Wednesday, April 25, 2012

You can not grasp the river

The shale outcropping above the confluence radiates an undeniable presence. It feels like a great guardian overlooking the mayhem of the convergence.

Harpers Ferry is a very strange place energetically. It makes perfect sense that John Brown went nuts and started the Civil War right there at the confluence of the Shenandoah and Potomac Rivers.

The energy was so powerful that my friend and I found ourselves reluctant to stay more than about an hour or so. It was a cleansing energy, but not gentle. It was more like energetic dermabrasion. Whew!

I have a very special fondness for river confluences. I love standing at the end of Hain's Point here in DC where the Anacostia and Potomac rivers converge. There is a quiet power there, a sense of unity for two rivers that seem (to me at least) to long for each other. When I stand there and sense the energy what I feel is that it's so RIGHT for the rivers to join. Yesterday at Harpers Ferry the confluence felt more like a battle. There was chaos and destruction where the rivers came together, a sense of clashing and bashing more than anything like unity or wholeness. It's interesting to think about.

The confluence definitely sucks all the energy out of the town proper, or the part of the town we saw anyway. There were some cool historic buildings that have been carefully preserved, but the energy was frozen, stuck. It was kind of weird. I do recommend, for those visiting Harpers Ferry, a trip to Hannah's bar-b-que by the Amtrak stop. Oh man that sandwich was so good!

Very cool house and ghost house. This was between Harpers Ferry and Shepherdstown.

After being battered for awhile by the energy in Harpers Ferry, we hopped back in the car and drove twenty minutes to Shepherdstown, a very lovely, charming, historic college town. There we checked out all the little shops, walked, drank coffee. Sweet. I bought a beautiful crystal that was "seeded by the Lemurian people," the woman at the shop told me with a straight face. And people think I'm weird!

On the way out of Shepherdstown, not on purpose, we passed through the Antietam battlefield, drove right past the cemetery. Of course I was on edge as I always am when encountering the energy of Civil War battlefields. My friend, who is a shaman just like you and me, said it felt like a strong wind was bearing down on her car. She felt she had to push harder on the gas peddle to get through it.

It was a fabulous day trip. I feel clean, restored in the way I always am after a visit to my beloved Appalachian mountains. I have to remember to get OUT OF TOWN periodically. When I don't get out, I am the worse for it. Must remember!

Happy Wednesday. Shalom.


Kerry said...

I always forget how closely embedded DC actually is. I tend to think of it as this island so isolated that you can only get there on a jet. But you hopped in a car and drove out into the country, wow.:)

Reya Mellicker said...

I know exactlynwhatnyou mean. I might have to write about the boundary stones.

Reya Mellicker said...

I know exactlynwhatnyou mean. I might have to write about the boundary stones.

X said...

The photo graphs rock
I mean to say also that rocks are the very foundation of the meaning of all your photos.
You knew that right?
I am merely pointing out the obvious.
The theme as I see it from them is the seen and unseen bedrock of our lives, our houses, our ways to travel, to get from here to there safely.
SOmetimes you see it-the great point of rock hanging our over the tracks and the remains of the bridge, othertimes its implied, you know its there, under the river for example, in the tunnel, behind the paint.
Just sayin
These photos rock, so do you.

Reya Mellicker said...

Very cool, X.

Rocks are my friends. They are slow. We "get" each other.

I taught witchcamp for many years in the mountains of West Virginia, above Capon Bridge at a dance camp. Someone told me the grand mountain to the east of the camp was called Slane's Knob, an awesome name. I figured the mountain had a "true" name so I sat there one morning for about two hours, trying to figure out what its name was.

I realized it would probably take 100s or thousands of years just to pronounce its name. For heaven's sake.

Lee said...

I didn't realize you had passed through Antietam on your trip to Harper's Ferry. My 3rd great-grandfather was killed at the Battle of Antietam and is buried in that cemetery. When I visited I had the experience of feeling him stand up in the grave and grab a hold of my guts-- literally reach into me and grab my intestines-- and yell "My blood, my kin". He's an intense fella. You can see his photo on my Facebook page in the album "Maternal ancestors". His name is Andrew Jackson Hobbs. Lee