Home> Stones Rising> Stones Rising 2002 - Photo Review

Stones Rising 2002
a Ceremonial Intensive in Pictures

with review by Drema Baker
    Publisher, IF Journal (formerly PagaNet)
as appearing in The Witches Voice
Photography by Lance
    PagaNet News
Additional Photography by Rachel
    Four Quarters


In Depth:
The Procession of the Stones
        a 350K download, worth every pixel!

The Rising
        a 450K  download.

Ceremonials and Fire Circle
        a 170K download

To download video clips from Stones 2002



          I never know quite what to expect when I arrive at Stones Rising. Even though I've attended every single rising except the first, each and every year it is different... growing, evolving, adapting to the needs of the people who come both to give and to receive ceremony. Stones is not a festival. It is a reunion, of sorts, for folks who crave a connection with the land and with space that is always sacred, with other people who hold such things in high regard. It is a place where it is safe to follow the voice of Spirit, and a time to step outside the mundane long enough to realize that all paths to the center are equally holy. This year's Stones seemed to be mostly about discreetly pointing out all the similarities between the seemingly different journeys, and we were offered many opportunities to honor each other's spirituality, to learn about and see the beauty inherent in each, no matter what form it may take.

          The land at Four Quarters Farm is ruggedly beautiful, rolling and rocky with green forests surrounding open fields in which the passerby will often see deer, wild turkeys, rabbits and other wildlife. Sound carries in the early morning fog, making it almost eerily easy to hear the camp sounds as you walk up the road from the parking field to the high meadow. Smoke from campers' fires hangs in the air, carrying with it the scent of breakfast mingled with the welcome smell of Sacred Bean from the Coffee Dragon pavilion. You can feel the excitement of the people gathered here, the energy they bring with them to this place of hard work, commitment and promise.

          The first place I always like to go once I arrive at this event is to the Stone Circle. There stand the silent sentinels of Risings past, this year already shrouded and waiting when we arrived on Thursday. There is an air of reverence here, and mirth as well. No one speaks in whispers while walking through; they laugh gaily with companions, or stand silently touching the Stones, or walk quietly observing all the gifts made by visitors who have come before -- some long before.

          The altars are never empty here. Offerings are left by many, tangible prayers to the gods of the people. At some time in the last few years, someone left what looks like a handmade ancestor figure on the Ancestors Altar - a hollow male head, mouth and eyes agape, almost disturbing at first glance. I've seen this figure decorated with flowers and dried seed heads stuck into the eye, mouth and ear holes; I've also see it laden with wax drippings and colorful beads. This year, it sported a rhinestone tiara.

          Directly before that altar this year, a forked branch stood erect, holding strung bones of small animals - perhaps chicken bones from meals, or leavings of animals who'd died in the woods - and a large cow skull... .the dichotomy of the crowned ancestor figure peering through the forked branch with its somewhat dark image of death and its leavings seemed an unlikely pairing of Earth and Air, here on this altar in the West. Yet somehow, I found it strangely comforting to know that here was a safe and supportive environment in which to face the sometimes uncomfortable facts of life in a material world.

          As beautiful as the land is, the people who come to the event make it even more so. They walk the meadow, the Stone Circle, the roadways, and the Big Bottom in every shape, color, size and style, some draped with colorful clothing, others partially or fully clad in only the sky. High fashion means nothing here. Round bodies are just as beautiful as lean ones, old as honored as new.

          Large and small folk alike contribute to the community feel on this land, for all lend a hand to make the Rising happen. Some bring ceremony, others bring labor. Stones is a weekend of commitments to sacrifice or service - to the land, to the people, to the future. Many pathways to this end are offered. Some attendees can help pull a Stone - hard work, indeed, and not for everyone. Others can offer to help prepare, cook and serve the food to the people, or to clean up afterward. Some drum. Some dance. Some sing. Some carry burning sage, or a steady drumbeat, or a jug of water to those performing heavy labor. This year, one group committed to read Homer's Odyssey in its entirety during the weekend, and truly they fulfilled their promise... they could be seen here and there throughout the weekend, always with book in hand. Some of those folks listening had their own copies of the book to follow along.
          But perhaps the most easily forgotten pathway of service among them all is that of Witness. All first-time attendees of Stones Rising are encouraged to be Witnesses, for without them, who could verify that the work done by those others was done in a good way? Indeed, lovely and colorful witness arbors are erected for the weekend above the Stone Circle, beneath which all observers stand, and beneath which all the Stones travel on their way to their permanent homes in the Circle.

          The actual working of the Stones took a little different turn this year. The two furthest Stones - one by the farmhouse and one in the parking area - were pulled to the high meadow the day before the Rising, whereas in years past, they were pulled on the day of the Rising. This did not in any way decrease the feeling of excitement during the Rising. I actually worked on one of the Stone Crews this year; Mark Schwenk led our team, aided (and perhaps goaded) a bit by Stone Crew veteran Mike McGee, as well as Tom Chassells, Little John and others. Both Tom and Little John had their own Stones to pull, but every available able- bodied person helped out on this task, making the pulling of both Stones far quicker than anyone expected. I had never pulled a Stone like this before. I joined the crew just before it started up the hill to the parking field. As I joined them, Little John began drawing a symbol on the stone in what I have heard referred to as "party powder"; as he drew, he explained each segment of the symbol - this is the wings to make this Stone fly; this is the arrow to show it which way to go; these are feathers to make it light as a bird; and so forth. When he had finished drawing it, he touched his lit cigarette to its lines and in a brilliant flash it burned down to a black mark on the Stone's surface. All stood by, mesmerized, for a moment, then a great cheer went up and we all went eagerly to the ropes.

An in depth photo essay of the Procession of the Stone

         Now I am more accustomed to the level of physical labor required by long hours of typing at my computer, or perhaps walking the length of the WalMart parking lot, so you can imagine what I was in for. I deliberately ignored the little hysterical voice in my head saying "You'll be sorry!" and took my place among the others (on the outside, just in case). While I can't say it was the hardest thing I ever did, I can easily and without hesitation say it was very physically challenging. The weight of the Stone (with its Crew Captain aboard) was great, but with so many of us pulling the sled, it wasn't that difficult. What threatened my endurance most were the uphill portions, of which there were a significant number. A few times, I was almost certain I would not make it to the top; but merciful Captains measured out timely breaks, teaching us to lift our arms in order to gulp greater amounts of air when we stopped. During these breaks, tenders came forward with water and smudge for the Stone Crews, and about halfway through, one Church member came from the kitchens with a massive carrot on a stick, provoking a great deal of humor (and a few suggestive remarks) from the Crew. At one point, someone broke out pastel crayons and began to paint people. Then we were off again, and on the home stretch. By the time we reached the mouth of the high meadow, I felt like I'd accomplished something very significant, and that I truly could do anything.

          I watched the next Stone being pulled; it was interesting to see it from this vantage point now that I'd seen it from the ropes, as well. When I went to observe, I could just see the team coming around the curve in the road, downhill, pulling fast. The Captains yelled instructions ("Go left!"), while other veteran team members worked with long, heavy, metal levers to pivot and dislodge the Stone when necessary. I could feel the group's energy, see their exertion. The team spirit was evident and, as always, there was a bit of good-natured competition between the Captains, who each "surf" their Stone all the way. At one point, the children excitedly ran alongside the Stone, asking of the attending adults, "Is this the Stone we'll raise tomorrow?"
          Tom acted as a Team Captain again this year; it was his second time as a Captain, but his first time leading a long pull. When I asked him what he felt, he said, "Chest-bursting pride and gut-wrenching terror." The energy, he explained, is like a drug, but he was very relieved that no one was hurt. The job of pulling and raising the Stones is unquestionably dangerous. It is through the care and guidance of the Captains that safety is maintained, so I could well imagine the relief Tom and the others felt when it was over.

An in depth photo essay of The Rising

          It was the next day that the Stones were brought into the Circle. Witnesses gathered beneath the arbors and to either side, leaving a wide avenue between them for the Stone Crews to enter with their honored cargo. The actual placement of the Stone above and before its appointed space within the Circle is always tricky, and the teams took their time to ensure accuracy. While they worked, the Witnesses sang, danced, drummed and held sacred space for them. I looked around, seeing faces both familiar and new, delighting in seeing young mothers who had been pregnant at last year's Rising and were, this year, carrying new babies on their hips. I knew that these tiny new members of the tribe would be passed through the hole in the East Gate Stone after the Rising was complete, and looked forward to that moment.

          While these people come to this place to see or participate in raising Stones on the hill, the Rising is not the only ceremony that takes place during the event. Other rituals are spaced out during the days and nights so that attendees can, if they wish, participate in all of them.

          The Labyrinth was present again this year; in fact, it made two appearances. The first was presented by members of the new Labyrinth Project, and was done by candlelight Thursday night, preceding the Walk of the Altars to the Ancestors. The second one, presented by Crossroads Earth Religion Center, took place in the Stone Circle beneath the Witness Arbors Friday afternoon. I walked both. The Labyrinth carries great significance for me personally, with only one path in and one path out and both paths the same. Walking it is akin to walking the path to Spirit - just when you think you are getting closer to the Center, the path winds out again, only to bring you to the Center when you least expect it. As a walker in this ritual, you pass familiar faces and ones unknown, and all are on the same journey to the same place, though it appears to be parallel or even opposing at times.
          At one point in my Friday walk, I saw a child of about 10 walking it by himself. He was definitely not somber, as we adults were. He was laughing, waving at people as he passed them. Later, I got a more up-close and personal view of a child's Labyrinth walk by taking my 5-year-old Goddess-son's hand and walking it again, with him. He took it very seriously, asking me questions ("Are we in the Underworld now?"), sometimes then questioning my answers ("It doesn't look like the Underworld. I can still see the powder [cornmeal]. It must be a game."). The experience, combined with the fading in and out of the world outside the "walls" of cornmeal and the drifting sounds of the Stone Singers Chorus belting out the tune for the "Flintstones, " was otherworldly and strange. No two Labyrinth walks are ever the same, and this one held true to that fact.

          That night there was a Blessing of the Warriors, written by Heather McDuff (Hospital Corpsman Second Class, USNR) and held by the community's military Veterans who, as I understand it, have formed quite a bond between them. The rite was held to honor military and civilians who'd passed in the last year, express gratitude to the protectors at home, and those who fight far from home. Mike Martin, a regular attendee at Stones Rising and a committed member of the Four Quarters Veterans' group, described the ritual as touching, heartfelt. He felt that the ceremony, which allowed participants to remember past years and friends who had died in the field or were changed forever by their experiences there, helped to bring closure for some. "Stones is a special place for me anyway, " he said. "In the last two years, I've gotten involved in the Veterans' community on the land, and [Stones] means even more to me now. It's ironic, since I hated the military when I was in it." Mike feels that his calling on the land at Four Quarters is to provide Veteran support and to add his energy to that group whose experiences extend over generations, with Vets from many wars.

          The Consecration Rite, conducted by the ceremonial Wiccan priests and priestesses of the Assembly of the Sacred Wheel, was actually a full day of preparation which culminated in a candlelit, solemn, beautiful ceremony among the Stones. In this rite, a small group of experienced priestesses and priests blessed each Stone in turn, linking them to each other and to the new Stones, and calling down the energy of the assembled participants to charge and renew them all. As I watched the crowd during the preparation for this ritual, I was struck by the rapt attention of the folks there assembled. It was drizzling--had been all day--and cold. Yet the majority of attendees stood watching the guides as they explained the procedures for the upcoming ceremony, and all showed due respect for a perhaps unfamiliar path. It was apparent to me that all present were here to worship the Old Gods, and to honor the work being done on this land. Later, toward the end of the rite, participants all joined in a wordless chant, the tone of which grew and swelled, gaining timbre and depth until I could feel it permeating my body in an enduring, beautiful, powerful energy.

An in depth photo essay of Ceremonials and Fire Circle

          Following the Assembly's ritual, Lance and I walked over to the bonfire, expecting the drummers to be warming up for a night of dancing. Instead, they were holding a steady, slow beat while a group of folks drew meticulous and beautiful symbols in cornmeal on the sand. I'd never seen these symbols before; I watched, curious, as they worked intently for over an hour. After a while, I saw some of the others standing near the entrance to the fire circle, "blessing" a large Corn Man with the smoke from fine Cuban cigars, and with large swigs of rum and other assorted liquid libations delivered from their own mouths. I finally asked Pam and Patrick, both members of the Church, what the people were drawing in the sand. They explained that the designs were called Veves, and that they were a sort of invocation to specific Orishas. When I asked Pam if the Veve was the ceremony where the Loa come and "ride" the dancers, she responded, "Oh yeah!" My excitement mounted.

         When the cornmeal designs were completed to the satisfaction of the priest, Little John, he personally walked around the ritual site overlaying the designs with his "party powder." After the last bit was redrawn, he lit a long sparkler and got the attention of all those assembled (as if our attention had wandered to begin with). With a flourish, he lit the tip of one of the symbols, and the lines began to spark and burn, slowly but brilliantly and dramatically until all the Veves had drawn themselves in fire on the sand. Then we were called to "dance them in, " and the drummers picked up the beat.

          While dancers surrounded them, one small group made offerings of rum, bourbon and chamba to the fire; then the dancing really got underway. I joined them, dancing ecstatically around the flames, occasionally standing back from the fire to dance in one place, letting the flames and the drums and the Loa take me where they would. The Corn Man took center stage at one point, when the priests brought him in to be burned in the fire. Late in the evening, Billy Bardo stepped up and began a recitation for those of us still present, talking of the mystery of our ways, etiquette not taught in books, and the joy of the moment... I can't remember all the words, but it was intensely beautiful and appropriately timed; I thanked him for it afterward. Through it all a man in a red sarong and red mask fed the fire, keeping the flames going for those who danced and drummed. It was a magickal night!

          There was more... a lot more. So very much goes into this experience... from the little details that no one ever sees to the large elaborate ritual sets that are brought by the presenting groups, it is truly a community effort that will leave a lasting impression on every attendee to pass between the Stones. Try as I might, this is not an event that can be described in words, but is something that must be experienced personally to truly understand its significance. Stones Rising is about far more than merely the building of a Stone Circle. It is about the building of a family of the heart, the building of sacred space, the building of tribe, and the building of a legacy. Both the event and its hosting Church have withstood many trials, and will likely be there for many more generations to come. I suspect that most people who journey to the land to see even one Stone raised will be back to see others raised as well. Each visitor will leave their mark on the land, and the land -- and the Stones -- will leave their mark on each visitor.

In Depth:
The Procession of the Stones
        a 350K download, worth every pixel!

The Rising
        a 450K  download.

Ceremonials and Fire Circle
        a 170K download

To download video clips from Stones 2002