My week began following the path of the small stream that runs along the side of the hermit hideaway I’m in. This was clearly once a mighty river that had the power to run watermills for grinding grain into flour. I’ve been honouring that old frequency by baking bread here. Also because the nearest place to buy bread is a vending machine 6km away.
They’re not even wholegrain or six cereals, said the bread snob. So I’ve been baking my own but eating it so fast I forget to take photos. Back to the river.
I followed its serpent like path across the fields from the roadside. The stream was narrow and hidden in the landscape but I could hear its faint trickling as it danced by distantly.
Then I passed a group of cows close to the water and called out “Bonjour!”. I even sung them a little song but they were so uninterested that they didn’t even stir. Lazy cows.
Onwards I strolled until finally I couldn’t see the water for trees. I leapt over a bramble covered wall into a grassed corridor to try and reconnect with the sound of the water. The bubbling sound returned and I was closer than ever to the stream. The grass was awash with morning dew and as I tend to hike in flip-flops, my toes were in heaven.
At last I was actually walking along the water’s edge and happy and flowing along with a big smile on my face until suddenly the entire pathway ahead was blocked by stinging nettles and brambles. I tried to march on but my toes soon said no as the stinging started.
Back on the road and unable to distinguish between the sound of stream and the sewers I waited for nature to help. It came in the form of butterflies. I just followed them and trusted that they would lead me to the source of this much forgotten stream. They bought me to a large gate, which of course I opened with great difficulty. I would have climbed it but I was weighed down carrying all my cards and equipment to create a reading if I could find the source of the water. Bingo. I could hear it but not see it.
I knew that this twin tree was the marker point of the source and so I gentle asked the tree to help me locate the sacred source it was protecting. Deep beneath the undergrowth was this rocky fissure from where the source of the water emerged. I had to carefully pull aside the thorny curtains to witness the magic. The photo doesn’t do justice to the gentle magic at all but i needed to be able to show you the spot.
I sat down and chatted with the tree and the water spirits before cracking out the cards and creating a reading. The stream was once a mighty river that gushed and roared and powered watermills as it danced down to the sea. It still runs into the bay but very quietly and softly now.
Taking the high moral ground
Monday I woke early and set off along the cliff paths to the nearest town to go shopping. It was over 10km away which is not far and would be a joyful stroll in the countryside. I hadn’t considered the endless steps though up and down the many valleys that spilled out into the sea along Europe’s highest cliffs. It felt like 100km and took me 5 hours.
I felt very much like a smuggler weaving the high costal paths feeling the energy of custom officers hiding out to stay one step ahead of the lawbreakers. Struggling with the smuggling that abounds most coastal pathways I was sensing the standoffs and battles as bodies were hurled from the clifftops onto the jagged rocks below. The views were amazing though, when I could bring myself to look.
There were the ruins of stone dwelling high above the sea nestling perilously close to the edges of cliff. Nevermind nightmares I would struggle to fall asleep incase the wind blew the entire building into the sea.
There were tiny hamlets of a handful of houses and derelict barns everywhere. Then turning down a country path I stumbled on the tobacco hole where smugglers hid their wares or that’s what I thought after the energies along the cliff tops but it was where tobacco was stored in the summer to keep it from drying out in the heat.
The roads grew less and less paved as I continued on towards the town. They went from open dirt tracks, to slippery wet narrow pathways just wide enough for a small tractor to leave giant tyre tracks in the muddy sides. This dark hidden desolate track grew steeper and steeper in its descent.
Then as I reached the bottom the road turned a corner and it was deep, thick, wet mud!
But I found a way to get round all the obstacles as I was being followed everywhere I walked in this magical place by a host of butterflies like confetti at a pixie wedding. I arrived in the town to be greeted with this most splendid road sign.
I was in bliss. A brisk half a day trot along the most splendid clifftops and my destination was the weirdest and most suspicious vending machine I’ve ever seen. Three minute pizzas!
Yes, yes you’ve finally got to the bit you wanted…
Pick a Dragon
So this week I asking the sea to answer the fun question of what’s your Akashic purpose?