The Adventure of the Spiritual Experience
Before we get into the meat of this post, welcome to The Adventures of Dysfunctional Dan. In my last post I explained how I feel I have finally completed the upgrade and have become Dan 2.0. I have spent considerable time this week trying to decide on a new name. My first thought was 'Good Grief' inspired by Charlie Brown but it turns out that is the name of several bereavement blogs. I considered using my love for walking with titles like 'The Wanderer' but that is used by endless travel blogs. Both of those elements find a place in the title image but The Adventures of Dysfunctional Dan became the new title, mainly because it allows me to title individual posts like they are Sherlock Holmes stories.
Like many Sundays, I found myself walking down a gravel track. This week I was in Cannon Hill near the Dorset town of Wimborne. It's a rather charming woodland and the Spring sunshine made it a rather pleasant day. Despite the warmer weather it was surprisingly quiet in the woods with only a handful of dog walkers walking under the tree canopy.
I found that the path suddenly darted uphill ahead of me and I intrepidly trotted my way up. The summit of this steep little hill turned out to lead to a viewpoint which thanks to the clear skies gave me a rather breathtaking view across the local area (not that I had much breath left because the hill really was quite steep).
I felt like I was part of a circle of humans for thousands of years ago surrounding the mound, engulfed in the cloud of emotion they were feeling. I felt the sense of loss at losing such a great person but also felt their pride at being part of this group and knowing this incredible person. It's the curse of humanity to feel great affection for incredible friends and family before having to suffer fate cruelly ending the relationship forever.
I felt the sands of time rush on as the significance of this place became gradually lost and it became reclaimed by nature. But as the years danced on the mound and it's occupant remained in situ. There I was in 2019 on a gloriously sunny Spring day standing in the footsteps on my ancient ancestors.
"I don't know who you were my friend, or what role you played." I said to the man in the mound. The words were silent but when you are conversing with the spirit of an ancient human the volume is irrelevant. "But know this- you are remembered. Thousands of years have passed but even now your significance, your importance to your fellow man live on. I will strive to be as important to my peers as you were to them."
Tears welled up in my eyes at the beauty of the experience and for a few minutes I stood in silence in this magical place, before eventually continuing on my journey.
'That was weird' I thought to myself as I strolled along the path. Had I really just had some spiritual experience with an ancient human? I wasn't sure. Certainly something unusual had happened. Maybe I was out of breath from the steep climb up to the summit and the lack of oxygen going to my brain had combined with the incredible view and the emotive sign to conjure some otherworldly experience.
That's what the scientific part of my brain concluded. I can't quite shake the feeling though that it was something more though. Does it really matter either way? Whether the experience was real or not, the emotions I experienced on that hill were genuine. I felt an empathy to people that had lived here thousands of years ago and concluded that I wanted to be the sort of person that people can feel that strength of emotion about. It seems like a good thing to aim for.
Like many Sundays, I found myself walking down a gravel track. This week I was in Cannon Hill near the Dorset town of Wimborne. It's a rather charming woodland and the Spring sunshine made it a rather pleasant day. Despite the warmer weather it was surprisingly quiet in the woods with only a handful of dog walkers walking under the tree canopy.
I found that the path suddenly darted uphill ahead of me and I intrepidly trotted my way up. The summit of this steep little hill turned out to lead to a viewpoint which thanks to the clear skies gave me a rather breathtaking view across the local area (not that I had much breath left because the hill really was quite steep).
Behind this lovely panorama was a small mound surrounded by a low fence. I've seen a few of similar things on my travels and quickly realised it was probably an ancient burial mound. I circled the mound knowing that there would likely be an information sign in the vicinity. This particular sign was unusually well written and emotive so I'm going to quote some of it here.
"It is 4000 years ago and this burial mound has just been completed. As you do today, the people who created it stand and admire its from against the sky... The person they buried in the mound has left the community in deep mourning. They must have been a very important figure to the group to be honoured by such ceremony and backbreaking effort as the bodies of many were simply left out to the elements or devoured by fire.
They will be missed, but their influence on the welfare of the others will not and in death their monument will serve as a constant reminder to any prospective settlers that one powerful enough to be immortalised in such a way has claimed a permanent stake to this land."I am not in any way a religious or spiritual person in any way. I believe in science and hard evidence. But at that spot I felt something.
I felt like I was part of a circle of humans for thousands of years ago surrounding the mound, engulfed in the cloud of emotion they were feeling. I felt the sense of loss at losing such a great person but also felt their pride at being part of this group and knowing this incredible person. It's the curse of humanity to feel great affection for incredible friends and family before having to suffer fate cruelly ending the relationship forever.
I felt the sands of time rush on as the significance of this place became gradually lost and it became reclaimed by nature. But as the years danced on the mound and it's occupant remained in situ. There I was in 2019 on a gloriously sunny Spring day standing in the footsteps on my ancient ancestors.
"I don't know who you were my friend, or what role you played." I said to the man in the mound. The words were silent but when you are conversing with the spirit of an ancient human the volume is irrelevant. "But know this- you are remembered. Thousands of years have passed but even now your significance, your importance to your fellow man live on. I will strive to be as important to my peers as you were to them."
Tears welled up in my eyes at the beauty of the experience and for a few minutes I stood in silence in this magical place, before eventually continuing on my journey.
'That was weird' I thought to myself as I strolled along the path. Had I really just had some spiritual experience with an ancient human? I wasn't sure. Certainly something unusual had happened. Maybe I was out of breath from the steep climb up to the summit and the lack of oxygen going to my brain had combined with the incredible view and the emotive sign to conjure some otherworldly experience.
That's what the scientific part of my brain concluded. I can't quite shake the feeling though that it was something more though. Does it really matter either way? Whether the experience was real or not, the emotions I experienced on that hill were genuine. I felt an empathy to people that had lived here thousands of years ago and concluded that I wanted to be the sort of person that people can feel that strength of emotion about. It seems like a good thing to aim for.
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