Welcoming the Spring in the UK

 

We lean against the damp brick wall in the candlelit building, rushing water and chanted intonations echo around us. One by one, the candles are put out and our attention is guided inwards. We meditate together, standing in the silence. Cold waters gush up from the ground.

Three knocks on the thick wooden door and it is opened to greet the light and the caller. A young girl, representing a goddess walks in with a single flame. From this all candles are lit once more and we welcome the return of the light.

This is one of the ways they observe the passage of the seasons in Glastonbury, in the south west of England. Imbolc, also Brigid’s Day is an ancient festival marking the first stirrings of spring. Historically widely observed around the British isles, it was originally a pagan festival associated with the celtic goddess Brigid. Later it became the Christian festival of Saint Brigit.  It is celebrated roughly halfway between the winter solstice and the spring equinox of the northern hemisphere.

In Glastonbury on this day most locals and pilgrims (like us) visit two springs/holy wells.
My friends and I had gathered with the small crowd at the White Spring for the morning meditation and ceremony. The spring is housed in a 150 year old pumphouse now converted into a temple. In this dark candle-lit space you are immersed in the sound of perpetual flowing water.

After the White Spring it was on to the Red Spring a stone’s throw away. The Red Spring is situated in the Chalice Well Gardens, a beautiful reflective garden where they celebrate the earth’s natural cycles and rhythms with meditations on the solstices, equinoxes and mid-points. We sat in silence. The birds sang and sun shone around us.

Both springs are situated at the foot of Glastonbury’s world famous landmark – Glastonbury tor. The tor (or hill) reaches a height of 518 feet (158 metres) in a flat part of Somerset called ‘the levels’. It has been a place of pilgrimage for ten thousand years. When you see its undulating curves emerging from the green and sometimes misty landscape, you can feel a pull to walk up it. Thousands still do.

Later that day we chose to visit a different hill. Legend tells that Joseph of Arimathea came to Glastonbury after the crucifixion, planted his staff on Wearyall hill, the staff took root and blossomed into the Glastonbury Thorn. Glastonbury is a place of many myths – this is just one of them.

As we walked up this hill at the end of a reflective but celebratory day, near the top we saw a local farmer with a twinkle in his eye. One moment we were saying hello, talking about how cold the weather was, the next we were following him downhill to the bottom of the ridge.

He had asked for our help to move two early newborn lambs and their mother, so he could take them to shelter, away from the plunging temperatures where they might freeze to death.

Nick and the farmer took a lamb each, Abi and I made re-assuring sheep noises to the ewe, encouraging her to follow us as we journeyed to the bottom of the field and the farmer’s car. The rest of the flock followed – a concerned tribe.

The bloodied lambs and large ewe with birth entrails hanging, were helped and lifted into the back of the farmer’s small fiat hatchback. The sheepdog sat in the front seat – watching.

Now dark, the farmer thanked us in his minimal regional accent and drove off. The full moon rose over the tor as we re-climbed the ridge.

Walking back we remembered at the White Spring they had talked of the origins of the word Imbolc, perhaps coming from the old word for ewes milk. With lamb afterbirth on our hands and clothes from our sheep encounter, we felt blessed by serendipity.

We approached the old thorn with a spring in our step – it felt good to have given.

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