Friday, December 12, 2008

solsbury hill

deep inside the region of southern england called the cotswolds you'll find little solsbury hill. the hill's history geologically extends well back in time but its human use can be traced back to its use as an iron age hill fort occupied between 300 bc and 100 bc. from the top of the hill you can see the city of bath. my father attended kingswood school near bath and so would have been very familiar with solsbury hill.

my connection to solsbury hill is through a beautiful song of that name that peter gabriel released in 1977 detailing a spiritual experience he had on its summit.

"climbing up on solsbury hill
i could see the city light
wind was blowing, time stood still
eagle flew out of the night

he was something to observe
came in close, i heard a voice
standing stretching every nerve
i had to listen had no choice

i did not believe the information
just had to trust imagination
my heart was going boom boom, boom
son, he said, grab your things, i've come to take you home.

to keeping silence i resigned
my friends would think i was a nut
turning water into wine
open doors would soon be shut

so i went from day to day
though my life was in a rut
till i thought of what i'd say
Which connection I should cut

i was feeling part of the scenery
i walked right out of the machinery
my heart was going boom boom boom
hey, he said, grab your things, i've come to take you home.
yeah back home

when illusion spin her net
i'm never where i want to be
and liberty she pirouette
when i think that i am free

watched by empty silhouettes
who close their eyes, but still can see
no one taught them etiquette
i will show another me

today i don't need a replacement
i'll tell them what the smile on my face meant
my heart was going boom boom boom
hey, i said, you can keep my things, they've come to take me home."

solsbury hill . . . peter gabriel

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

hey steven ... are you feeling drawn by this song after seeing the lone canada goose flying over the lake? i wonder about how we put together images in our heads a to signify people - i will always associate dad with the falling leaves but i really don't know why ... he died in May, but each Fall when the leaves turn I feel and it grows colder, images of my dad and his leaving seem to come to me. i love to walk in the woods in the fall - down the trails he made and think of him.
J

steven said...

hey janice, it's about the same wholeness: a bird, a vast space, something magical-spiritual underlying the moment, and then too the association of places where my father went. i found letting him go easy because i have always made the distinction between the body and the spirit and so i accept that my dad - who worked so hard to prepare his soul for its next step - was not his body. all the same i have so many associations and intend to find and make so many others with that part of his existence that i wonder where i will find the single image that defines him. for now its in the hugs he gave me in the last fifteen years. he was a really good hugger!
steven

Goldenrod said...

You "wonder where you will find the single image that defines him" -- I doubt you'll find such an image, Steven!

It has been interesting for me to observe - only from a distance, you understand, as you were willing to express and share your emotions and thoughts while experiencing your own unique grieving process (and you were quite right ... there IS no such thing as a 'model') - and react, emotionally and internally, these past few days.

Your loss brought back many personal memories, and I send a ginormous hug your way, altho I'm sure that it will in no way even begin to approach that of one of your father's!

steven said...

hey goldenrod, thanks for the hug!! i have been very fortunate to have my friends and family share this process with me. either thorugh providing support or guidance as they saw fit. i'm a private person with a much more refined internal dialogue than an external dialogue and so much of what i need to do and experience takes place in apparent silence. for now, i continue to unpack the whole experience.
thanks,

steven