The White Spring Diary – Beltane Preparations

So with the season of Beltane fully upon us, the seasonal altar changes. Although we are very caught up with the Community Beltane Celebrations our focus is very much on the White Spring. Often at this time of year, the energy rises, and occasionally so does the noise. We have to be very careful that it doesn’t get out of hand, and occasionally remind some of our more raucous visitors to be thoughtful of other people’s needs. It has been relatively peaceful over the past week, but before that we had one or two people who were trying to be disruptive – this was dealt with quite quickly and with little fuss. It is not wise to take our eye off of the White Spring at this time of year.

Besides, we have our own For the Love of It Celebration to organise at the Beltane full moon. Altars need to be set and cleaned, and the powerful spring water flows kept in check so that we don’t flood with the increased flow. Whenever I reset the seasonal altar, it gets a complete wash down with White Spring water. All the offerings are taken down and the stones are cleared of wax and scrubbed clean.

For this Beltane altar I placed red and white fabric at the back, behind everything, then a huge copper disk in front to symbolise the return of the summer and to give a beautiful reflection. I like simple shrines and altars and I also like to avoid too much clutter, so I do try to keep it very simple. I created a simple maypole using a stick from my altar at home and attaching red and white ribbons to it. I planted it in the earth that I had put into a small glass vase. This I placed in the centre of the altar. We were gifted some wonderful clay faces, one masculine and one feminine, these were also placed on the altar, with the ribbons connecting to them both, and to the candle that lit up the whole scene. Our Beltane picture was placed to the side of the altar, leaving the dramatic contrast of the red and white colours around and in front of the copper.Now for some fresh flowers, and a stone to ground the whole scene and it was set.

I used more red and white fabric to cover the inside of the doors and create a kind of opening at the entrance. This is also to cover up the damage on the doors (they are the same doors that were there in the 1980’s and although they have lasted well, they have definately had their day. We are currently awaiting new doors, paid for by donations and gifts, which are being hand made by a local carpenter who undertands the energy of The White Spring and what is required from such a set of doors. Sometimes we have to wait for quality craftsmanship.

I had gone to the Spring in the late morning, arriving early for a booking, to give me enough time to redress the altar before the group arrived. I had just completed the task and lit some incense when they turned up. The leader of the group was so appreciative, it was very special for him and this group to have some private time there. I could see why, they loved the place.

It was a grey day that threatened to rain, so they all arrived wearing raincoats and walking boots. I sat at the front step, ready to answer any questions or let people out if they wanted to leave. It was my favourite place to sit when we have a group, you can take in the whole scene and see the diverse ways that people engage with the place, and with the water. There were all ages in the group, a balance of men and women. They visited all the shrines, stopping longer at some than others. It wasn’t long before they decided to get undressed and bathe in the pools. Many of the group bathed naked in the healing pool, and then in the central pool. It is a beautiful gift to be able to hold such a place for people to visit and I am often humbled to see what an impact it has.

One of the visitors came to talk to me. She told me that she was a shaman and asked me if I felt a connection to a dragon power animal. I aid yes; I could understand why she may have tuned in to this, I often commune with what I perceive to be a dragon spirit at the White Spring, I feel a kinship with this particular force there and was not at all surprised to hear that she had noticed this connection. This lady, from New York, stayed after the rest of the group had left and spent a lot of time at each of the shrines. She asked if I would sing with her and share some of the songs that we sing at the White Spring. We sang together … Born of water, cleansing, powerful; healing, changing, I am … then Spirit of the water place, I hear your song. It was delightful to sing together and she wrote down some of the words before taking them to share with the whole group at their fire ceremony the next day.

That evening I had to attend a meeting about the town celebrations. For the past 3 years we have been involved in organising the Beltane celebrations in town. I say organising, but what I really mean is, holding a space where an organic group of volunteers can come together and make something happen. Each year it is different, due to the changing nature of the group and their backgrounds. It’s an interesting excercise to surrender what your personal vision may be to include those of the collective. It is amazing how it all comes together, as people feel empowered to take on roles and organise parts of the day. Somehow the magic happens and we have a stunning spectacle each year for the hundreds of visitors who come to town for Beltane.

It was my job to bring a schedule for the part of the procession that stops at the White Spring and Chalice Well for a blessing of the waters. We knew there would be hundreds of visitors and it is quite a task to get them all through the building and onward to the ceremony out on the land. We discussed the best way of doing this and prepared a loose plan. Chalice Well would be opening the monks gate, so that people may go into the gardens freely and a representative would come out with a blessing from the red waters.We would have a chance to rest and refresh by the waters.

Everyone seemed happy with the ideas, so after a long day I went home and warmed up from the chill I had in my legs from being in the Spring for too long earlier in the day. I love that feeling, but it needs to be sorted, a fire (or a duvet) and a hot drink usually does the trick.

In amongst the preparations, I had word that a VortexHealing teacher of ours would be in town teaching basic and advanced VortexHealing. I had been in contact with him and invited him to the White Spring to see what he thought about the place. He said he would come and we had arranged a day for his visit. He told me that he would also see if ‘Merlin’ … (as arising within VortexHealing) has a gift for this sacred space. I could hardly wait for his visit, but I had too. It was my son’s 12th birthday and I had things planned with him. It would have to wait until after the weekend. And it will have to wait for the next post for you to read about the exciting developments.

Bright Blessings

Lisa

The White Spring – Deep Cleansing in a Hall of Mirrors

Each week the White Spring is sanctified. Incense is burned and powerful prayer is spoken; that this place be for the good of all who pass through. Sometimes I sing a song that helps to clear the atmosphere, it is always a profound feeling when I take part in this ceremony.

Every 6 weeks the pools are emptied and cleaned, the pipes are flushed through and the floor of the whole building gets washed. When both tasks are done together, it is a very powerful process.

It is wonderful to let people come in and see what we do when we cleanse the place, so we left the doors open. We let people know that the building would soon flood, advising them of the best place to stand. Just before we pulled the plug we had a surprise visit from a keeper who moved away a few years ago; before the pools were built. She sang a beautiful and energetic song whilst we went about cleaning the pools.

When the plug is taken out a torrent of water rushes from the healing pools, flooding first the Brigid bower, then the central chamber in front of the central pool, and then right round to the shrine of The King of the World of Faery. We follow with brooms, pushing the water into all of the corners and sweeping out any loose leaves or twigs. Once we have swept everywhere, Max climbs into the empty pools to clear out any silt. He often finds coins and crystals, as well as some more unusual offerings. These are usually gathered and placed either on the seasonal altar, or outside in the garden, with all respect to the offering or prayer of which it might have formed part.

I took some of these crystals outside and a young boy, of about 10yrs, was reminding his mother of the last time they had visited and he had found a crystal in the garden. I asked if he likes crystals and he told me that he has lots of crystals that he uses for different things. So I told him where the crystals I was holding had come from and that if he wanted one he could choose one. He was elated. He took a piece of quartz crystal, washed it under the water and put it in his own water bottle to charge the water. It was lovely to see him look after the crystal so well and see his delight.

I went back inside the building and lit some frankincense to clear and sanctify. This is a spiritual blessing that takes on a form of its own in accordance to what the building seems to require. I sang to each of the directions and at each shrine, asking that they lend their energy to the intent that this place be for the good of all who pass through here. That these spirits guard, guide and protect, and that this place be sanctified so it may reflect true sanctuary and fulfill its sacred purpose.

I went to the back chamber that is not easily accessed beyond the pool. This is a place where no candles are lit, we keep it dark and separate. Like the holiest of holies in a sanctuary. The depth of the place can often be felt here and it is good for deep inner ritual. I opened up my voice and sang. This opening the voice and allowing the spirit to sing through is an amazing thing to do. It calls to mind the Scandinavian shaman women who would sing enchantments to the land and spirit of place as part of their magical practice. It is a practice that seems to take me to a place ‘other than’. A feeling impossible to put into words, but which has the practical impact of not really being fully aware of the people around me.

The song started gently and sweetly. Facing the back wall, I surrendered to it. Other voices joined in, people singing and intoning with me, it felt perfect, as if their voices were floating in and lending their power to the song. Then the sounds became loud and discordant – something was going on and I sensed a huge shift of some kind. It felt like hard work, almost using the voice to pull something through.The other singers in the building matched the pitch and intensity of the sound. Then it settled again to a soft and gentle tone.

I was heady with incense and from the singing when I climbed up and walked through the central pool, now empty of water. Max had finished clearing the healing pools and had put the plug back in so the pools would now refill with lovely fresh water.

On the next afternoon, our friend, a previous keeper of the Wellhouse, came early to bathe. She was so moved by the experience. Although she had not seen the pools, she had dreamed of bathing here and it evoked strong emotions for her, and an acknowledgement of how much she had grown in the last few years. It was a profound healing moment. I was, yet again, touched by the impact that this place has on people.

Often visitors arrive as if they are carrying a burden, and leave with a sparkle. It is inspirational and uplifting, it is dark and foreboding. It is powerful and intense, it is gentle and peaceful. It is a Temple of Life, and as such, it changes in aspect frequently. Most people pass through and see just one or two aspects, but when you are here often, you see the shifts in energy, the tides of change through the seasons and you feel the reflective nature of the place.

Very occasionally, people see something in the place that they don’t like – perhaps the singing is not to their liking, or they are offended by the No Photography rules, or a spliff is passed in the garden; maybe a challenging visitor is causing seeming disharmony, or is drunk and harrasing people. I feel saddened when this happens, and more-so if they allow that to put them off visiting again, because I know if they did, they would most likely find a very different vibration.

Myself and Max have inadvertently upset a few folk who have misunderstood our intentions in this place, or have a different idea on how it should be operated. This is difficult to manage sometimes – yet I know I have integrity, so I just keep doing what I feel to be right, following my heart, being guided by the Spirit of place. I remind myself, I work for the White Spring, not any one person.

The keepers all play their own part, giving their time and energy to the place. All part of the ‘Spirit of The White Spring’, we maintain the temple and make it available to others; For the Love of It … whatever ‘It’ may be. We all put our love into it – and over the years more and more of that is reflected back in the nature of the place. The dedication that the team put in to looking after this place can be felt and seen and that has created a transformation. Not just in the physical look of the building, but also reflected in it’s very essence.

I hope you are enjoying these candid tales from the temple. I am really getting a lot from the process of writing it all down, so thank you for reading. Next time, I will be exploring the concepts of ‘the wounded masculine’ and ‘seeking balance.’

 

 

The White Spring – on blocked drains and a Peruvian Saint

On Sunday I had to return to the Spring despite my previous plans to spend the day at home.

It was treacherous on both the pavement and the road where people collect water. I took salted grit and a spade to clear the ice which was done quite quickly. Then, on going inside, I found that the drain taking the water away had blocked. We had a flood by the back door. This is relatively common, so it causes no alarm. The plumbing that was put in place in the 80’s to take the water under the courtyard has a ‘dog leg’ bend in it. So that just a few twigs or leaves escaping through the mesh leading to the drain can easily block it.

There is no other remedy but to take up the drain cover, get the rods out and start clearing. It can be a fun practical meditation; symbolically clearing blockages on a personal level too. I often get an audience whilst doing this; the drain cover is right there in the middle of the courtyard.

This is the time when I most often hear the questions and comments like ‘ you know what this place needs?’ or ‘what you need to do is…’  I listen patiently, I sometimes respond with ‘yes we have tried that,’ or ‘the reason we cannot do that right now is …’ I rarely hear anything new that hasn’t been tried before. Of course, I know that the only long-term solution is to dig up the whole courtyard; a task for the future when the funding becomes available to transform the garden.

I continued to push the drain rods through over and over until I heard the satisfying gurgle, and saw air bubbles rising to the surface. The water drained away rapidly, rushing through the pipes unencumbered – job done. I left to go home and spend the rest of the day with my children, two wonderful helpers were due to open at 1.30pm. I saw them as I left, and we talked about changing the rota slightly for Sundays. I must confess, I have only just sorted it out.

The White Spring is never far from my thoughts, wherever I am and whatever I am doing. I have many tasks including taking bookings, checking emails and comments, keeping the calendar, writing words for the website etc. I often have calls from groups all around the world who want to have some private time in the place. Tuesday is my usual admin day, but I take calls all week of course.

I had a call from a Lady who had arrived last November for an impromptu visit, she wanted to arrange a booking. It had been one of those remarkable visits where Max and I had just popped in to do a small job and were planning to leave quite quickly. I was taking the ‘Shepherdess’ painting of Brigid to a new home and we had just come to collect it when a sweet face looked in through the doorway.

We had little time so Max tried to explain that we were not open. The lady said she had just been on the Tor and was visiting with some Peruvian teachers; she asked if they could they come in for a quick visit now. We lit up some candles and waited a few minutes for them to arrive. When they did, I was surprised to find the two teachers, an older man with a younger one who was possibly his son, arrived with my next door neighbour!

They came in and spent some time by the shrines. As they stood beside the water their guide asked them if they thought the place was okay, the older man looked at her with his eyes of wisdom shining and did a little dance. ‘Good,’ she said.

I sent a message to my friend in Stroud to say that I would be late bringing her the painting and for the overnight visit that I had planned. I explained that we had some visitors from Peru at the Spring. Later that evening when I arrived at her place she told me that she had been intrigued about a particular statue of a Saint in her local Church. It was of Saint Martin and that day (3rd November) was his Feast Day. When she went to found out more about this Saint she found he was from Peru. She had just got home after saying prayers to St Martin when she got my text!

St. Martin de Porres was born at Lima, Peru, in 1579. His father was a Spanish gentleman and his mother a coloured freed-woman from Panama. At fifteen, he became a lay brother at the Dominican Friary at Lima and spent his whole life there-as a barber, farm laborer, almoner, and infirmarian among other things.

Martin had a great desire to go off to some foreign mission and thus earn the palm of martyrdom. However, since this was not possible, he made a martyr out of his body, devoting himself to ceaseless and severe penances. In turn, God endowed him with many graces and wondrous gifts, such as, aerial flights and bilocation. From – Catholic.org

What amazing synchronicity! In the morning I had spent time with Peruvian visitors at the White Spring, then in the evening I spent time talking about a Peruvian Saint. We visited the Church later that night, where the statue of the Saint stood. It was dark when we arrived so we lit a candle and meditated in the Church for a while.

Although I do not consider myself to be Catholic, I still appreciate the beauty and divinity that can be found in Churches, and the magic of the colourful potent ceremonies. I believe all religions hold a core divinity, and I like to hang out where this can be felt.

I wonder what will unfold from this visit in June. It seems auspicious considering the synchronicity of the last one and I am looking forward to welcoming them again.

Now back to the diary – we have so many bookings coming in as more and more people hear about the White Spring. We will need more helpers to ensure we keep up with them, but first we have a cleansing; there are pools to be cleaned, pipes to be flushed, songs to be sung and sanctifying to do. More about that next time.

The White Spring – Otherworldly Visions

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?

 

 

The White Spring – Imbolc 2012 part III – The celebration

Tuesday was spent at The White Spring; setting the space, moving rocks, cleaning candlesticks and removing wax. G, the Founder of the Temple would be having the evening for a private booking so I wanted to place to be clear and ready well in advance before I went home to prepare myself to hold the ceremony.

At home, I went over my words, and devised a way to keep time in my head so I did not have to look at a watch. There would be a period of darkness and I had no other way to keep time. I sang a song over three times. I knew that would be approximately nine minutes altogether.

One of our helpers had their car break down on the evening prior to Imbolc and had to stay at our house so he got to witness the crazy, getting the family up and children ready for the day, morning madness that ensues. After the children left for school we quickly organised our things and left for the White Spring.

When we arrived I found that the seasonal altar had been changed a little, the altar cloth had been pushed back, crushing the swan feathers I had left there. I cleared the altar immediately and reset it, this time without the cloth. Some new snowdrops had turned up, so I assumed that G had left them there and either didn’t like the altar cloth, or did not notice that I had already begun to set the altar. I struggle for a moment with slight annoyance, then let it go. Nevertheless, the altar was reset along with more beautiful fresh snowdrops.

We checked that there were no light sources coming in to the building. All the skylights had been covered, and even the keyhole and cracks under the doors. I set the helpers to lighting candles and went outside to greet some of the early visitors. There were not as many people as in previous years. Though the first person to arrive had come all the way from Australia!

I went inside again to light some incense and found myself visiting each shrine with a song. I went last to the central chamber at the back of The White Spring, turned to face the wall and sang to the spirit of the Spring. When I turned around again, I found that the building had filled up and there was quite a crowd watching me. I suddenly felt a little shy, but managed to not show it whilst I went outside for a moment. I could sense that the visitors were waiting for things to start, so we started right on time.

I was so happy to have Merlin with us to lead the chanting and singing. I knew I could count on him to come in at the right time and get everyone singing along. After welcoming everyone, I talked a little about the White Spring, and said a few words about Imbolc. Then we went into the darkness and silence.

What potency awaits in the quiet dark of the cave. This was my first time leading this ceremony, and although I was aware of the feeling of complete darkness inside the spring, I had not been prepared for the feelings whilst holding that space and being responsible for it.

Blackness, and just the sound of the water rushing through the building, my head was swimming as I sang the songs in my head that lasted 3 minutes each – just to help me keep time. It was silent, though I was sure my heart would beat right out of my chest. My mind wandered. The air seems to stir with pregnant possibility. You know that if you reach out you will touch the person stood next to you, yet you feel totally alone in the darkness. There were around 100 people all stood in the blackness for just long enough. And then I gave the signal by tapping on the door gently. Then three loud knocks from outside.

Opening the door, the light streams in as Young Bridie walks through carrying her lantern. The door closes and the single flame is carried to the centre of the building. ‘The light shines in the darkness .. and the darkness shall not overcome it!’ The light is passed from person to person and all of the candles are lit. Then we sing.

Bridie, Brigida, Sula, Sheena, Anun, Anna, Danu, Dana

This year marked the 7 year anniversary of the lighting of the Brigid flame here in Glastonbury. One of the people who lit the flame in 2005 told us all of its significance. Then we all gathered outside to share inspiration and song.

I introduced G as the founder of the Temple and she talked about Brigid and her inspiration. The red and white waters were mixed and those gathered were splashed with the waters with purifying intent before offering to the land with our wish that the waters flow together forever.

It was cold. The winter had been so mild up until this week, and now it had just turned icy cold. Young Bridie was wrapped up warm and we drummed and danced to keep our feet warm. Max told his seasonal story, a journey if you like, taking us to the otherworld. I offered a guided meditation, to create powerful intent and send it out into the universe along with Brigid’s guiding light.

The Monk’s gate into Chalice Well was opened for us to go into the garden. Yound Bridie led us up to the wellhead of Chalice Well and we left the flame there before going to the fire that had been lit on the lower lawn. R and her mum got a hot chocolate, and after chatting to a few folk, Max and I went back to the Spring. We had a keeper ready to open for the day, so after the procession to Brides Mound had left, we went to have some lunch.

At sunset I went to Bride’s Mound myself, to honour the flame that I keep at the temple and in my home. K, another keeper of the flame had arranged to have a fire puja; a prayer and offering of ourselves in support of that prayer. It was a beautiful gathering. Someone had created a beautiful icon of Brigid which stood in the footprint of the chapel that had been built there so many years ago. We lit candles from the Brigid flame, all around the chapel and honoured the place where the Mary Magdalene altar had been. Then we surrounded the fire to share songs.

At the end I had so many well wishers thanking me for the ceremony at The White Spring and telling me how much it meant to them to come to Glastonbury and feel so welcome at the sacred ceremonies here. I took their praise gracefully and gave it back to the earth.

Later, I left the mound in the darkness filled with the glow of the flame, the warmth of the community that I am a part of, and the knowledge that so many people had found something special on that day. The season of Imbolc, the power of the land, and the Celtic Goddess Brigid was honoured here.

 

 

The White Spring – Imbolc 2012 part II

Early the next morning, three strong men set off to gather the hazel for the new bower. Prayerfully, joyfully, and whilst holding sacred intent, they made their way to a local wood. Knowledgable woodsmen, prepared to work thoughtfully and with regard to the spirit of the land, carefully coppiced and thinned the hazel trees. They communed with the woodland, made appropriate offerings and took just enough wood to build the bower.

There is an excitement that goes along with gathering resources from nature to take to the White Spring. Whether it is daffodils or hazel branches, it seems to be a joyful sacrifice. Sometimes stones or flowers, ivy, old man’s beard or teasels seem to call out from the hedgerows, ‘Take me to the waters’; as an offering to the spirit of the place we bring them in.

Max, my partner in life and at the White Spring told me of the usual discussions and questions that come up with a new helper on board. Why do we use hazel? Why not a more sturdy wood that would withstand the damp better? What is the point of replacing it every year when you could build one that would last two or three? I had asked these same questions the first time I was involved in the building of the bower. Now, four years on, I understand.

The Hazel (Corylus avellana) is one of the very oldest British native trees. Traces of hazel nut shells and pollen have been discovered in cave settlements, dating from around 10,000 years ago. It is considered harvestable and, like willow, it often aids the trees health and the woodland to coppice it and it is a sustainable resource if harvested correctly.

This tree is associated with the Goddess Brigid, goddess of wisdom and divine inspiration and as such is particularly suitable for the creation of a shrine in her honour.  The long golden male flowers; delicate catkins reveal one of the earliest signs of fertility in the new year. Often just showing themselves at the beginning of February, by March they are dusted with yellow pollen. As I said in Imbolc 2012 part I, we replace the bower with new hazel withies every year to bring our awareness to the living temple we hold and to the ever-changing cycles of nature.

After the hazel poles were delivered to the White Spring we started to make preparations for the building of it. That evening, my son came down with a fever and I needed to stay with him for most of the day, so I could not take part in the building of the bower this time. I started the day at the Spring with a prayer. I stood in circle in the empty space that was awaiting the bower with the three men who would be manifesting it. We took a moment of silence, to listen to the waters and get in tune with the sacred task at hand. Every step is taken prayerfully, every movement they would be holding that sacred intent.

I left to go home to be with my son. When I returned later in the afternoon they had already created the bare bones of the bower. It looked fantastic, a little off centre, but the weaving of the withies to strengthen the structure would pull it all into place. It would only take an hour or two of the next morning to complete it.

Again we seemed supported by the spirit of the Spring as the bower came into its final shape for the coming year. When complete, it was exquisite; the twisting branches all weaving around each other, like the roots of an ancient forest, to form a beautiful yet simple dome. Shadows danced across the walls, the network of branches made larger by the flickering candle light.

All complete, we put the perpetual flame back in place, hung the picture, brought in fresh flowers and sang … Bridget, our lady. Born as flaming arrows. Flame of divinity, guide us from the darkness. One final prayer, and offering to Our Lady, and the task was done. Now we were ready to prepare for the ceremony.

We gathered the keeper team together for a walkthrough and rehearsal on Monday night. Along with R, an 8-year-old girl, who would be taking the part of young Bridie to bring in the flame on the morning of February 1st.

As we gathered outside the building with the fading light, a man began to shout abuse at us from further up the road. I have had some difficulty with this individual before; I usually ignore him and go inside. This time I wasn’t happy to do that and although the man was drunk and there was a risk of further confrontation, I felt it was okay to go and ask him to stop shouting or go away.

There was further confrontation. I approached him alone and asked what he was upset about. He was very angry and ranting about our ceremonies and all manner of things. I know this man to be respectful sometimes, but when he has had a drink, not so. I let him express himself for a while – whilst holding my centre, then told him in no uncertain terms that it was not okay to stand there and shout at us. Eventually I matched his angry tone, shouted at him to go away, and then walked him up the hill, softening my tone as I went. When he was far enough from the White Spring for the sound to not reach us any more I turned and went back to the group. He shouted after me once more and I simply continued on my way. And he continued on his.

I have learnt the importance of asserting our boundaries at The White Spring and the art of being honest about what is disrespectful to the temple and to the keepers. It is a fine balance to maintain compassion and kindness whilst protecting the space and maintaining appropriate boundaries around people’s behaviour. I have been challenged like this on a few occasions, it is one of my least favourite parts of the job. I have decided to take care of this place and sometimes it means dealing with confrontational people. Sometimes it is frightening, and it is always empowering. (Later on in the week, this man apologised and told us he understood that it was not alright to shout at us.)

I shook off the energy of the confrontation and went into the temple with a fabulous group of keepers to walk through the ceremony that would take place on the next day. The Imbolc ceremony is a fine operation which involves perfect timing, the putting out and re-lighting of candles at just the right time, musicians and chants weaved into the celebration. We would all need to work in perfect synergy with each other.

Young Bridie was beautiful as ever, and she walked through with such grace that I had no doubt that she would be fine on the day. I know the young lady to be a wonderful spirited girl, and to see her take on the mantle of Bridie with such a graceful poise was beautiful to see.

After the walk-through, I went with young Bridie and her mum back to her home. We took the Brigid Flame that would be alight for the whole night, placed it in her room and said a prayer to Brigid. R and I prepared a small bed and we left the crown that she would wear the next day in the bed, so that Bridie may enter.

My own daughter had taken on the role of Young Bridie for three years, from the age of 8 through to 11. It was such an honour for her to connect with this ancient nurturing power and has been a potent rite of passage for her. She feels a strong connection to the bright spirit of Brigid, the Celtic Goddess, and that connection serves her well.

The White Spring – A Year in the Life of a Temple

‘ The White Spring – A Year in the Life of a Temple’ begins.

Icicles at the White Spring

I will be keeping an online record of all of my activities as custodian and keeper of The White Spring on Wellhouse Lane in Glastonbury for the coming year from Imbolc (February) 2012 – 2013. The White Spring is a unique place that offers unique challenges and blessings. I will be sharing some of my stories with you, alongside some insight into what really goes on here. I intend to publish it all together at the end of the year, yet here at Wizard News you can read about it as it unfolds.

Many people visit the White Spring and get a limited impression of the place, having only seen it in the context of their visit. It is such a diverse place, and it has so many different faces, it would be impossible to get a clear picture of what it is from just a few visits. I am going to attempt the impossible, and also try to capture the essence of the place and put it into words so that more people understand the philosophy behind the running of this new and unique style of Temple.

There is often misunderstanding about the nature of The White Spring, my role there, or the activities that take place. I wish to share my experiences so that people may begin to understand something about what lies behind the creation and upkeep of this powerful and remarkable place.

For more information about the history and current use of this sacred site please visit www.whitespring.org.uk

Now to begin, here is some background, from the White Spring website.

‘It is one of the greatest mysteries of the Isle of Avalon that two different healing springs, one touched red with iron, the other white with calcite, should rise within a few feet of each other from the caverns beneath Glastonbury Tor. Both have healing in their flow.

In honour of the Spirit of the White Spring, a Temple has been created here in gratitude for the gift of pure water. A Victorian built Well House that nestles beneath Glastonbury Tor is ideal for this purpose. Cavernous and set apart, in blackness or candle lit, mysterious it remains. A wonderful contrast to the sunlit gardens of Chalice Well of the Red Spring. The interior consists of three domed vaults 16ft high, with beautiful bowed floors – like the hull of a boat moored at the portal to the Otherworld. With a constant temperature, and the sound of the perpetually flowing water, it is a unique and sacred space.

A series of pools have been built according to the principles of sacred geometry, and simple shrines in honour of the ancient energies and spirits of Avalon have been created within the temple. All enhanced by the ley line known as the Michael line which flows through this place. We honour Brigid as guardian, Our Lady of Avalon, the King of the Realm of Faery, and their ancient presence in this sacred space.

The companions of the White Spring, men and women who give their time and expertise freely, have designed, built and created the temple and continue to care for it, inspired and greatly helped by the blessings of spirit. Many groups, pilgrims, and local people – from a wide diversity of backgrounds and traditions – have come to appreciate the blessings of this sacred space. In keeping with the sense of sacred at the White Spring there is no charge or expectation of donation, neither is anyone paid. ‘

I have been given the task of taking care of this place and I do so to the best of my ability. I would never have imagined that I would take on such an endeavor, yet it is a labour of love, and I do it  joyfully. It offers me powerful personal lessons about my life, and frequently calls me to be the very best I can be. Then sometimes, brings me right back to earth with a thump. It challenges my perceptions, allows me to examine the shadow side of my self, and to find the treasure hidden in the shadows. The White Spring brings so many blessings and much love and it is an honour to be a part of its unfolding.

Tomorrow, I will talk about the preparations that we made for our Imbolc Celebrations, the building of the new Brigid Bower to house the shrine, and some fascinating stories that have come to us through the passing season.

Bright Blessings

Lisa