Rituals

In Avebury with my parents at the weekend, we found that the chinks and holes in the great stones were filled with money, lots and lots of coppers and even five and ten pence pieces. I couldn't bring myself to take any; though I found it fun to hunt for the well-hidden ones and dig them out of their hiding places, I always put them back where they were. People had put notes in the stones too, and on one of the stones along the avenue, someone had made an offering of two grapefruit (or possibly lemon, I didn't actually try one) jelly babies.

I took a steep path cross-country to evade the closed tracks and visit my favourite trees, which are clustered on an earthy hump of ground with their knobbly roots grasping for a foothold. As I approached, I noticed there were a couple of bright ribbons tied to the branches, and then it dawned on me that what I'd assumed were dead leaves from last autumn still clinging to the branches were hundreds and hundreds of fluttering ribbons. There were not just ribbons, either, there were bits of string and rope, strips of fabric which looked like they had been ripped from clothing, a tie from a bag of apples, paper carefully folded into strips, twisted-up tissues, binder twine, and a sock.

After some rummaging in my bag, I added a bright blue hair elastic to the branches, and made a wish, because, well, you never know... and in the same spirit, I dug out the shiniest penny from my wallet and put it in the highest hole I could reach in one of the standing stones.

I wonder how these rituals started, and what they mean. How many of the people who hang the ribbons in the branches or push the coins into the stones know why they are doing it? Do we believe that wishes will come true, that gods will favour us? Or do we just want to get closer to our fellow humans by sharing this small thing with them? I am not sure at all, but I do know that it is somehow comforting to perform these small mysterious acts.