The morning was shrouded in black.  We packed the suitcases and checked out of the hotel when only the front desk attendant was awake and drove through the darkness towards the center of Glastonbury, England. 

They say that Glastonbury is the decider of fate; that it sorts out Karma.  That if anything is undecided or uncertain or unsettled in your life, coming to Glastonbury will decide it, make it certain or settle it.  I have been trying to get to Glastonbury the last three times I’ve come to London.  And every time, some odd circumstance or shift in plans has made it impossible.  

Yet again, at the beginning of this trip, it looked like my detour to Glastonbury would be prevented.  But I refused to let it be prevented and decided to wake up as early as I could to make use of the few hours I had before boarding the plane to Dublin.  In the dimmest of light, myself and my bodyguard climbed the long staircase leading up to the Glastonbury Tor.  At that time of morning, we were the only people there.  The cold air soaked into every pore.  Our joints were stiff in resistance to the climb.  On the hill leading up to the Tor, a great colony of rabbits hopped around in front of the horizon line.  Their presence added to the sacredness of the place.  Far off in the patchwork fields below, sheep wandered through the frost.  We went up and up the slippery surface of the rock steps to the top of the hill.  There, a great stone tower stood.  The tower and the hill alike rise from the meadows of Summerland, a monument of myth and spirituality since prehistory.  In Celtic legend, Glastonbury is the Isle of Avalon, the heavenly home of a God named Afallach that was shaped like a swan.  It is also the very home of the legends of King Arthur, The Holy Grail, Excalibur, Lancelot and Guinevere.           

Stepping into the center of the tower and looking up, there is no roof.  Just a wide open portal to the heavens above.  The landscape below is so beautiful that it grabs you by the diaphragm.  Your eyes sting as a result of keeping them open too long to drink in the scene.  To close them to such beauty is painful.  The three of us parted ways to explore the place in our own way.  I sat on the worn stone bench to one side of the interior of the tower.  I closed my eyes and journeyed with my mind.  I begin by pleading with the heavens to ‘end the karma’ between myself and two other people in my life.  For the sake of allowing them their privacy, I will not refer to them by name. 

I introduced myself to the spirit of the land.  My consciousness traveled to the lowlands, to an etheric lake.  There an entity called Nyneve came half way out of the lake to where I stood.  Letting the ‘journey’ unfold through me, instead of consciously guiding it, I pulled my own heart out of my chest and handed it to her.  She lowered it into the lake slowly.  When it touched the lake, it stopped beating and began to turn pink instead of red with relief.  I traveled some distance to pull the heart out of the chest of one of the two people I came to Glastonbury to find closure with.  It was aggravated and swollen…  Furious even.  I handed it to Nyneve.  Just as she had done with my heart, she took the heart and lowered it into the water.  The water soothed the rage away.  Nyneve telepathically sent the message that the two hearts should not be at war but that they should take care of each other because they have been together across time in so many incarnations.  When the second heart was submerged entirely, a metallic helix connecting the two hearts snapped back into it, like a recoiling bungee cord.  It sounded like a spring breaking.  Nyneve then took two freshwater pearls and placed them in the center of each heart.  Like a tonic, they cast off light maintaining the newly established peace between the hearts.  She handed me back the two hearts.  I took my own into my chest and returned the other to the person it is meant to reside within. 

I then took the third heart out of the other person. Ironically, a bit like the Arthur, Lancelot and Guinevere tale, all three of us involved in this etheric journey were intertwined into one painful relationship story in this life.  The third heart was very small, as if it had shrunken.  When I handed the heart to Nyneve and she lowered it into the lake, it did not stop throbbing.  It did not grow in size.  Nyneve explained that the person who owns this heart is tormented by the commitment to ‘doing the right thing’.  Telepathically, I could see that he has been doubting himself in this regard and that his heart has shrunk as a result of not knowing deep down whether he did in fact do the right thing or is doing the right thing now.  I asked his heart what it needed in order to feel like it is good because it did the right thing.  I was shown a white porcelain baby rattle with little pink and blue engravings encircling the bulb.  I placed the rattle in the center of the heart.  But it did not want to go back into the chest that it belonged to.  Instead it wanted to be held.  So I held it like a baby.  When I was interrupted by an early morning jogger running by, I decided to bring closure to the journey by handing the heart to Nyneve, who continued to cradle it in her arms. 

I walked out to watch the sun rise.  Far off in the distance, the flushed golden disk climbed on top of the horizon, granting us our first taste of warmth.  Through my squinted eyes, its edges brimmed with sacred geometry.  I let it feed my body.  I let it feed my intention to bring closure to the wound I brought with me.  I could feel them all, the generations upon generations of people who have come to this sacred place like layers imprinted in the land. 

We stayed there until I felt I had been granted what I came there for and made our way down the hill once again.  Halfway down, as if in response to the sun, the meadows below were carpeted by a cloud that rolled in underneath us…  The infamous mists of Avalon.  Words do not describe the mystery and hallow of that land. 

After taking tea at a local café, we explored the grounds of the old Glastonbury Abbey.  Holy ruins of what was once one of the richest and most powerful monasteries in all of England.  Only the celestial skeletons of the old transepts and chapels remain. 

Walking out of the Abbey, we ended up on the main Glastonbury street.  I couldn’t stop giggling when the first three shops I passed were all crystal shops.  Glastonbury has been a holy site for spiritual life and pilgrimage since humans first set sight on it.  And now, the people of the new age spiritual path have claimed it for their own.  I can officially say that if someone dislikes modern spirituality (especially the new age and the hippie and the modern Wicca) they should stay away from Glastonbury as if it is a plague area.  It is more than an epicenter of all these things. 

The street is littered with shop after shop full of crystals and psychics and spiritual relics and spiritual therapies and metaphysical tools and conscious clothing.  You can smell some of the people of Glastonbury even before they pass you because so many of them have not seen a bar of soap in years, out of fear of the chemicals.  One of the shopkeepers I spoke to had not seen a television set in years because she prefers to keep herself purified of all worldly influence.  Glastonbury is a world unto its own…  A world of spiritual people.  It is like Diagon Alley from the Harry Potter Series, but for New Age spiritual people.  I was running from shop to shop with so much enthusiasm I could not contain it.  I stayed until the last possible second when we had to make our way to the Airport to catch our flight.

The dominant negative vibration of Glastonbury is: Figment.  Essentially, a figment is something that a person believes to be real, but that only exists in their own reality, like a delusion.  To be sure, Glastonbury is full of a select amount of people who accurately perceive things that the majority of people do not perceive.  For example, a great many people will never see a ghost in their lifetime, even though they are a reality.  But so many of the people in Glastonbury cannot tell the difference between what is ‘authentically accurate’ and what is merely the reflection of what they WANT to believe.  For the sake of understanding what I mean, imagine that someone came up to you and with 100% confidence told you that they are in fact the reincarnation of RA (The God Of The Sun).  And then this person tells you that they are currently on tour in England to escape from the expectations of their wealthy family, all while smoking a joint at 6:00 in the morning.  And then imagine that ten seconds later, when they go on to explain their version of the truth about Glastonbury, they tell you that they were personally chosen by Archangel Michael to come to Glastonbury to singlehandedly save the world.  This kind of interaction is NORMAL in Glastonbury.  Those of you who are shadow workers can see exactly why a person would create a ‘reality’ in their own mind like that one.  The hardest part of visiting Glastonbury for someone who is not already on the path of awakening, would be trying to sort out authentic spiritual information from pure figment. 

The dominant positive vibration of Glastonbury is: Legend.  You might have suspected that the dominant positive vibration of Glastonbury would be something like Sacred or Divine Feminine or something along those lines.  You might have thought that because it is such a holy place.  But Legend is the vibration that overtly dominates the vibration of Glastonbury.  Legend is a narrative of history that exhibits principals, morals, truths and values.  It is the legend that draws most people in the modern world to Glastonbury today.  It is not that these legends are myths.  In fact, some of them are not myths at all.  It is that these legends add a layer of magic to the land, regardless of whether or not they are true.  Glastonbury is sacred.  Sites that have been recognized as sacred for so many thousands of years almost belong to the supernatural folklore told about them.  The genuine essence of a place like Glastonbury is impregnated with projections from people who associate the place with these legends.  But I must tell you that these projections are so exquisite in their depth and complexity that I could choose to get lost in them and relinquish my own reality forever for them instead.  The legend inherent in Glastonbury is epic and it is alive.  The place is engorged with the essence of these legends.  And this essence is strong enough to alter a person, including a person’s destiny.

Glastonbury is a main vortex (like a human chakra) for the earth itself.  One of the reasons that a person can achieve closure and resolution by visiting Glastonbury is because of this.  Glastonbury teaches the mantra “unhurt, unstruck and unbeaten”.  You can hear it in the Legends that call it home.  You can hear it in the meadows and in the hillsides and in the remains of kingdoms that refused to die even though time vowed to crush them.  Upon leaving, I find I have taken this mantra within myself; like a permission to be free.