Where Worlds Meet 

Where Worlds Meet 
Throughout the world there are many places where the meeting of the past, present, future and possibly other dimensions are felt more intensely. These are frequently sites of ancient origin which because of their numinosity are still reverred in some capacity to this day.

In the UK these consist of innumerable stone circles, henges, barrows, hillforts, ancient settlements, holy wells and many others too numerous to mention. 
Being somewhat energetically sensitive I am drawn to these places as they offer an extremely subtle yet tentative connection to other realms and times.

Many theories have been offered as to why these sites are perceived as ‘ special ‘. From leylines to having alignments to the Moon, Sun, stars or other features in the landscape. 

My personal viewpoint is that we, as modern humans with our largely Cartesian / rationalist culture find it nigh near impossible to empathise with our ancestors interpretation of their world. 

But if we are able to become more meditative and ‘ open ‘ then I believe glimpses can be felt or seen from an energetic perspective. 
The flint built walls of the ruined church stand starkly within the henge. Originally sited here to portray the imposition of the new religion upon the ancient beliefs of the indigenous populace. But the henge within which it was constructed had witnessed and was imbued with thousands of years of pagan supplication.
Sitting on a large cold, granite stone just below the medieval church’s tower I observed the dusk descend around me. The last deep amber rays of sunlight cast long shadows across the open landscape of fields, hedges and copses. A slight, ethereal mist hovered precariously over the grassland and the soft banks of the henge and barrow. As if to suggest the gentle rising of past spirits into the silence and security of the evening. Unseen and uninterrupted, they were again free to roam their home land as they once did. 

I could hear the distant hoofbeats of arriving horsemen from an ancient past.

I could hear the long gone church bells toll their last before Nature silenced them for eternity. 
It was as if time had stood still. 

Miniscule stars appeared overhead piercing the blackening velvet of the night sky. 

An overwhelming sense of stillness enveloped the area in and around the henge. 

The intensity of the silence penetrated my core. 

Every animal in the vicinity had seemingly held its breath as if in anticipation. 
My usual human senses no longer individually provided separate feedback from the outside world. 

My physical self had become as one with the world around me, no boundary remained.

There was no longer a separate ‘ I ‘. 

In that singular awareness of non duality, the entire unity of the universe and all therein was laid out in an infinite vision of interconnectedness. 
The deceitful human experience of time was lain to rest with the realisation that all that ever was, is or will be,were there and forever present. The grey veils that had divided the past from the future were simply an illusion.

This place is an organic sancta of Gaia. 

A site of reverence and revelation. Enabling her to impart esoteric knowledge in a way that is timeless and inaccessible from any other source.

Belerion, Cornovia. 

I feel that I have arrived at last in the land of my ancestors. 

The moors, valleys, rocky tors and the eternal voice of the ocean in the background seemed to welcome me back to where my heart and soul truly belonged. 

The landscape wholly rendiscent of a past life I had lived. A life that still seems a hairs breadth away, that is so near to the surface of my consciousness that I could so easily become overwhelmed with reverie. 

Yet I had never before set foot on this land. 

A land woven with myth, magic and majesty intrinsic and inseparable from its landscape. 

A place of groves, stone circles, fogou’s, holy wells , castles, standing stones, ancient settlements and hillforts. Many untouched by man due to the uncompromising nature of its granite hewn soil. 

Though many have sought through research and study to understand the purposes and possible relationships of the myriad of archaeological sites, it remains enigmatic. 

However therein lies the answer. 

Man had a very different interpretation of the world around us in those ancient times. 

The cold, analytical thought patterns borne of the ‘Enlightenment’ and furthered even more by science were still thousands of years away in the future. 

Man was still inextricably connected to Nature. He never saw himself as apart from the world, he was at one with the Earth, skies and stars. A natural and organic reverence for the Universe was an implicit aspect of life. 

A land so old it still reflects the archetypes and legends of primeval man.

Of Gods and Goddesses, of mermaids and piskies. 

Of giants, lost civilisations and alleged visits by the Devil himself. 

One of the keys that may lend to an understanding of this land is clairsentience. 

The feeling of being a small part a unique jigsaw. 

Of fitting in seamlessly with one’s surroundings unlike nowhere I have known before. 

The gnarled granite hills, many crowned with rudimentary fortifications. 

The overgrown aisles of black thorn and hawthorn bushes hiding away groves of healing springs. 

The dark but somehow luminescent fogous, a chamber for intimate communion with Gaia herself.

Stone circles stand testament to the passage of time, still retaining a mystical essence of primeval magic rituals. 

The roar of the ocean as its tempestuous waves throw themselves in anguish against the rocky cliffs. 

Any type of human interpretation is destined to be flawed. 

This is a place to sensuously feel the raw energy of Nature, to become immersed in it. To feel the essential oneness of all creation.

My lungs full of air drawn from the same high breeze that billows around me.

My blood, sweat and tears formed from the same crashing waves thrown upon the beach.

My bones created from the very substance of the earth. 

The fire in my heart borne from the searing sunlight bathing my presence. 

All of my human and spiritual aspects of self are reflected here in the outside world. I do not need to search for meaning or inspiration for I am home. 

Where the pains and joys of birth, life and death are a divine, ethereal journey in themselves.

An Enchanted Life 

A life for an energetically sensitive individual is unique. Once we come to understand ourselves and the world around us, it can imbue in us a natural spirituality. A spirituality that requires no adherence to any particular path.

Of course some of us will lean more to some religious / spiritual path depending on our upbringing, our life experience or because of a simple heartfelt resonance with a particular ethos. 

I myself find resonance with aspects of Taoism, Pantheism, Buddhism, Hinduism, Wicca and Shamanism. 

Psychologically and philosophically I resonate with Carl Jung, Neitsche, Schopenhauer, Fritjof Capra and quantum physics. 
Having a degree of energetic sensitivity can, quite simply give us the ability to see and feel the magic in life. To be able to sense certain things that are largely outside the perception of many others.

  – Standing on the cliffs above the storm racked ocean, watching the relentless waves crashing on the rocks as they have done for eternity. The wind whisking away my breath as it blows fiercely around me. Although I am only a small part of all that is, I feel as if I have been and always will be united at my core to Nature. I am partly of the sea and the sea is inextricably part of me, as is all of existence. 

  – The Sun setting over the horizon, the sky emblazoned with iridescent hues of gold, amber and vermillion. Casting scarlet shadows over the landscape as the remains of the day are seemingly burnt away in one last funereal fire. 

  – The secret, hidden groves within the forests and the woods. Where the trees seem to have always stood sentinel, guarding the covert magic of Gaia. Those places that I know intuitively were home to earth spirits before the birth of Man. I can sense the almost invisible specks of light as they would dance around amongst the trees and foliage gleefully carrying out their individual tasks for Mother Nature. 

  – The chance meeting with someone whom I have always felt a indefinable but irresistible attraction to. Their very presence altering my energy levels, feelings of an almost dizzying excitement and heightened awareness wash over me unbidden. 

I am aware of their every movement and every slight intonation in their soft voice. I can see that they are speaking but I hear no words. 

We sit, responding in a perfectly effortless, synchronatic, almost unconscious manner. It’s as if a warm, invisible but impenetrable cloak of love surrounds us.

When our eyes meet briefly or our fingers brush tentatively against each others, my heart seems to stop and I miss a breath. It is as if I am standing above a yawning cavern of love into which I feel I must plunge and we may be as one forever. 
These moments I cherish as they have given a depth to my life I would never have known in such a beautifully graphic intensity.

Spiritual Individuation….? 

It’s strange that it is more often when I am alone that I feel less lonely. 

I am not being exposed to others physical, psychological and emotional energies which can send ripples through my limpid pool of self. 

I’m not expected to become involved in socially constructed scenarios that have no true purpose other than to superficially acknowledge the existence of another. 

 I’m not susceptible to being overcome with the powerful feelings and needs of people around me. These, at times have led me to losing my sense of self and be drawn into their own dark night of the soul believing it to be mine also. 
Sitting quietly at home I bathe in sensual silence. 

As I look around, much of this life’s history surrounds me in the form of my pictures, photographs, music and books.

Each one carrying a distinct memory from the past. Of people and places, of related emotions too, both pleasant and not so pleasant. However, this menagerie of memories brings a feeling of peace and consolidates me in my humaness.
I draw comfort from my past and the lessons that I have learnt. From the realisation of the transient nature of reality reflected in old photos of my family and places I have been. 

From times I had thought that I was at my lowest ebb, when all that I could see in the future was an infinite spiral of despair. 
It seems obvious to me now that our life, our existence is simply a process amongst processes, a wave in the ocean, a ripple in the sea of life.

Our human neurological processes however can fool us into thinking otherwise. 

Our minds often dwell and fret due to our subjective experience of life. We get caught up with our programmed neuroses, worrying about the bills, our financial and emotional security. Our valuable time on Earth being spent mentally and physically scurrying around with the delusional idea that we can somehow insulate ourselves against the threat of change. 
If we can find our silent moments, either in some form of meditation or sometimes peaceful reflection we can find all the answers we need within ourselves.

Although outwardly our individual paths may seem very different to each others, at the end of the day we are all gifted with the power to truly see.

The answer is inside of each and everyone of us. It’s not about chasing egoic ideas in the external world as if they were butterflies but about looking inwards on our experience and accepting it without judgement. 
I feel life is generally a glorious gift to be relished, however we are after all human. This will undoubtedly entail suffering in some manner but an accurate perspective can often ease our transition. 

Our unique answer is already within us waiting to be born.

Waxing Lyrical 

On a lighter note to my usual writing, I was reflecting on my day to day battle to try and remain sane in what appears to be an increasingly insane world. 
I know we as ‘ energetically sensitive ‘ individuals often feel alone and isolated at times. I was thinking that it’s not really surprising all things considered. 

I find a simple conversation with other people something of a challenge. 

When I am asked by friends and family how I am today, my natural and honest response would be –

” On reflection, I’m trying to ground myself a little as I feel a little energetically unbalanced, I may have to sit quietly for a while, perhaps use some Nag Champa as I find that helps “.
Also when someone asks what I had been doing last night, my answer should be –

” I was reading Fritjof Capra’s book The Web of Life and his take on deep ecology  and later I sat on the porch taking in the beauty of dusk “.
Someone may say on a rather stormy day ” Isn’t the weather dreadful? ”

My probable natural response would possibly be –

” No, I think that’s it’s truly amazing. The way the wind blows through the landscape seeming to catalyse Nature’s natural cycles almost to a frenzy “,
Such responses, when stated, usually elicit an awkward silence from the individual. Followed by an avoidance of eye contact, a barely audible, however polite muttering as they make their excuses and leave the conversation. 
Also my more obvious predilections and preferences are queried by others e.g.

  – Why don’t you get your haircut ( I have long hair) 

  – Why are you vegan / vegetarian? 

  – What do you mean you don’t choose to drive? 

  – Why did you go on protest marches in London to protest against government policy? 

  – Why did you attend the anti vivisection rally?

  Etc, etc.
Just as well most people don’t know that I occasionally talk to trees, homeless people and spirits. 

So yes, life is a challenge when you don’t really fit in.

However, I much prefer to be myself. 

In the words of Carl Jung, I will continue to individuate ( pupate?), with only the occasional sojourn into society.

The Watcher 

Is it really only me?

Am I the only one who stops to stand and stare.

Sitting outside the cafe in the chill Autumn air, I watch the city life hum around me.

It’s almost as if no-one else is conscious, the pavements and roads teem with purposeful human activity. Again I find myself on the outside looking in.

So many people, so many stories. All apparently oblivious to each other as each individual seeks to fulfill their own worldly goals.

The suited businessman walking briskly whilst negotiating with a colleague on his mobile phone. Locked in to his work as a small cog is into a machine. 

The young male adolescent in the hoodie on the street corner. His almost translucent skin, drawn eyes and scrawny frame hold testament to a life given to avoiding traumatic memories. A life of numbing his still raw hurt by the use of anything that even slightly dampens his pain.

The tired, drawn looking waitress busying herself with the neverending flow of serving and cleaning. Working her life away twelve hours a day to provide a still meagre material existence. 

The thirty something female feigning lasciviousnesss outside a half seen doorway. She tries to catch the eye of any passing male willing to exchange money for sharing a fleeting moment of physical intimacy. Her eyes once warm and sensitive now as hard as her heart had become through years of being a passive recipient of what life had to offer.
I feel a heaviness in my heart as I watch these individuals go about their day. It is said that we are all on our own path, myself included. Certainly, I sincerely hope that everyone finds their peace but it is difficult to imagine when people live their lives in such a way. 

There can be no judgement of them as I feel we all are, in some way, a product of our genetic predilections and our personal history. Like seeds cast to the wind, we grow where we find ourselves. Some souls will flourish amongst familial unconditional love and attention and some will starve. 

The less fortunate may be subject to the opposite. Low self esteem and feelings of worthlessness can infiltrate ones being when raised in an emotional desert.

This often carries on into adult life, shaping personalities and whole lifetimes.
My sadness comes from knowing that this could have easily been so different.

Every human soul is valuable, everyone has a spiritual spark inside of them no matter how overlaid with pain and anguish. 

I have to resign myself to only being able to do my small part amidst this world. However a small part of me knows that I can never truly rest , not until all know peace.

Your Eyes……… 

Your eyes are, after all, the gateway to your soul. 

All the past hurts, pain, joy and love you have experienced are their for those who can ” see ” to see. 

You have battled for forty years, first to try and save yourself then to save close friends, family and children. To protect them, to feed them physically and emotionally. 

Despite all the physical and emotional scars you have received over time , you have stood strong. 

You have lived your life without religious belief or any crutch to keep your spirit aloft. Your religion has been simply of having a pure and compassionate heart. A natural, uncomplicated spirituality which resides in your human soul, untouched by the mind, one in which your actions have always reflected your innermost self.
The years have taken their toll, physically and emotionally. At this very moment you need a crumb of the love you have given to be returned. Your heart needs to feel warmth and gentleness of another, someone who can see you. Someone who recognises your strength and your suffering, who completely accepts you as you are. 

In whose eyes reflect deep human compassion, compassion that will be eternal and unwavering. 

An unspoken acknowledgement of ones truth, of being accepted unconditionally as a human being, in all their own raw vulnerability. 

Once received, your mind and body visibly relax, you no longer have to pretend to be fine. All the energy utilised to maintain the facade of being able to cope is released.

You know that you will never be truly alone, that there will really be someone who cares and understands.

And if warmth and compassion can reside in one individual then it must reside in others. 

 That there is always hope. That despite how desperate the situation, if one looks hard enough, trust in humanity can be restored. It is never always going to be easy, but having made that human connection, there will always be hope.


wp-image-1874653812jpeg.jpegFor me, October is the most energetically charged of months. It’s as if my mind, body and soul have come home to their original abode.

Sitting here on this ancient hilltop, my back leaning against one of the many gnarled yew trees that stand in groups around the site, I look out across the valley below.

A golden Autumnal dusk gradually cloaks the countryside around me, the cool chill of the evening air caresses my skin.

The pungent but aromatic smell of the cold damp earth permeating my lungs, taking me back to my childhood days of wonder and my natural immersion in Nature.

The gentle golden sunbeams shining softly through the small copses foliage, casting long shadows towards the summit of the hill.

A translucent mist rises from the river like a spectral memory of the mythical past. Reminding me of our race’s spiritual closeness to these rivulets of life, of offerings cast into their watery depths.

The leaves slowly changing hue, producing a deep yellow and vermillion backdrop of foliage, rich in colour and texture.
No other month seems to suggest so strongly the inherent cycles of Nature. The continuous movement of the seasons as the year winds down, from the yang of Spring and Summer to the yin of Autumn and Winter are exemplified by the sensual changes in climate and flora.

There seems a stronger spiritual link to the past at this time. Of forgotten memories of previous lives of my ancestors. Times of hardship, of storing food for the Winter, of having to fortify their houses and selves against the oncoming frost and snow.

Rituals are performed, acknowledging our integral relationship with Nature herself. To again become intimately aware of our dependence and oneness with all there is and ever was.
Returning from my reverie, I become aware that night is fast approaching. A distinct, almost physical coldness has arisen with the rising mist. As I return home, looking behind me I can see the encroaching darkness combining with the mist to create a crystal ball like visual portal to the past. I imagine that I can see the spectral souls of long dead citizens busying themselves with preparations for a forthcoming feast. It would be a night of flickering campfires, an almost tangible smell of roast meat fills the air, a chorus of excited, barely hushed voices emanate from the camp.

The often flimsy, gossamer margins between the past, present and future worlds dissipate further to produce moments of a unified sensuality of spirit, of complete oneness.
I leave them to continue to eternally re-enact their celebrations in peace.

In The End…….? 

I personally believe that people with ‘ empathic ‘  attributes have a predisposition to a raw spirituality by nature of our so called make up. The main theme in our relationship with the external and internal worlds is primarily those of love and compassion. This is our core, like it or not, this is who we are. Not the media paraded fickle love and compassion, not of the transient liaisons with partners, not of the political rhetoric voiced by diplomats in order to recruit our support and not of the saccharine sweetness of cinematic portrayal. 

This love and compassion is a fiery, never say die, heroic force within us. It’s something we cannot deny as it continues to drive us forward, forward into our world. The outside world is frequently a war zone of energies, individuals vying for their place in society, people projecting their beliefs and biases onto others in order to consolidate their perceived position of power. Yet we go on. 

Often we seem to stand alone on the battlefield of life, armed only with our individuated integrity and the knowledge in our heart and soul that our path is true. For we have no armour, armour would make us less susceptible to the suffering of others and thus undermine our ability to use our empathic energy to stand our ground and to save those whom we could. 
Whatever flag, banner or label we wish to identify with in life, whether we are Buddhist, Christian, Catholic , Muslim or whatsoever, being truly spiritual is having the essential ingredients of genuine love and compassion. For without these we are of little help to one another. 

I have spent many years looking after individuals who have suffered at the hands of mental and physical ill health, from the new born to the dying. These people often show in their times of despair our true vulnerability. No matter how they have lived, what they have personally done to ‘get by’, they and we are all seeking a loving and compassionate connection with others. One that is based on implicit acceptance and trust, one in which we can all fall into when needed and that we know will always be there. 
” I was young then. A student carer on one of my first placements on a psychogeriatric ward. I didn’t really know her, nor her me. But that really wasn’t in the equation in the slightest possible way. Dementia and cancer had worn away at her in these final months of her time. She was close to relinquishing her already tenacious grip on life. As I held her bony and wizened hand, I could feel how cold it had become as her heart was no longer strong enough to push her blood to her fingers. Her eyes beyond the yellowed cataracts still felt my presence even if she did not ‘ see me’. As she drew her final breath, I believe that I felt a kind of release from her, a final relinquishment of all that she had known. Now willing to embrace an uncertain future rather than holding on to an untenable and painful present. I also imagine that I felt a kind of soulful ‘ thank you’ as she passed away. As if it meant so much for someone to simply be there at her passing, that she wasn’t alone at this time. I have felt honoured and humbled to this day. “

Souls on the Sidewalk 

​Walking through town in a slightly raw empathic state today probably wasn’t a good idea. I seem ‘ super sensitive’ today, I only need to glance at someone to pick up their own individual emotional novella of life. I actively avoid eye contact as I know only too well that I may become infected by others affect. 

However, I still receive emotive impressions despite my attempts at avoiding them. 

 – The couple in the restaurant whose relationship continues only because the man constantly undermines her self esteem leaving her feeling worthless. She therefore does all she can to appease and impress him despite a long history of futility. 

 – The old guy at the bar in the baseball hat,  his eyes and deeply wrinkled face give voice to a life of loss as he slowly gets drunk in order to numb himself from the vestiges of past pain. 

 – A young man sitting outside of the cafe who is attempting to be the centre of attention in his group because of his personal insecurities and his need to increase his self esteem. 

 – The young couple on the bench beginning to fall in love, feelings of excitement mixed with anxiety at trying to ‘ get it right ‘. 

-The young mother with a young child in the park who chose an aggressive  male for a husband in her then young and naive belief he would protect her and keep her safe. Instead she lives her life in fear of previous love. She now makes brief, nervous eye contact with other males, perhaps in the hope of rescue. 

– The homeless, elderly man whose lifetime of alcoholism and self neglect have seemingly washed him of virtually any semblance of humanity. His mind and body crave one thing only, any observable behaviour is solely in pursuit of obtaining his crux. However it is no longer his crux, it is his only reason for living. 

– Finally, the apparently young girl in her twenties in a floral dress. First impressions are that of a vivacious, friendly individual  enjoying her youth with friends. Without looking into her eyes I know that behind them, well hidden so as no one would ever know, is a soul cut adrift. Probably at a young age she had her heart broke, her implicit trust in her family and home devastated by the action of another. Since then she has survived on the emotional crumbs from others. Any attention is greeted with open arms as it is better to have one’s existence acknowledged than to potentially never, ever be noticed and subsequently lost forever in the world. 

Walking back home through the park I cannot help but reflect on life as I watch the butterflies seemingly chase each other amongst the bushes and squirrels excitedly scampering above in the tree branches. I suppose life always has been and always will be a bittersweet experience for many and I surely count my blessings as often as I can remember. If only I could easily leave the suffering of others to themselves without the tremendous urge to relieve their pain, be their crutch and to offer the hand of hope. I understand after many years of rescuing, it is not feasibly possible to save everyone and I have to set my boundaries. However it never really stops the deep compassion that can well up unbidden within me.