Greetings from the Angel Hotel

 

 

I came back from Avebury yesterday, and find myself quite speechless, to be honest.  I need to write a poem, or a long article, if anything, so I'm not going to try, yet.  Suffice to say I feel quite "stoned".....such potent energies there.  I want to write about my experience in a way that does it justice later.

I landed in Wiltshire a week ago, sick as soon as I got off the plane in spite of my "Airborne" immune pills (airplane air is lethel), got on a train to Bath, found a B&B in a town on route called Chippenham (along the famous Avon, where graceful swans actually float), slept for 3 days straight, woke up to talk to my delightful landlady, Mrs. Barrows, and her chickens (shown observing her at her kitchen window), and Mrs. Avebury, a fellow lodger, who was sitting at the table pursuing her geneology project and eating eggs.  So, although I was too ill to get to Avebury yet, I rather magically found myself in the company of "Avebury" and "Barrows" ("barrow" is the term for the many ancient prehistoric graves, also near Silbury) in the flesh......I doubt I would have been surprised if a Mr. Stonehenge had walked in for tea. (Honest, I'm not making this up!  The Cosmic Punster is alive and well in Wiltshire.)

  So  here I sit having a coffee, several days later, at the Angel Hotel.  Not too far from the River Avon.

I figure, outside of my day among the Stones, nothing could be better.

Travelling!

Well, here I go!  I'm off to Glastonbury to the fabulous GODDESS CONFERENCE,  and also to attend the GLASTONBURY SYMPOSIUM !  I'm so excited!

I lived in England on three separate occasions, as a child in Essex, as a 17 year old during the "swinging London" era, and again, in my 20's.  I know that London has changed hugely since the last time I was there, the 70's, and I'm a little afraid of everything being colored by my memories of being there then, and my memories of who I was then as well, or, at least, my ideas of my memories of who I once was.  We're nothing if not our own invention.

So I've decided to leave all of that behind for the moment, and go straight to Bath, and find a quiet B&B to be a tourist looking at Roman ruins for starters.   I have sensible shoes, a backpack with too much stuff, and a very large purse, and I know very well I'm not the fit, thin girl I once was.  Well, so what.  Let the adventure begin!

A Festival of Scarabs

As I pack for my trip, I'm amazed at the convergence going on, right over my patio, of bright green metallic Scarab Beetles! I've never seen anything like it.

The bugs seem to be having a feast from the sap of a Palos Verde tree, and are flying around in what looks like a joyous drunken stupor.  Since Jung's most famous synchronicity had to do with the appearance of a scarab beetle, I'll take this as a good sign!  He only had one.......I apparently have several hundred.

Spirits of Place

"Numina" (2009)

 "I experienced contact with something or someone sentient and much greater than my individual self. I had experienced contact, even momentary communion, with the "essence" of what could be called a transpersonal presence. Afterwards I was told by the local shaman or caretaker that I had met with the guardian spirit of the place.""

Debra D. Carroll "From Huacas to Mesas"

DIALOGUES WITH THE LIVING EARTH, compiled by James and Roberta Swan (1989)

I was reading the above article by Debra Carroll, an expressive arts therapist from an important (and sadly obscure) book by the Swans, published in 1989. Within her article, I found a wonderful description of a visionary experience she had with the "Spirit of Place" at a site she visited in Mexico. I was equally enthralled by a story she quoted by someone called Martin Gray, in which he described his own experience in Japan. I was moved enough to earmark the book, and I pulled out my yellow marker just to be sure I held them in memory. Ms. Carroll described Mr. Gray as a "pilgrim".*** Because "pilgrim" embodies, I think,  the humility necessary to approach a sacred site, or perhaps any place with its myriad beings and ecosystem, with a willingness to listen.

I have a story as well,  I've told it before, but it's good to tell it again.  It still haunts me. 

In 1992, I was living with my former husband on 40 some acres in upstate New York. Where we lived was a rural area rapidly being built up with new housing and industry. One of the mysterious places in the area, to me, was a field I used to go to. To get to that field, which bordered our property, one had to go through a kind of obstacle course - crossing an old stone wall, you immediately ran into a rusted barbed wire fence, and then tramped through a nasty barrier of poison ivy, grape vines and small trees. Braving all of this, an expanse of field appeared.

Bordered on all sides by trees, you could stand there in the tall grass, or the snow, and see nothing of the warehouses or homes nearby. It felt, oddly, as if it was somehow protected, as if you entered a special, quiet, mysterious place. The land had obviously once been worked, but it had been left fallow for many years. In the center of the field  I perceived a "fairy circle".....small trees, bushes, even tall grasses formed a loose circle, if one looked. With my divining rods, I found there was a ley crossing in that exact spot - the rod "helicoptered" and whirled at the center of the "fairy ring".   We came to revere the THE FIELD as magical.

My ex and I were actively involved in Earth based spiritual practices, and he facilitated a lively men's group. One night when the moon was full the group, energized by shamanic drumming, decided to visit "THE FIELD".  It was November, and there was snow on the ground.  I was not present, but my husband told me that as the young men strode to the stone wall, something pushed two of them backward into the snow!

Being young men, they got up and aggressively thundered forward - and something again pushed both of them backwards! They fell on their behinds in the snow.  This (I was told) was enough strangeness for everyone, and the party turned around and went back to the house.  The next day, my husband and  I took offerings to the place where one entered "the field".  We came to believe the place had a guardian spirit, what the Romans called "Numina".   I remember placing crystals and flowers on a stone by the old stone wall, and as I did, I felt such an overwhelming sense of sorrow that tears ran down my face and would not stop. I was, for that moment, the empathic medium for something that  lived there. I believe what I felt was  the sorrow of the guardian spirit of that place, and I think that field was a sacred site of some kind, perhaps special to native peoples long ago in some way.

The encroachment of industry and the loss of habitat in that area was a sad fact.   A year later there was an oil spill in a nearby truck depot, and the wetlands that bordered "the Field" suffered  ecological damage, and a number of the old trees there died.  When I left the area, I bid the Spirits of Place there farewell, thanking them for so much beauty, for allowing us to be a part of that place.  I was saddened that this "secret garden" was surrounded by thoughtless and uncaring forces that might continue to invade its invisible walls, and prayed that others would come who might perceive the magic of the place.

I like to think we opened a portal there, a conversation if you will, because we were practicing ritual, and making art, that was about the earth. The spirits of that place responded to us, simply because we were there, and  we were listening. Reading  Debra Carroll and Martin Gray brought that time back  to me.

"There is an earth-based energy available to human beings, concentrated at specific places all across the planet, which catalyzes and increases this eco-spiritual consciousness. These specific places are the sacred sites discussed and illustrated on this web site. Before their prehistoric human use, before their usurpation by different religions, these sites were simply places of power. They continue to radiate their powers, which anyone may access by visiting the sacred sites. No rituals are necessary, no practice of a particular religion, no belief in a certain philosophy; all that is needed is for an individual human to visit a power site and simply be present. As the flavor of herbal tea will steep into warm water, so also will the essence of these power places enter into one’s heart and mind and soul. As each of us awakens to a fuller knowing of the universality of life, we in turn further empower the global field of eco-spiritual consciousness. That is the deeper meaning and purpose of these magical holy places: they are source points of the power of spiritual illumination.".........Martin Gray

 ***Martin Gray published  his monumental book Sacred Earth: Places of Peace and Power in 2007 with Sterling Publishing Company, Inc. of London based on his decades of travel to research sacred places throughout the world.   The author spent the last 20 years on a  pilgrimage: he visited 1,000 sacred sites in 80 countries around the world. His journey unfolds in a remarkable compilation of images that reveals just how devoutly pre-industrial cultures everywhere worshipped and respected our Earth. Gray’s stunning photographs and fascinating text provide unique insight into why these powerful holy places are the most venerated and visited sites on the entire planet.

Stones Dreaming

Photo by Martin Grey

                    Avebury

Sometimes language bears in its fossil rock
things once commonly known, now information
available to us only as tourists
as here poke through the earth
through the welter of houses from the last thousand years
through country roads, prim churches, blowzy pubs,
through male and female stones, the huge breast
called Silbury Hill, vast and cumbersome
works of a people whose will slumbers
in the stone circles, rows, wordless
as the thoughts of the sheep that graze.


Yet that will is potent, not with the dumb ferocity
and shapeliness of mountains, not with the bodily
eloquence of frightened or curious sheep.
Here are erected runes of language partly designed
to be read by clouds or goddesses, left for us
too carefully wrought to be ignored.
Sometimes with my hands on the warm/cold stone
I almost think I hear it in my bones.


Marge Piercy

"Older Yet, and Lovelier Far,

  this Mystery - and I will not forget."

Robin Williamson, "Five Denials on Merlin's Grave"

I share with poet Marge Piercy a deep wonderment at the presence of the Stones, set so laboriously and intentionally by such distant ancestors, to mark circles, leys, energy ebbs and flows and currents, Solstices and Equinoxes, moon crossings, and other, more mysterious means and ways that are remembered now only by the stones themselves, and the language of the land.  I'm excited about my soon to be opportunity to visit some of these sites, to see Avebury, Stonehenge, Callenish, and the sacred wellspring of the Chalice Well as well.

"Where Time began and will Begin",  Scottish Bard Robin Williamson begins his story and prayer (which are really one and the same) "I make reverence to the Ancestors and the Spirits of those yet unborn".  Perhaps the Beloved Silence he speaks of  is that Silence that contains the language of stones.

Liturgy for the Ancient Goddess

This beautiful Liturgy was written by theologian D'vorah J. Gren, founder of The Lilith Institute. She kindly gave it to me when I was working on my book, The Masks of the Goddess. 

I've also been privileged to be included in Talking To Goddess, a  beautiful collection of blessings, prayers, invocations and other writings by 72 women in 25 spiritual traditions, edited by D'vorah. D'vorah teaches at the California Institute for Integral Studies, and she is also the author of Lilith's Fire: Reclaiming Our Sacred Lifeforce (2000).

Inanna-Ishtar-Lilith-Shekhinah...

She of all knowing, dark wisdom....She of the deep abyss, snake’s descent, owl’s knowing...woman of the dark, the light.

We praise you, we stand in awe marveling at the myriad surprises you hold for us always respectful of your power, your mystery.
Lilith-Ishtar-Shekhinah, in all your aspects; we sing your name. 

Walk with us as we yearn to understand you... Never let us forget your presence in, around and through us, as we praise you in your many guises, by every name.


Be patient with us as we must be with ourselves,  and each other... holding your presence even when we doubt or despair.

Let us continue to walk as healers, casting new roles for ourselves and others,  weaving new threads of  wonder....

Ishtar-Lilith-Shekhinah, keeper of the mystery.....

Be with us through ecstasy and harmony through death and destruction.
And You, Inanna, Ancient Mother who was given the skill of lamentations, the care of children, the rejoicing of the heart, the giving of judgments,  the stirring of sexuality, the making of decisions:

In the eye of this wisdom, rising forth from the power of your being ..how is it we got lost, taken over, subsumed?

How did we become convinced we were not worthy to serve? How were we silenced?

As we build a new world, allow us to remember our inner strengths, understanding and true compassion.   Let us not be swayed from our goals.  Help us to remember the lessons of our foremothers and so defend ourselves when necessary, without apology,

to speak for what we believe in, take unpopular action, and take what is rightfully ours with or without “permission.”

Work with us, inspire us, protect us as we weave your work - our work. 

Help us, lady of the night, holy winged figure of the light—rageful, wise judge, warmest heart, soulful visionary... highest priestess of the Temples to whom every knee must bend and every tongue give homage.

It is your word we write now upon the doorpost of our house and upon our gates…

Your word, acts, images and thoughts we share, rage at, weep with and learn from.

For It is You who makes rise our laughter and love, happiness and peace, passion, tenderness and compassion,

And from You our anger, the storm, temper and venom, jealousy and vengefulness; You from whom and with whom we learn to combine these things in the best ways possible...as we embody and become You, Our divine selves.

Sweet, dark goddess/es of the earth and sky, river and mountain, night and day, Heaven and Hell.

We seek to embody your passion, your wisdom, your strength.

Be with us now.

( 2008)

 

A Little Synchronicity....

Florence at 92

I had a lucky day yesterday, in the midst of an extremely stressful month.............I couldn't help but feel very grateful for a few synchronistic nudges that pointed the  way.

Florence by the Shores of the Sea

My mother went into the hospital earlier this month, and for a while I thought she might pass.  But she's improved and is now in a rehab center in good spirits.  But it's apparent she can't return to her home again.  So, with less than two weeks until I'm scheduled to leave for England (not to mention the 115 degree temperatures and my politically correct non-air-conditioned car)  I've been desperately seeking an assisted living community for her to go to, and resigning myself to the possibility of giving up my trip.  

I've looked at places gorgeous but too expensive, and lots of places less expensive that are very depressing.  Finally I went to a big community to meet with a manager named "Sharif".  I walked into a beautiful building with a big dining room, impressive art and furniture, and a huge landscaped interior garden.  I was expecting Sharif to be a rather intimidating Middle Eastern man, but instead was met by a young,  freckled redhead in a Hawaiian shirt, who told me that he and his brother, Omar, were named after the famous actor.  I immediately saw that the place would be perfect for my mother.

We looked at a lovely studio, and in the course of a tour Sharif interrupted our walk by bounding down the hall to assist an elderly woman who called for help.  She was fainting, and he caught her before she could fall.  I  excused myself, and said I'd be back later.

My mother's name is Florence, so I was a little amazed when I came back to notice a big sign, with balloons, over a door that said "Welcome Home Florence!".   When I met Sharif again, he told me the lady who had almost fallen was fine, just a blood sugar problem, and that her name was Florence.  And last but not least, I received an email from someone who was interested in purchasing a "Flora" mask!

Flora Pitcher with Florence, 1917

 It turned out my timing was good as well - with a summer promotional event, my mother will get the first month free of charge, and a lovely place to live that she can afford.  And I will get to go to England after all!