Sand Escape

Here we are, at Kynance Cove, lying on on the beach. I just finished my time in the ocean, body-checking waves and getting pummelled in return. The water's too sandy though, and too full of seaweed for me to fully enjoy the water or swimming.

Anne's sitting in the shade on the Serpentine rocks, watching the waves and us. Blair's a couple of feet away, sitting inside the moat and wall of sand she built. And I'm lying here on my rainbow-coloured sarong, with the sun kissing my skin and a faint taste of salt on my lips.

I love sarongs. Skirt, shirt, sweater, curtain, hair covering... the list goes on. And on a beach, they're much better to lie on than a towel since they're big, thin, and don't catch and keep sand the way towels do.

I have a pet peeve about sand in my orifices, especially without a clear ocean to dunk it off in. My "dunk" earlier has me covered in seaweed. I even found some between the extra material in the crotch of my bathing suit and the bikini itself.

But I'm happy, and my jewelry, hair, skin, and soul all loved the water. I ran in and let the waves dunk me, then faced them full on and jumped into them as they crested and broke and slammed against me. It was as if we were two drunk frat boys going UNH and banging their chests into each other.

Heh.

Well, maybe not the best analogy, but you get the idea. Companionship and joy that need to be expressed physically. And now, a constant shower of sand from my dried hair, and a constant retreat from the encroaching shade as the sun lowers beneath the huge rocks surrounding us. A retreat both for us and for the lowering tide.

And there's no hiding from the sand.

It always amazes me how quickly the tide goes in and out. Each wave is further out or in than the last, the movement unstoppable. And then there's the knowledge that the same ovean is breaking on shores all over the worls, and my tough of the water here will eventually touch someone in Van, Quebec, Barbados, Jamaica.

People are clearing out now. Towels are being folded and rolled, and children (including hopefully the little demon child who kicked sand at me) are being collected and led away. The shadows are moving faster than the tide, and already we're lying on a damp beach from our retreat into the tides.

Soon, we'll be forced into an area where the waves will lap at our feet, and soon after that it'll be a choice to lie in the waves or finally leave.

But I'm ready to leave if need be. It's been a nice communion.

Muah, my love. I'll be back.

Lah.

Mullion

And now I sit by the harbour, listening to the waves break.

Ah, Mullion.

What a beautiful view, gorgeous cliffs, and a permanent mist over the green green cliffs. The humidity in the air caresses my skin, and the salt in the air touches my eyes, not enough to stink but enough that I can feel it.

Ah, Goddess.

Lah.

The Mists of Avalon.

Glory, glory, glory
Beauty and power.
Here I sit, on Glstonbury Tor.
Glory Love and Marvelousness.
Beauty and power.

We arrived in Glastonbury proper--the festival is technically in Pilton, but I guess that doesn't sound as pretty--and weren't even gonna go up to the Tor (which is how I had consoled myself about the festival)!!

Although it seemed like quite the walk so I don't blame Anne for wanting to do it herself. I really wanted to though, and was much gratified when Blair agreed.

So the two of us climbed the Tor, step by step.

It sucked, but not nearly so bad as I thought it would from the distance, and not even as bad as Wreck beach in Van.

I'm also amazed at what good shap I'm in. Blair was dead but determined halfway up, and I only started to wheeze on the last stretch.

--

Yeah, yeah. I get it. Sometimes, Anne's theories of everything get irritating. Yes, I understand you're suppoesd to do everything with love and your full attention, even eating, but I don't need to hear it explained 4 million times what I already know as if it's an enormous new concept being explained to a schoolchild.

But I smiled and nodded. Anne's been good to us.

--

Anyways, I was talking about Glastonbury Tor.

When we got to the top, we were well rewarded for our efforts. The biew was entrancing,a nd I took a million and 2 pictures. The tower at the top was very tall, but not very big or wide. Just an open room with two arches on either side. I wonder how it was when they built it. Apparently, they originally built the thingie to St Michael, the dragon--meaning pagan--slayer Saint, as an "I am Christian, hear me roar, pagan scum!" monument, since the Tor was the site for oofles of rituals back in the day. It's on the St Michaels ley line, too. It's also a triangle with Stonehenge and Avebury.

We were gonna go to Stonehenge but since we forgot yesterday and you can't het close anyways, we all agreed to skip it. Part of me really wanted to see it since it's such a famous site, but the rest said to leave it in favour of other things and that it wouldn't be worth it, so I abandoned the potential bragging rights and voted for skipping it.

Back to the Tor again.

So, because you can never really give a "fuck you" to Mother Nature without eventual retribution, the tower was soon hopelessly destroyed in an Earthquake.

So they rebuilt it.

And then, I believe something else happened to it (a fire..?) leaving it the (albeit impressive) ruin it is today.

But wahtever the original purpose, it's on Earth's side now. Stepping into the archway to go inside, the wind slammed into my back, whipping my scarf around me and billowing into my clothers. There's real power in that wind, oodles of it, and it (the wind) stops immediately when you take even one more step.

But for that instant, framed against the arch, the wind fills you.

While Blair caught her breath and did whatever inside the thingie, I chose to go lay on the hill and absorb, catch my breath. I found the hill itself cooler than the abbey-thing. The view by itself is incredible; all of Glastonbury's visible. I'm sure if I looked hard enough, I could see the festival from there.

And then there was the ever-present hum.

You know, they say there's most likely a spiral maze inside the Tor. There are definitely many tunnels underneath, and people have been known to disappear and turn up in them, although since all the tennuls are closed at this point in time, I can't imagine that turning out too well these days.

As for all the Arthurian stuff, I don't know and don't really care. That place was there long before him and'll be there long after even the memory of him is gone.

I do wish I could see it as it was before the buildings and the grass, when it was an island called Avalon. It was misty over the Tor when we arrived, but by the time we started climbing it was all burned off by the sun.

Land between living and dead it may be, but in bright sunlight the effect just isn't quite the same.

Lah.

What Might Have Been.

OH. MY. GOD.

I HAVE NEVER SEEN SO MANY HIPPIES IN MY LIFE!!!

The Glastonbury festival in the biggest such festival on Earth, bigger than Woodstock was, with a band list that took up an entire sheet of paper in size 6 font.

And it's on right now!! Less than a mile away!! The hill was absolutely COVERED in tents and rainbow colours and hippies and music!!

And we're not going.

-cries-

We just drove by and had to settle for waving at the people we passed.

"Too expensive for just a day. Most people go for the whole 3-ish days... and we just don't have time."

DONT HAVE TIME?!? I would have taken off half the week in Mullion to go, paid my own way too. CHANCE OF A LIFETIME, ANYONE?!?

-cries again-

And pot... I could have gotten pot...

Lah.

Children Left Unattended Will Be Sold as Slaves.

So, the pub we ended up going to (in the NEXT VILLAGE) turned out to be excellent. And entertaining.

And now it's morning, and we're on our way to Glastonbury!

Checkout this morning consisted of brekkie made by the awesome dude who lugged our luggage up the steep flight of stairs when we first arrived (and who owns the place with his wife), giving back keys to the same awesome dude , putting shit in the car, and having a fag. Easy and painless. And we finally got the voice working on the Nubi, whish Anne seems more inclined to listen to than us. Or maybe our way today is just more straightforward.

I guess we'll see!

Blair surfed the net last night, but the moment I got on it, it stopped working. Or maybe she got off of it because it stopped working, and neglected to mention it.

Whatever; either way, we didn't check this morning and the woman was telling us the cottage we're going to next has "one of them fancy V-something-Esses that plays those cassettes!" And "a gameboy that plugs into the TV!!" for if we get bored.

Somehow, I doubt there'll be internet there.

Ah, well!

Lah.

With the Bad.

Woo.

I'm freezing, starving, and exhausted. And vaguely irritated, due to all three and Anne's bossiness and Blair's Blair-ness.

See, Anne doesn't trust technology. So although she gets me to locate us frequently on the handy Nuvi (GPS), she just as frequently doubts it and ignores its directions. It doesn't help that the Nuvi is often confusing--because the UK itself is confusing, with tiny roads, stunted cars, a definitive lack of traffic lights and a surplus of tiny traffic circles to replace them.

She also decided that instead of eating in Bath, where we just came from, we should drive allllll the way back to Avebury instead. Which proves that she doesn't know teens too well.

And of course, she's way too hot because we were walking around quite a bit and so she needs the freezing cold air turned on full blast.

So here Blair and I sit, bitchy and hungry, with Blair occasionally throwing out doubtful comments about the road/direction we're going in, making we want to throttle (or maybe eat) her, since it's hard enough to get Anne to follow directions spawned by the Nuvi, even if they've already been cross-referenced to the physical map (which she insists on, usually).

Pop goes the Kava Kava!

Oh, and Blair talked me into buying a PVC bustier that fits like a glove, for the low, low price of £40.

Bitch.

--

...Aaaaand all the tables at the pub we drove all this way for are completely booked, since it's Friday night and we didn't call ahead.

On to the next village.

Whee.

Oh, well.

Lah.

Shaved trees and such.

West Kennett Long Barrow is one huge ridge with enormous underground burial chambers (although they were sealed permanently and purposefully 4000 years ago). And oak tree with prayer ribbons who gave me a leaf, and a huge Sycamore tree I sat in and who also gave me a leaf.

And then there were the stones. The amazing, amazing stones. They're big and gorgeous and surrounded bya ditch, that was originally a gorge with a big chalk wall around, grown over now, but the path is still set in it.

Anne is all about "why?", but I think that she needs to understand that sometimes, it doesn't matter. Her deduction is that the entire thing is an amplifier (which it definitely isS), with the stones as antennae. I agree, although it wasn't until I walked up the chalk hill path that it hit me with a wave of humming power. Those walls are amping it out, not in.

I kissed the stones, gave and asked my blessings, and in some cases, just said hello. Each one was different, although I don't think they are people, as such. They did have very individual personalities, though. One was so friendly I hugged him. Another, I touched my nose to and put up shields with, and used it to link into the ground. That one blessed me with a drop of water.

And then there was the center, with the Grandmammy and Daddy, off to the side watching over them.

It felt like everything in the fields of Avebury was deliberately places, every tree and bush. I wonder how old some of them are, how the humoungous trees must have once been babies, and I wonder which ancient trees have lived and gone in the lifetime of the stones. How aware these stones must be!

And lying on ley lines, to boot. Walking up to the barrow to the tomb, there was an exact line where I felt it. I looked up, and I could see the first stone of the tomb just over the crest of the hill. On the way back, I suddenly looked up again and turned, and it was the same spot.

Silbury hill we saw from a distance, particularly from the Barrow. It's a huge man-made hill where I think some important dead dude was buried. It just looks like a random hill in the middle of lots of fields, and it doesn't feel uber the way some of the other stuff. It's just always there. And then, when we drove right next to it, I looked out the window to see the wind whispering through the grass, and there was somethingthere. Something in the wind, in the grass, in the whispers.

I wish I could go walk up there and Listen. But the Head Druid apparently recently decreed that nobody can go up there anymore, just admire from a distance. If I were on my own or only with a partner in crime, I'd totally sneak up there.

And all the green growing things, the dampness in the air, the misty beauty of it all... I love it! Avebury would have been worht the trip alone (and we're only a day or two into the 6 weeks), but even just the atmosphere is amazing, seeing and realizing that North America is only part of the world, and a very small part at that. I mean, it's one thing to know, it's another thing to ecperience and discover.

Oooh, shaved trees!!

Sorry, we're driving to Bath right now, and there are oodles of bushy trees on either side of the country roads here. They've a very curious look to them, because only at the tops do they spill out over the road. Why? Because they're shaved!!

Lah.

PS. In case you haven't noticed, I'm posting my retroactive journal entries .

Rings and Roses

Holy cow.

First of all, almost a year has passed since my last entry. And so many things have happened that, as usual, it's impossible to catch up.

So let's skip to tonight, at this moment.

I just came in from having a cigarette outside of a beautiful B&B in East Kennett, UK. It's just after 11 pm, and there's a soft rain falling outside, coating the entire British countryside with a layer of mist and the smell of damp night flowers blooming. Everything feels old and powerful, and gorgeous. Avebury, where I am, is the home of the largest collection of standing stones (think Stonehenge, but spread out over many fields and acres) in Europe. The stones are maybe a 20-minute walk from where we're staying, and the ancient power of the place coats the air more surely than the rain. My spirit is humming with gentle vibrations, and Marley is playing quietly in the background.

So imagine my surprise when Blair discovered that this place is equipped with wireless internet. Even though it's only our first day here, it feels like we've been here forever and Calgary is just a vague memory. I look at the clock and realize that it's only just after 4 pm back home, and the thought blows my mind.

I think I'll keep an update on my blog of this amazing journey through the UK, whenever I get the chance to get online, which I somehow don't think will be a priority for these first couple of weeks.

There are no words, no matter how carefully chosen, that can explain this place. Not just this place in Britain where I am, but the place I'm at in my heart and soul right now, the journey that I'm taking. I had about two days warning that I was coming, and to actually be lying here in this bed, looking across the narrow street at the small field that's the parking lot, or at the thatched roofs of some of the ancient homes around here, is unbelievable.

And let's not forget Avebury Henge. Whew. We've only driven around to explore, since we only got here a few hours ago, but the entire thing is amazing. Even the space it canvasses is amazing. It's not one location, seen from a distance, the way Stonehenge is (and Stonehenge is only a little ways away), it's all around us, spread out and open to anyone to walk through and experience. It permeates the air. Or maybe that's the spirits of the thousands (!!) of buried warriors under the rolling hills and lands in this area.

Well, I should probably head off to bed. I haven't really slept in the past few days, what with the hectickness of everything before stepping foot on the plane, and I have a good English breakfast waiting for me in the morning, and a day of exploring places so old and rooted in the land that I can't even really comprehend it, just feel it and soak it in. One more night here, then off to Cornwall.

Thank you Goddess, for giving me this oppurtunity and putting this journey into my life's path.

Thank you Mama and all my family and loves, for helping make it happen.

Thank you Anne and Blair, for bringing me with you.

Good night, love.

Lah.

PS. I'm posting journal entries from the trip soon, so there will be entries before and after this posted later.

Waiting...

Sitting in an English garden
Waiting for the sun...
If the sun don't come
You'll get a tan from
Standing in the English rain

Well, here I am, still waiting.

She was supposed to be here 12-1 ish; it's 1 20. Much longer and I'll have to call. I'm almost 100% positive that I'm in the right spot. Of course, it's entirely possible she was delayed for one reason or another, but I'm still nervouse since I have no way of knowing anything without calling.

Kay, ten minutes more. That will have given her 2 hours to get out of the airport. At least the people here are friendly. And several people have checked me out already, although that might be my outfit...

Welcome to Gatwick!

Whew. That plane ride just flew by (snicker, snicker).

And here I am, in Britain, with the sun on my back, waiting for Anne. Beautiful.
First thing I learned? Despite the periodic verbal announcements and huge red signs prohibiting smoking everywhere but the "designated areas", everyone smokes right outside the doors. Often sitting right on top of the conveniently located huge red signs, the way I'm doing.

Teehee.

Whew. This is all around funkay already. The UK, I mean, not the smoking thing.

I love my life!!

Being in the air was like being in stasis. If it got dark at any point during the flight, I didn't see it. I'm glad I slept on the plane, since despite it being 4 am back home, it was day when I left and I feel like I've been teleported here. I'm sure all the tiredness and fucked up sense of time will kick in eventually, but hey. I've been running on fumes for days now, so being tired ain't unusual, and my sense of time was never all there to begin with.

Whee!!

Lah.

Now Boarding

Well, here I am, waiting to board Air Canada flight 396 to London Gatwick Airport.

-shrieks wildly-

Hard to believe, three days ago the most exciting think was Inga leaving. Now, I'm leaving too. For 6 weeks, to the UK. What an experience. And the goddess is making damned sure I'm not only here, but under her conditions for the trip I guess I'm SUPPOSED to have.

Amazing and scary. And I'm flying alone, despite tripping with Anne and Blair. Over a month until I step foot back in Canada. Not even Calgary, Canada.

Guess I'm supposed to broaden my horizons, huh?

Thank you, Deesse. I love you.

Mmm. This feels right.

London. Avebury. Stonehenge. THE GLOBE THEATRE!!

*sigh* Everything's gonna be alright. Hell, it's gonna be fantastic! Awesome & Amazing! Whee!!

-is terrified-


...

...And here I am, still waiting...

An hour later...

Whoops, here we go!!

Lah.