Nearly a thousand years ago, Native Americans mounded up rock and earth into a quarter mile long serpent, winding over the top of an Ohio knoll.  Mark grew up nearby and had been to Serpent Mound before, but I'd never managed to go.  Randomly, I looked it up on Friday and discovered that the sun sets over the head of the serpent on the Summer Solstice.  With the solstice so near, we figured it was a sign we should take a road trip!

I'm a very skeptical person when it comes to religion and spirituality, but I let my normally skeptical mind quiet down for the day and instead enjoyed the power of an enormous snake winding across the ground.  Like my visit to Stonehenge nine years ago, though, I was disappointed by the signs which admonished us to stay on the path and away from the mound.  "I wish we could go in there," I said to Mark, pointing into the hollow center of the head where all of power of the snake must be concentrated (if you believe that kind of thing, which I don't.)

As we headed back to our car, I noticed a gathering of folks off to one side.  Some were in Native American regalia, others in flowing dresses, and one man was even wearing druidic robes.  I just knew that they were going to be holding a Solstice ceremony, exactly the type of thing I'd come to Serepent Mound for.  I pulled Mark over and tentatively asked them what they were up to.

Now, as a side note, I once read a book about how to take part in religious ceremonies which you don't believe in.  The book was geared toward Christian folks curious about Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, etc. ceremonies, folks who wanted to explore their spirituality without giving offense to the folks whose religion they were exploring.  The upshot of the book was pretty basic --- listen more than you talk, be polite, and follow along.  So, when the Serpent Mound folks started talking about downloads from the fifth dimension, I smiled and nodded.  Honestly, I didn't care what trappings they put on their ceremony --- I wanted to experience the power of Serpent Mound for myself and see if I could feel it. 

We were dusted with sage smoke then told to walk around the mound three times to concentrate its energy.  This was something I could sink my teeth into --- walking meditation.  I took off my shoes partway through the third time around and didn't put them back on until the next morning.  And, honestly, I felt something as my pace started to match the sound of a drummer's beat, although I can't say that the mystical experience was greater than the one I get when hiking in the woods alone.

Mark and I drifted off to the car for a quick snack of leftover pizza and the first peaches of the year.  When we returned, we saw that our group had gotten permission to sit in the hollow of one of the snake's folds.  We slipped into the back of the group in time to see Sings With Ravens blowing smoke from a large Native American pipe into a woman's hair.  It soon became clear that she was initiating new members into the clan.  I had no problem with being initiated, but I do have a deep-seated aversion to tobacco.  "Don't make me smoke that pipe!" I thought fervently.  Just as the thought went through my head, the pipe went out.  Sings With Ravens did her best to relight it, then she passed it on to her friend who kept trying to relight it for the next half hour as she worked her away around the circle to us.

"Would you like to be initiated into Serpent Mound Clan?" Sings With Ravens asked, peering up onto the mound where Mark and I sat.  I looked at Mark, Mark looked at me, and eventually we said yes.  We were drawn down into the circle, where two previously initiated members stood facing us, lifting our arms up into the air.  Then we received our spirit names.

I don't really believe in my spirit name --- it seemed a little fluffy and based too strongly on the fact that I was wearing a t-shirt from the ornithology class I took in college.  Okay, I guess I have to say it anyway.  "Bluebird..." Sings With Ravens said, then paused.  "You're a bit of a shapeshifter too.  Hmmm...  Bluebird Fierce Crow!"

Then it was Mark's turn.  The man across from Mark looked deep into his eyes.  In the last hour, the spirit names had all come out sounding like a mix between Disney characters and fake Native American names, but Mark's was different.  "Annubis Walker," the man intoned.

The pipe came back to life, the last few initiations were carried out, and then we began to chant and sing and circle.  Our circle split into a snake which wound down beside the serpent's coil.  Then, before I knew it, there we were in the hollow center of the snake's head, running circles around the inside of the serpent's noggin. 

One young woman began to dance in the center of the circle, undulating and winding in the type of dancing I've never been un-self-conscious enough to do.  An older lady joined her, then they looked right at me.  "Get in here."  I pretended they were looking at someone else.  "You.  Pigtail girl.  Get in here."  And so I was sucked into the center, and the younger lady grabbed my hands and we jumped and jumped and jumped for joy, then twirled --- my favorite form of dancing --- grabbing each other's hands and counterbalancing against each other so we could spin and spin and spin until we were both dizzy.

We ended the day sitting and watching the sunset, singing made up songs, then real songs which morphed more and more into campfire favorites as the evening progressed.  I have to admit that portions of the ceremony felt kooky to me, but on the other hand, I hadn't felt so accepted into a group since my club of misfits at college.  Mark and I arrived without an invitation, covered in farm mud, and the Serpent Mound Clan slipped us into their coils and warmed us up.  When we left, multiple people thanked us for coming and sharing our energy.

It only came to me days later what else I had gotten out of the "fifth dimension download".  I've always been the person who plans her days, her weeks, her hours, who makes three page lists before going on a trip.  But at Serpent Mound, I insinuated myself into a group of strangers.  I skipped supper.  I jumped for joy on the head of a serpent.  In short, I went with the flow.  Thanks, Serpent Mound Clan!

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About us: Anna Hess and Mark Hamilton spent over a decade living self-sufficiently in the mountains of Virginia before moving north to start over from scratch in the foothills of Ohio. They've experimented with permaculture, no-till gardening, trailersteading, home-based microbusinesses and much more, writing about their adventures in both blogs and books.



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