Glastonbury Tor is considered by most who've studied these things to be the actual Isle of Avalon. In times past, there was tidal marsh all around the hills, which gave rise to mists that shrouded the Tor from view. The clear days would reveal a still surface of water that reflected the sky. It looked like an island floating on glass, thus the name- Glass Town Burrough.
Avalon is rich with mythical history. Arthur receives his sword here, Merlin studies magik, the mourning Joseph of Arimathea guides his followers across all of Southern England by following sacred signs to arrive at nearby Wearyall Hill. There he plants his staff and it grows into a tree. The Tor iteslf is hollow in many of these myths, home to the fey and to the morrigan, the nine wise women who may or may not have descended from the refugees from Knossos.
I am aware of these things as I walk, and I learn from Brian that there are actual limestone hollows that are accessed by a tunnel on the norhtern face of the hill by the local water company. We have walked for nearly six hours, now, and we've reached the final circuit. Some who walk continue around the south edge of the hill and onto the top, to enter the center of the labyrinth in a traditional manner, by being surrounded by the circuits that have just been walked. I feel certain that the center of this labyrinth is actually deep in the heart of this unusal place, and I'm pleased to learn that my guide agrees.
We stop our journey at a large stone under a lonely tree. It's a huge oval of iron ore, like the egg of a dragon, like an anchor to which one might attach for descent into the dark unknown. On the ridge above me, a single crow watches as we arrive. I sit there, wearing a blindfold to keep the distractions to a minimum, and Brian guides me in meditation as I complete my journey etherically. Stairs down, and a turn, and stairs again. A whole labyrinth of downward inward turnings, and finally an entrance to a cavern that shines with light from the open roof.
Nine thrones in a semi circle, and nine cloaked and hooded forms await me. I enter with hesitation, having come so far, yet still subject to awe. The form in the center stands and beckons, and I answer by drawing near. She embraces me and speaks gentle words of welcome. Then she tells me, "You are my messenger." I am surprised. She nods gently, assuring me that I heard right, that she spoke as she intended, that there is no error. Her sisters rise laughing, dancing, transforming into crows, and flying away through the open roof. She changes, too, and is gone. For the briefest moment, I realize that I could fly with them. Then I return to my human state of being, and turn to walk out.
The crystalline labyrinth is easier going up, though, contrary to the laws of gravity, but in accordance to the will of the morrigan. I blink in the light of the outer day. Brian offers me a pouch, and tells me to draw a card. I reach in, trusting, and draw one. As I turn it over, he tells me, "This is your path." The card is the High Priestess.
I feel frightened by the calling, grateful for the opportunity, affirmed in my journey, and startled without being surprised. I understand why I'm restructuring my whole life, too. I'm nearly done with my human obligations. I have a commitment to keep with Alexander, and that's all. For myself, and for my journey, there needs to be a clarity and simplicity that comes with relative solitude. I'm moving toward making my spiritual commitments my only commitments.
Seven circuits in six hours, and a pause for the journey inward. Half the day is gone, and we have a long walk home. We begin outward. The movement is easy, high on the Tor, because the circuits are smaller. We've barely gone half a circuit, when I see Brian pause. At his feet is a perfect four-leaf clover. I'm delighted for him. But he plucks it and hands it over, "This is for you." I'm delighted for me, for the instant, then I realize the difficulties I will face if I come home with a four leaf clover for myself and none for Zander.
Almost immediately, my eyes are drawn downward. And in cheerful benediction, the fey present me with another four leaf clover... Acres of hillside, sprawling with nettles and thistles and grass and wildflowers. We land in the patch of clover that has two anomolies. I can almost hear them laughing. Now I have one for me and one for Zander. Then Brian points out that we're off the path, and as we return, it seems clear that we were taken on our little side journey on purpose.
And isn't every little side journey on purpose? My little side journey to Wales, my little side journeys into firefighting, body guard work, chauffering, my little side journey as a domestic goddess, my little side journey into parenthood for nigh two decades... I dig for deep purposes, and I smile at the obvious ones. Life is so generous, the universe so loving, my blessing so many.
Namaste,
Crow
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
At One with the Tor
England in the Spring is very green. The blossoming trees leave sensual trails of scent in the cool, moist air. The natives think it's hot, but I am more than comfortable, since the low in Texas is the high in England. I get a ride most of the way to the Tor. I'm going to walk all day, after all, so I might as well save my energy.
I arrive a little early. I drink from the red spring and the white, knowing that in times past, there was a sacred grove where the two spirigs mingled their waters. There are travellers there, washing their dishes, watering their horses, shouting expletives at each other. As if they never heard that these are healing waters. I wait. My feet chafe in my boots, wanting freedom. I usually go barefoot, except when either required by law or faced with overwhelming pain potential.
The Tor is rife with thistles and nettles. For my fellow Texans, who've never seen a nettle, I will explain. The nettle, while still green, has many fine, sharp, hollow thorns covering the underside of every leaf, and fuzzing every stem. Whenever something brushes against these, they inject formic acid, which stings and swells. It's the same toxin fire ants use... only the nettle can sting you fifteen times in an instant.
So I'm torn. Now, more than ever, on sacred journey, I want to be in touch with the ground I walk. And I want to have feet when I'm done, not just masses of painful blisters! My guide arrives, a deceptively unobtrusive man, and we walk together to where the Tor labyrinth begins. I notice he is wearing sandals. When I bring it up, he says he walks the Tor barefoot.
Big sigh of relief. I strip off my boots and socks. My feet revel in their freedom. I also feel confident, now, that my guide and I will get along fine. I pay him up front so we can focus on the journey without distraction. If you ever want to go walk the Tor labyrinth, I suggest hiring a guide. There are several available. I walked with Brian Charles, and he earned his fee twice over. You can learn more about him at these links-
http://www.briancharles.co.uk
http://www.goddesstemple.co.uk
The circuits of a labyrinth are numbered from the outside to the center, and the labyrinth on Glastonbury Tor is a classical seven circuit. (Whether it was built for that purpose is an irrelevant discussion, to me. What matters is that it is so walked today, and a place walked as a labyrinth is a labyrinth.) So, true to the pattern, we begin at the third circuit. There is a smallish standing stone to mark the place, and a thoughtfully placed bench.
The seven sircuits of the labyrinth can esaily be related to the seven primary chakras. You begin with choice, the third chakra being the power center. Within ten paces, I've started crying, mourning for events that have not yet occured, but that I see with perfect clarity. All the little considerations that clouded my thinking are stripped away. And I see that I'm leaving Jeff already, preparing myself for that ending. That I will overcome whatever imaginary obstacles remain in short order, and our marriage is ending. As I stand on this path, knowing that there is much yet to walk, but also knowing that the destination is fixed, so I see that my choice is already made elsewhere, and I must find my way through the curcuitous path to the destination I have chosen. To transform the tears, I reach for sacred song, setting the precedent of singing a different sacred song for each circuit.
Madre del Mundo, Reyna de los Cielos,
Luz Infinita, Madre Celestial
Cuidanos siempre, guya nuestros pasos,
En el sendero de Tu gran Amor
Madre del Mundo, Reyna de los Cielos,
Luz Infinita, Madre Celestial
Ensena la manera de vivir en paz
Y llevanos siempre en Tu Corazon
Mother of the World, Queen of the Heavens,
Infinite Light, Celestial Mother
Care for us always, Guide our footsteps
On the path of Your great Love
Mother of the World, Queen of the Heavens,
Infinite Light, Celestial Mother
Show us the way, the way to live in peace,
And carry us always in Your Heart
Many thanks to Sue Young for writing these words and the inspired music that goes with them.
Each of the outer circuits takes us close to an hour. There are hundreds of rabbits and rabbit holes. There is evidence of hawks and foxes coming to the feast. The jackdaws and crows soar on the updrafts as the sun shines down through the hazy, high clouds. The base of the Tor is ringed in with trees, but the higher you get, the more rare the shade becomes.
On the second circuit, we pause for strawberries and chocolate. The second chakra is about joy and pleasure, after all. Brian Joins me in singing a familiar chant by Starhawk. The first circuit is absolutely dense with nettles. We plucked a few dock leaves for stings, but so far we haven't needed them. Now the way seems impassable. I consider putting my boots back on. (For those who know me, this is a very clear description of how dangerous the path appeared.)
I look more carefully, though, and it seems there might be a way through. I decide to risk it. I step and step again, leaning away from the reaching leaves. And twenty yards of nettle jungle later, I haven't been stung once. It's a miracle! A miracle that I will repeat fifteen times this day. The only stings I got were when I was off course.
There are many things that I learn on the Tor. This lesson came from the nettles. No Matter How Dangerous the Way May Appear, There Is a Safe Passage For Those Committed to Walking Their True Path.
Namaste,
Crow
I arrive a little early. I drink from the red spring and the white, knowing that in times past, there was a sacred grove where the two spirigs mingled their waters. There are travellers there, washing their dishes, watering their horses, shouting expletives at each other. As if they never heard that these are healing waters. I wait. My feet chafe in my boots, wanting freedom. I usually go barefoot, except when either required by law or faced with overwhelming pain potential.
The Tor is rife with thistles and nettles. For my fellow Texans, who've never seen a nettle, I will explain. The nettle, while still green, has many fine, sharp, hollow thorns covering the underside of every leaf, and fuzzing every stem. Whenever something brushes against these, they inject formic acid, which stings and swells. It's the same toxin fire ants use... only the nettle can sting you fifteen times in an instant.
So I'm torn. Now, more than ever, on sacred journey, I want to be in touch with the ground I walk. And I want to have feet when I'm done, not just masses of painful blisters! My guide arrives, a deceptively unobtrusive man, and we walk together to where the Tor labyrinth begins. I notice he is wearing sandals. When I bring it up, he says he walks the Tor barefoot.
Big sigh of relief. I strip off my boots and socks. My feet revel in their freedom. I also feel confident, now, that my guide and I will get along fine. I pay him up front so we can focus on the journey without distraction. If you ever want to go walk the Tor labyrinth, I suggest hiring a guide. There are several available. I walked with Brian Charles, and he earned his fee twice over. You can learn more about him at these links-
http://www.briancharles.co.uk
http://www.goddesstemple.co.uk
The circuits of a labyrinth are numbered from the outside to the center, and the labyrinth on Glastonbury Tor is a classical seven circuit. (Whether it was built for that purpose is an irrelevant discussion, to me. What matters is that it is so walked today, and a place walked as a labyrinth is a labyrinth.) So, true to the pattern, we begin at the third circuit. There is a smallish standing stone to mark the place, and a thoughtfully placed bench.
The seven sircuits of the labyrinth can esaily be related to the seven primary chakras. You begin with choice, the third chakra being the power center. Within ten paces, I've started crying, mourning for events that have not yet occured, but that I see with perfect clarity. All the little considerations that clouded my thinking are stripped away. And I see that I'm leaving Jeff already, preparing myself for that ending. That I will overcome whatever imaginary obstacles remain in short order, and our marriage is ending. As I stand on this path, knowing that there is much yet to walk, but also knowing that the destination is fixed, so I see that my choice is already made elsewhere, and I must find my way through the curcuitous path to the destination I have chosen. To transform the tears, I reach for sacred song, setting the precedent of singing a different sacred song for each circuit.
Madre del Mundo, Reyna de los Cielos,
Luz Infinita, Madre Celestial
Cuidanos siempre, guya nuestros pasos,
En el sendero de Tu gran Amor
Madre del Mundo, Reyna de los Cielos,
Luz Infinita, Madre Celestial
Ensena la manera de vivir en paz
Y llevanos siempre en Tu Corazon
Mother of the World, Queen of the Heavens,
Infinite Light, Celestial Mother
Care for us always, Guide our footsteps
On the path of Your great Love
Mother of the World, Queen of the Heavens,
Infinite Light, Celestial Mother
Show us the way, the way to live in peace,
And carry us always in Your Heart
Many thanks to Sue Young for writing these words and the inspired music that goes with them.
Each of the outer circuits takes us close to an hour. There are hundreds of rabbits and rabbit holes. There is evidence of hawks and foxes coming to the feast. The jackdaws and crows soar on the updrafts as the sun shines down through the hazy, high clouds. The base of the Tor is ringed in with trees, but the higher you get, the more rare the shade becomes.
On the second circuit, we pause for strawberries and chocolate. The second chakra is about joy and pleasure, after all. Brian Joins me in singing a familiar chant by Starhawk. The first circuit is absolutely dense with nettles. We plucked a few dock leaves for stings, but so far we haven't needed them. Now the way seems impassable. I consider putting my boots back on. (For those who know me, this is a very clear description of how dangerous the path appeared.)
I look more carefully, though, and it seems there might be a way through. I decide to risk it. I step and step again, leaning away from the reaching leaves. And twenty yards of nettle jungle later, I haven't been stung once. It's a miracle! A miracle that I will repeat fifteen times this day. The only stings I got were when I was off course.
There are many things that I learn on the Tor. This lesson came from the nettles. No Matter How Dangerous the Way May Appear, There Is a Safe Passage For Those Committed to Walking Their True Path.
Namaste,
Crow
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Megalithic Efficiency
The thing I loved most about visiting sacred sites in Britain was my guide. Jon has spent some time studying and understanding the traditions behind the megelithic structures, right down to why the inner ring of Stonehenge is built of a Welsh stone but located in Southern England. It had to be moved when the original builders added the outer ring, because the original location was too far north for the new sightings, and moving straight south would have been into the ocean... Anyway, that's another discussion, entirely.
My favorite new idea is connected to the cycle of the sun, as it appears from earth to swing to the north in summer and back to the south in winter. The sky has always been the steadiest phenomenon that we can observe from earth. And the predictable swing of declination is a natural and obvious way to mark the turning of the years, especially for ancient peoples, who spent so much more of their life immersed in their natural environment.
In the diagram below, the red 'x' is where a person might stand, and the yellow circles represent sunrise and sunset at different times of year. The lines that cross through the whole image are sighting lines, and the blue shapes are our imaginary stones. This is where we start paying attention to efficient thinking, because we sure don't want to move these twelve-ton monsters twice.
Having taken the time to observe for a year or more as the sun swings in its predictable pattern, our imaginary priestess has marked the points of highest and lowest declination. And being such a clever girl, she has also deduced that these points represent the height of summer and the longest night of winter. Now she wants to mark these special points for future generations. So she calls council, and the tribe prepares for some intense community effort. They choose four stones, large and slow wearing, but not any particular shape, and they drag them into position.
My favorite new idea is connected to the cycle of the sun, as it appears from earth to swing to the north in summer and back to the south in winter. The sky has always been the steadiest phenomenon that we can observe from earth. And the predictable swing of declination is a natural and obvious way to mark the turning of the years, especially for ancient peoples, who spent so much more of their life immersed in their natural environment.
In the diagram below, the red 'x' is where a person might stand, and the yellow circles represent sunrise and sunset at different times of year. The lines that cross through the whole image are sighting lines, and the blue shapes are our imaginary stones. This is where we start paying attention to efficient thinking, because we sure don't want to move these twelve-ton monsters twice.
Having taken the time to observe for a year or more as the sun swings in its predictable pattern, our imaginary priestess has marked the points of highest and lowest declination. And being such a clever girl, she has also deduced that these points represent the height of summer and the longest night of winter. Now she wants to mark these special points for future generations. So she calls council, and the tribe prepares for some intense community effort. They choose four stones, large and slow wearing, but not any particular shape, and they drag them into position.
Now for the elegance of it. Whatever size the cross section of the stones, they will serve our priestess's purpose. All she does is sight along her markers and make certain that the edges of the stones just touch the lines of sight. Big stones go farther out, little stones go closer to center, wherever they need to be to touch the lines. Four stones! The village groans, but band together for the sake of posterity. And soon, they are set just so.
Then our priestess points out the perfection of her design. With just these four stones, they can mark sunset and sunrise for all four of the major turnings of the year. Four stones, eight time markers. By standing outside all four stones and sighting back through them, each special sunrise and sunset is given a narrow window of display.
Standing southwest of stone B and looking back toward our center mark, you can see only stones and a tiny sliver of sky. That sliver is where the sun will rise on summer solstice. And so forth with the other solar events.
I so look forward to recreating this. Do you own a piece of land with a good view of the horizon? Do you want to mark the turning of the seasons with stones or sculpture? I'm your girl!
Namaste,
Crow
Sunday, August 20, 2006
Swimming Deep in the Current
For two and a half months, I have been so incredibly deep in process. It has been extreme, intense, transformative... I could go on with superlatives. Oh, man. I could have posted a hundred things. I have been in it, living it. No chance to step back and write about it. Finally though, I'm slowing down and I plan to do my best to catch up. Here, I'll just catalog some of the main events of my summer. Later, I'll try to cover each one in more depth.
In Wales, I did indeed go to sacred sites. I visited Stonehenge, Avebury, West Kennet Long Barrow, and Aurthur's Stone. I left offerings to the fey in three places. I walked the Glastonbury Tor Labyrinth. I received the blessing of the Morrigan. I received not one but two four leaf clovers. I walked barefoot the whole time through nettles and thisles, and only got stung a few times in twelve hours. My guide, a wonderful devotee of the Goddess in British Isles tradition, guided me through a vision to my true path.
I celebrated the minimum moon on a Welsch beach with my magical son. The goddess is on the rise again. I made it home and found that the labyrinth had continued to grow while I was gone. We built and built and it still wasn't finished. Zander and I went to a dowsing conference, and shared space with dozens of special spirits. He learned how to bend spoons. I learned to dowse for the Tree of Life. He made friends with some great dowsers. I built a labyrinth on the beach with several other dowsers.
I facilitated the departure of our housemates. They've both moved to a mobile home I own in a nearby town. I first bought it way back when I was a firefighter. They're doing a great job fixing it up and making it their own. Plans are in the works to get things straightened out so they can buy it. I'll be finished with it, and they'll have a place of their own. Win-win.
Zander and I ate at a vegan restaurant in Santa Cruz, and the food was so good that I was inspired to go all raw. Over the last five weeks, I've learned dozens of new recipes, I've transformed my whole kitchen for my new food practices. My skin, which has been troubled since I was a teenager, is clear for the first time in my life.
I found the courage to tell my husband that I needed to stop being married. He is a good man, kind and generous and loving, and I have a different path. I'm glad that I have the awareness to leave him without being hurtful or laying blame. I've moved to the other end of the house and started making my space my own.
I finished the Greenbrier Labyrinth. It looks better than I had hoped. It took way longer than I like, but it's done, and I only paid a little for the privelege of building it. I can say that I built the first Labyrinth in a public park in Austin Texas. I met with a fellow devotee of Sacred Geometry, and felt my network of magical insights strengthen.
I had a series of powerful and revelatory dreams. I learned that I have some mythical underpinnings for my life and its resonant cycles. I am a fire horse woman. I made myself more visible on the net, found amazing new friends, got support in transformation. I let go of the image of Jesus on the cross and transformed him into the shining saint he ought to be. I welcomed fiery Pele into my subconscious and superconscious, bringing light and life to a place of suffering. I went to my favorite church, the First Spiritualist Church of Austin, and got excellent confirmation of my progress.
I started a new work project, working with a beautiful new stone. I put on a great birthday party for Zander, set up his pool for his guests, helped assemble his new trampoline, and baked him an all raw chocolate cake that he liked. I made better connections to the elders available to me. I felt little surprise when my father came into my life with demands and judgments, and little surprise when he made a hasty departure because I didn't meet his expectaions.
I'm in preparations for Zander's initiation, to fulfill a promise to the Green Man for when Zander was four years old and very ill. In vision quest, I met with the Growing One himself, and he promised to heal Zander in return for his service later in life. At the time, I was concerned that I was promising something for someone else, and what if Zander didn't want to keep that end of the bargain? I needn't have worried. Zander loves the growing things. We had a tree fall in the yard over the weekend. Zander went to it and gave it a hug and told it sorry.
Every sentence above could easily be expounded upon to fill a whole post on its own. It's been ten weeks of magic and beauty and miracles. I'm looking forward to more.
Namaste,
Crow
In Wales, I did indeed go to sacred sites. I visited Stonehenge, Avebury, West Kennet Long Barrow, and Aurthur's Stone. I left offerings to the fey in three places. I walked the Glastonbury Tor Labyrinth. I received the blessing of the Morrigan. I received not one but two four leaf clovers. I walked barefoot the whole time through nettles and thisles, and only got stung a few times in twelve hours. My guide, a wonderful devotee of the Goddess in British Isles tradition, guided me through a vision to my true path.
I celebrated the minimum moon on a Welsch beach with my magical son. The goddess is on the rise again. I made it home and found that the labyrinth had continued to grow while I was gone. We built and built and it still wasn't finished. Zander and I went to a dowsing conference, and shared space with dozens of special spirits. He learned how to bend spoons. I learned to dowse for the Tree of Life. He made friends with some great dowsers. I built a labyrinth on the beach with several other dowsers.
I facilitated the departure of our housemates. They've both moved to a mobile home I own in a nearby town. I first bought it way back when I was a firefighter. They're doing a great job fixing it up and making it their own. Plans are in the works to get things straightened out so they can buy it. I'll be finished with it, and they'll have a place of their own. Win-win.
Zander and I ate at a vegan restaurant in Santa Cruz, and the food was so good that I was inspired to go all raw. Over the last five weeks, I've learned dozens of new recipes, I've transformed my whole kitchen for my new food practices. My skin, which has been troubled since I was a teenager, is clear for the first time in my life.
I found the courage to tell my husband that I needed to stop being married. He is a good man, kind and generous and loving, and I have a different path. I'm glad that I have the awareness to leave him without being hurtful or laying blame. I've moved to the other end of the house and started making my space my own.
I finished the Greenbrier Labyrinth. It looks better than I had hoped. It took way longer than I like, but it's done, and I only paid a little for the privelege of building it. I can say that I built the first Labyrinth in a public park in Austin Texas. I met with a fellow devotee of Sacred Geometry, and felt my network of magical insights strengthen.
I had a series of powerful and revelatory dreams. I learned that I have some mythical underpinnings for my life and its resonant cycles. I am a fire horse woman. I made myself more visible on the net, found amazing new friends, got support in transformation. I let go of the image of Jesus on the cross and transformed him into the shining saint he ought to be. I welcomed fiery Pele into my subconscious and superconscious, bringing light and life to a place of suffering. I went to my favorite church, the First Spiritualist Church of Austin, and got excellent confirmation of my progress.
I started a new work project, working with a beautiful new stone. I put on a great birthday party for Zander, set up his pool for his guests, helped assemble his new trampoline, and baked him an all raw chocolate cake that he liked. I made better connections to the elders available to me. I felt little surprise when my father came into my life with demands and judgments, and little surprise when he made a hasty departure because I didn't meet his expectaions.
I'm in preparations for Zander's initiation, to fulfill a promise to the Green Man for when Zander was four years old and very ill. In vision quest, I met with the Growing One himself, and he promised to heal Zander in return for his service later in life. At the time, I was concerned that I was promising something for someone else, and what if Zander didn't want to keep that end of the bargain? I needn't have worried. Zander loves the growing things. We had a tree fall in the yard over the weekend. Zander went to it and gave it a hug and told it sorry.
Every sentence above could easily be expounded upon to fill a whole post on its own. It's been ten weeks of magic and beauty and miracles. I'm looking forward to more.
Namaste,
Crow
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