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Postcard Number 2 23 July: Entering Wales Today getting out of London is a mission made no easier by our ungainly luggage and the continued heat. Many underground stations are closed. There are power cuts and that caused delays and further station closures. At Euston Station we discover train cancellations and delays, the line we want to travel out on is blocked and nothing is moving. In spite of this the line is cleared and we board what can only be described as a sardine tin on tracks and we make it in time for my husband’s friend and colleague to pick us up and drive us to the other side of the island, to his home in Wales. At times the traffic slows to 10 miles and hour. The 2 botanists in the front of the car start naming the roadside plants and trees. We pass a horrific accident on the opposing lane, there are obvious fatalities. The emergency services have done their work. One can only pray for the souls of those who have passed over so suddenly and traumatically. We approach Wales. To the north the cloud formations are intriguing. Two long streaks of cloud look like a door opening to higher realms while another smaller, rounder, more substantial cloud hangs below it. Later I see a stylized eagle cloud, like the eagle representation I have seen in American Indian work. Then I see a representation of my Chief Guide. As we approach Wales the sun is slowly sinking and in the west a cloud hangs well above the horizon. To my astonishment the end of the cloud IS a rainbow. This feels significant. Approaching the hills it is clear that we are entering a different place. As we come to the border of Wales I ask permission to enter. A large black dragon warmly assents. Wales is just beautiful. I see why people love it. I do instantly. 26 July: Pentre Ifan cromlech The day is overcast and a cooling breeze is gently blowing – a relief from the heat and burning sun. We leave our host’s house and travel along wall-lined roads. On the stone walls there generally grows hedges of, traditionally, Hawthorne or other plants and trees. As the roads become narrower and narrower, the trees growing in the hedgerows meet overhead and the closer we get to Pentre Ifan cromlech, the closer the sides of the road become. The lane is a two-way thoroughfare, but in most parts there is room for only one vehicle. Occasional widenings would allow two vehicles to pass. By the signpost indicating the entrance to the Pentre Ifan site, is a parking bay that would take 7 or 8 parallel parked cars. We find a space easily and pause for lunch. On each side of the road are the usual hedgerows. To our left, on the side of the cromlech it consists of Hawthorne, brambles, nettles and a rather stunted looking foxglove in flower. Opposite grows honeysuckle and bracken. The gate to the site is bordered by further prickly plants. My Australian friend had told me that, often, sacred sites are marked by the plants that grow there and when we find such prickly plants, we should take notice. The first gate is followed by a second. Here the energy changes and we enter with permission. By the path grow stinging nettles to my left and thistles to the right on the border of a field with Knapweed – a weed that attracts and feeds butterflies when in flower and later brings the birds to feed on its seeds. We walk along a path that has partially buried large stones lying to each side. A stinging nettle spirit jumps towards me on my left, I pause and introduce myself and she bids us welcome. There are four upright stones, reaching up to about 8 feet above the ground with a huge capstone balanced on the tops of 3 of them. The capstone is about 16 ˝ feet long. Originally this was a barrow, covered with earth. The official explanation of the site is that this was a Neolithic burial chamber.
I take some time to sit to the side overlooking the farmland below and to meditate. We are met by the guardian of the place who gives his name. I am shown a lot of vortexes, they are deranged, their energy is not flowing right. We are asked to help clear this site which we do, passing light down through the centre of what is a vortex directly under the cap stone. The vortex which had hardly been working at all starts to spin in a clockwise manner. We are asked to place cornmeal around the site, which I do as unobtrusively as possible as there are other visitors to the site. I am given permission to enter under the capstone and there is a sense that people used to come here to connect with the earth. I see bright jewels underneath this area. There is a reclining dragon lying curled around the vortex. I am told I am not to be given any further information as I was not initiated into the knowledge. I leave a tobacco offering there. Later in meditation we check the vortexes seen on the hillside - they are working better. We leave the place the way we came, walking to the east between the lines of half buried stones. Strata Florida Our next destination today is Strata Florida. This is a very personal visit as a family surname has been linked with this place over about 3 centuries – from the dissolution of the monastery in 1568 until the 18th century – but I do not think though that any of those who lived here and owned the land are direct forebears of mine. This place has the ruins of a great Cistercian Abbey that was set up in 1164. There is a story that when the monasteries were suppressed by King Henry VIII, the monks from Glastonbury fled to Strata Florida carrying with them a wooden chalice. These monks then came under the protection of the family at Nanteos. One legend says this was the Holy Grail, though scientific tests have shown it to be of much more recent origin but of wood that may be olive wood. In spite of this, the chalice, known also as the Nanteos cup, was held in high regard and considered to be healing. People would travel for miles around to drink from it or the contents would be sent to the ill and infirm. This cup also came into the hands of the Nanteos family and is now owned by another family and is kept in a bank vault.
Strata Florida is also famous for being the burial place of the revered Welsh poet: Dafyd ap Gwilym. Entering the ruins of the Abbey, the first thing that strikes one is the sense of utter peace. It is in a relatively isolated area of the country and all that is to be heard is the sound of vociferous but contented sheep on the pastures surrounding the Abbey and the call of the swallows swooping over the fields. This is until what sounds like motorbikes start up! Walking past the stone lined “basin” in the centre of the crossing and then up to the part of the church that used to be the sanctuary and where the High Altar would have been there is an incredible shimmering energy that I see with my physical eyes. I am informed that this is because of the work and devotion, the devoted commitment to meditation and inner development and the healing that went on there. The energy set up by them has remained there. The day is coming to an end and we are expected back for an early dinner of Toad in the Hole, a dish I am to sample for the very first time. We waste no time heading “home”, and the meal prepared for us is simply delicious. We end the day at Aberystwyth enjoying a wonderful concert of Mozart and Beethoven. |
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Pentre Ifan |
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Strata Florida Abbey from the high altar looking west |
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Raewyn Freedman Shamanic facilitator |
