Who of us hasn't looked to the east at dawn on our holy days and wondered what it would be like to stand barefoot in the grass at a ring of stones and see the sun split the ring, see the growing light like gems on the dewy grass, to be where our ancestors were so long ago?
Sometimes fate is wonderfully kind.
On September 23rd I'll be standing at a Loughcrew watching the sun rise and feeling the turn of the Wheel. It's a pilgrimage in every sense of the word - I'll be in Ireland, seeing the places I've only dreamed of. I'll stand at an ancient place, my toes in the grass, and watch the Equinox unfold as the sun rises before me. My desire as a photographer to capture every second on film will clash with my soul's desire to drink up the light with nothing but will in my hands, but that cannot be helped, so there will be pictures, and there will be open hands.
For those who are at home, in their sacred spaces - open your hands to the sky, see the sun and know that the sacred comes to you too, and even if your feet never leave the soil of the town you were born in, the sun touches us all that day, and the rays that fall on you now fell on your ancestors, fall on the ancient places, fell on them when they were new.
Sometimes we can be pilgrims with our feet. Sometimes we can only be pilgrims with our hearts.
If you can be, be both. If you cannot, then be with your heart, and your spirit will join us there.
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