Last Saturday, the Unity Candle and I entered a 12th century sacred space to share in the joy of two people becoming one. St. Michael and All Angels, Knight's Enham is a small Saxon Church on an ancient site in a hamlet on the edge of Andover. In 1008, a Council was held here with King Ethelred and St. Alphege the Archbishop of Canterbury, at which Christian laws were codified for England. In medieval times, the Church was a resting place for knights, close to the crossroads of the two ancient routes from north to south and London to the South West

The door in the Unity Candle lantern shows a stained glassed representation of the path up Glastonbury Tor with a quartz crystal representing St Michael's Tower on the summit. I liken the symbolism of the steep physical climb up to the top of the hill to the spiritual journey we are all on and reaching the summit, is a goal we all might have, no matter our beliefs.

In alignment with the magnificent stained-glass window, letting in the light of the East through the depiction of St Michael, the flame of the Unity Candle was lit. Closing the little glass door, light shot through the crystal tower on the Tor.  This small church, thick with emotions, memories and impressions of the past 800 years of humanity suddenly became illuminated in an oh-so familiar and all-embracing light. Pure love. On this day, witnessing a marriage between two people, the Light shone not only out of the Candle Flame, but from all of those of us there, especially the couple standing before me. 

Irrespective of our beliefs, sacred space is sacred space. It doesn’t matter who we are, where we came from, what our history and our backgrounds are, I truly believe we are all one in the light; all we need do is to connect with the people and the place we are in, open our hearts and minds, and believe that it is possible, no matter our differences, to come together in love and respect. Regardless of religion,  The flame of the Unity Candle helps me to do just that. Blessed Be.  

A naked misty dawn walk around the flowers and herbs in the garden, a (semi-naked) stroll up the lane and through the fields followed last night's powerful thunder storm with hundreds of lightning strikes. A rare experience, where the nostrils are assailed by the scents of the earth, and the skin is freshly laundered by the kisses of now gentle raindrops.

The kindly breeze blows away the traumas of the last week; a gentle pause in the maelstrom of life is welcomed. Yes, a precious experience indeed, when the extraordinary meets the ordinary, the hidden spirit becomes manifest and the warring storm abates. When all there is, is peace.

 In these divine moments of Oneness, we know our connection to the All, and acknowledge that we too are Divinity Itself.

The birds and the daytime field and woodland animals have begun to stir.  A new day has begun. 

We are the Wounded Healers, and only be entering the darkest places, can we find the hidden parts of the Light and bring it back into the world. Manifested. Only the strong can visit these realms and Maya Angelou was one of those people. 

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​On the 26th April, just before the Beltane weekend, our ancient tree guardian, known as Gog, was set aflame. More than 2000 years old, Gog is partner to Magog and this is a plea to all those that that have ever used a candle (and ribbons) out on the land. There is someone out there, possibly still in the Avalon landscape, sitting with the knowledge that, in their misguided understanding of ‘honouring the trees’, they instead have burnt the bugger down.

These two ancient oak trees –with the traditional and biblical names of giant beings – stand in one of the further reaches of the sacred Avalon landscape, where they are in a relationship of alignment with other aspects of the sacred landscape such as the nearby Tor, Chalice Hill, the Abbey and Wearyall Hill. The Oaks gained their names from a legendary race of giants who, save for Gog and Magog, were slaughtered by Brutus and his Trojan army. Gog and Magog, marched to London, were held chained to walls of the city palace and their effigies can still be seen in the Guildhall to this day.

​Known as the ‘Oaks of Avalon’, the two trees are said to be a traditional point of entry onto the island, and part of a ceremonial Druidic avenue of oak trees running towards the Tor and beyond. Gog has been dead these past ten years, and indeed has burnt once before, [Edit: It was Magog that was previously set alight] but stood strong, keeping vigil with Magog as she too let go of her long life. To make a pilgrimage to these two sentries is to take a walk through time. They have stood witness to ever-changing populaces, beliefs and cultures, and watched whilst individual humans, long forgotten, have come and gone, passing beneath the leafy canopies fed by roots reaching deep into the sacred land.  Nowadays, a conscientious visitor, paying homage to the Oaks, is shocked to see spent night-lights placed at the base of the trees, some even in the bowls of the tree themselves and it took such foolish actions to turn Gog into a funereal pyre for 2000 years of myth and history. 

Hey folks, have a care!  Consider how leaving behind a metal casing, harmful to both flora and fauna and something that ‘hangs around on our planet’ for a very long time, can ever be considered ‘honour’.  Muse a while also on how placing a burning flame at the foot of a tree, especially a 2000-year old dead one, is up there with the most stupid of actions. JUST. DON’T. DO. IT! Leave nothing behind save your love.

I might as well mention that the same people who leave their night-lights might also be about the landscape tying ribbons to a tree. DON’T DO THAT EITHER! This particular practice stems back to pilgrimages to holy wells, often places that would always have a tree growing by the side or nearby.  The pieces of cloth, known as clooties, were dipped into the water before being tied to a branch with a prayer, often to cure an ailment, believing that as the rag rotted away, the ailment would disappear with it. Our forebears would use natural fabrics such as a strip of cotton petticoat and these would quickly rot away without harming the tree. Modern day ribbons are made from plastic and take an extraordinary amount of time to break down; tied to the branches of a tree, they strangle and prevent new growth whilst leeching chemical dyes into the wood.

​I'm asking, as I am sure you are too, are both of these acts of ‘homage’ something to be undertaken by one who professes to care for the land and its spirit? No way, Jose! They are entirely selfish deeds, symbolic only of our own needs and desires. There are hundred’s of different ways in which we can serve those, but proclaiming that we are also working for spirit is to make a complete error of judgement. We are not serving anything, other than ourselves. This is a one-way street.  We are no more re-enchanting the land and connecting with the Spirit of Place than we are when we drop litter. Leaving non-biodegradable products of the modern age is about as non-magical as it gets and, if we claim to be ‘of the land’, should these ever really feature in our thinking?

The careless act of the person that lit and placed a flame within the dead heartwood of Gog is hard for some to bear. Grief strikes at our own hearts and if we allow it, sinks into the soul. In 2010, another hallowed tree was destroyed in these sacred precincts when the Glastonbury Thorn on Wearyall Hill was chopped down, by persons unknown, in an act of wanton vandalism. A community came together and wept. Bridges across voids were built. Pagans and Christians held each other and mourned…and a shift of consciousness took place. In the seven years since the Thorn gave up its life, understanding, acceptance and mutual explorations have taken place.  Bridges that didn’t exist previously have been created between secular and spiritual communities.  The death of the Wearyall Thorn can, if we wish, be seen as an emblem of new understanding arising out of the collapse of an era. A new period where possibilities and positive actions are born out of the desire to connect and give way to a time where the re-connections of a community give rise to the re-enchantment of the land.
 
More than 2000 years ago, a seed in the ground reached up towards the light. It grew into a mighty oak that people named Gog. Saddened though we are in this time, what a privilege it is to be the ones bearing witness to 2000 years of presence becoming the fires of transformation. On a practical, outer level, it is a timely reminder, as we draw ever closer to war, not to be careless in our own conduct within our own environs. On an internal level perhaps it can be seen as a timely reminder of who we might be becoming. Destroyers? Or those that construct? Builders? Or those that tear down? Perhaps we are both? These are our choices to make now and our application of conscious thinking and learned wisdom will help us to plot our course. A funeral pyre made of the heartwood of ancient Gog marks a transition and, as we move into a new era for the world, let him be a reminder that only from death, can a new beginning be wrought. How those beginnings play out, is up to us, as is our own interpretation of the burning of Gog. 
 
Whoever you are, that happened to light a small flame in a tree - your guilt will be a heavy burden to bear. Take heart though and learn from your error of judgement. Mistakes are something we all make, how we rectify them is the key to how we grow. Leave these sacred precincts now, plant seeds wherever you go; kernals of Hope, Awareness, Consideration, Understanding, Love and all those qualities that help humankind to grow.  Plant a new tree and dedicate it to the memories of Gog and Magog. Remind yourself that it is the Light within your own self that is the True Flame, the Divine Spark that links us all. From this place, everything is possible. For the rest of us, perhaps Gog can serve to remind us of how our own actions can have an effect we might not intend and incite us also, to have a care.
 
Walk softly,
Morgana

UPDATE:

In the comments below is a message from a member of the family who are the guardians of the land on which Gog and Magog stand. I post it here for your reference. 

The 2000-year old reference is an anecdotal one, and can be be found in Glastonbury: Maker of Myths, by Frances Howard-Gordon. Published by Gothic Image. (ISBN: 9780906362730)

‘This avenue was cut down around 1906 to clear the ground of a farm, but someone from the timber firm remembers one of the oaks being 11 feet in diameter and more than 2000 season rings were counted."

I am still landing from my 'Feathered Seer' weekend in the glorious setting of the Nightingale centre in the Derbyshire countryside. It was as powerful as ever and this was my 3rd year of attending one of their events. Our theme this year took the path of transition from life to death, soul lineage and the ancestry of the body.
There is a powerful magic that comes from ritual and psychodrama - a weaving of the threads of old stories amidst guided processes. Add to this the central presence of the enneagram, leading us through a journey of the inner and outer on the Path to Becoming, our weekend brought us to the One-ness that connects us all. It was Divine.
Sue, Steve and Stuart, the Directors of the School, held the space beautifully and I am so very blessed to be able to also call them my friends.
if you would like to explore further, follow this link. Their events are open to all, and like me, are free to follow your own path and it is not necessary to be a student of the School.

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Myths are archetypal stories of the human journey through life, based on tradition or legend, which has a deep symbolic meaning. A myth 'conveys a truth' to those who tell it and hear it.  Although some myths can be accounts of actual events, they have become transformed by symbolic meaning or shifted in time or place. Myths are often used to explain universal and local beginnings and involve supernatural or special beings. Glastonbury examples are the stories of the wounded Arthur being rowed to the Isle of Avalon, the nine Morgens, and the fairy kingdom of Gwyn Ap Nudd under the Tor.

What's the difference?
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Legends and myths can sometimes be difficult to classify and often overlap. Visual a line with an historical account based on facts at one end and myths or cultural folktales at the other; as you progress towards the mythical/folktale end of the line, what an event symbolises to people, or what they feel about it, becomes of greater historical significance than the facts, which become less important. By the time you reach the far end of the spectrum, the story has taken on a life of its own and the facts of the original event, if there ever were any, have become almost irrelevant..

...it is the message that is important.
​​

 It's the time of year for stumbling across the bright red bursts of colour that heralds Sarcoscypha coccinea, commonly known as the scarlet elf cup, scarlet elf cap, scarlet cup or Fairies' Baths.
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After what feels like a long, inhospitable winter, and as Spring calls out "hold on...hold on...I'm almost here!", to come upon the Scarlet Elf Cup is almost an onslaught to the senses. This burst of colour reassuringly reminds us that life isn't always going to be this dreary and dull. 

Sarcoscypha coccinea was used as a medicinal fungus by the Oneida Indians. The fungus, dried and ground up into a powder, was applied as a styptic, particularly to the navels of newborn children that were not healing properly after the umbilical cord had been severed. 

Three years of investigation brought the trial to Exeter Crown Court in February 2017. Whilst testimonies were offered up, the jury requested recess in order to process all the pain and horror they had witnessed. On verdict day, as we sat and waited, the victims taking comfort from each other and their supporters, I shared that I have a similar past; sparking the connection only abuse survivors can feel. On the return of the jury, not one of us was breathing. The sharp expulsion of any remaining air was audible when the verdict of the first charge was announced.

"Guilty", said the spokesman.

Followed by guilty on the next fifteen counts. Sat just a few feet away, a bullet-proof opaque glass partition separating us from this pathetic example of a human being, we held each other and wept. The Judge asked if the victims were willing to give an Impact Statement. The prosecutor read these out and my brave, brave friend, stood up in front of all, including the convicted, to read out her own. My friend, you are a warrior and I am so proud to know you. ​

It is a very personal decision to bring such matters to the eyes of the law and the public, it takes so much out of us as we endure the experiences and pain of flashbacks; the impact that abuse has had on our lives, there for all to see.

As young men and women, we might have been on the edge of society due to being thought of as 'difficult'.  Due to feelings of worthlessness and being out-of-sync with the world, we could well have sojourned down roads of promiscuity, in the need to be 'loved', spiralling into self-destructive patterns, picking abusers as our 'lovers'. 

Alcohol and drug abuse are common, Mental and physical health issues are typical. Many abuse survivors resort to cutting themselves - the flow of red blood somehow validating the torture we have experienced, and, in its release into the outer world, pain too hard to bear is discharged for the briefest of moments. Extreme ongoing stress brings about painful physical conditions as our bodies become exhausted and worn out.  Finding the strength to carry on is an elusive battle that can be fought over and over again; and sadly, is one that many do not win. 

Having our traumas, and their effects, aired in public, is not an easy decision to make. The kind treatment, combined with the respect and admiration of all those involved in the case of Owen Hill, along with the validation and subsequent sentencing has, I hope, offered comfort that will assist his victims in the healing process. I hope their strength might even give other victims an opportunity to use their own voices and speak out. 

Our original experiences were harrowing and damaging. Sitting through this case has been equally harrowing, but by all that I hold dear, I have never been more proud of my 'kin' then I am today. I myself can't prosecute my own abusers, they are all dead now, and so this has, in some small measure, allowed me the deep satisfaction that for at least ten years, society is protected from one bit of scum. My gratitude goes to those brave and courageous men and women who put him away. 

I'm going to finish with the words of DC Brown;

An NSPCC spokesperson for South West England said:

You can read the news report here.  

Any adult concerned about the welfare of a child or young person can call the NSPCC helpline for free, 24/7, on 0808 800 5000.   Children can call Childline on 0800 1111.

Images below contain links to various organisations that might be of help.