The Canterbury Cross Is Singing Again

When I first encountered the symbol through a Hopi elder, I thought:

I know this.

It was painted on a rattle — an instrument of sound, spirit, and ceremony.

And I remembered.

I carry a copy of the Canterbury Cross.

It felt like a whisper through time.

Before empire.

Before conquest.

Before forgetting.

There was a faith of land, moon, Mother, and mystical remembrance.

Now, centuries later, as awakening unfolds in Albion, I feel the old spell weakening.

The Canterbury Cross is singing again.

This time, it is not about conquest.

It is about remembrance.