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This land is my memory. For two thousand years this valley has been mine alone. I know every rock, every stream and every tree. I know the forces that shape this land and the people who inhabit it.
There are a few billion years the earth was a path of migration for animals of Europe Western. They moved freely throughout the territory so vast, a continent. Millennia passed as the rivers of silt from the ocean and the sun rain raised to heaven. At that time, the mass of Eurasia has been joined. The tectonic plates shifted and islands formed, which raises peninsulas, proud green green water, the drive to the ocean. Long before my time, the forces of nature has fought along the coasts of Europe Western. South-west, the warm Gulf Stream and the open country in the summer heat. From the north, the ice has been raging and the fractured rock of what would become the British Isles.
Land said that it is an epic fight. The generous warmth of earth, venting spleen, wash water, cooling airflow. Rain rescued the ground and ran towards the sea, endless cycles, repeating endlessly. The earth moved, chasms open and the sea swept in, submerging fields and separating the islands of Great Britain and the Continent.
Jets of lava boiling vomit the center of the earth to create molten granite formations, a source of wonder till the end of time. A large crack has opened what is now the Bristol Channel and Irish Sea, which separates the land into separate areas. Many features still connect Britain, Ireland, Wales and Cornwall. Their membership can still see the place and people. But veins can run across the sea, a matrix of energy Criss, cross country and reaches out around our planet.
The Phoenicians, the Egyptians and the Greeks went to these shores, even before the Iron Age, the search for wisdom Celtic long before the days of my youth. They followed the trail of gold and wisdom across the sea in Cornwall and Wales and Ireland. Later, the trade of tin followed these routes across the UK and travel wise men and saints to the west of the earth, the land of sun, gods and the quest for immortality that haunts us all. Ships and boats of the French and Spanish coasts often sailed the rivers on the south coast of Cornwall in search of trade and travel with Keltii friendly and civilized, we hope to avoid the pirates who ravaged these shores for millennia.
2000 Years ago I was killed trying to save my mother raiders Portuguese on the river who stole the gold that came from Ireland. My story is located in the valley of one of these rivers, now called River Fowey. It is a story I have not been able to say so far. My own story begins with the visit of Jesus of Nazareth River Fowey in 30 AD (according to the Julian calendar and allow for miscalculation has seven years). He was twenty-three. He went on a vision quest to west-to-earth, seeking the wisdom of Keltii and union with his father's mind. I spent much time thinking about that time and my brief encounter with a man who claimed to be the Son of God. For hundreds of years, I was intrigued by his smile, the light in his eyes. He had a rare quality of being in extreme cases, a total and unconditional compassion for all life.
Who am I? A ghost; Fintan, born 2000 years ago and caught in the matrix of nature, incapable of telling my story until today. I am here in an ancient land, waiting for you to read my story
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Article Source: ArticlesBase.com – The Lily
The Lily of the Valley
