In the weeks following the Imbolc Celebration at The White Spring, the temple felt crisp and fresh. We had hundreds of visitors from all around the world. All of the keepers commented on how beautiful it was when they opened the temple space for the public.
Later in the week (Friday 10th Feb) I went alone to light a candle for a friend I had known many years ago. He was a great friend who had supported me through a time of crisis as a young mum – and now he had died. It was the day of his funeral and, as I could not attend in person, I went to say my prayers and farewells at the temple space that I hold so dear.
When I arrived, I heard women singing in the sanctuary. This is not unusual, I often hear voices in there; the high notes of feminine song, the deeper resonance of the chanting of monks, the occasional deep growling voice, and even people laughing and splashing in the pool. I knew that there was no-one in the building but myself, even so, I felt compelled to look around for any sign of people.
This time I called out loud, ‘ I can hear you!’ The feeling was playful and I laughed to myself. I let my voice join the choir and sang a song as I lit a candle. I stood alone in the centre of the place and saw something moving in the building. In the shadowy central chamber, behind the huge mirrored surface of the pool, I could see a cowled figure!
‘I can see you!’ I called. The figure appeared to turn its head. I could see no face, though I knew it faced me. I felt quite calm, despite this vision being all too tangible. It turned away again and seemed to sink into the stone wall. Then I heard people splashing in the pool.
I am accustomed to the usual flow of the water and the sound it makes when it hits the surface of the pool. The high claps and the deep booming of the splashes are so familiar. It sounds different when there are people bathing, and I could hear the splashing and laughter as if there were at least two people bathing. Still I knew the building to be empty. I prayed and spoke my farewells, then sang a song of gratitude before leaving the candle lit next to the pool.
The following week sent yet more visions, in fact, I went looking for them. We were at the Spring with a small group during our Wizard Seer weekend. We went to practice ‘seeing in the dark’ and scrying in the central pool. We arrived, but lit no candles. In the Brigid bower the single flame let out just enough light for us to see some of the building, but the rest was in darkness. The exercise was in trust. We would be moving around the building allowing it to reveal to us what it would. I was keeping time and would call everyone back with a gentle ‘Ohm’ sound.
During this part I heard much more than I ‘saw’. Just five minutes in the darkness feels like such a long time, like dreaming, so much more can occur. Images were flitting and floating on the edge of my conciousness, tiny motes of light dancing around. I had moved from the bower, yet could see a huge bright figure – almost as tall as the whole building. Then I saw that it was the reflection of the Brigid flame on the pillar opposite. I could then see the shadows of the branches, tangling and weaving together along the walls. I moved away; deeper into the dark. Again, bright lights danced on the edge of awareness, yet nothing tangible came into my vision.
The sounds were certainly tangible. A single voice, high-pitched, was singing words I could not hear. I could also hear a low throaty sound like a chant. Then a soft ‘Ohm’ sounded. It was like my own voice getting louder and louder. For a moment I thought Max had decided to call us back, though I knew he wouldn’t do that when he knew that I had the intention. Besides, I was sure that he was in a different chamber to the place the sound was coming from. It was coming from the shrine of the King of the World of Faerie. I put it down to some kind of Faery mischief and made the call myself.
Next we gathered and shared our experiences, and then went to the large circular pool in the centre. We only lit tea-lights on the edge of the pool walls to keep the surface dark. Then we sat beside the pool and gazed. We framed a question in our minds so that only images related to our question would come through rather than a flood of random visions.
I was keeping time again so only asked for information relating to a fictional story I am writing about The White Spring. I opened my awareness and sang a song in my head to keep my focus on the time. The words of ‘Song to the Siren’ drifted in and out of my mind.
I could see the reflections of the rest of the group in the water, their real reflections from where they were sitting, and then my eyes drifted to the light reflected from the walls onto the pool. It showed paths that my conciousness could follow down into the pool and backwards then upside down, underneath myself. A big bowl opened up like a void; the surface of the water disappeared and an image – the hare and the fox, chasing and dancing. I saw a tower, its pillars reaching to infinite climes, up and down. A white serpentine dragon uncoiled in my vision. The visions were most certainly connected to my story.
Then I saw people, mostly women – hundreds of them, dressed modestly in middle age style. They were grieving and the vision swum and stirred. I began to feel quite disoriented, and through the smoke swimming around the pools I saw the horses and the hurdles; men tied to them and towed to their death. Such tearing trauma; I wanted to cry. In my vision tears fall to the water, and a thousand tears turned to a flood.
A small flame seemed to sit beneath the pool a tiny and intense light that grew larger. I felt held – comforted. It grew into a giant sword that burst up out of the water splashing drops all over and filling the place with its immense form. My critical mind came in – in its judgement – what a classic image, the sword coming out of the lake! I laughed at myself. Bringing my conciousness back to the physical, I wondered how long I had been. Had I been singing for three rounds or just one? I had certainly sang some of the words and one or two of the visions had mirrored their sentiments. I called everyone back after singing one more round and found we had been exactly ten minutes, as intended. We all talked about our experiences and found that all of us had received some inspiration in answer to our questions.
Often the White Spring gives people peculiar sounds and sights to ponder. I have only once felt afraid, and when facing that fear, found that it was all okay. Some see and sense things they don’t want to, so they don’t walk towards the fear. Some open up, watch and listen, and find the treasure in that. Each to their own journey, it is as well to listen to your own intuition.
The central pool at the White Spring was built with the intention of a scrying pool. To sit beside the still waters and gaze into the deep well of conciousness is a potent exercise, and one which can reward the seer with profound inspiration. Try it when you visit, see what inspiration the White Spring holds for you! What will you ask?