Womb of the Earth (English Pilgrim)

I think of life as the cycle of a tree. Born from a shell, protected and warm, you take your first leap, break your primordial bond and dive, unseeing; you are plunged deep into the beyond you’ve been sensing and craving for some time. You are released. A giant tap root surges through the cold, damp earth searching for the source. Firstly it feels foreign, strange, but after some time spent feeling around you realise there is more to this new life than just the dark, the blind… Your senses tell you to grow. So you bide your time, taking in all the nutrients you can through the blank space around you, drinking in all the newness of the ground, always searching for that promise of betterment. After some time of labour you have created a rich system of streams and tributaries, a great claw grounding you to the earth, clenched and throbbing with life: all waters leading to the great tap root of your first shoot to freedom.

You are ready. You hold your breathe as the first of your green arms crack the surface and reach the warmth and light of the sun. A whole new world is revealed as you push forth and extend yourself into all areas of luxurious life. Your soul rings with happiness and you become one with the beauty all around you. You grasp every chance to better yourself, heighten yourself, mix and mingle with only the most potent of creation, in the best spots of light, glory and popularity.

You are much loved by all those in this new garden, this paradise. You know your place, are accepted and respected, and your every need is taken care of.

So, why would you ever need to go back down into the cold earth?

…perhaps, sometimes, we leave in haste. A little too early, maybe. We aren’t fully prepared for the Light but we run to it anyway, and learn many of its ways as we go along. Perhaps, then, we want to produce flowers, little seedlings and miracles of our own. Yet we find ourselves somehow stinted, unable to progress so freely as we’d wish. So, we decide, the only way to further our creation is to go back to where it all started, to our roots…

My roots are in England, as some of you may know.
For a while now, England and I have shared a love affair of a bitter sweet kind.
I consider myself more European than English. Give me Italy, Spain, or Greece… just please don’t make me stay in England!

Any return to the UK I’ve had in the last few years has been riddled with a certain pain, a certain love and a certain ecstasy. There’s no place like home, for sure, and something about the green hills of my homeland stirs my soul like no other. But I’m no disillusioned fool – English weather and people drain me on the whole. I adore London but I cannot commit to grey skies and shallow conversation. Some rawness has long ago been diluted down there. Don’t get me wrong, I find an absolute sanctity in certain spots, and of course with my family who are very precious to me. But if it wasn’t for those I love, would I even return to the UK at all?

Maybe… maybe not.

I’ve spent the last few months, since returning from Ghana, in Europe, mostly in Spain and quite a long stint in the UK, the longest for years. Those that read my posts often will know that I found my stay in the UK quite difficult at first, but thankfully things changed quite a bit towards the end. My health has improved again, and my aura is back to bright.

When I left the UK, how ever many years ago it was now, I dumped all my worldly belongings into my mother’s office and hit the pavement, not looking back, only forward to the journey. Every-time I have returned since, for Christmas or Easter, family pilgrimage, fundraising, a break, I have ignored the piles of things, committed to the idea of sorting my old life out some other time, and then more-or-less got out of the country as soon as possible, after a few heartfelt goodbyes.

Next minute I’m sat in some foreign land and I wonder if I should have stayed for longer, got things in order a bit. Cleaned my mind and my soul, and perhaps just let go of the past and tried to enjoy myself! I was a happy child. There must be some things I like about the UK…

You see, I think my main problem is that I’m a Sagittarius. We have four long horsey legs for a reason: we’re very good at running away…

Connecting with the nature around, the wildest places, and the ancient, is where I feel most at one with the Emerald Isle.

Along with Avalon, Stonehenge and Avebury are places to marvel, and feel your place in a history so mysterious, shrouded and deeply spiritual you can do nothing but feel the awe. Place your hand on the enormous rocks of your forefathers and feel the Womb of the Earth pulse…

Avebury, known as the Womb of the Earth, seems a fitting place to reconnect to your homeland. It is the largest stone circle in all of Europe. Seeing the silhouette of the Kestrel hovering above the Salisbury Plains by Stonehenge is a symbol to me – the Falcon – the symbol of the beautiful, elegant hunter, so free and agile – has always resonated with me, to the point of obsession, earning me the nickname ‘Kes’ as a kid…

Fly on beautiful creature.

My family and I took ourselves for a sojourn in the ancient New Forest. The sun shone, and the wilderness opened up before me another kind of paradise…

The intricacy and grandeur of England’s architectural masterpieces has always provided a shelter for my soul, and a muse for my eye.

Wandering the cloisters and dark hallways of Canterbury Cathedral after dark is a memory I’ll never forget. Being approached by a cloaked nun and sitting with my back against the ancient stone, catching up with an old pal, is a thing of beauty indeed.

I placed my hand on Britain’s oldest door in Westminster Abbey. Did my best to feel some of that old magic I used to live for as a kid…

But my greatest triumph on this leg of my global pilgrimage has been to return to my old hometown, where I grew up, not flit through for once, but let it all flood back to me…

Re-visiting my old stuff all stashed in cases and on top of each other was like visiting a museum, and I had some ghosts to deal with. But I sorted through everything, finally, gave away most of my books and antiques to friends, and charity, threw away old clothes and no-longer useful trinkets from my past and finally let go of it all… the feeling was so liberating! Like cutting out a canker.

So me and my remaining clothes (some too good to chuck!), my travel rucksack and my antique head bust of David moved in with a good old friend of mine Ben Jakob, who was the man who first taught me how not to rehearse and improvise my way through gigs, those many years ago. He allowed me to use his spare room at his flat by the town square to store a couple of bits, and even David too, who keeps a watchful eye whilst I’m away…

Spending days strolling through familiar places, with my old companions, has been a sort of trip down memory lane and I found myself, yes that’s right, growing some more roots!

Sometimes, even the most difficult of places, needs a second chance.
Finally, home has become a place I can further my art again.

I even managed to get myself in the local paper a few times! First in an exhibition at a local gallery and then for a fundraiser me and my new flatmate put on to raise money for (what I like to call) my orphanage, in Ghana. We did a screening of classically rude and very English film Jeffrey Bernard is Unwell to much success. I can honestly say the contributions and help from other people in the community was overwhelming, and my faith in Western humanity is being slowly restored.

I would love to know how my little Desmond would feel about being in the paper too, draped across my shoulders as he always was…

And, after having spent Easter with the local orthodox community celebrating the return of the Light of the world, I am back in Spain, starting my next big adventure to Africa, and my heart feels content. I can’t deny that I’m feeling quite pleased with myself. Everybody struggles, everybody falls, but what inspires me are stories of those who keep on through the adversity and eventually triumph, rip those chains off, and open the doors to freedom.

England, you’ve put me through my steps in our time together, but I hope now we can call it a truce? I have work to do out here…

Next time… Jx