The wind blew tightly over the moorland, specks of rain dotted the remains of the long barrow against which we rested.Overhead a solitary raven called down, welcoming home Moorland Whisper.
We sat in silence, listening to the words on the breeze, sensing the spirit of Anglezarke rising around us, our new drum squat on the damp winter sod. After a few long minutes we gave him his voice, yes… he was a male energy. His rhythm boomed and cracked around the moorland edge, penetrating the worlds deep peat beneath our feet. We felt his life force rise up as the adolescent energy awoke.
We journeyed in our turns, seeking insights and earthy wisdoms from the spirits of the land, our ancestors and the new drum. Slowly the name came, gifted by the Sidhe of Anglezarke. To them the fresh, young voice was as the whisper of a gentle kiss as it invoked their realms, rousing them to attention. Moorland Whisper.
Not our drum we were told. But the drum of the Anglezarke Sidhe. We are honoured to be his watcher. We are to watch him grow, to shape him into the drum of the Sidhe and to make good use of his incoming energies.
We were told that Spring Equinox will be his coming of age and we have been guided to celebrate at both moonrise and moonset out on these moors. Then Moorland Whisper will resound across the old places.
So, with thanks to Phil and Lynne Cowley Jones who crafted him and to the Anglezarke Sidhe who have taken ownership and named him, let Moorland Whisper’s voice rise strong in ceremony and healing wherever we are called.