Iona, Stonehenge, Glastonbury, Tintagel and Shapwick, Magical Places

I've been busy all week writing about Magical Places for the paranormal_workshop group. The places are magical to me and may be to some of you who have visited the Holy Isle, Iona, on the west coast of Scotland. It's history as a Christian community stretches back to approximately 560 AD when an Irish monk, Colum Cille arrived with a group of monks to found a monastery and spread Christianity to the heathen Scots but they had to rid the island of sun worshipers, Druids and the like. Colum Cille became Saint Columba and his work flourished. After his death the Vikings raided the island, murdering and pillaging but eventually the island became peaceful and once again, a small monastery flourished and grew. In the fifteenth century a group of Augustinian nuns found a nunnery on the island. The ruins are there. A wonderfully peaceful place to sit and think.

Google, Iona and after you've visited the great abbey click on Nunnery. A neat piece of software will take you over the ruin. Stop at a wall for a few minutes. I sat there on a summery day on our last visit. Magical.

My imaginary journey turned south to Wessex, the ancient kingdom. My first stop was at Stonehenge. Always a breathtaking moment. In his book, Stonehenge decoded Gerald S. Hawkins, writes. "In all the world there is nothing quite like the gaunt ruin which Henry James said 'stands as lonely in history as it does on the great plain.' Immense and still, it seems beyond man, beyond mortality." As I stood gazing at that gaunt ruin I could sense its strength. Stonehenge is surely a man-made miracle. Legends and myths surround it but it wasn't the wave of Merlin's hand that built the monument it was the vision of the men who studied the heavens and precisely designed the gigantic stones in a great circle. For worship? Sacrifice? For divining the right time to sow? The right time to mow? To announce an eclipse? The silent builders left no written record only their monument for posterity to wander at.

We journeyed to Glastonbury and it's magnificent ruin and the stories of King Arthur linked to the site. He and his queen are allegedly buried there. Once upon a time Glastonbury Abbey was one of the richest abbey's in the kingdom but it suffered the fate of all abbeys and convents when Henry VIII wanted a divorce to marry a new love and the Pope would not grand his wish. So Henry, (how pleasant to be a powerful, popular king) cut his kingdom adrift from Rome and made himself head of the church in England. He dissolved the abbeys and in kingly fashion, stole (gathered?) the abbeys treasure and made it his own. One after the other the abbeys collapsed. Only ruins remain to remind us of the magnificent buildings and to remember the thousands of worshipers who prayed there. Their spirits linger if we take time to stop and listen.

I think I'll leave stop my journey before embarking on a trip to Tintagel and Shapwick where six ley lines intersect. Those mysterious ley lines fascinated me when I heard about them but I'll write about them another day if readers of my blog are interested.

This is my PR time to promote my books, all published in e-book format by Cerridwen Press. To read excerpts, drop by my web site, www.anitabirt.com

Anita