Artist with a Magical Touch
A Journey Between the Worlds
When I ‘journey’ it is from a place I am familiar with and have visited often in my bodily form. I was born and grew up close to Stonehenge and Avebury Stone Circle so these are two places that I normally choose as a starting point for my ‘Journey between the Worlds’ as I visit them often and can capture the feeling of those places easily.
This ‘journey’ took place a long time ago and I wrote it all down at the time and have documented it below. On this particular day it happened differently and I was whisked away to a place I had never been to before.
After many years I was sent a photo of Castlerigg in the Lake District by a friend called Lynne. She ‘felt’ she should send it to me. I was literally stunned as it was exactly as I had seen it on my journey. Now a few years later another friend called Janice who lives close by has visited Castlerigg and sent me more photos. Here is what I encountered on my journey:
I left my body, warm, safe and relaxed in the bathtub. My Spirit lingered at the gate of my earthly home. I waited patiently for a few moments then was lifted high above the houses, weightless, transparent and free.
I came to rest on a grassy hillock somewhere up north. The scene was peaceful. Grey rocks were dotted around the summit. Once, long ago, a magical circle of stones had stood there. Now some of the stones lay on their sides and others had in times past, been carted forth. Sheep grazed contentedly in the surrounding fields. Clouds drifted across the vast expanse of brilliant blue sky. The grass beneath my feet felt soft and cool.
I sought an opening to The Lower World. I stepped onto a patch of grass slightly different in colour to the rest. My feet sank effortlessly into the ground, followed by my whole body. I was in a tunnel leading downwards. The floor of the tunnel was soft and slimy in places. I slid down smoothly on my bottom, noting that none of it stuck to me. Then came straight drops. My body turned first anticlockwise as I fell ever deeper into the depths of Mother Earth. Then it turned clockwise, followed by another slimy slope and another drop.
Dry, dead grass, pricked the soles of my feet as I landed on the ground below. The air was dry, no bird sang, no animal stirred amongst the dying trees. I glanced sadly at the vegetation, brown and yellow, no hint of green anywhere. Not even the wind stirred. I decided to walk deeper into the dying forest in search of life. Why was I there? What would I find in that desolate place?
The aim in the Lower World is to seek out a spring, or other source of water. The feeling of death and dying weighed heavily upon me as I began to realise that, I could hear nothing. Downcast I arrived at a large hill of rocks. The stones on the ground beneath it were rounded and smooth. Once, water had flowed over them, caressed and turned them on its journey towards the Great Sea. Now, the spring was dry.
My eyes were drawn towards the hill. From a tiny hole between a pile of stones, what looked like a large teardrop was forming. It dropped onto the dry, dusty ground below. The earth absorbed the moisture, until there was no sign that it had been there at all.
My gaze returned to the tiny opening it had emerged from. Yet another teardrop was forming. It followed its predecessor and was just as hastily consumed by the parched earth. Teardrop after teardrop fell and met with the same fate. This was truly the saddest place I had ever been to.
As is my nature, I reached towards the source of sadness. I felt in my heart, that I wanted to comfort it. In doing so, a small stone was dislodged widening the opening. The teardrops fell more swiftly, so I moved a larger stone and the teardrops were transformed into a tiny trickle of life giving water. Wherever the water touched, tiny shoots appeared but it was too hot, the infant stream was too small to sustain itself.
The next stone was heavy and I struggled to set it free. I felt desperate, if only I was stronger, I would be able to create an opening large enough for the water to flow through. The next stone was too large for me to lift. I struggled on but it would not budge. Now my eyes were filled with tears.
A slight noise to the left of me caused me to turn. From out of the parched bushes, emerged a man. He was small, dark skinned and apart from a loin cloth, he was naked. His face was covered in dry, white mud. His hair tangled and long, was covered in the same. Dark eyes looked into my tearful ones. He did not speak, but with great strength, moved the stone. Water gushed forth, at that moment more figures appeared. Silently, we worked together, men, women and children, moving stone after stone.
The land was transformed, trees became green again and birds began to sing as the spring bubbled over, restoring life to that which had been dead.
Mother Earth, so sorely wounded by humankind, needing Her blood to sustain Herself, had retreated into the depths. Now she allowed it, once more, to flow freely over the land. The seas and lakes were filled, clouds rose upwards towards The Great Spirit, who sent rain. The rain fell to the ground, penetrated the Earth and fed The Mother.
Humankind had been given another chance.