I woke that morning savouring the prospects of the day ... a visit to Glastonbury ... legendary resting place of King Arthur. My arrival in Glastonbury came as quite a pleasant surprise. I found the main street quite dreamy and medieval in its existence. After parking my car, I journeyed to find somewhere to quench my thirst ... 'Rainbow's End Cafe' captured my imagination.Soon refreshed, I re-entered the fray ... the main street was full of life. Day trippers of all ages and nationalities milled on the pavements on both sides of the street. There was an atmosphere of shared expectancy. I felt relaxed and stress free ... which for me was rare commodity. Life for me was almost always filled with hectic deadlines and split second decision making. Therefore, Glastonbury, was already proving to be just what the doctor ordered. Armed with leaflets and booklets, obtained from The Heritage Centre, I set about exploring 'Avalon'.
First stop was the Abbey Ruins, which were within walking distance of the town centre. Its peaceful and tranquil lawns made a wonderful contrast to the mayhem in the medieval street. But, could I believe that King Arthur rested in the ground which lay at my feet? Not quite ... the enchantment had not yet dissolved my '9-5 working day' mind just yet.
Next stop, The Glastonbury Experience ... a courtyard surrounded by New Age shops. 'Starchild' which catered for those who wished to fill their living rooms with pungent smells (OK, I must admit the smells which came from the shop were wonderful). Then, armed with my own pottery dish and a small container which held 'Avalon' hand blended incense, I entered the next strange abode - 'Excalibur' - I found to be filled from floor to ceiling with swords, pottery and books of every conceivable esoteric subject imaginable.
Books? My mind began to wander. I needed something to read. I felt suddenly inspired ... what was in that incense I'd inhaled? I wandered out of the Courtyard in a daze and spotted 'Gothic Image' ...an obviously popular bookshop. It was there where I mused for an indeterminable length of time. After a purchase ("Living Magical Arts" by R.J.Stewart) I was back out in the main street. There, I took a deep breath and then noticed the change within me. I was once more the 'child in the toy shop'. Mesmerised. Spoilt for choice.
Next stop, The Chalice Well Garden. I entered the gardens and became overwhelmed by the peace and the quiet of the place. It was wonderful ... I was taken completely by surprise by the change in people's attitudes there! Everyone was friendly and talking to strangers like long lost friends. I soon found it addictive to go up to a total stranger and say a friendly 'hello'. The spring water I found to taste truly refreshing. Once the slightly metallic taste (the 'Red Spring') was forgotten it felt exhilarating to be drinking healthy 'history'.
Then, with a new found attitude to life in my stride, I left behind that wonderment to visit The Tor!
After nearly fifteen minutes of pulse racing exercise I reached the summit and the ruined chapel of St Michael. The atmosphere I found to be highly charged with expectancy. With mystery and with ageless wonder. I found I was not alone. People of all walks of life stood there mesmerised. Some were merely gazing into space ... perhaps in contact with their 'Spirit Guides' or maybe just unwinding from their stresses and strains. Letting their material woes go for a little while.
I began then to feel the magic of the place. I was gratefully relaxed as a enjoyed the view over the township of Glastonbury toward The Chalice Hill. The heat haze, I noted, only added to the appearance of enchantment and mystery.
Then, after wandering back down the path through the grass terraces on the sides of The Tor, I read a plaque on some railings which informed me that The Tor was the entrance to the Underworld .... at that moment I could well believe it.
Sadly, it came my time to leave. I had still to visit Wearyall Hill ... the place where Joseph Of Arimathea, according to legend, planted his staff of Holy Thorn and it blossomed into a Thorn Tree. Joseph was supposed to have visited Glastonbury with the young Jesus. According to one leaflet in my hand, at the time of the New Testament, Glastonbury was a sea port and situated on the coast. An ageless legend perhaps? Whatever it is ... the place certainly was an enchanting vale deep in the heart of England.
On that note, I regrettably had to leave The Isle of Avalon ... certainly less sceptical and much more relaxed that I was when I first arrived. I wondered then if my landlady would permit me to burn some incense in my room?
(Copyright Matthew James 1995)