
On Friday, the 21st July, just one day before the Feast Day of Mary Magdalene, and Venus retrograde, I experienced something rather unusual.
I had an appointment in the town of Dysart, Fife, and another in Kirkcaldy- my hometown, though I have not lived there for more than 30 years. These towns are close to one another (almost adjoining). Once part of a larger estate owned by the St Claire family of Roslin- where I now live- Dysart was a royal burgh; the name of the town derives from the Scottish Gaelic meaning “a hermitage or religious retreat”, linked to Saint Serf who lived there as a hermit in the 8th century. Kirkcaldy was also a royal burgh and the most ancient funerary site in the area.
As a child I loved visiting Dysart, especially Raven’s Craig castle; it felt different to other places, ancient and magical. Thinking about it now, it was a very “witchy” place, as were some areas in Kirkcaldy.
On 21st July after my appointments, I took a walk along Kirkcaldy High Street and turned up Kirk Wynd, the oldest part of the town. It is thought that the name Kirkcaldy relates to the Christian monastic community, the Culdees, though that is now disputed. As the oldest church, the Old Kirk is the site of the first Christian worship in Kirkcaldy after the Celtic missionaries arrived in the 5th century. The tower dates from 15th century.

As I passed the church, I thought to go inside but as with many churches these days it looked closed. Just as I was about to leave, a woman pulled up in a car, got out, and asked if I would like to see inside. It turns out the church is open to the public on certain days and certain times, and that day was one of them, but she explained, she was running late.
The entire story is too long to go into, but the gist of it is that I was invited to go up the tower. I accepted the invitation relishing the chance to get a good view over Kirkcaldy and Dysart- it was a beautiful day. All very well and good but what happened next was a little surprising- the woman whose name was Rosemary asked me if I would like to ring the bell. I didn’t need to be asked twice. She instructed me, “at first you have to the pull the rope really hard to get a momentum going”. With all my strength and body weight I pulled the rope…

According to Author, Richard J Oldale, who wrote “Journeys to Ancient Worlds: What Modern Man Can Learn from Ancient Civilisations,
The esoteric – or hidden – meaning of bells essentially relates to awakening consciousness. We use bells in the real world to issue a warning, a reminder, a wake-up call, or in the case of the old town crier, to grab your attention before making an announcement.
The bell rang out over the rooftops of Kirkcaldy and Dysart; my initial pull had set in motion a strong rhythm that took on a spirit of its own…I couldn’t stop. I practically swung from that rope. Rosemary, initially, looking on politely, now seemed a little uncomfortable. Perhaps I wasn’t expected to ring the bell quite so loud and for so long but I experienced a strange pleasure in ringing that bell, elation, almost glee. There was something very liberating about making that much noise and connecting with so much history, in a place that had impacted me profoundly as a child and young woman… not without major challenges.
Finally, I stopped pulling on the rope and the bell was brought to a motionless silence.
Rosemary, who was not short of interesting information about the history of the church, the bell tower, the town of Kirkcaldy more generally, and the religious history of Dysart and Kirkcaldy begun to talk about the darker aspects of the tower’s history… it had been the place where suspected witches had been imprisoned to stand trial and if deemed guilty sentenced to death.

The Scottish Witchcraft Act came into force in 1563 and was not repealed until 1736. Under this Act, both the practice of witchcraft and consulting with witches were capital offences:
“This was part of the more general movement for social and behavioural regulation following the Reformation in 1560 which changed the dynamics between the clergy and common people. A crucial element that developed in the definition of the crime of witchcraft by the church and state was a pact with the Devil. It was believed that witches were not only sorcerers but Devil-worshippers; they were both criminals and heretics and therefore a deadly threat to Godly society” (Stuart Macdonald, “The Witches of Fife: Witch-hunting in a Scottish Shire, 1560-1710).
Details of the most infamous trial in the Kirk, that of Alison Dick and her husband William Coke on 19th November 1633, were recently released from the National Records of Scotland (NRS) on Scotland’s People. The kirk session kept a careful record in the minutes of Alison’s incarceration in the church steeple from 2nd October onwards. On 15th October, it is recorded that soldiers were paid 14 shillings to keep watch over her and keep her awake [shudder].
No mention was made of her husband being likewise imprisoned, being forced into making a confession, or forming an alliance with the devil.
Suddenly, I needed to leave the Bell Tower and the informative, but by now, over-whelming commentary from Rosemary. I made my excuses and began to edge toward the door, Rosemary continued… “The witches were not all together innocent, you know. Some of them were guilty”.
Finally, I found myself back in Kirkcaldy Hight Street on 21st July 2023. I needed to ground myself. Finding a cafe near the harbour I sipped tea while trying to figure out what just happened. I am still trying to figure it out but what I do know is that the event was imbued with a significance and synchronicity that relates to both me personally, and to the collective spirit of the times. As Jung would say, the “Spirit of the Depths” met with “the Spirit of the Times”. I believe that ringing that bell heralded something. As Richard J Oldale says, it was an “awakening consciousness”, a wake-up call, an announcement… a call to gather.
There is a great deal more to unpack around this event, and like it not, I am involved in something from Scotland’s dark past, from the repository of the collective unconscious that wants to be known.
