Britain stands glorious, adorned in its gown of emerald green, Lucifer's jewel sublime within the crystal beauty of Mari's turbulent waters. The late springtime rain brings radiant fecundity to all that stand within the fields and hedges of our ancient isle as once again the chthonic realm forces it's way to the surface of our land.
There is a pulse that beckons to those who would acknowledge, for some a beat to hear, for others a wave of purity to feel or see, yet all those who see, feel, or are blind to it all, still walk within it's passion and flame, it is life, it is love and it comes direct in it's path from the source of all things to reach out and touch rich man and beggar alike. It does not recognise the bizarre human constructs that govern our world, it surpasses the myriad ego's and sense of the self, it will not discriminate twixt wealthy and poor, man, woman or child, we are one and it brushes upon us all, we only have to stop and pay attention to it's advances and only then will we feel the presence.
Our own journey once more takes us back to the home of our past, time again to stand beneath the hallowed shadow of the island of Avalon, the purpose on this occasion to bear witness to the joining of two souls that with great blessings will remain as close as family to my beloved and myself for a great time to come.
Deep inside these hollow hills we stand, kith and kin united in purpose before the Old ones, pacts are made and blessings abound, the life giving waters of the hill pour with great abundance into the sacred pool that which takes pride of place within the darkened halls of this temple, the Black Madonna witness to all who stand before her, radiant within the candle light vigil in this moment devoted to love and union. Two separate souls that have overcome the barriers of time, distance and space, to become as one before the eyes and ears of those who would gladly give them all they would desire if it were in their means to do so, the word of this bond still echos through my being and shall remain for as long as I remain, longer than that in truth as an eternity stretches out before them both.
A true bloom within the lives of this Cunning Man and his own dear love, a total privilege to be a part of this and my thanks go out to them both for allowing us to be so.
Ash and Patrick, may you truly be blessed with love and devotion as I have so been, fate has smiled upon you both and all those who were present, long may she continue to do so.
The commerce and bustle of this once small Somerset town astounds us both, the new age has not only left it's mark upon this magical place but has branded it as one who would mark their cattle in ownership. It has been many years since I had walked the streets of this overgrown village and I find that so much of what it has become disappoints me, religion is for sale on a grand scale, integrity has already been sold and profit is the king, yet even within this seemingly largely Pagan haven there are gems to be found, those who produce wonderful things do exist within this wholesale world, between the golden Buddha and the dark iron cauldron there are jewels that will hide, once again in plain sight.
Out of the main town Victoria and I were to meet one such artisan, I had arranged to pop in as I was in the area, and I have not seen John for nearly thirty years, we were at the same school, nestled within the heart of the Mendip hills and we have both come of age within the bosom of that dearest of lands.
This gentle fellow does not go into the woodland realm at night to tread the mill as I would, his own ritual lies within the work he does and is no less potent than any I have witnessed, influenced by a love of the land, folklore and his own rich ancestry, he creates devotional pieces that overflow with that same Craft as I feel within the night time rites of my own existence. Another aspect to our craft heritage that could easily be overlooked by those who perhaps have not had these experiences, of course this allows John to sell his paintings to those who will appreciate them as the works of art they are, I personally see perhaps something else within them.
The hills of the home I grew up in, the tales the old ones used to tell of how you should not venture to certain places upon certain nights as there would be Witches there, this was not spooky storytelling to scare small children but matter of fact advise, born out of respect for those devotees of the elder paths, the ghosts that walk the lanes at night, the midnight forays and simple rituals the country folk of our past used to perform, all this and more elegantly captured within the pigments brushed upon these boards, a shared upbringing in a land I will forever love, and proof that no amount of paraphernalia will bring you closer to your gods.
Thank you John Caple, for your generous gift and I for one recognise another true brother of the craft by the parts of your soul that permeate through your work.
Life goes on, fully refreshed by the company of all those wonderful souls who have crossed by path over these past years, you all bring a greater richness to my life and knowing you all has given me so much inspiration and clarity, the family continues to grow as this world I once considered an empty place devoid of such riches proves me wrong, and this does not disappoint.
I know not what lies at the Rainbows end but my visit proved it was not a decent cup or coffee at that particular place in Glastonbury.
Flags,Flax and Fodder. Tony.
Paintings by kind permission of John Caple
John has a published book of some of his works available on Amazon for those who may be interested, it is called Somerset and is well worth a look.
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