A spiritual journey to Albion The Nada Chronicles, part 16 |
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During the summer of 1996 my wife Annie and I travelled to the United Kingdom. We drove our own car by means of the channel tunnel, which is an event in itself. Arriving in Folkestone we were suddenly confronted with the culture shock of having to drive on the ‘wrong’ side of the road! We did manage to accomplish this without any undue surprises. The surprises that did take place on this trip were in another field, the spiritual realm, and there were quite a few. When you are visiting Albion, you have to go to Stonehenge. However, it turned out to be less than expected. Old and declining, the monument is clasped between two roads. One stumbles on the tourists and the monoliths are to be seen only from a distance. Spiritual powers are, therefore, not perceptible, which does not alter the fact that this formation of stones has got a very special meaning. Stonehenge used to be a marker for the people of Altea to focus upon this crossroads of Leylines out of their spaceships in the universe. In this way they were able to arrive at the right spot to perform their sowings out of which part of the human race was born and to later be able to monitor the results. I intend to elaborate on this subject in another Nada chronicle. The very same afternoon that Annie and I visited Stonehenge, July 8th, 1996, in a field directly adjacent to the monument the famous Stonehenge crop circle developed. We did not recognize this at the time, but indeed saw the many fighter jets that came over. One jet took a photograph of the site on the way out, and just another photograph as it flew by a quarter of an hour later. On the second one all of a sudden the crop circle was visible! The next day we went to the infamous Glastonbury Tor. This high hill stands about 300 meters tall and is visible from afar. The last 150 meters is a steep ascent on foot but the view is gorgeous, and because of the huge vibrational energy concentrated there the climb is relatively easy. We met a bearded man sitting cross-legged and blowing “aum” sounds on his didgeridoo, after which he began meditating for world peace. Later we arrived in a B&B in the village of Callington. That evening the landlord drove us to the Dupath Chapel with Holy Well in the yard of his father. It turned out to be a unique granite-built Celtic chapel through which flows, via a cross-shaped basin, a small stream that originates three meters higher in the field. This place felt very special and shivers literally ran down my spine. I felt the presence of immense ancient forces that are hard to interpret, but they certainly are there. During the trip we wanted to feel proof of what is left of the atmosphere of King Arthur and Merlin the wizard, so we drove to the village of Tintagel, well known for its ruins of the castle where it is said that Arthur once resided. Below the castle and close to the sea the so-called cave of Merlin can be seen; of the castle itself only ruins are left. Everything rises out of the sea in this impressive place, looking out from the promontory. As well as the decayed walls of a chapel dating back from 1145 and the Grand Hall, the place is littered with the remains of a 6th century Celtic monastery. Recent archaeological excavations have disclosed the possible remains of a courtroom dating back from prehistoric times. But what do I feel? That is hard to say because the rubble of impressions that come to me are just that, fragments that make no sense. After all these adventures in the part of the country that was called West-Wales in Celtic times, we drove to Scotland. We stop in Lockerbie to have a look at the monument for the 272 victims of the Boeing aircraft disaster in 1988. The atmosphere there is gruesome and oppressive. We talk to a couple from Glasgow, of which the man happened to have helped out as a police officer during the catastrophe. Just like me the man is very moved. Each year he comes back to the spot where so much misery took place. Here you are directly confronted with the consequences that ‘big’ politics can have on everyday life. We then travelled to the Island of Skye. All mysteries and enchantments of the Hebrides may be found here. In Nordic and Gaelic storytelling, Skye is called the Island of the Clouds, or sometimes the Winged Island. It is a bastion of the Gaelic language with over 85 % of the population Gaelic speakers. All legends and traffic signs are bilingual. Besides the Welsh, the Bretonnic and the Irish, these are the only remains of the Celtic culture that was once so widespread throughout Europe. Some days later we intend to go to the upper northern region of Scotland and visit Cape Wrath, but unfortunately the car keys are gone. We do have spare keys with us, but this really isn’t funny at all any more. Good counsel is dear. We look everywhere but they remain hidden. It is obvious that Cape Wrath is a place we are not meant to be, and because of the delay of trying to find the keys we miss the departure of the daytrip to the cape. We go on and when we come home after a week there is a little package in the post with the keys. The landlady of our B&B found the keys behind the cushions of the sofa just after we left and sent them to us by mail. Inverness is a busy city that is also inhabited by a great number of four wheeled vehicles. A huge double-decker bus on an obscure roundabout cut us off, so that we ended up stranded on a high curb with the right front wheel hanging in mid air while the floor of the car rested on the sidewalk. It really looked awful. There was nowhere to go and good counsel was dear. Everyone who knows me knows that I am physically not a very strong person and that I do not know much about cars. However, after a short period of not knowing what to do, the solution suddenly seemed to flow into my head. I asked Annie to turn the steering wheel to the left and ever so gently I raised the front of the car! The heavy part, where the motor is situated! Sparingly she stepped on the gas, after which the wheel took hold and we were out of trouble. For those who are responsible for my flash of inspiration I am more than thankful! A few days later we pledge to each other to soon come back to Edinborough, for which it turns out that we only have time for a brief glimpse. The capital of Scotland is situated on a series of volcanic hills off of which one has a different view upon this beautiful city. Probably the most well known is ‘Arthur’s seat’ of 823 ft, which looks upon Holyroad park. The old city, with her rich history is located on a hang that comes down from Castle Rock, and contrasts strongly with the new town wit its elegant Georgian streets and squares. We drove to York and walked through the very old little streets. We ended up in the local cathedral, which they call minster here. A handsome church, we attended an Anglican Mass in a small side chapel. It was a rather prudent and spiritually speaking very meaningful occasion, and we ‘felt’ the Presence of Our Dear Lord almost tangibly. The vicar felt it as well, because after Mass he hurried to shake hands with us and to speak at length about what we experienced. The next evening we dine copiously on board the ship that brings us home, and on the deck we celebrate a stunning sunset that gives us the sensation of a grand conclusion to a precious journey. The many memories of this trip still give us a feeling of thankfulness. |
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