When I first planned this trip to visit my kids in the States, I thought of dropping by to see my “spiritual brother” Bruce Davidson. Together with his partner Linda Reimer, and the gathered companions at Sirius Community, he had been carrying an inner light for decades, even through the past few years of declining physical health, after a fall from a tree had physically broken him.

He passed in November, and my desire to meet him again in this lifetime were ended as well. Since Sirius is not far from the Pioneer Valley, where both of my adult children are in residence, I took an evening to drive up into the hills, to add my presence to his lingering presence.

I had taken part in a number of his projects — they patiently spanned many years, most of them, in gracious, unhurried arcs that embraced many volunteers and visitors; one of the more memorable and outlandish (in terms of conventional ways of being) was the construction of a stone circle near the height of land on the community’s property.

Bruce had been involved with a similar project with Ivan Macbeth, a soft burly bear of a man from the UK, who directed the construction of standing stones and stone circles for years. As I understand it, Bruce was thrilled with the idea of creating a structure at Sirius, and invited Ivan to be involved… and so it happened.

Each stone would be several tons in size and weight, and each would be placed by hand, using tree trunks as scaffolding and levers. The force of a community of participants and volunteers would dig deep resting holes, build the scaffolds, move the stones on log rollers from the bottom of the hill to the top (here a tractor helped on the steeper grades), and lift those stones quarter-inch by quarter-inch up, until they rested above the hole on a vertical knock-away trunk.

Finally, all the humans stepped back, the knock-away was pulled out from under, and the massive stone dropped a few feet with a thankfully anti-climactic “thud” to rest, mostly vertical, with its foot in the clay. It was then trued up with poles, packed with stone at the base, tamped down, done.

I helped with five of the 15 stones, over the course of two years, between 2008 and 2009. I can’t remember now if I was present for the placement of the center stone. It seems a memory both clear and indistinct, as most heightened moments are — like your wedding. Was I really there? Of course I was… though maybe not physically.

On this January night I walked alone through the trees. I know the path well, having walked it numerous times, so made my way by faint starlight, the waxing moon having set, through the silent forest. There was no breeze. The recent snow left no footprints ahead of me, and the chill of the season had hidden away most of the hardy winter animals in their dens and burrows; the sound of my breath in comparison to the hush, and my footsteps in the powder rustled quietly like falling leaves.

Stone Circle — Portal

I went through the portal stones — two narrow vertical slabs that form a doorway without a door — and visited each stone clockwise, in turn, each aligned for distant points that added meaningful connection to the circle and to the community.

I stopped at the Sirius Stone, which had been placed midway through the project, and I had helped in the placing. The stone was found at a quarry in the region and, due to its shape and the qualities of its surface, had called out to be the community namesake, aligned with the rising star Sirius at a significant date in the annual celestial calendar.

Sirius Stone, side view

On this particular site, there was a good amount of soil and loose stone covering a layer of larger settled stone, which in turn lay firmly upon immovable bedrock. Each of the stones we had previously placed involved a fair amount of fruitful digging: first, bucket upon bucket of tannic topsoil, fed over the centuries by fallen pine and pine needles; then those head-sized stones that were loosened and pulled up by hand, and tossed to the side for use as props for the standing stone; finally the use of long iron pry bars to free up stones the size of bodies, ropes to wind around any edges with purchase, and wooden skids to drag them out of the hole, twenty men and women on the haul.

It was late season when we began to dig the home for the Sirius Stone. We made it through the first layer and hit rock, but not the expected layer of loose debris, where a foot to the left, or a foot to the right, you would find an edge and begin to welcome the stone up and out. Instead we found a flat surface that resisted definition in any direction, like a stone whale we were unable to wake, just below the surface of the earth.

When describing the circumference and building such a circle, the member stones are sited with intention, and the center located before any digging has begun. At this point, five or six stones were already in the ground, so the direction from the center stone to the start Sirius was fixed; we dug forward and backward along the line of sight, and found more of the back of the whale. After quite a bit of fruitless excavation, and a proportional amount of sweat, we were able to pull up part of a slab (exposing more bedrock underneath). Blasting was jokingly, half-jokingly, suggested, and rejected.

Ivan examined the scene, the stone, and its home, and determined it would work: the slab we pulled had created a modest ledge against which the stone could rest, and we could re-seat the excavated slab on the far side. Then we could fill with stone and earth and raise the level above where it had been originally. We dropped the stone, fitted and filled… and the Sirius Stone is standing tall several years later. I think it will stay.

Stone Circle — Clockwise (North) from the Portal

I continued around the circle in the silence and the starlight. Here was the massive stone offered by a neighbor, in exchange for moving it out of her yard; it was so heavy it almost cost the community its truck, and challenged everyone to get it up the hill… yet there is stands to the south. Another with its fascinating scored surface, as though some ancient had carved a fern. The stone benches. The rhododendron around the circle, and small fruiting trees within. The center stone.

From the portal stones where I had entered I walked toward the center. Here stood was the older-growth pine where, years before, I had sat similarly alone on a similarly moonless night of late summer, in the company of two or three set stones. Early October, it was warm enough to spend some time, so I sat on the ground and rested my back against this trunk, as the quiet sounds of the night came out of hiding. After some minutes I felt a presence, as though someone else were near; I had heard no step. I was a feeling at the edge of the senses, odd, not alarming. Was it even real? Or perhaps just the spirit one feels, in a space that has been touched by spirit-intentioned human hands.

Suddenly I head the smallest “crack!” of a trig or branch moving. The sound hadn’t come from behind me, or ahead of me: it came from up! There on a lower branch, just a few feet above my head, was a large horned owl, looking down at me. We held eye contact for many seconds. Then, he or she leaned, spread her or his wings, and moved off in complete silence. Maybe it had been there the whole time, or had arrived on an equally silent glide; or perhaps the slight crack I heard was its landing…

Stone Circle — Center Stone

Past the owl trunk, to the center stone. I had brought matches from the community building, and a small stub of a candle. The stone, capped with new snow, made a fine hollow for the candle. I didn’t form any words in my mind: I didn’t have to, all of these memories flowing around and through me, leading back to down the path to so many other memories of myself with Bruce, myself in day-visit to community, hauling wood, laying floor, patching the straw-bale geenhouse walls, sitting with my own budding community of Odonata Ecovillage (whose spiritual and social structures were inspired and inspiring, and whose physical walls never quite landed on this Earth), walking, listening, working, listening.

It is remarkable how much light a single candle offers. It reminds one, standing in the darkness, seeing deep into the starlit woods, how little “enough” can be, how often what we have is far more than is needed. It is remarkable how much light a single life can create, a spark seen for miles and miles, forever even, in the fertile darkness that surrounds us.

Center Stone — Visitation