, because it is…well actually that whole area…has been identified as a similar model on Mars.”

“Whoopee. So cool. Now, you mentioned seeing a Crop Circle. What’s that about? Is there a model Crop Circle somewhere there, like a museum?”

“No, I just know we will find one. It’s like inner dowsing backed up with my pendulum. I asked if we will have seen a Crop Circle before arriving at Avebury. I got a ‘yes’ so we shall see. You should be driving around that time, so I can search the grain fields.”

 *********

We got started off very early. Even in the breaking of dawn with a shy, skinny, shard of light showing through dark clouds, Route 39a was simple to follow. Cordelia, remembering my cautionary tale from when we were planning the logistics back home, packed our umbrellas.

“I believe the Michael line will greet us soon.” I had no more than spoken when the surrounding clouds grew heavy and opaque. Cordelia’s inner dowsing was going to keep us dry.

A steady downpour accompanied us into the parking lot.  Cordelia reached toward the rear seat to joyfully grab our umbrellas. We were to line up behind umbrellas appearing to be the tips of a giant box of crayons.

As we bought our tickets, we were offered a handheld tape recorder. When I looked over to see if Cordelia was taking one, someone was blocking my vision. I accepted one, thinking it would be similar to those handed out at our Alcatraz tour. 

The reassuring voice in my gray cassette recorder guided us through the tour with lifelike auditory scenarios, such as the outbreak in the kitchen where a knife was reported to be missing. The narrator, over the riotous racket, directed us to notice the tracings around the knives used to identify which knife was no longer in its place.

Most striking, was my sensing the spirits who seemed to have remained in the diminutive, dark, denigrating space where they endured years of their giant timeout known as the ‘shu’.

 ********

There was no such spiritual experience for me, as we circled the history-laden stones, restricted by a rope restraint. Untouched monoliths felt miles away, definitely measured to be a little under five hundred feet. 

There was no sensing energies, commentaries, or answers about this aloof structure. In addition to my useless recorder clamoring on about totally unrelated matters, I had to grip my umbrella handle with the hammering rain. 

At the same time, I was snapping iconic photos with my point and shoot camera, the best ‘take-away’ from this tourist tryst. What an ordeal. I wondered if Cordelia had had any similar agitations. I would soon find out. We were nearing our path of entrance on the left and would be pointed to the exit on our right.

After returning the still chattering recorder, I headed for our rental. “Oooof, do you remember what our car looked like?” I was yelling over the staccato tap, tapping of the significant raindrops on my sopped umbrella.

Cordelia rotated her body, umbrella and all. It didn’t take her any time to inner dowse where our car was. Seeing the futility of yelling anything, she raised her arm, pointed in the direction we were to walk, and began puddle-jumping. I followed suit.

Soon, she had the car door open, unlocking my side.  I sat slightly on the edge of the seat, closing, opening, and closing my umbrella to shake off the pooling wetness. Cordelia had already figured out how to turn the heater on. That girl is definitely a ‘keeper’.

“Brrrr. I thought the heater would add a warm touch to this totally cold experience. What a disappointment. It’s too commercialized.” She grabbed the steering wheel and growled. 

There was comfort in that car. In addition to being warmed by the heat, My perceptions were being validated by a psychic friend. “So it was a bust for you, too? It is overly commercialized. I hope you didn’t grab one of those non-productive black wands.”

“I shut off that freckless piece of plastic the minute the male voice commenced to drone. It wasn’t insulting, it was just extremely annoying.”

“I wish I’d turned mine off sooner. I might have been more receptive to the energies before me. I hopefully would have felt honored, but instead felt ornery. Oh, well the next event, the crop circle will make up for this crushing occurrence.”

Cordelia was still an unbeliever. “If you say so, then it is probably so.” She raised both arms.

“I dowsed the question a long time ago, ‘Will we have seen and walked in a real crop circle?’ And I got the answer, ‘yes’”.

“How can you know the future by dowsing with a pendulum? I sometimes just know something’s going to come about. How can you know from asking a pendulum?”

“Well, first of all, I’m not asking the pendulum. When I ask the question for my high or spiritual self to receive the proper energies, I phrase it in a future-past tense question, ‘will we have seen?’. That’s the best I can explain it.”

It was evident Cordelia was listening to my every word, attempting to absorb the new concepts. She hadn’t yet put the gear shift into drive. “We’ll follow the yellow car to make certain we merge into the correct lane.” 

After maneuvering with the mental gymnastics of English driving, we were on our way. Though both of us were in deep thought, I kept an ever-vigilant eye out for the crop circle I had called forward before we’d deplaned, days ago. 

I saw an old crop circle up on a hill to my right. The stalks were already beginning to grow back as our favorite haircut does, no longer resembling its original style. With heightened hopes, I knew it wouldn’t be long.