Sunday, October 21, 2007

Carn Euny Wells

Thursday October 18 2007:

The three wishes

The path between the hedge was ankle deep in soft mud. Our boots sucked and squelched as we stepped gingerly through it. Carefully I climbed down the narrow steps to the main well and sat down. My companion sat on the step before me leaning against me.

The rattle was gentle but insistent. The water dripped and gurgled. Nearby, a robin sang. In the distance other birds joined in. The day was drawing towards its close.

The water shimmered. A white mist rose and resolved itself into a slim veiled figure, rising like a column, elegant and swirling. At first I thought she was PROBABLY female but there was a DEFINATE air of androgen ABOUT her.

She slowed and stilled in front of me. Without words, I came to understand that she offered me three wishes. In no particular order of priority or importance, the wishes were these:

That I allow myself to experience intimacy with others platonically.

That I deepen my craft as a Priestess of the Goddess with purpose.

That I bring my body to physical fitness.
Deeply moved, I bowed to her thanking her for helping me find these wishes. She dissolved and sunk back into the well.

The Hawthorn Cloutie

We climbed back up the steps and followed the stream down to a Cloutie tree hard by its banks. The ancient hawthorn tree had several spreading branches rising from a low trunk. It was covered with clouties, old and new. The colourful ribbons danced as the early evening breeze caught little bells hanging from the branches.

The stream gurgled contentedly. All around, amongst the trees, I felt the presence of small beings dancing. The place was positively jumping for joy.

Between the arms of the hawthorn, I found myself dancing. My companion, caught by the mood of the place began to sing like a small girl. In time we stilled and, dipping our own clouties, the ubiquitous purple wool strands, into the stream, we draped them on the tree, adding our prayers to the many already there.

The Little Well

We picked up the candle we had taken, amazingly still alight, from the first well and began to process up the banks to the second well, singing as we went:

“We will never never lose our way to the well of her memory.
For the power of the living flame it will rise, it will rise again.”

The second well, hardly bigger than a washing up bowl, was edged with a low wall. Two tiny steps led down to the water which was clear and silent. We placed our candle on the water’s edge and sang to the well once more, honouring it for its contribution to the well being of those who bilt and used it. We asked blessings on our onward journey and bade farewell to this magical place and left.

A cow lowed in a field hard by. I stopped in the lane and made my companion listen to the liquid song of the blackbird singing to the setting sun. I bowed to him and moved on. The birds song followed and a presence behind made me stop. I turned, asking my companion what was there. She saw nothing, but I knew that a figure watched us. I bowed to it and turned to walk on.

The calm gaze of cows held us as we changed our muddy boots and I felt nourished and filled to overflowing with love. Time to return to the busying world. I resolved to take that gentle cow energy with me to sustain me on my way forward.


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