Selfish,  thoughtless and stupid

I have heard the idea, from several different sources, that the galactic federation of our  cousins out there have kept Planet Earth quarantined because of our lack of respect for life.  

Now, this sounds eminently reasonable to me!

We do not need to look any distance at all to have our lack of respect - let alone reverence - for botanical, zoological or even human life undeniably exposed. Personally I am reassured that somewhere out there is a civilisation that acts on an ethical basis. And personally I am convinced that those in charge of the Crop Circle Project are part of the same team.     

In 1994, driving through Froxfield on the way to a Centre for Crop Circle Studies (now there’s a blast from the past!) Council meeting in Glastonbury, I noticed a crop circle by the side of the A4. It turned out to be the Froxfield flower of August 4th, a large and elaborate variation of what now, as a result of skilful marketing, is generally called the Flower of Life. 

It was, for its time, a very big crop circle, but what immediately impressed me on entering its huge arena was an overwhelming sense of welcome and hospitality. It took some time to understand this but, eventually, I got it. The Flower of Life diagram, as drawn geometrically, runs circles through the junctions of other circles. Several lines pass precisely through points. Yet in this crop circle FoL, petal point never met or touched petal point. There was invariably a clear gap between every petal and its neighbour, between every two blocks of adjacent standing crop. 

The sense of welcome and hospitality arose because of this. Right through this big formation access to everywhere was clearly visible. Doorways, gateways, portals were considerately left available. You could move anywhere in the formation and you could move there easily.

Of course along with this came the clear perception that there was never a need to trample the crop down. The open portals were not only to welcome visitors,  they were there also to limit the stomping down of living plants.

As a result of Froxfield, for me a seminal experience, I understood the labyrinthine nature of the circles, their provision of spaces to walk through with ease and with pleasure. And since Froxfield, though I have looked hard, I have never found a crop circle which either denied access to a closed space or required us to stamp down living crop during our visit.

Respect for life. Hospitality for visitors. Consideration for the farmers.

We are only half way through July and we have already been granted formations of breathtaking quality. Yet something about the beautiful Westwoods formation is I believe of tremendous significance in the history of this phenomenon. Let us forget for a moment the awesome delicacy of this design, the skill with which the four serpentine arms weave outwards to culminate in a point. Let us ignore the enigmatic disposition of small circles around the arms, the unusual breaks in the orbit ring of the central Celtic Cross. I want to draw your attention to what might at first seem the most mundane component of this crop circle. The central ring.

It had several characteristics. First, the flattened circle in the middle was exquisitely laid with an off-centre swirl. Second, the surrounding ring, the standing wall of wheat around the flattened circle, was about six feet thick. Third, it was positioned between the tramlines. The rules of hospitality and respect for life were, I believe for the first time ever, broken. There was quite simply no conceivable way to enter that space without breaking through a wall of living crop.

The implications of his small detail are staggering. There for all to see was a beautifully formed central circle which, demonstrably and inarguably, could not be accessed and had never been entered. In this already astonishing season we had been offered another prize.

The photographs, particularly Bert Janssen’s ground shot of the central ring, was the holy grail which the most bigoted and fearful of debunkers could not dismiss. 

And then what did we do? This community of pursuers of wisdom, of searchers for beauty, of seekers of spirit. Within hours we stomped through that noble and articulate wall and destroyed its integrity. I do not know who went in first, but shame on you. I have no idea who was there to witness this selfish and mindless action but did nothing to prevent it, but shame on you, too. I have not got a list of all those who said “Well it’s broken so I might as well go in now.” but shame on you all as well.

For years we have tried to persuade the farmers, who are the custodians of the fields which are their patrimony and their livelihood, that we are grateful for the privilege of visiting the land which is the essential canvas for the circles. And when we get in, we conduct ourselves like louts, showing absolutely no consideration for future visitors, no respect for the farmer, his land and his forbearance in allowing us in. Above all, we seem to show something verging on contempt for the phenomenon itself. 

Offered divinity and beauty we respond with stupidity. Is it any wonder Planet Earth is quarantined?