Journey to Avalon March 23 2014

                                    It started with a Faerie Festival in Gloustonbury England. My art was accepted for The Avalon Faery Fayre in Gloustonbury home of many sacred sacred sights and vortexes of energy. Where the mists of avalon really do exist on the hilltop of the Tor. Old faith lives with new faith. And even those who don't believe in magic believe something is special in Avalon.Yes the Faerie Fayer was Enchanting and by being there I was amongst a spiritual family to take my pilgrimage. Life changing and inspiring.

                                       The town of Gloustonbury has many galleries and shops and restaurants that cater to the magickal bohemian crowd and that alone would keep me under a spell forever but my Journey to the Sacred Sights showed me i belonged there long ago. Visiting the Tor really was not something I had planned on doing in my life time I knew of it vaguely as a distant dream in a story. Being able to be there changed things for me. This now was a pilgrimage to return my acestral spirits and transform my own through healing the past. For me to drink form the cared well and for me to see the abbey n ruins.

                                     our first day Thursday we were able to wander through the town to see the galleries.



This mural was the first thing I noticed and I cried a bit to be honest. We walked on and i saw a door I had sketched that felt like a portal to me when I drew it. Here it was before just a pub door, but I had drawn this door before I had seen it.

I knew then the journey would be more intense and have a deeper soul connection than I realized. A portal for my soul did exist and magic was real. A few feet away we walked past the a building a piece of lichen from the building hit me in the head . I looked up and it was part of Gloustonbury Abbey. We visited the gift shop the tours had closed but we could still see it clearly from other angles. The gift shop attendant told us of bit of the history of the Abbey and its destruction. It was a gloomy day when we took the pictures. The following day I would pilgrim to the Tor.


                       The day we walked to the foot path of the Tor there was a local funeral. Fitting as I was about to release the essence of my mother onto that hill freeting her spirit.

The children stayed behind as I continued that up hill climb . Again here I was taking the most unattainable path to peace and tranquility. Jist getting to the bottom of the hill to the for was a journey Really I stayed focused on the uphill climb and it felt exhausting to do. I count turn around i needed to do that journey for her and then at some point that journey was mine. mine to release her energy to the four directions and allow her ash to rest in a place she only dreamed of going and a journey for me to transcend the experience beyond the surface lore. When I reached the top where the Tor was there were people just like me who made that journey tired and wanting to bask in the absolute piece and magic. A magic that you can not stay in a magic that you must be in to experience. And release her I did and with it i released and removed the belief that dreams were not possible and simply foolish. No dreams are meant to be lived and we did that on that very mountain top.

The Tor is believed to be the sight where Gwenivere and King Arthur are buried. Lore my mother read in every version.


There is a way to walk straight down the other side of the Tor to go to the sacred well but I had to back track to the bottom of the footpath that led to the steps of the Tor. the children would journey with me to the sacred well where we found plain and simple peace and gentleness in that garden and we drank form the sacred well and collected the water. I truly felt the presence of Mary and Jesus here.


                               The next two days I spent the Avalon Faery Fayre meeting new people and telling them of my pilgrimage and showing them the art I created inspired much by tales from Gloustonbury. The  first two images  are from The George and Pilgrim Pub the in where we stayed said to be haunted. The last is from the Fayer that was held in Gloustonbury Town Hall.