A pilgrimage of self-care

The accent of Glastonbury Tor

As I sit here, the wind still whispers tales of ancient Avalon, a gentle resonance of the energy lingering from yesterday's mini-pilgrimage to Somerset. The iconic silhouette of Glastonbury Tor against the sky has always held a certain magic for me, a silent invitation to ascend to the summit and St Michael's Tower, to soak in its ancient aura and connect with the powerful Michael and Mary energies that coil themselves around the Tor, the entwined dragon lines bringing together the masculine and feminine.

My afternoon climb of the Tor followed a delightful morning that blended the practical with the pleasurable – a mooching around Clarks outlet village on the hunt for bargains and a much-anticipated Chicken Katsu Curry at Wagamama’s.

It got me thinking. What is this deep-seated yearning within us that propels us to journey to certain places, whether they are steeped in legend or simply offering us a moment of respite? And what are the myriad ways these experiences shape who we are, leaving their indelible mark on our hearts, minds and souls?

For me, the call of Glastonbury is multifaceted. Perhaps it’s the whispers of the Arthurian legend, the eclectic mix of shops where you can buy crystals, books, magic wands, and all manner of esoteric gifts. Or the pull of the Tor, where the veil between worlds feels a little thinner on its slopes. Or the breathtaking panoramic views which reward you following the climb, where birds fly beneath you and you can view the world from a higher perspective. Every place holds a unique signature, some resonating so deeply with your inner landscape, offering solace, inspiration, or a sense of belonging. Glastonbury Tor, with its rich history and spiritual significance, has always felt like a pull for me. What makes you drawn to a particular walk, a café in town, or even a friend's home? What are those places for you, the ones that touch your soul?

Since the dawn of time, humans have been wanderers, driven by curiosity, necessity, and the desire to understand the world around them. Pilgrimages have been a cornerstone of many cultures, a dedicated journey to a place of spiritual significance for healing, enlightenment, or devotion. Even today, though our destinations may differ, the fundamental urge to seek something beyond our everyday remains. Then there is this allure of ‘thin places’, locations believed to possess a unique energy. For me, my thin places can be on the top of mountains or hills, or at sacred sites. Whether you subscribe to this idea or not, there is an undeniable sense of something in the air, a connection to something larger than oneself. Our intentions act as a compass, guiding our journeys. While my early visit and desire for retail therapy may simply have been a prelude to the afternoon's spiritual focus on the Tor, recognising our intentions illuminates why certain places hold such a strong appeal for us.

While I certainly did not have any intention of climbing Glastonbury Tor when I left home yesterday morning for my pilgrimage to the shops, following my lunch, I parked up in the centre of Glastonbury and cut through the Gauntlet to reach the main street. I popped into a few shops, but there was a real visceral pull to head out of town towards Chalice Well and the base of the Tor. I was not well equipped for this pilgrimage – no water, probably insufficient layers of clothing, and not the most sensible footwear!

However, the drive from within was so strong. On reaching the lane at the bottom of the path, I headed up to the White Spring and the pipe where the water spills out onto the road and dipped my hands into the cool, refreshing waters, rinsing my face and then washing my aura with the water.

I then crossed over the lane to where a pipe comes through the wall of the Chalice Well gardens and the water from the Red Spring flows down into a grill. Again, I splashed my face and then flicked the remaining water into my auric space. There were a few people about, but none batted an eyelid at what I was doing. This felt like a vital part of the pilgrimage, a physical and energetic cleansing and reconnection with the land's powerful energies.

I started my ascent up the Tor, and just then, the sun broke through the clouds, bathing me in its warm golden light – a small, perfect blessing on my journey. The path upward is a steep one, each step a deliberate effort, a slow, steady progress away from the everyday.

Reaching the summit and standing within the ancient tower, a delicate fragrance unexpectedly filled the air – the unmistakable scent of roses that instantly transported me back to my grandparents' garden, a space filled with love and the comforting presence of my ancestors. It felt like a gentle acknowledgement, a fragrant thread connecting my personal journey to the deeper roots of my lineage. It was a subtle yet profound sensory detail, adding a layer of unexpected beauty to the already potent atmosphere.

The usually expansive views towards the Bristol Channel were veiled in a soft, hazy mist, lending an ethereal quality to the ancient site. Despite the limited visibility, there was a palpable sense of energy, a feeling of being held in a sacred embrace. I felt very grounded on this lump of rock high above the Somerset Levels; there was some sort of tangible link to centuries past.

These sensory details weren't just background noise, they were integral to my experience, etching the memory deeper within me. Perhaps this morning's exploration of Clarks Village wasn’t just about finding a good deal; it was a way of grounding myself in the everyday before ascending to a more ethereal space. The satisfaction of a good purchase can be a small act of self-nurturing, preparing us in its own way for deeper experiences, and the familiar comfort of Wagamama’s provided a welcome pause, a moment of refuelling and grounding before the afternoon's focus that turned out to be the Tor. Having a delicious meal amidst the lively atmosphere offered a different kind of connection – a human one, a moment of shared nourishment before a more solitary, introspective experience.

My connection to Glastonbury went deeper than simply visiting the Tor and the springs. At the top, I took out my dowsing rods, curious to connect further with the land's energies. I asked them to guide me to a spot radiating healing energies. I watched as they swung, took me back through the centre of the tower, then around to the left, leading me to a particular place, where I sat down on the short grass and gazed out across the landscape. The rods had led me to the exact same spot where I had sat with a group of souls a few years ago on the summer solstice, feeling the strong Michael line flowing powerfully beneath us as we drummed. It was a profound reminder of the land's memory and its constant offering of energy. As I began my descent, a raven flew across my path, a fleeting messenger carrying ancient wisdom.

At the base of the Tor, I once again dipped my hands into the cooling waters of both the White and the Red Springs. As I walked back into town, others who approached me smiled, but their smiles came from the soul and touched me at that same level. No words were uttered as we passed by each other, but a palpable sense of connection.

Living with fibromyalgia often means our journeys, both literal and metaphorical, require a different kind of navigation. Our energy reserves might be more limited, our pain levels unpredictable. This makes intentional outings and mindful travel to places like Glastonbury Tor, with its powerful healing potential, a vital act of self-care.

For me, incorporating rituals like cleansing my hands in the sacred springs and dowsing for energy lines adds layers of intention and self-nurturing to the experience. And sometimes, indulging in a favourite meal even when dining alone instead of grabbing a sandwich provides a much-needed boost and a reminder to cherish the small joys. Connecting with nature, breathing fresh air, and immersing ourselves in a different environment, especially one charged with earth energy like the Tor, can be incredibly therapeutic for physical, mental and spiritual wellbeing.

The intuitive guidance of the dowsing rods led me to that familiar point of healing space on the summit where I once felt so connected with the Michael line. It felt like a tangible way to tap into the land's ancient wisdom. Each journey, no matter how big or small, adds a new layer to our personal story. The sun-kissed moments on the slow ascent, the misty veil over the ancient lands of Avalon, the aroma of roses connecting me to my ancestors, the powerful recognition and reconnection of the solstice drumming spot, the raven's flight on the descent and the cool touch of the spring waters, – these sensory and spiritual encounters deepen the narrative and leave a lasting imprint on our inner landscape. The resilience we cultivate in navigating life with fibromyalgia often enhances our appreciation for these moments of joy and connection, blending the everyday with the extraordinary in a pilgrimage of self-care that may have been impromptu and has meant today I am resting.

Ultimately, our desire to journey to specific places, especially those resonating with powerful energies, is a deeply human one, driven by the complex interplay of personal resonance, curiosity, and the search for meaning and connection. Whether it's the legendary heights of Glastonbury Tor or the comforting familiarity of a favourite shopping spot, the revitalising touch of sacred water, or the intuitive guidance of dowsing rods leading us to familiar pockets of energy, these experiences enrich our lives and weave a vibrant tapestry of memories. Let us embrace the call to explore, even in small ways, always listening to our bodies and choosing journeys that truly nurture our souls – true pilgrimages of self-care.

St. Michaels Tower, Glastonbury Tor

What are the places that hold a special significance for you? Have you ever had a moment of unexpected beauty or recognition that deepened your experience of a place? What rituals do you incorporate into your own personal pilgrimages? Share your experiences in the comments below. I would love to hear about them.