On Thursday, my photo app showed me a picture from four years ago, on the start of an amazing journey. With 68 other people, I took a pilgrimage from the Cerne Abbas Giant to the center of CERN’s large hardron collider, via the temples of Damanhur.
The journey was one of the most incredible experiences of my life. We’d spent months in preparation, including an online radio station and a theatrical performance.
The trip’s centerpiece was a ritual to immantise the eschaton. Shortly afterwards the world was in lockdown; this is obviously a coincidence, but I wonder if the pilgrimage had somehow tuned into the fact that something big was coming.
I met some amazing people on that bus across Europe, many of whom are now friends. The trip has led to my involvement in projects such as Bodge magazine and the Mycelium Parish news.
I’m still not sure what the pilgrimage means. I have notes and audio recording from those five days, but I don’t feel like reviewing them just yet. I don’t want to spend too much time looking back, because it feels like the ripples from that event are still spreading, as if its full potential has yet to emerge.
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