Virginia Vigliar (advaya): Why is Solstice an important time to connect to sacred?
Rutendo Ngara: I assume most participants will be from the northern hemisphere. From an African perspective, the winter solstice is significant; it’s when the sun stands still. This stillness is when we seed our consciousness, as the veil is thin, allowing us to plant until we harvest at the summer solstice. In the southern hemisphere, it’s the inverse. This time is crucial for deep self-connection, aligning with the parasympathetic, the yin, and the darkness, where we can plant and seed our consciousness for the harvest.
During the summer solstice, everything we have planted emerges. We usually start preparing around the 16th of the month with some form of fasting—not necessarily full fasting, but changes in how we live or what we ingest. Getting more sleep can help us enter a trance state, reaching an alpha state of consciousness to facilitate this seeding, especially between the 21st and 25th. This period is very important.
Of course, this time has been co-opted by Christianity with Christmas. The 25th marks our resurrection from deep darkness, the time for seeding our consciousness. I hope participants can connect with the sacredness around them, as Rachael mentioned—the sacredness of the place they are in—and bring that relationship together. I grew up Catholic and had a great priest who, when I told him I didn’t believe everything he preached, began to speak more deeply about the mysteries. He explained that Lent isn’t about merely giving something up; it’s about deepening your relationship with God or the divine. You do something different to shift your consciousness and enhance that connection, and that's how I see solstice.
I encourage participants to explore this deeper sense of connectedness, knowing they are linked to others on a similar journey. Together, we create a field, a node, a web of interconnectedness, as many will be doing something similar wherever they are. Then we will reconvene after the break.
Virginia Vigliar (advaya): What’s a sacred site that deeply moved you, and why?
Rachael Knight: I’ve encountered many sacred sites that aren’t officially marked, each extraordinary in its own way. One story that comes to mind isn’t the first sacred site I visited, but it’s memorable. While travelling alone across Spain, I was driving from Costa Brava to Barcelona and didn’t really know where I was going. Suddenly, I saw Montserrat rise up beside the highway, and I gasped. I took the first exit I could find and made my way to the mountain.
When I got out, I lay down and wept. I was profoundly moved, even without understanding why at that moment. I eventually discovered that there was a church in the area housing the Black Madonna, but I hadn’t researched Montserrat beforehand. I simply pulled off the highway, found my way to the side of the mountain, and prostrated myself on the ground, overwhelmed by its power. I canceled all my plans, found an Airbnb, and spent the next three days with the mountain. It was extraordinary, and so much magic unfolded during that time.
Rutendo Ngara: I’ll share a story that has two connected sides. During the winter solstice in the southern hemisphere, I often receive a message to get up and go just before the solstice. It’s a call I can’t ignore, which often frustrates my boss because I refuse to take leave and just leave.
One time, I drove to Limpopo, in the northern province of Venda, arriving without knowing why I was there. I never know my purpose until it reveals itself. At the tourist information office, I told them, “I don’t know why I’m here.” They looked at me like I was strange, so I asked for recommendations. They mentioned Lake Nduzzi, the only natural lake in South Africa, which is full of mystery. They gave me directions: drive 50 kilometers north, turn right, and follow the signs to the lake.
However, when I reached the turnoff, there was no road—just a house. I thought it was strange, so I reversed, but a few kilometers later, I found the same situation. I repeated this for about half a day, encountering new scenes each time, until I finally gave up, realizing I wasn’t ready to visit that site. A year later, I returned and learned that if the lake doesn’t want you to come, the ancestors prevent you from approaching. But when you are ready, the water level changes to welcome you.
The next year, I successfully arrived at the lake, and the water was two kilometers further in than it had ever been. Locals said you usually have to walk two kilometers to reach the water's edge, but this time, the water came all the way to meet me. I understood I hadn’t been ready before, but now the waters felt mystical.
When I had given up on reaching the lake the first time, I searched for a place to stay. I found a small cottage on a mountainside, where an old man took an interest in me. He pulled out books on mythologies and sacred things, warning me not to go to a specific cave. Despite his warnings, he provided me with a map to that cave, explaining the directions while repeatedly saying I shouldn’t go there.
The next morning, I decided to follow the map. It led me along a mountain cliff edge and a railway track. I kept thinking that if a train came, my choices were limited: get hit or jump off the cliff. I continued walking, determined to find the cave because he told me not to.
Along the way, I spotted a man in the distance and questioned my decision. In South Africa, anything can happen in the mountains. The man slowed down, and I resolved to walk past confidently, drawing on my martial arts training. As I approached, he asked, “Aren’t you afraid?” I replied, “Afraid of what?” He responded, “You’re a woman walking alone in the mountains.” I said, “No, because you’re going to protect me.” He agreed to protect me and asked where I was headed. I mentioned I was looking for the cave, and he said he had heard of it, eventually leading me there.
I struggled to find my way in, but he helped me enter. Once inside, everything changed. I felt as though I had entered a liminal space—a sort of portal. I saw movement out of the corner of my eye, but when I looked, no one was there. This kept happening until I noticed Bushman paintings on the walls. When I touched one, I was transported back thousands of years; the river was higher, the bush denser, and there were mammoths and saber-tooths in the valley. When I withdrew my hand, I was back in the present, but still in that strange space.
Each time I touched a painting, I experienced the scene it depicted. When I finally left the cave and returned to the old man, he was angry with me for wandering alone. He asked what had happened, and when I told him, he shared that he had grown up in the area and knew of the cave with the Bushman paintings. He recalled a time when a group of Hopi Indians visited and described being transported back in time. He thought they might have been hallucinating, but something changed afterward: eagles returned to the valley and began dropping feathers.
He often sent others to that cave, but they would only say it was nice with Bushman paintings. He knew I would go if he told me not to and explained that my experience mirrored what the Hopi Indians had described.
This experience showed me how thin the veil is within sacred spaces. At the time, I adhered strictly to my resources and protocols, fasting and more, which attuned me to allow that point to reveal itself. Sacred sites are places where you can truly transcend time and space, stepping into other realities and realms.
Virginia Vigliar (advaya): What do you want for all the students of this course?
Rachael Knight: I want to share stories that connect with your experiences. We’re not special; well, Rutendo might be, but I consider myself pretty ordinary. I’ve had experiences because I’m open to them.
One memorable visit was to West Kennett Longbarrow in rural England. It’s not on any map; you have to know where to find it. I went with someone who had been there before, and as we approached, I felt the presence of ancestors checking me out. I heard their voices asking, “Who are you? Why are you coming here?”
I paused to introduce myself and asked for permission before entering the man-made sanctuary. Just like Rutendo, when I stepped inside, I was transported back thousands of years to a time with priests, ancient ceremonies, and people in white robes. Time shifted, and I felt immersed in a Neolithic gathering.
While I’ve never had quite such an experience before, I believe I’m just a regular person, perhaps a bit more open to these encounters. The purpose of this course is to help everyone become more receptive to similar experiences. What do Regenerative Futures mean to you?
Rachael Knight: Regenerative futures involve embodying both flesh and spirit technologies. Our ancestors possessed remarkable knowledge and practices that are incredibly relevant to our current challenges. The key question we face is: how do we reconnect with their traditional wisdom—ways of honoring and nurturing our interconnected relationships with all beings and entities on this planet?
In this course, we aim to support individuals in remembering and revitalizing their ancestral ways of being and relating. It’s essential to recognize that humanity doesn't have to navigate this time of transition alone. We exist in reciprocal relationships with countless more-than-human beings, and facing these challenges is a collective effort; it’s not solely humanity’s responsibility.
While human actions may have brought us to this point, there is immense power and energy available if we partner with the more-than-human realm—the mountains, waters, animals, plants, fungi, and beyond. This collaboration can lead us to more sustainable and regenerative futures.
