Along with several inspiring people I am working for two weeks in beautiful Galicia in Spain. Looking out of the window of our guest house, Cortijo La Rosa; we can see Portugal; just across the river Miñho. The Atlantic Ocean is a ten-minute drive away. Because we have been hard at work, we have given ourselves a day off on the Saturday that falls right in the middle. This day has a weird start. When I wake up, I search for my watch to see what time it is. I can't see well. Is it half past eight or half past nine? Last night we were in the village for dinner and it was rather late when we finally fell asleep. That is why my roommate put her mobile alarm at 9.30 h. Just a little longer time to sleep for all of us. If it is around half past eight, I can still have some more beautysleep and if it's nearly half past nine, then the alarm will wake us up in a while. With that thought in my mind I turn around and fall back to sleep. Some sounds wake me up. One of the other women walks over the creaky wooden floor of our room to wake us up. It is nearly half past ten in the morning! My roommate is confused. Her phone indicates that it is not even half past nine, so why do we have to wake up? To be sure I check my own mobile and indeed it is almost half past ten like my watch and the clock in the house indicate. How can that be? The solution seems to be very simple. We had dinner last night in the village at the river the Miñho and her mobile switched to the Portuguese time even though we were still in Spain. That was July 25th 2014, the day out of time. Well, a day later this day out of time pulled us completely out of time.

That weird start promises something for the rest of the day. Apparently it is necessary that we are drawn from our comfort zone. Tonight is new moon and I intend to do a new moon ritual. Because I heard of Celtic ruins in the neighbourhood I like to go there for the ritual. The owner of our guest house knows exactly where it is: on the Monte Santa Tegra. Her suggestion is to go to the top of this mountain first to see the sunset.

No sooner said than done. As we are driving on the mountain road we are passing by the Celtic ruins and I am very surprised about the size of it. Although I had made no real visualization of it, I was expecting some simple remnants. This really exceeds my wildest expectations. A whole village is still there! I can hardly wait to go there already, but there are still so many people around that it is really not the right timing. In addition, the new moon is at 22.43 h, so after sunset.

We are not the only ones tonight at the top of the Monte Santa Tegra to see the sun disappear in the Atlantic Ocean. The five of us split up to discover in our own way the mountaintop and to feel the energy of this place. Despite the other people the atmosphere is quiet. That's no doubt by the power which the rock is radiating. I am leaning against a big rock and I can feel its radiation very well. With my back against the rock I also experience the heartbeat of mother earth. A nice preparation for the ritual that will follow. It is stunning to be at that place. The sun is hanging right in front of me above the ocean, in its full splendor. At the left I see Portugal and the glint of the river Miñho. Wisps of mist are coming over the river to the ocean. They hide in the depth of the valley below me. Some moments later the mist breaks open so I can see the buildings that are there again. The sun takes his time to bid farewell to the day. And well, we are already the whole day out of time, so who cares. The colours in the sky are overwhelming. They are constantly changing. One moment a bright red, to orange/yellow flaring sun. The other moment a large white sphere with bright yellow appearance in a pink red air. Some minutes later a beautiful sky in blue pastel shades, changing to pink, violet, mauve, purple, indigo. My eyes are intrigued by the game of the sun and the air and cannot let it go. Until the very last moment I am enthralled. I breathe in the tranquility and the surrender of the scene. The sun just does what he does, without questions. He just does. He disappears into the sea and behind the clouds. Day after day, after day. How easy can it be. So that's the intention of the new moon ritual right away: I may surrender.

Finally when everyone else is gone, we are leaving the top of the mountain and step back into the car. We are driving down the mountain until we arrive halfway at the Celtic settlement. It's almost dark and the last visitors are leaving the village. I'm going to look for the right place for the ritual. The houses are all circular built. No doubt with good reason. At that time, people were still so connected with heaven and earth. They knew a round house gives a sense of safety and the energy is flowing properly in a round house. What remains of the houses is the foundation, raised edges of large bits of stone. The circles of the houses and outbuildings are all clear to see. Although I have a special feeling in one of the circles, I visit some other houses to experience the energy anyhow. I'll stick with my first choice. With respect for the former residents we install on the ground. I start drumming and close my eyes to surrender. When I open them again after drumming it is totally dark. Our lit candles and the stars in the sky are the only light.

Then it is time for me to surrender to what may happen and let my preparation go. My intention was to tell about the Celtic year wheel, the wheel with eight spokes, as a metaphor for our lives. I am only mentioning the Celtic harvest festival of Lughnasadh on August 1st. A celebration of transformation, because the harvested grain can now change into bread. The main topic I tell about is the Moon in the period from July 15th to  August 14th: the grain Moon which is about abundance and destination. If we tune in, this moon will make us clear that everything in nature just does for which it is intended, just as the sun sinks into the ocean every evening. A seed of a sunflower will never do its best to be an oak tree. The same in the animal world. A lamb grows into a sheep without asking itself whether it is beautiful enough, or will I be able to give enough wool. The lamb knows its destination. Only we, human beings, ask continuously: am I beautiful, or too thick, do I perform well. Regularly I get this message in the light circles I organize. So many people doubt themselves and at the same time they do themselves deficit.

When I start with the meditation automatically the right words are handed to me. That's so wonderful of surrender ánd trust. In the meditation I ask the participants to invite the Celtic ancestors to be with us and to help us to do what can be done. And there they come. At first the residents of the house and soon of the village and finally Celts from other parts of Europe. We are all feeling them around us. Here we are at a place in Spain where four of the five people have never been. Never before did one of us make any contact with the Celtic ancestors and yet they appear. Very special.