Events and Rhythms, marks in the landscape

We gathered around the Rufus Stone, just off the A31 near Minstead. The first things to say is that its not a stone. It begin as a tree , then a stone was placed, defaced and replaced by a solid triangle of green early Victorian metal in 1841 . The monument records the death of William II , 'William Rufus', by an arrow in a hunting accident. One Walter Tyrrell, pub nearby sporting his name shot the arrow at a stag, but instead hit a tree and it apparently 'glanced off the tree' and hit William and killed him outright. There are other views on this, carried no doubt, by a historical biography ( Barlow, F (2000) that describes William as:

'A rumbustious , devil-may-car soldier, without natural dignity or social graces, with no cultivated tastes and little show of conventional religious piety or morality - indeed, according to his critics ,addicted to every kind of vice.'

William Tyrell  fled to France . Discuss.

But equally Barlow records that William was known for 'his chivalrous virtues and achievements ... maintaining god order and  satisfactory justice in England and restored good peace to Normandy.'

So who knows ? What we do know is that he was killed by an arrow and a monument of some sort has been maintained ever since on this spot - tree, stone or iron work. 

What we discovered also was that the monument not only remembered the famous and the noted, but also those 'just passing' : 'one Purkis', who had a cart.

My name is Purkis

And I was just passing

I remember this place before the Forest

The hamlets and families that lived here

We come back now to harvest the fruit from the forest

Nuts, mushrooms, firewood,

A bit of poaching.

Although this is getting more difficult

With it becoming such a place for the Royal Hunt.

This one day , a hot one , in late summer

A right rumpus -  horses and men and shouting

Rushing around -voices raised – some even laughing

And a dead man lying with an arrow in him, next to the oak.

Didn’t look good. I tried to rumble past, but you can’t hide an old  cart

Pulled by an old horse.

‘Hey – you man, come here..’

‘What’s your name?’

‘Purkis’ 

‘You saw nothing , right?’

‘Right’ I said

Registering that this was the right answer

‘Good man Purkis’

You won’t mind a trip to Winchester will you ?

I looked at the men stood around – all gentlemen of

Fine standing, powerful men , their horses

Liveried with fine tack

And their dogs sharp and fierce.

I was not I a position to refuse.

I looked at the dead man; equally fine

I caught a glimpse of a red beard.

They hauled him onto my cart and within a few paces we had

Formed a solemn procession

Me and my nag at its centre

Taking the dead King to Winchester.

My name is Purkis

And I was just passing.

Purkis may have been 'just passing' - like the rush of the A31 that we could hear, we are caught up in this rush. Stepping out of it , even for an hour to stand in the company of ancient history and slow growing trees is a challenge to us and reminds us , as RS Thomas puts it:

'Life is not hurrying on to a receding future,

not hankering after an imagined past'

Events mark changes in our lives - no doubt Purkis had a few stories to tell after his part in the events, and of course it was a big change for William Rufus . Events mark changes in our lives, but the rhythms of or lives are where we mostly live.

Marking the events is what we understand - we know our monuments in the UK - Spinaker Tower, Nelson's Column, The Angel of the North, countless spires and towers, statues and edifices - we remembered the long held tradition from way back : 

'Then Samuel took a stone and set it up between Mizpah and Shen. He named it Ebeneezer, saying, 'Thus far the Lord has helped us'

1 Samuel 7.v12

 But conversely Jesus , responding to the disciples enthusiasm about the Temple in Jerusalem says:

'Do you see all these things?' Truly I tell you , not one stone here will be left on another.' Matthew 24.v 2

Not a big vote for the practice of monument-making. As in many areas of our lives there is compromise. We recognised, in the presence of the Rufus Stone that making marks on the landscape is part of us and we do it in many ways to remind us that we exist and that things happen. 

Living by events risks a diary led existence of consuming time and experiences , our rhythms are deeper . As Alistair reminded us at the last Forest Church - we are tidal, we are rhythmic, so how can we allow those rhythms to be at least noticed and 'lived in' ?

As a group we spent time having a wander in  and out of the surrounding woods and glades holding this tension of 'event and rhythm' , mindful of our need to make a mark , mindful of our part of that in which we wandered.

Gathering back we heard of the reflections of people - of the branch found that illustrated the dead hard heart wood and the thin layer of cambian where the living happened in the wood; of the glade surrounded by holly that suggested growth will continue , whatever our pressing decisions and concerns, and of one good lady Winifred who lived a long and faithful life around whom others could find stability.