Origins Odyssey: Travel Blog#1 - 2010 (Spanish Version)
Origins Odyssey: Travel Blog#2 - 2010 (Spanish Version)
Origins Odyssey: Travel Blog#3 - 2010 (Spanish Version)
Origins Odyssey: Travel Blog#4 - 2010-11 (Spanish Version)
Origins Odyssey: Travel Blog#1 - 2010
I open this blog with a favorite song of mine -
from “Paint Your Wagon”, ‘sung’ by Lee Marvin:
I was born under a wandrin' star
I was born under a wandrin' star
I was born under a wandrin' star
Wheels are made for rolling, mules are made to pack
I've never seen a sight that didn't look better looking back
I was born under a wandrin' star
Life can make you prisoner and the plains can bake you dry
Snow can burn your eyes, but only people make you cry
Home is made for coming from, for dreams of going to
Which with any luck will never come true
I was born under a wandrin' star
I was born under a wandrin' star
Do I know where hell is, hell is in hello
Heaven is goodbye forever, its time for me to go
I was born under a wandrin' star
A wandrin' wandrin' star
(Life can make you prisoner and the plains can bake you dry)
(Snow can burn your eyes, but only people make you cry)
(Home is made for coming from, for dreams of going to)
(Which with any luck will never come true)
(I was born under a wandrin' star)
(I was born under a wandrin' star)
When I get to heaven, tie me to a tree
For I'll begin to roam and soon you'll know where I will be
I was born under a wandrin' star
A wandrin' wandrin' star...
(Here’s the original on YouTube:
I was born under a wandering star)
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Introduction Friends,
apologies for my way overdue travel blog. Life has been hectic on the road!
This blog represents a departure from my more formal type of writing that many
of you may be used to in the newsletters I send out regularly. It will be a
mixture of personal reflections and anecdotes, astro-diary, travel
observations, occult insights, poetry, fantasy – you name it!
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June 21, 2010 Britain - winter solstice. We had hoped to be at
Stonehenge but did not relish the thought of thousands of people crammed onto
the site, not to mention parking nightmares and noise! So a much better
alternative was at Chalice Well, Glastonbury, participating in a meditation
with a couple of hundred people, right on the time that the Sun entered Cancer.
(See Newsletter)
The afternoon saw
us head toward North Devon to pick up the motorhome that a deposit was lodged
on a few days previously. A stop at the supermarket on the way, I was voicing
last minute doubts about the plunge of all resources into the project. Exiting
the carpark in deep conversation about this and distracted in an unfamiliar
environment - I forgot to put my ticket in the machine to allow us out, THEN
drove straight through the ticket barrier!
Lucky it was only plastic! It raised itself up while I returned to the ticket
machine on foot, red-faced, under the glare of disapproving shoppers. Renata
did not say anything, but her face said it all, something like, 'you bloody
idiot'! I quipped somewhat lamely that this was all symbolic of me breaking
through my barriers with transiting Saturn on my Moon and transiting Uranus
opposite. I was going with Uranus! We get to the destination and finalised the
papers, everything flowed so well and the motorhome was just right for the
right price - we return to base.
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June
22, 2010 We visit some new crop circles (See Newsletter), take plenty of
photos and video. We are lucky to have found some really fresh ones still in
good condition and not too trampled by visitors. June 24, 2010. Renata leaves
for Europe for two weeks to attend family matters and a wedding for her son. I
leave our home base on the farm in Dorset and hit the road.
Later I am browsing in one of Glastonbury’s great esoteric bookstores and who
should walk in to pick up some books on Western magic, but Nicholas Cage. (He
has a place in Bath apparently.) I turned around and said, goodness me Nick,
just what were you thinking in that movie you made recently about a cop in New
Orleans? We could not work out whether it was a comedy or just completely nuts,
the latter which we settled for and voted it one of the worst movies ever! (Actually,
I just thought it, I chose to respect his space!) He followed up with a movie called
The Sorcerer and the Apprentice and so must have had his appetite piqued for a
little more.
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June
25, 2010 First day on the road and solo, thinking of a thousand reasons why this trip is
not going to work using the motorhome! Bit of undermining doubt from Saturn
perhaps. This is the last hit of my transiting Saturn conjunct my Moon over
several months – and it is not always a pleasant transit! It really puts
everything in front of you relating to the Dweller (Yes I do have one!) - and that is not a
flattering thing to behold! All your crystallised
patterns - usually reflected back to you from your nearest and dearest
co-workers and family! The Moon is also the dwelling and the past, so
the motorhome probably hearkens back to my days as a wanderer, with tent and goats out
in the desert.
Saturn/Moon also brings up doubts and fears, can be emotionally isolating and
physical health like teeth (Saturn) need to be attended to. I had to have a front tooth out and start a new screw-in. My dentist in Costa Rica is my karmic
agent who gives me pain in the palate, but the wallet is where it really stings!
No, not really, Costa Rica is a ‘dental destination’ that it is much cheaper
than Australia or the USA. (Hello John! His team do great work.)
___________________________________
Late June 2010 So I head off solo to Tintagel, that mystical part of
ancient Cornwall, where legends abound of giants, kings and pirates. (Aarrgghh
me hearties!) The
weather was sensational for the first four weeks in Britain, so hot that I had
to watch for sunburn! Clear skies and calm seas around Cornwall, and I even made
it into the water for a swim, though it was still a very chilly 13 degrees C.
Coming
from Australia, it was a bit of a laugh to see the local surf scene on the
English south west coast. Hundreds of people driving around in their trendy
refurbished Kombis or out in the water on expensive surfboards - and the
waves rolling in at a full six inches! Well I am sure the Irish Sea dishes up a
decent swell now and again.
The
coast of Cornwall, indeed the whole west coast of Britain, is ruggedly beautiful
and very, very ancient. Some of the oldest rocks in the world are here, and it
is a great curiosity for many geological students. Hence the fact that this
land was once a part of ancient Lemuria. As the land of Britain has been
‘raised and lowered four times’ (HPB), it has not only partaken of the Lemurian
evolution but also the Atlantean, of which most of its current monuments and
relics are testament.
The most ancient and original part of Lemuria started as a prolongation of land
that gradually crept down from the north pole into the Atlantic Ocean. Upon
that piece of land the first groups of ‘individualised’ humans gathered.
Eventually the land crept down through the whole Atlantic, around what we now
call South Africa and up to southern India in a horse-shoe shape. Of course the
greatest part of Lemuria spanned from somewhere near Madagascar in the west to
Easter Island, Hawaii and the Americas in the east. However, the first part of
Atlantis formed just on and near where the first part of Lemuria formed – in
the Atlantic from Britain westward.
Merlin’s Cave, Tintagel, Cornwall
Tintagel is well
known for its association with Merlin and King Arthur, indeed, Merlin’s Cave
lies under one of the tottering cliffs upon the coast. Movies have been shot
here and plenty of pirates no doubt!; many writers and creative people have
been attracted to the area for centuries. "The place is pre-eminently the region
of dream and mystery" wrote the great Victorian novelist and poet Thomas
Hardy in 1870, describing his first experience of Cornwall. The magic that permeates
the landscape is related in the most immediate sense to the Celtic race, yet
more anciently to the Atlanteans. The land that is now called Britain was
adjacent to and part of old Atlantis, as was Ireland.
The Celtic race has an unique relationship to Atlantis because they are the
fourth subrace of the Fifth Rootrace (5.4) and through the ‘four’ symbolism,
connect to the Fourth Rootrace Atlantis. The red hair of celtic people is also an
heirloom of Atlantis. I was struck by the higher than usual amount of redheads
that I saw, the further north into Britain I went. Genesis chapter 25 talks of ‘two nations’ being in Rebekah’s womb. Esau is born
‘red and hairy’, representing the
race which stands between the Fourth and the Fifth - the Atlantean and the
Aryan.
So
much of the magic, ritual, astrology and astronomy of the Celts comes from the old
Atantean traditions. And like the Atlanteans, they are very war-like,
connecting again to the four, the fourth ray of harmony through conflict.
Legends
of giants abound in this region. There is a tale about a giant (The Wrath of
Portreath), that
lived in a large cavern nearby, and often waded out to ravage passing ships of
their live cargo, striding back through the ocean with a few cows hanging from
his belt and gorging himself on live sailors!
Well thats a pretty tall giant and maybe an even taller tale, yet there are
many other more believable stories of giants in the region. (We were all giants
in earlier incarnations in those previous civilisations of Lemuria and Atlantis
- hard to imagine sometimes with all the layers of cultural conditioning that
we all accumulate.) The giants reached their apotheosis in the Atlantean period,
in terms of sheer physical strength and beauty (according to HPB), as well as a
deep knowldedge of magic, sorcery and astrology.
Many of them used this power selfishly and were destroyed accordingly, yet
their legacy lives on throughout the British Isles. Indeed, the Giant of
Tregoney was an enormous skeleton found in a casket that measured 11’ 3”. Upon
opening the casket, the skeleton crumbled to dust, but one tooth was found
measuring 2.5”!
Another story of a giant found in Cumberland, England in the middle ages. "The said
giant was buried four yards deep in the ground, which is now a corn field. He
was four yards and a half long, and was in complete armour; his sword and
battle-axe lying by him....his teeth were six inches long, and two inches
broad...."
Even King Arthur, who was reputedly buried at Glastonbury Abbey, was said to
have been nine feet tall, based upon bones that were disinterred there in the
eleventh century and since lost. These are just a few of hundreds of accounts
that can be found strewn through British history. Even these past few
hundred years in Britain there are many well documented gigantic humans (male
and female) that have been recorded between 7’2” and 8’4”, no doubt all
‘throwbacks’.
There are hundreds of stories of giants like this from all over the globe in all traditions, whether it be native north or south American Indians,
Scandinavian mythology or the Asian tradition.
As usually mentioned in my newsletters, Humanity have been shrinking in size
from the enormous giants of Atlantean and Lemurian times (30’+), requiring
millions of years to do so of course, something that modern science generally does
not allow for human beings but does for reptiles and animals.
There
are many arguments about whether Arthur and Merlin lived at all, it is quite
probable that they did, though the time-span could be much longer than around the
500 AD period. The stories could be tens of thousands of years old. Both
characters are the archetypes of the first ray of Will-Power (Arthur, king) and
the seventh ray of Ceremonial Magic (Merlin). They also have close correspondences,
and may have even been, previous incarnations of the Masters Morya and Rocozci
respectively.
Me ol’ mate Merlin!
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Life on the Road
During
the summer break holiday season in Britain there are sixty-odd million people swarming
around a country about as big as New South Wales in Australia! Caravans,
motorhomes, packed freeways and caravan parks are the order of the day. At
least its relatively warm though, I would not want to be doing this trip
in winter. Relatively being the operative word in Britain, where the
rain does seem to have the upper hand, especially in Wales and Scotland.
Currently it is August and I have several layers on.
I am not unfamiliar with this kind of life, having owned several campers in
Australia and New Zealand over the years, but it can be an arduous lifestyle
nevertheless. People say that it must be marvellous to do this kind of thing,
and it certainly has its moments, but it can also be quite stressful. The ideal
is not always that real! There is always traffic to deal with, narrow country
lanes and a wide motorhome, but the most difficult is always finding somewhere
to sleep.
Caravan parks in the UK cost about £20 per night on an average in high season,
which can add up to quite alot per week – about US$240 on top of fuel and
living expenses, which kind of defeats the purpose of having a motorhome! You
cannot just pull up to some beautiful view and camp for the night on some
magical beach for free, although in some places you can – moreso the further
you head north away from England. Police and rangers will move you on, like a
recent encounter I had with a constable in Scotland who was the spitting image
of ‘Smiffy’ on The Bill TV show.
Practically gone are the good old days of being able to camp anywhere by a nice
river, light a fire and make dinner – without a permit and paying for the
privilege by sharing it with a few hundred others! This seems to be a universal
theme now, though it is easier in some parts of Europe I believe. A gypsy
lifestyle will see you being moved on like the gypsies always have been historically.
This is somewhat of a paradox as more and more people are choosing to spend
their retirement on a travel home of some sort – yet most plan to do it via caravan
parks and one smooth highway to the next caravan park.
Britain is ruled by Gemini at the soul level, so it is characterised by a great
restlessness and curiosity that results in much movement and travel – around
the globe, let alone locally.
So if you want to stay on budget, then alternatives to caravan parks must be
found, like: some supermarket carparks (yechh!), lay-bys on the highway (very
noisy and windy from trucks), discreetly behind some trees, or even right
outside someone’s house in a back street suburb if you are too tired and just
want to sleep! Its all a bit of a game, ‘ducking and diving’, as a friend of
mine from Manchester describes life; so when you do stay at a caravan park to
use their facilities, its like a night at the Hilton!
Yet you have to be careful. I noticed from my travels in New Zealand and
Australia, that some places need ‘sussing out’ before you make a decision to
camp, not just from the obvious outer safety point of view. I am talking more
about ‘astral safety’. There are places that you just should not stay as the
energies are very ‘grungy’ from whatever has transpired there recently or more
anciently. Sometimes one cannot tell until a night has been spent there and it
has revealed itself to you via your dreams. The experience can vary from one of
ancient suffering and pain, to that of great healing from the local devas!
One night just after the trip started in Britain, I was awoken suddenly from a sound slumber
at 2.30 am in the morning by a loud thump on the side of the motorhome, rocking
it from side to side. At first I could not really think straight as I was still
half asleep. I was actually trying to figure out where I was, this happens
quite alot when I am traveling. Am I in Peru, Phoenix or Britain?
Ah yes, I am
in Britain and they have badgers here, but they stay on the ground and in
burrows, like wombats. In Australia I was used to possums sometimes jumping on
the roof. I had chosen a large fairground to stay that night, where there was
one other camper and a truck parked; it was a smallish English country town. So
I am trying to find my torch for the next ten minutes and then the car starts
rocking again – someone is trying to get in the front door of the van!
I peer out between the curtains in the front cab and see a young guy in a
hoodie shaking the door handle. I do not know if he is armed but is obviously
trying a spontaneous break and enter using the element of surprise. I summon up
my deepest, scariest voice and tell him to clear off, but it comes out more as
a sleepy slur! He is still persisting at the door, so I get intuitive: with
my head peering into the cab between the curtains, I shine the torch beneath my
chin up into my face, rolling my eyes back, and it worked – he took off like a
scared rabbit! Needless to say I did not get much sleep for the rest of the
night and had a rather seedy following day.
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Wales
July I headed toward south Wales, pausing at a roadside stopover for a
coffee and see several redhead people - they seem to be thicker on the ground
here than further south! One young guy had a blazing orange mane of fiery long
locks down his back as if to say, 'deal with it, I am Celtic!'
I find my way to Pontypridd, home of the famous ‘rocking stone’ and various
stone circles. Its also birthplace to that other rocker, Tom Jones; I imagine
hearing strains of the ‘green green grass of home’ as I drive through the town.
(Interesting to note that the wandering goat ‘ever seeks the green’, the soul –
the real home.)
Pontypridd rocking stone and circle, Wales.
Well
the stone no longer rocks due to tourists jumping around on top over many
years, but the standing stone circle speaks of some serious sacred rituals that
undoubtedly took place here long ago. Blavatsky tells us that the ancient
builders set these gigantic stones up to respond to the slightest touch with just
a finger – or even the voice – moving a stone of several tons. Pontypridd was a
very moody place, with dark clouds over the mountains one moment, squalls of
rain and glorious sunshine the next; it certainly reflects the fourth ray again
- the highs and lows, the extremes or polar opposites. I had a strong somewhat
mystical attraction to the place and hung around for several nights in deep
reflection.
The Welsh, by the way, are a very warm people, though like the rest of the
world, quite multicultural. Nevertheless, one local tourist place I noted had
some ‘do’s and ‘don’ts’ for the Welsh, one of which is, 'do not get too friendly
with the English!'
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In the spirit of Dylan Thomas, I leave you with one of my recent poems, emerging
from the last hit of transiting Pluto square my Moon some months ago:
I die a thousand deaths
upon the altar of my illusions
until the Real Life
hunts me down
cornering its quarry
now divested of its burdens
surrendering
to the friendly foe...
...free-falling
the endless abyss
like a sky-diver in the night
who cannot remember
whether he packed his chute
as the bottomless deep
rushes up relentless
requiring
relinquishment and release.
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The next blog will bring us up to date, covering Iona and The Orkneys in
Scotland – as well as a little bit on Findhorn.
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