The Secret Sacred Place Grid Point 44
By Freya Savitri Sampson Grateful and not without some trepidation, we set off, challenge accepted. Millie and I wondered if we’d find it. The map was not exactly what you’d call easy to follow. By some miracle - thank you Guides and Ancestors we found the tree amongst all the others and the patch of dirt and parked. Okay... so let’s paint a picture; it’s late November, Australian outback, dry, boiling hot. Millie and I, white as they come, with camel-packs holding one litre of water and a couple of
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apples. What’s that saying? Only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun... hmm, I wonder if they’d describe us a clinically insane? It was utter faith in the guides and the synchronicities of everything else we had experienced that gave us the courage to take the journey. Sharpie had told me to make sure that I didn’t go into my head and try to work out everything. Millie was better at that than me. For me, it was listening to the country, feeling and paying attention to nature. It’s another world out there.
There are no sounds, only your own thoughts. We had been trekking for a considerable time and everything, except my relationship to the country, had melted away. I began to hear Millie’s thoughts, ‘I’m tired, how much further is it?’ I could feel her emotional body flagging. Tuning in to the country, I felt the presence of the site nearing. “Don’t worry,” I said out aloud, “It’s just over this ridge!” We climbed the creek bed and mounted the ridge. There before us, was the extraordinary site towering in the distance. We stopped and I
