At the weekend, I had a fundamentally life-altering experience as I stood beside the iron-red waters of Glastonbury’s Chalice Well, in its serene garden-setting (which was just starting to bloom with spring blossom and other early flowers); trite though that sounds. Yet, let me assure you, I hadn’t been expecting anything like that to occur; not at that particular spot…too cliché, too brochured, too…expected.
Yet I did; and if I had any doubt, my longstanding robin guide landed on a branch right in front of my face, the closest I had ever been to a living wild bird for more than just a second and, looking straight at me and evidently quite comfortable with my presence there, he just sang and sang. I could see every barb of every overlapping cross-hatched feather, the vibration in his throat, a stream of vapour or (more like) sound-frequency leaving his hardly moving beak; was able to notice how all the power of that sweetly-intricate sound came from deep in the throat and the bellows of his iron-red chest. Then I went almost weak-kneed as a sudden burst of sunshine lit up a patch of light, just around him, on his shady tree until he glowed in a circle of other-worldly technicolor. Although the path around the well had been busy with a steady flow of visitors and a certain amount of chatter, before this, not a single other person passed our way for the whole time this was occurring and time felt, as it were, suspended, my breathing dropped to the bare minimum….and, though it was probably under five minutes-worth of standing there glued to the spot, it felt like at least half an hour or even longer in hindsight.
Only after the robin flitted to the tree directly overhanging the chalice well and continued his song did I feel my breathing return to normal; and only then did my intellect fully surrender and my heart crack wide open. Up until that point, I hadn’t shed a single tear over this roller-coaster of a weekend, or even for a long time, but now the tears came rising up like from a very deep well inside me. They were happy tears; grateful tears; tears of release and from a feeling of great momentum that hung in the air, so solid we could both touch it. My husband steered me to a bench in the sunshine where we sat and processed for a while. It was like “I knew” such a lot in a short window of time and I needed to get it up and out of me, to move on. This was such a heart-expansion.
In fact the area around my higher heart-felt bruised; my whole sternum area felt affronted, like the bones had had to shift to make way…and then I knew, with absolute certainty, what I had just experienced. I had stepped into a new paradigm. I felt, literally, unburdened; set at ease; and as though the crystalisation process of the body that I had been waiting to occur since my AuraTransformation had just clicked into place to house this new frequency I was feeling.
All the more so in contrast, I realised with new gravitas, with what I had just left behind…which had come to me in awful, graphic imagery, just before all this occurred, as I stared down the bleak well with its heavy lid propped open. People come here for peaceful moments, to experience an outpouring of love yet (as I noticed, if less so, last time we were there 18 months ago) I only saw where I had been…for many eons; the deep, damp dark as the guardian of that well, the grail maiden, safeguarding an important message, preserving it for a future reality, a burdensome task; which was now complete. I had brought myself back to myself; into fulness and balance and it was done. I heard the actual words “you are free to go…” when I was sat on the cold-wet slab (already eager to leave it) next to that well…which is when I had stood up, striding towards the sunshine, and encountered the robin.
This is just one of many experiences my husband and I had in Glastonbury over the most extraordinary of weekends. How fitting we should have been going there, to the heart chakra of the world, the very afternoon I completed my last post, which was all about achieving heart-coherence even though that post had been a surprise to me in answer to a question posed by a friend (we all know there are no accidents). Straight after completing that post; which felt like a bow tied around all I knew about creating heart-balance, we had packed our things and got into the car to drive to Glastonbury, guided by “my” crescent moon above the inky Somerset landscape. The beautiful orchestration of the universe never fails to amaze.
And as soon as we got to Glastonbury High Street, where we were staying this time (not on the edge of the Tor as before…that was an “interesting” experience), we knew something special was afoot; the energy in the place I had picked was sublime. It was also incredibly powerful; we both felt that. So much so, I initially told myself we were sleeping right over the Michael leyline because whatever it was felt like it completed me (…as though I believed I was distorted by “too much” feminine trait and needed to “obtain” the masculine from some outside source to make me whole again…how long have I believed such nonsense). In that room, I felt so in-balance, out of pain, at peace, sublime and as though held in loving arms, every time we went in there and lay down on the bed…And I slept like a baby, waking with none of my usual stiffness and with insights pouring from me, yet none of the usual brittleness and urgency of “having” to get everything I realised “recorded” or “made into something”, “transcribed” before I could even hold a pen. Here, everything was alright; what came came, what went went and I was whole anyway. My husband, who already had a cold caught “at work”, just seemed to go “ahhh…” and slept as soon as hit the bed.
So when I realised, at the very end of our weekend, that it was far more likely we were situated between the Michael and the Mary leylines yet “on top” of neither of them, my own reaction made me smile…there was disappointment and a little indignation or reluctance to believe the map I was looking at. What was that trait, in me, that made me long for the kudos of sleeping right on top of a firehose of masculine energy, riding it like a stallion, like I had claimed it, tamed it or knew how to wield it? It was the distorted masculine impulse itself and I nodded in acknowledgement before letting it go with a wink.
Actually, I quickly came to realise, if neither masculine of feminine aspect was asserting itself over the other where we were staying yet both were in the vicinity (these two world-class dragon lines weave around the whole town of Glastonbury, crossing at three points (on the Tor, at the Chalice Well and at Arthur and Guinevere’s grave in the abbey), it meant I was experiencing balance while I was there…both externally and, presumably, within myself given it felt just so resonant and delicious. So I hadn’t been missing anything at all; I wasn’t broken or missing any of my parts, the masculine I sought was already there as me, alongside my feminine aspect, even if their space-sharing arrangement had got a little convoluted at times. Yes, yes…I had known all this, ALL of this, intellectually before now and had so many breakthroughs working with it intellectually too but, until I experienced it to this degree, assisted by the potent energy in this particular place (having had so many experiences of what out-of-balance energy in the body feels like for me, as all the pain and health issues, for instance, that are my daily norm…I’ve shared all of this before), I had never got this close to understanding the difference. My own expertise told me, at last, all that I needed to know about balancing energy because I was able to put my hand up in the air now and say this is what it feels like versus that other stuff.
And it was just so staggeringly simple for me to get there, into that vibrational groove, that I felt all the elation of there being nothing left to be done; this was the beginning, the middle and conclusion of the story of everything and the one single thing that I would share with every man, woman and child on the planet, if I could. Find the frequency of balance, tune in so that you can remind yourself what that feels like and calibrate to it in every second of every day. No need to look for whatever you think is missing; just rebalance what you already have!
All I had had to do was tune into the reminder of that perfect state of balance, in this place, in order to adjust my own innate version of it (like tuning a piano) to get to that sublime no-pain state…and I clearly had, the moment I arrived. It was strongest in the place where we stayed, very evident where we went for all our meals (in the wonderful Excalibur Cafe which is also in the same “loop” of masculine and feminine influences) and we were able to work closely with this frequency for the whole weekend, noticing its slight deviations in various places (such as at the red and white springs, with their masculine and feminine impulses, respectively). Even when we were out of balance’s influence, we found it was possible to tune to the memory of it, which we all innately carry or can find copiously in nature; a reminder we had turned up the volume of by staying in this place. No wonder people visit places like this to be healed; going home feeling better as though they have finally “got the ropes” of their own innate balance state.
In fact, I could now take heart from the fact it had taken me next to no time to tune into this feeling (unlike the last time we came to Glastonbury when it seemed to swing around like a pendulum); it was like I could blink and I was there in the slip stream of this most sublime “other” or third energy current made up of both masculine and feminine combined….a force which some dowsers compare to the third “neutral” wire in an electric plug. Think of it as a staff with two snakes coiled equally around it; when you are in balance, you are that staff – this is the ancient symbol of “medicine”. My husband, by comparison, was finding it harder to tune in or sustain the feeling, though he got there by the end of the weekend (and has, mostly, struggled since we came home…plunging into illness that he is still wrestling with). I even heard of someone who had stayed in this exact place and found the energy too much, even a little provocative; partly because of the noise of people…but then places like this do tend to attract a lot of visitors (fortunately, we were there “off-season”). Yes, it was heartening to find I slipped into balance so easily now. All my efforts, over the last eighteen months since we last came to Glastonbury, had been dedicated to maintaining balance as heart-coherence and I had clearly come a long way, to the point I could lock-on as soon as I encountered its frequency in my environment…and then it was but a small leap to join in its party.
This reminded me (as I touched upon in last week’s post) that there is nothing…and I mean NOTHING…else that we have to do but keep balancing and rebalancing the masculine and feminine aspects of ourselves; everything else will sort itself out from there!
Not only that but this balance is fundamental and necessary for us to embody the New Time crystal energy that is now available (and not just as an aura but as the fully-functioning physicality of the human body, bringing the spiritual aspect deep into every cell of the flesh); one cannot happen without the other.
All of this “knowing” of the state of balance we were, as it were, bathing in over the weekend, trialing this whole new way of being, came to us via our feeling-senses; there was just no denying the experience we were having. For my part, I was striding up hills with such ease and energy to spare and I was able to hold my mobile phone in my hand and use it for quite lengthy periods to talk to a friend or upload photographs (bearing in mind I am usually in pain after less than a minute of doing this normally). It was only after we got home that I confirmed we were situated in a perfect hug of both the Michael and Mary leylines, both about 150 feet away from our room, like a group-hug from the masculine and feminine gently curving round us; no wonder I had felt so easily in balance, sublime. The very neutrality of our energetic state, after our gentle evenings and good nights’ sleep there, plus our time spent in the nearby cafe, entrained us to balance’s rhythm (like having a rebalancing session after an AuraTransformation…which anyone with that point of reference will understand) and, so, better enabled us to approach each experience we had from a place of absolute surrender, curiosity and openness; no baggage, no preconceptions, meaning we were both having remarkable and vividly heightened experiences at every turn.
The feminine temple of the White Spring (first on our agenda and also revisited before we went home) was the place where much of it happened; what occurred in there, for us both, was deeply private yet potent beyond belief. We will never forget, either of us, what we experienced on that first day we spent time in there, being just so tremendously powerful for each of us in different ways related to our human gender and the distortions we had each been carrying for so long. I felt myself shed many layers and grow tangibly stronger, taller, more physical and determined in that space. It was like my legs were made of iron and my backbone was elongating, taking up a place that had been denied to it for some time as I reclaimed an aspect of myself that had been thrown out with the bath water for resembling, too much, some fixed idea I had had of the masculine traits I believed myself to be in a death-struggle with. Since then…which was four days ago…I have witnessed leaps in the rising up of my innate masculine traits and a dramatic new physicality wanting to find expression through my body. For my husband, he met that space from the point of view of eons-long of exhaustion from all the masculine demands made of him by “the world”; so, for him, it was a grateful surrender into the feminine that he experienced, which was like watching someone disintegrate and rebuild themselves several times over. As I mentioned, he has been quite unwell since returning home (rallying today) but I regard this as a reconfiguration of himself, on behalf of all via the quantum field, that is as necessary to the great rebalancing as my burgeoning masculinity.
Yet the next day, when we returned there after the above experience beside the iron-red masculine water of the Chalice Well (which we also drank from), we both noticed the white spring’s feminine~spiritual potency again but, in my case, I was much more capable of embodying what came through to me there (with the side-effect that it now seemed less mysterious), like I could see into all its corners and make more sense of its human-applicable relevance to me. Even with a little cynicism where I saw the ways humans had interpreted the feminine energy in that space; so much clutter and so many trappings (offerings, ribbons, beads, cut flowers, symbols, random found things…and there was a discernible sacrificial theme; this is all human-layering that has been “put on top of” the feminine over many eons of interpretation and which can get extremely muddled with the original impulse). That part of me that has been having a big clear-out of all my spaces (inside and out) lately wanted to take a duster to some of it; to reappraise what is truly resonant any more (much like I was far-less drawn to the typical shops of Glastonbury on this visit; full of all the usual hippy-vibe trinkets and accoutrements). My vision was crisply clear in there, whereas I had been spacey, vision compromised and disoriented the day before. I also noticed, as though for the first time, how much its dark, dank, brick-lined interior felt just like being under the ground in a well-shaft and (after my experience at the Chalice Well…) I was struck with the horror that someone let out of prison must feel if taken on a tour of where they were once incarcerated.
In that split moment, I was all reluctance to be back there…which was an over-reaction; beneath that knee-jerk it still felt like a sacred space. So, to bring myself back into wholeness, it was also necessary for me to reboot my relationship with the darkness in the same way as I had just rebooted it with the light. I was getting there slowly until a woman came in with two children, a boy and a girl, and the little girl’s wonderment at the colourful things tied to a branch ignited something in my womb.
Hard to explain what happened next but the darkly feminine space transformed from being some sort of cosy prison-cell where I knew I had “made the most of its limitations” for a very long time (decorating its interior with gathered things to make it more homely…but always feeling compromised, second best to the word “out there” in the light) into a welcoming womb of creation, a place from which the seed gets to grow. Now, there was no compromise to how much I loved and appreciated its dark earthy potential…side by side with the bright sunny garden “in full bloom” that we had just been in at the surface of life. I also realised, at last, how I was entirely free to move between them both and wanted to do so, equally (you could compare this with being equally enamoured of winter as you are of summer; for somewhat different reasons, all held in balance). I had clicked my two sides together and was now feeling such peace and acceptance of everything in my experience as they came into this balanced state, as me.
Above all, my heart was skipping with excitement, a new lease of life; I could have flown from the steps of the white spring as I stepped back into daylight to gather some water, in fifty-fifty proportions, from the two road-side taps of the masculine and feminine springs. I felt free of all-others’ interpretations of what masculine and feminine were to me now (the same distortions I had perceived at the White Spring could be said of the Chalice garden, with its landscaping, its visitor centre and its shop…such masculine expressions compared to the haphazard interior of the former…which have been made to somebody’s idea of what that sacred landscape has to say). Glastonbury had reminded me that the impulses its unique landscape embodies are as ancient as those hills and the rest is all trappings; so we can go right back to source, to rebalance ourselves, whenever we choose to. There was such an air of completion about everything as I walked down that road clutching my bottle of water…even though I know this is only the beginning of the rest of my life.
It was such a cohesive process of self-discovery between these two springs; don’t ever go to Glastonbury and think your work is done just by visiting the masculine red spring in the Chalice Garden…remember, the less assertive feminine waters of the white spring are just a short distance away, across the road (as is always the case, in life). Reaching over to bring them both back together might be the most important work you ever do!
As for the Tor; there was none of the easy sun-worship of our last visit. Rather, we climbed its steep sides in very high winds and on-off rain coming straight down into the face; a push all the way the top. Up there, we were in a vortex, almost hanging onto each other and the stone walls of the Tor itself, to stay upright, yet invigorated, laughing and grinning away with all the other people and excitable dogs. We went inside the tower for shelter but even the last corner of protection was withdrawn when the wind started to come straight down its chimney-effect and that was it; like the start of a fairground ride, we were held in a spin cycle that left us immobile yet exhilarated, shoulder to shoulder with these other people, made one by this bizarre circumstance going on with the weather. It felt important, somehow, to have our expectations of sunshine (like we had enjoyed all the other times) blown to smithereens and yet to love what was playing-out anyway; feeling its significance, chaotic though it appeared (this was, after all, real life). We watched people being sucked into the tower, with surprise all over their face, as soon as they entered the door frame and others playing with leaning back on the wind so it held them upright. The wind-chill was bitter yet, we noticed, the younger generation didn’t bat an eyelid but just seemed to know how to work with this force and hardly flinched in their minimal layers of clothing; yet there was nothing stopping anyone else from lightening up and enjoying it, if they really wanted to (and the same goes for the new crystal energy coming in). You could say, it came equally from all sides, balanced, with us at its centre and the only thing that could make us move was the sheer power of intent; a reminder of what living in balance feels like since the wind will take you nowhere anymore…you really have to assert the direction you want to move in.
When we got to the bottom of the hill and clicked the gate shut, it was as though the washing machine switched off and the wind, with all its noise and battery, was gone in an instant…and so we could now hear the sweet singing of birds, who had, presumably, never once skipped a beat skipped. Just one of many, many powerful experiences made manifest over two days (continuing…) by the incredible landscape of this exceptional place.
You can view more photos via my Flickr album (note there are no photos of the White Spring since photography is not allowed in there):