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On a warm Spring Day of fresh green earth and electric blue skies warmed by a golden sun, my travelling companion, and I came out of meditation by the Well, with an intuition to venture further up Chalice Hill, in search of new beginnings. For a whole year I have journeyed through a long dark tunnel of personal loss, bereavement and change. Obstacles like a landslide of boulders, have been negotiated, removed, or transformed into understanding and wisdom for the ‘NOW.’ I have fallen and almost despaired more than once in this tunnel, but somehow, I got up again, help came, and I carried on. This year, beginning and ending in May, started with a fractured ankle, which even after its healing left me with pain. This was followed by the serious ongoing illness of a loved one and ended with the death of my mother. My recent visit to the Chalice was different, since I was prompted to take the path, above the Well and Sanctuary, finding somewhere to sit close to the summit of Chalice Hill. This spot radiates a great Peace for anyone willing to open their heart to its Presence.
Travelling on with the good friend accompanying me on this glorious day out, we called in St. Margaret’s Chapel, now also dedicated to Mary Magdalene, before heading into Glastonbury for a late lunch. We found a perfect ending to our beautiful day in an old courtyard called The Glastonbury Experience, when we met a young Chinese woman who told us that her name meant wisdom and beauty. All at once, she began to sing in tune with the windchime she was carrying. Things like this happen in Glastonbury. My friend and I both slipped into meditation as her beautiful voice soared, its pure sound washing over us in the late afternoon sunshine. We were three women who had been born into three different nations, harmonic, in our wish for peace across the globe. And isn’t this, what we, the ordinary people of all nationalities and creeds really want? Throughout the world, we are singing, meditating and praying. Try as best you can to hold on to your Light and your Song. Peace, Iona The wheel is turning, The season changing As the door opens and my path goes on To new stars birthing I am dancing the circle Around and around. ... then comes the winter, a time of patience, of waiting, of opening to new growth, as seeds planted in the frozen earth begin struggling to reach the surface. After letting go of all that is worn out we rest, we renew ourselves, taking advantage of this pause, when the earth is still, to store enough energy for new growth with the returning light after the solstice. I find myself slowing down, meditating more, and relaxing with the grey sea outside, rippling or roaring beyond the stark outlines of bare trees on the edge of the cliff, where winter seagulls hide in mist and wail like phantoms. But all this time my heart is ablaze, and vibrant as a robin’s breast, or ruby red and warming as mulled wine. I have learned to love the snow and its deep silence, when stars shine bright and warm in black ice skies above white landscapes so quiet I am lulled into their dreams. I feed visiting birds so they too may live to sing again in Spring. Inner winter is not a sorrowful time whatever may be happening in the world outside. I am aware of the heart fire, heating the angel brew singing its inspiration in the magic cauldron. I locate the winter season in the north with the element of earth on my wheel of the year. Bright white stars in frosty heavens sometimes seem almost attached to me by threads of silver light. Winter is a season that evoke images of breath taking beauty through my inner vision. I learn to seek the hidden light, the lamp of the Archangel Uriel shining in the dark, illuminating the door that leads onwards to sun return and the promise of new life. I welcome it as a friend. On Halloween/Samhuin/All Saints we light candles and lanterns to remember and honour the ancestors.  This bright Supermoon brought a memory of my grandmother. It was a strange sensation, as though she were in the room washing over me in a wave of affection. The memories of her smile, whenever I shared my dreams and secrets, brought with them a warm glow, enhancing that feeling of security since she always cared for me as a child. She was my rock in the often-stormy sea of my parents’ problems. From Feminism and Religion magazine
How can we be inspired by cultivating a connection with Angels? In this conversation Iona Jenkins and Ana Isabel discuss the connection between imagination, meditation, hypnosis and spirituality. |
Iona Jenkins
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