The New Moon, and Partial Solar Eclipse, in Mutable Earth opposed Scheat on the 21st of September 2025 at 20:54 BST
The path, uneven and strewn with obstinate fragments of ancient stone, wound its laborious ascent toward that immeasurable azure canopy wherein the heavens seemed to dilate in solemn grandeur, all the while the Yellow One unforgivingly beating down upon my neck and back with little mercy. Salt pinched waters moistened my temples, the light now danced on my skin, in the distance I could see what called me here.
Momentarily pausing from the toilsome theatre of my climb, my gaze was compelled by that sylvan expanse which betrayed its secret vitality – the forest did not appear to slumber in the ordinary stillness of inanimate creation! Above its vast expanse lay a green-blue haze that seemed to throb and fluctuate with a rhythm akin to breath.
Resuming my charge, one foot forward at a time, the forest grew ever larger in my panorama, eclipsing the sky line, as if an invisible puissance was irresistibly drawing me, body and spirit alike, towards its shadowed belly, as though I was destined to be absorbed within its verdant mysteries.
My rocky ascent relinquished its dominion, in time, ceding graciously to the woodland architecture. There at the perimeter of the tree line was a wooden gate, a custodian of the multitudinous congregation of trunks and leaves, I paused, my breath suspended, and I closed my eyes, asking for permission to enter.
An image streamed through my mind’s eye of a path winding its way into the forest’s interior, while from above the luxuriant canopy admitted, in broken shafts, a celestial radiance that danced upon the earthen floor. A softened breeze, tempered by sun yet cooled by leaf, set the branches to their gentle motion bending in courteous invitation, beckoning me onward into the labyrinthine mysteries of their green dominion.
Opening my eyes and laying a hand on the trunk of an ancient ash, I gave my thanks and entered the forest. Downwards the circuitous path flowed, the temperature noticeably cooler compared to the intense inferno that both parched the mountain and my tongue.
As the path conducted me ever deeper into the forest, there arose, first sparsely and then with mounting frequency, monuments of stone clothed in the green vesture of moss and lichen. Streaked with the slow inscription of water’s hand, they seemed deliberate rather than some accident of geology, guiding me intentionally forward. Upon their weathered faces the striations gleamed like runes or ogham, characters of an ancient text whose half-legible whispers awoke within my mind a tumult of memories not my own – visions fragmentary and persistent, flashing before me like the remnants of an ancient dream.
Closer and closer they drew together, narrowing the passage to a funnelled course, so that I moved as though within a corridor contrived for contemplative procession, carrying me deeper into the forest. Abruptly inclining me left or right, with willing obedience and utter trust, I followed their instructions towards some concealed and momentous destination, hidden within the shadowed light of the forest.
And then, the limestone rocks drew apart, revealing a vast chamber of arboreal creation. The earthen floor, dry and even, stretched before me, broken only by the occasional sentinel stone that thrust its head from the soil, as though inviting repose and the modest refreshment of water from my flask. Above, the branches of oak and birch entwined with patient deliberation, forming an arching ceiling that might have rivalled the vault of any Gothic cathedral, while the rocks, towering and steadfast, rose to frame the walls, as though the hand of some unseen architect had shaped this wooded sanctuary. The air hung in that peculiar stillness of consecrated spaces, touched with light and shadow alike, and I felt a tremor of awe as though I had been guided to a place both eternal and ineffably secret.
Lingering for a short while, further images, nah memories, flooded my Field, as if the stories of those who sojourned here were held in perpetuity to be accessed by those who were drawn to this place. And so I listened, with an open heart, willingly received those whispers, whilst offering in quiet reciprocation, some fraction of my own heart. The trees themselves seemed to respond, their branches swaying in cadence with the tempo of my thoughts, so that we moved in consort, a single organism composed of mind and wood, consciousness and leaf.
In time, the mood imperceptibly shifted, as though some unseen hand had pressed upon the current of my passage, gently urging me onward, deeper into the forest, toward another destination yet unseen. The path climbed out of the cathedral and then returned to the narrow spiralling stone and tree labyrinth, bending, arching, weaving, all while inviting surrender.
The beams through the canopy flickered like restless dancers, shadows bending and stretching as ribbons of light spiralled through my mind, each droplet of light refracted into prismatic hues, forming colours that twisted and entwined in quiet conversation. At every turn I felt my mind further soften, my thoughts loosening from their grip, my body becoming increasingly more porous to the presences around me as Nature’s voice called, staccato in its urgency, tender in its intimations, a dialogue composed of wind and leaf, until I moved as one participant in a silent and exalted communion.
Further along the spiralling way, the steadfast rocks once again yielded, and I emerged into a glade of singular majesty, where the tree line parted to showcase a tall, slender tree, whose unusual trunk birthed three vertical trunks, giving it the appearance of a harp poised to be played by some unseen hand. Singing with threads of light, the air around it seemed strung with an unseen music.
Leaning close, the forest offered the image of voices carried within the bark, voices of rain and snow, of sun and shadow, of every breath that had passed through its branches. In response, my own heart lent a note to the quiet symphony, released as a subtle warmth, a vibration that coursed through me and mingled with the living song of the tree, as if my prayer had become a chord in the forest’s hymn.
For a time, I remained within this music. The air itself trembled with a subtle resonance, and I felt the presence of all things gathered here, each leaf, each shaft of light, each stone vibrating in concert. I felt the forest conjure the image of sound carried on wind, of voices that had moved through the centuries and remained woven into the fibres of their bark. My heart answered with a streaming note of its own, not audible, yet the tree and I sang together, and for a moment I felt dissolved into the larger music of this forest.
A moment that stretched
And stretched, as it does with any engaging conversation – the passage of time felt suspended until at last I noticed the waning of the light above the canopy.
Placing my hand on the tree harp, I shared my gratitude for its trust, its stories and its song. Taking my leave with measured reverence, I once again followed the circuitous pathways, guided by the reliable hands of the rocks, until the forest, at length, relented, and I emerged beneath the vast cerulean expanse above. The firmament, now surrendering to twilight, was slowly replaced by a carpet of stars, scattered as if by some celestial hand, while the labyrinth of the forest, though left behind, had taken residence within me. I turned to the forest and closing my eyes, gave thanks for the privilege of sojourning within its sanctuary.
Down the hill I traversed, alive, rejuvenated and invigorated from the vegetal exchange, conscious that the forests transmission now lives in my bloodstream, its visions turning through my breath, its presences folded into the very marrow of my being, just as my sharing will remain accessible to those who take the time to linger, listen and sing in consort with those arboreal beings. As I reached my car, a certainty arose within me, one that surpasses words – I will carry this dialogue with me long after the trees vanish from sight, for it will remain ever alive, resonant in my work, my rest and in the quiet gesture of my days, a perpetual hymn sung between the pulse of their world and mine.
Thank you for taking time to journey with me within the enrapture of the forest – that living remembrance of what it means to connect deeply and purely with the Mutable Earth consciousness that exists within you, a perception of reality that is being once again renewed during this partial eclipse on the 21st of September. For further details of this eclipse and an explanation of the meaning of this passage of prose relative to Virgo, please subscribe to my Substack account.
Many blessings to you
A
Completed on the 24th of August 2025 at 09:48 am BST
