(Continuing from Article 1 of The Turning Zone: Learn More)
…My head was swimming…the room was swaying…my stomach was lurching!
We made it up the stairs to our room where I collapsed on the bed and prayed that I wouldn’t be sick again. The landlady had offered to make some sandwiches for us and soon delivered them to our door but mine remained uneaten. I just wanted to go to sleep…Pat just wanted to talk!
I closed my eyes and cursed; symbols were twirling in my mind. I opened my eyes, the symbols were still there rolling around the room like bubbles blown from a bubble machine. Then I realised it was actually only one symbol – a platonic solid- the icosohedron which represents the element of water.
‘Pat?’
Pat was stretched out on her bed munching her sandwiches and wondering if we should make some tea which she thought might make me feel better.
‘Pat, can you see symbols?’ I asked.
‘In the room?’
‘Yes.’
‘Yes, the icosohedron.’
‘That’s the one.’ I said. ‘So, I’m not imagining it?’
As I said in my first article, Pat was an experienced Earth Healer and a gifted psychic. She worked with her own spirit guide who used the generic name of White Eagle. She seemed to take everything in her stride and I felt sure that we had been put together for a reason. Certainly we seemed to work well as a team and shared the same sense of humour. Some mutual friends likened us to a spiritual version of Laurel and Hardy and the Two Ronnies. Personally I found our unique blend of openness to the incredible, enthusiasm for the zany, combined with innate practicality quite refreshing irrespective of celebrity look-alikes. I’m not made for the monastic approach to spiritual expression although I thoroughly enjoy a quiet meditation and a tranquil space to retreat to when time permits.
‘I wonder what it means – why we’re seeing it here, in the room.’ I mused.
‘Portals.’ Stated Pat emphatically. ‘We’ve just been through one.’
‘So?’
‘I’m not sure, but White Eagle says all portals are in the dimension of water.’
‘But we didn’t go through any water.’
‘Not physically, but we crossed the river, didn’t we? And we’re here to work with the waters of the Earth, starting with the well spring at Strata Florida. It’s all tied up with elemental forces. He’s telling me that we had to go through, into the other dimension, to retrieve a symbol to be used at the well, which is another portal.’
‘Is he talking to you now?’
‘Hmm, but he’s not really saying much more than that. I think I ought to make that tea.’
But she made no move towards the tea tray and seemed lost in thought.
After several more minutes had passed, during which a menacing figure dressed all in black appeared amongst the symbols, I broke the silence.
‘Can you see the man in the black cloak?’ I asked.
‘Uh, huh,’ she replied.
‘I don’t like the look of him,’ I volunteered as the etheric figure cast dark thoughts and symbols into the whirlpool of icosahedrons.
‘Nope,’ she agreed, getting up to fill the kettle from the sink in the corner of the room, ‘I think we might have a spot of bother with him.’
She busied herself making the tea whilst i continued to watch the antics of our uninvited guest.
‘No Earl Gray, I’m afraid, just bog standard PG Tips.’ She poured the water into the cups and briefly dunked one tea bag between the two.
‘Of course, you shouldn’t have told them where we going to be,’ she added, passing me the weakest brew I had ever been unfortunate enough to drink- even worse than anything an Italian could have made. Now I love Pat dearly (as I do Italians) but one thing I’m an expert at and she isn’t (neither are Italians) is making tea! I screwed up my face and manfully tried to drink the pale, tasteless liquid. What a waste of a good tea-bag.
‘What do you mean?’ I asked indignantly, beginning to feel less sick as the tea warmed my gut and stomach. ‘Who are ‘them’? And I didn’t tell anyone where we were going.’
‘You shouldn’t have booked this place so early. I never book a B&B until I arrive, that way they don’t know I’m coming.’
‘Who? Who don’t know?’
‘Them – the dark side. Gives them less time to prepare. White Eagle always tells me not to warn them I’m coming and to get out as soon as my work is done.’
If you ever met Pat you might find this talk of nefarious doings by the ‘other’ side being uttered by a woman who, despite her ample figure, flamboyant dress and idiosyncratic behaviour, is the epitome of domestic bon-homie, quite incongruous. Certainly in my early acquaintance with her I had fleetingly wondered if she had escaped from one of those secluded homes for people who had larger than life imaginations. But these doubts had vanished almost as soon as they had appeared for my own guides and other Lightworkers had already opened my mind to this darker aspect of the universe and, of course, our own nature and mind. I decided to take the presence of this dark shaman in our room as a threat and silently summoned the protection of Artemis’ wolves.
‘You didn’t warn me about that when I told you I’d book the B&B.’ I accused.
‘Well, you’ll know next time,’ she beamed. ‘What do you make of it here?’ She asked.
‘I’m not sure. It’s got a strange energy and – ‘
‘Yes?’
‘I can’t explain, but, well there’s something weird about the people here, it’s almost as if they’re, sort of actors in a play. There’s something unreal about them.’
Now who was being fanciful?
‘Yes,’ agreed Pat, working her way into a pair of pink pyjamas, ‘That’s what I feel and there’s lots of psychic stuff going on outside. This is a very spooky site. I don’t think it was chance that you booked in here.’
It was almost a year later that Madeleine sent me information about the site of our hotel revealing that it had once been the location of a stone circle and an ancient sacred place.
I shivered, slipped into my own pyjamas and snuggled under the covers. As I summoned yet more wolves to sleep by my side the dark shaman finally dissolved leaving just the symbols for company.
‘Of course,’ quipped Pat perkily as she turned off the lights, ‘it could just be because they’re Welsh! And please stop calling in all these wolves, there’s hardly any room for me in my own bed!’
Next time: Dawn breaks and with it we almost break a leg as we clamber towards the Strata Forida Well, take a dip in the initiation pit at the ruined Abbey and Pat tumbles into the Glasffrwd river but keeps her drum dry!
