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thesweetcheat wrote: GLADMAN wrote: A point for debate, perhaps? Are prehistoric sites still 'sacred' places - however you might define that? - or are they now irrelevant, of no use in assisting human beings relating to life on this planet? Simply museum pieces from a bygone age?
I happen to experience what could be described as 'spirituality' at these places... a feeling that somehow the world does mean something. Not in a concrete, definable, measurable sense of course, but within that bizarre, (currently) unfathomable world of introspection. Just electrical pulses. But guess the point is this is the medium we've always used, so for me these sites are still relevant, doing their job.
I've experienced some of the most visceral highs and lows at prehistoric sites. Some have made me want to laugh into the wind for pure joy (in fact my recent locating of the cist on the slopes of the Sugarloaf had me doing just that), some take the breath away with their splendour or their landscape setting, some have a very special quiet and hushed beauty, while others have brought buried emotions to the surface in a very unexpected way.
And occasionally sites have brought anger and disappointment, when they've been badly abused by people.
Purely my own opinion, but I wouldn't probably use the word "sacred" to describe these places, as that carries some kind of "higher being"/religious connotations, in my mind anyway. Any religion practiced at them now is essentially made-up Victorian romanticism, no matter what the druids might tell you. But spiritual? For sure. The high, remote places are invariably a salve and a tonic. Just not when there's a coach trip arriving.
TSC, you and Gladman have a way with words. I enjoyed your posts on this subject a lot. I have been guilty of turning up in a coach on one occasion - when I visited the Ring of Brodgar a few years back. Was travelling alone and it was the only way I could get there - I also recall it being one of the most euphoric experiences I have had on a visit to an ancient site - perhaps it was the effort involved in getting there, or the heavy mist lifting just as we arrived on Orkney, or the deep blue of the sky, the like of which I hadn't seen before, or that it was midsummer. I can't pin it down but it has stayed with me.
On the other hand, Callanish didn't have that effect much to my surprise (though the golden eagle did). I remember Sunkenkirk for getting hopelessly lost trying to walk there with my companion who had used a very old one inch map to plot a five mile walk meant to end up there - instead we ended up walking into a bog hemmed in by barbed wire. After retracing our steps we drove there and just walked a short distance from the car. My feet were soaking wet and my friend was now 'very hungry'. We ate our packed lunch huddled behind one of the stones in the rain. It was an amazing place though, in spite of the discomfit - also I saw my first and only red squirrel run across the road with a baby in its mouth on the journey across Cumbria to get there.
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