The Queen’s Chronicles: GLASTONBURY SPIRIT - PART 2

After descending from the Tor, we headed directly to the Chalice Well and gardens. What an oasis of tranquility and peace after the steep, sweaty climb up and down the Tor.

Since ancient times, the waters that bubble up from the depths of the Earth have been regarded as sacred. These waters are the essence of the source of life and are still revered as such.

The spring that feeds Chalice Well has never been known to fail, so it has been, and still is, venerated as a symbol of the continuous and ever-flowing nature of the life force.

This holy healing water emerges from the Earth at its source and pours out of the mouth of a sculpted lion’s head. It runs red, rich in iron, and collects in the well and streams through a series of pools, channels, fountains, and waterfalls that snake through the gloriously gorgeous gardens.

The water leaves a rusty tinge on everything that it touches, so the stones are tinted with a terra cotta color. Because of this, it has been known as the Blood Spring. And so it is. The blood waters of the Goddess’s sacred flow, the source, the pulsing force of life.

The temperature of this carmine spring water is a constant 52 degrees Fahrenheit, which was, on such a horribly hot day, delightfully refreshing, despite its metallic taste.

There is a rectangular pool where you can sit with your feet in the water so you can soak up its spirit, but 52 degrees is quite cold to the touch, especially when the air is steamy. Yet folks sat there with their feet immersed, meditating for the longest time.

I sat in the shade of the ancient yew trees listening to the constant gurgle and was tranceported to a state of serene bliss. I could have sat there in silence and peace forever. The rustling trees, the bird songs, the water sparkling with sunlight all lulled me and erased any niggly thoughts of stress or worry. Now this was truly a powerful place.

As it was Lammas Day, the First Harvest Festival, the Summer Midpoint, there was an extraordinary altar set up on the cover of the well: beautiful breads and blossoms, orange and gold arranged in perfect ceremonial order. What a gift to discover this sacred offering. What a miracle to happen to be there on the right day.

The old Celtic ways are still so deeply imbedded in England. They are still alive in the memories and daily lives of many people. That morning the cleaning woman at the B&B where I was staying gave me special wishes for August 1. Lammas in Glastonbury was not a New Age or pagan or Wiccan celebration. It was the authentic local tradition.

To be continued…