Saint Brigid & Glastonbury.

An Irish friend of mine has kindly sent me a St Brigid's Cross  (See photo) which reminded me that today is St Brigid's Day, so I thought I would promote a story I wrote last year about St Brigid to mark the occasion.........

February 1^st is the feast of Imbolc in the Celtic world. It is also known as St Brigid’s Day in the Christian calendar. It is one of four major Gaelic festivals. The others are Beltaine, Lunasa, & Samhain. Imbolc heralds the start of Spring and reawakening of the earth. Van Morrison fans will know that Samhain marks the start of the Celtic New Year. It is Saint Brigid that I want to talk about today. Along with St Patrick, Brigid is one of the two most important saints in Ireland. She is called Brigid of Kildare although she is thought to have been born near Dundalk, County Louth in 451 AD. In 480 AD she founded a monastery in Kildare on the site of an ancient pagan shrine dedicated to the goddess Brigid, from whom presumably she took her name. Here Brigid and her helpers tended an eternal flame. It was kept alight until being extinguished in the 16^th century and was restored in 1993. Brigid became known as ‘the keeper of the flame’ which leads me to another Van Morrison link because in his song Carrying A Torch Van sings ‘You are the keeper of the flame’. Did Van get this idea from the story of St Brigid? Probably not, but interesting anyway. Thanks to Brigid, Kildare became a great centre of religion and learning. She died in 525 AD.

What I have found personally especially interesting about Brigid is her links with the town of Glastonbury, which as you know is one of my favourite places. If you ever climb up Glastonbury Tor, just over the entrance to the tower you can see a carving of St Brigid milking a cow. 

On Glastonbury Tor.

St Patrick’s connections to Glastonbury are well documented and in St Patrick’s Chapel in the Abbey grounds there is a fresco depicting Brigid. The 12^th century historian William Of Malmsbury reported on her visit. He wrote, ’she left here some of her ornaments; that is to say, her necklace, bag, and implements for embroidering, which are yet shown in memory of her sanctity, and are efficacious in curing divers diseases’. In the 14^th century a Benedictine monk John Of Glastonbury also reported that there was a chapel dedicated to Brigid in the area of Glastonbury called Beckery also known as Little Ireland. Brides Mound in Beckery is named after Brigid and in 2004 two Brigadine sisters brought the restored perpetual flame from Kildare to a goddess conference ceremony in Glastonbury.

St Brigid in St Patrick's Chapel.

At the start of the 20th century a man in Glastonbury came across a tiny bell which experts found to be a Celtic bell, possibly 1,500 years old. It came eventually into the possession of Alice Buckton who thought it was likely to be St Brigid’s bell due to the similarity to St Patrick’s bell which was in the National Museum in Dublin. In 1913 Alice Buckton founded the Chalice Well in Glastonbury where she used the bell in ceremonies. One of her friends was Dion Fortune who wrote about her in her book Avalon Of The Heart. (Notice another Van Morrison link!) I visited Dion Fortune’s grave a few years ago and wrote a story about it. Alice Buckton died in 1944 and sadly the bell has not been seen since. I hope it is still hidden away somewhere in Glastonbury. 

Finally, In the centre of Glastonbury town there is a courtyard. I think it is called The Glastonbury Experience. There are little shops in there and a couple of statues. When I was looking for pictures to Illustrate this story, I remembered I had my photo taken in there with a female statue. She seemed to be wearing the right sort of Celtic type garb. I wondered if it was a statue of St Brigid. I googled ‘Brigid statue Glastonbury’ but could not see it. Even if it isn't her, which it probably isn't, I still like the photo, so I left it in.  Happy Imbolc & St Brigid's Day.

Avalon Of The Heart.

Dion Fortune.

I'm going to Glastonbury town next week for a couple of days, so I thought I'd dust off this old story that I wrote several years ago about a previous visit.

I woke up Tuesday morning and the sun was streaming through the window. It was a beautiful day as I set out for Glastonbury. I arrived there about 11.45 and I couldn't check into my hotel till 2.00, so I wandered the streets taking photos of the shop signs. One shop was called Enlightenment which reminded me of the Van Morrison album. Then I had a look in a museum that I had never visited before. It was all about the Iron Age people that used to live around here. Some of the pottery and tools they used were amazing and they even had an Iron Age canoe which had been discovered locally. The Tourist Information Office was in the same building and I asked the lady if she could direct me to the cemetery. She gave me a bit of a funny look. I think it is because tourist information ladies usually get asked about hotels or bus timetables, not cemeteries. She told me to go to the top of the High Street and turn left and it was about half a mile.

Fifteen minutes later I arrived at the cemetery entrance. Inside the deserted graveyard there was a peaceful atmosphere, not a cloud in the sky and just the sound of birdsong adding to the tranquillity. I had expected my intuition would lead me to the grave like a holy magnet, but after a few minutes I realised that I had a major problem. There were hundreds of graves, a lot of them covered in moss and lichen and so worn that you could hardly read the inscription. I wandered up and down the rows for about half an hour looking for graves that looked about 70 years old. "This is impossible", I thought to myself and was beginning to despair.
 Then I noticed a van parked nearby with a man who was eating sandwiches. "He must be a gravedigger or a sexton or whatever you call them", I thought, "He might be able to help". He put down his sandwich and gave a cheery smile. "I wonder if you can help me, I'm trying to locate a grave but I don't have a clue where it is. Violet Mary Evans better known as Dion Fortune". " I know exactly where it is", he replied, "You're not the first person to ask me about that grave, I'll show you it". " Oh brilliant, thanks mate".

 He led me up towards  the far end of the cemetery and then down a few rows and there it was, my quest was over. I had found the grave of Dion Fortune. I thanked him and shook hands and he left me alone at the graveside. Even after 69 years she obviously still had visitors because there were recent flowers left there and various trinkets and things. I took a few photos and then I noticed just a few feet away the grave of  her patron and secretary in the Fraternity Of The Inner Light Charles Thomas Loveday who died in 1948 so I took a photo of that as well.

 Then I placed the book, Avalon of The Heart (protected inside a plastic bag in case of rain) on Dion's grave. The book she had written all those years ago. I hope that somebody found it and enjoyed it.  I left the cemetery feeling quite pleased with myself. Mission accomplished. 

Walking back down the High Street I spotted a second-hand bookshop and thought I would have a look in. There was a huge range of books on all sorts of topics such as the occult, mysticism & theosophy and guess what was almost the first book I saw in there. Yes, Glastonbury, Avalon Of The Heart by Dion Fortune. The rest of my 24 hours in Glastonbury was good fun. The 15th century hotel The George And Pilgrim is nice. Kim and I stayed there a few times previously. I had a  meal and saw a band in the hotel next door. Next morning I climbed the Tor which was beautiful and then I sat in the Chalice Well gardens for about an hour basking in the sun which was amazing for February and I had a drink of the cool water to quench my thirst and then I hopped in a taxi to Castle Cary and caught the train back to Westbury. Today it is back to being dark, rainy and miserable so I am really pleased I chose the best days to go away and I have even started writing again, so thank you very much Dion Fortune for inspiring me from beyond the grave.