Right by the house I grew up in. Just at the bottom of the meadow. A short way beyond the edge of the grounds… No more than 6 minutes walk from where I used to play in the summer evenings, there lies a powerful and mostly completely overlooked Neolithic dolmen.
This island has been inhabited since the stone age, and as a result it has some extremely important sites if you are interested in ancient civilisation. The dolmen of mont Ubé was used as a pigsty and before that it was hacked up by quarrymen. Now it sits right next to a nasty modern house with atrocious plastic Athena statues and climbing frames for the kids. The house does nothing to complement the site. The owners must be oblivious or contemptuous. But it’s just down the road from the soil that sprang me. I really hope some of that ancient shit rubbed off on me as I was running around digging in the soil. Turns out I grew up right next to a Neolithic place of power.
Not the biggest one in this island though. Not by any stretch. La Hougue Bie lies here. One of the ten oldest man made buildings in the world. A mound, from about 6000 years ago. Cruciform on the inside, because yeah that was a thing a long time before you know what. To get in there you have to prostrate yourself. A small tunnel. “People were shorter” my arse. Bow your head before the power of *insert here*. The Christians have shat a chapel on top of the mound, as was their way. “Place of power? It’s OUR made up story, not yours. Ours.” Unlike the ridiculous arrogance on top of Glastonbury Tor, this little “worthy” Christian folly still stands and leeches energy from the omphalos below it. The true power is clearly in the mound. But there’s a pimple on top with a cross.
It’s closed. Whatever function this served visibly peaked at equinox, not solstice. There’s probably something that can be found at solstice there but it hasn’t been worked out so they’ve basically closed it completely. I’ll have to come back on an equinox. I’ll likely show up at solstice anyway, although it’s all locked up for the off season with iron gates so there’s no way in. Whatever power is there will be surely magnified at the solstice. If there’s nobody else trying to connect with it maybe it’s even better to try.
For this morning, I crouched at the entrance. I could feel power radiating out of that tunnel. There’s something. There really is. “It fell out of use some 4000 years ago.” Out of use, but not out of power. Right there, surrounded by roads, with little room for more than a very worthy bunch of reenactors making a longhouse, this feels like one of the biggest missed tricks in the world. Hougue as in Sutton hoo. Hoooo. Bie means a home. So both a place to honour the dead and a place you live. Six thousand years ago. Mostly ignored, overlooked and passed over by all these accountants. There’s power here. And fuck it, I grew up in sacred ground for whatever the fuck that ancient faith structure was. Maybe this is my ministry. I just have to work it out. Meanwhile, Hooooo!
AlBarclay 