Fellowship of Isis Liturgy
By
Olivia Robertson
Athena - Arcadian Awakening
Alchemical Rite
9. Glastonbury: Drawing Aside the Veil
Part II. The Revelation: The Mystical Isle of Avalon
““Where your heart is, there is your Home””
Visitants:
Path Guide: Elaine
Helper: Aiden
Oracle: Deirdre of the Visions
All are Priesthood of Alchemy
In a Ruined Chapel in Glastonbury
The Alchemical Participants
Are Assembled
Temple of Arts and Alchemy
The Chapel looks glorious with silken banners painted by members, showing Celtic Goddesses and Gods, and the air is rich with incense. Thirteen Candles are lighted. In the North, in a shadowed recess, lies DEIRDRE OF THE VISIONS in trance. She is covered with a misty veil. AIDEN is in full robes with high mitre of MANAANAN of the OCEANS.
Aiden: “I invoke the God Manannan Mac Lir, Son of Lir of Space, Deity of the Mighty Oceans and All Waters, right down to the smallest tear-drop shed by a little monkey in fear of vivisection in a laboratory.”
Elaine (robed in the violet and blue of the Morrigan): “In the sacred Name of the Morrigan, Maiden, Queen, Cailleach, the Widow, I pray for the Oracle of An Cailleach, She Who Weeps. I pray for the lost, the lonely, and the abused.”
ORACLE of AN CAILLEACH, THE WISE ONE
“Rather should you pray for the abusers! For every small child tormented by the stupidity and egotism of elders is blessed in the Spirit Realm. Each victim is welcomed by the Sidhe of earth, air, fire and water, and by those humans who have longed for children and yet been denied them on earth.
But the abusers find themselves once more bound to Manannan’s Wheel of fatal cause and effect. In the circling of the zodiac, all that has been done for good or evil bears fruit in many lives of lost souls, either on earth, or in other planets. It is they who need help.
In the revolving spiral of time and space, I manifest as Youth and Creator and Wise Woman. And so does my Consort Manannan. To attain the Great Awakening which all seek, first blindly, then with passion, you need to place yourself in the centre of the Wheel of your Destiny. Then you will rise above the waste land of cruelty and stupidity and see that each being on earth has chosen an individual path. Finally each being attains the Centre of Reality that seems so far ***** and yet is under your own feet!”
Aiden: “We give thanks to the Goddess An Cailleach for Her Wisdom.”
Elaine (to Gwenyth Vivienne): “I shall be your Guide in this mystical Labyrinth of the Wheel if you accept me. If so, tell me what you truly desire!
Gwenyth Vivienne: “I have a life-long nostalgia for the lost island of Avalon for its charming inhabitants, who do not show themselves to me. I would give my life to reach the Land of Heart’s Desire.”
Gwenyth Vivienne is led to a couch before a lighted altar. She is already half in trance and is told to keep enough consciousness to give the Company her report.
TRANCE JOURNEY
Gwenyth Vivienne: “This is so beautiful! At last I have Vision. It is just what I have always dreamed of. My hair hangs down and I am wearing a robe of blue that is fluttering in a soft breeze. Oh, I could rest here! Perfect youths and maidens are in the distance, like a Pre-Raphaelite painting – so that is what artists saw in visions! And now I can see. They are floating on a shining river in a boat – there are other boats in the distance and to my joy they are sailing towards a mysterious island half hidden by mist.
A small group beckons me to a gilded boat with purple perfumed sails. Usually I don’t like bank holiday crowds with jolly people showing their teeth in silly laughter. I like these people. It must be the future, when everyone will be cultivated and have perfect bodies – no obesity. They have a sweet seriousness and can read my thought.
“Come with us, Vivienne,” says a maiden with long golden plaits. Your time has come.” Suddenly I feel doubtful. Shall I go or stay and have a well-earned rest?
I know that if I lose this opportunity to travel into the unknown, it will never occur again and I shall live a quiet but uninteresting life. So I get into the boat – it glides swiftly and I become aware of swans flying in a V formation above. I feel vaguely holy, like a Burne-Jones angel, with “Lohengrin” music – yes, I too come from distant lands where shines the Holy Grael – I am getting sleepier and notice we all have reddish hair – why did that girl call me by my second name, Vivienne? Wasn’t she a witch?
I decide not to risk this voyage – I try to get out of the boat – but the maidens hold me with jewelled arms.
As our boat approaches the lovely beach of the Island, fringed by oak, apple and thorn trees – there is a sudden gale that bends the trees. I find I am whirled below into the sea and find I am drowning. Frantically I reach for help but my hand is caught in a tangle of red hair. I drag myself free – it is only seaweed – and find I am sinking into an underground cave. So here I shall find the Well of the Mysteries. I surrender myself with faith.
I have never been so shocked! I am not in the depths of the mystical Isle of Avalon. This is not sacred at all. I am precipitated into the dinner-party which I had rejected after my Grael vision. The scientists and writers are seated around an oak dinner-table with place-mats. On the walls are oil paintings of distinguished persons. “So here is our latest Avalonian Dreamer,” says a clever looking man with a beard.
An elderly woman in the robe of a University Professor looks me up and down and says: “She has not had the time to change into her latest black model gown. But she still wears her opal earrings. One would expect that.”
A plump lady with red hair takes off her shawl and puts it round me. “Don’t mind them,” she says in a warm voice. You know they like holding forth on metaphysics, and you enjoy listening to them. A perfect arrangement.”
To my intense relief my own Doctor – the one who told me to find the Well speaks. But my heart sinks at his words. “She did not weep for the old lady,” he says, “but for herself. Her overwhelming guilt was to be exposed. We see now why the word “charity” was dropped in favour of “Care.” They’ll have to find another word now. “Care” means cruel.”
I burst out: “You are as bad. Why don’t you talk to me and not about me while I stand here?”
“Was this not your method?” asks the Doctor. “You were the Dominant and “the patient” was the Subject.”
Despite myself I begin to be interested. “You can apply this Dominant and Subject to empires and states.” I say. “And to families… babies are blocked by the dominant culture, and are blocked into submission. As humans we have power of life and death over our “pets”. Humans are the tyrants of all nature.”
Again this strange swirling motion overcomes me, as if a mighty wind is tearing across the dinner-party. “I won’t stay here and endure bullying,” I say, “even if you rule the Establishment with your power.”
I am struck by Lightening. White light strikes my forehead – I have a star in my head. The dizzy swirling slows down and I am above the earth. In the centre is a hill and round it a strange landscape is rotating. I find the Doctor is standing by me. This time he is not in a dinner-jacket but wears a white Druid robe. He says “Many call me Merlin. I have many names on many planets. I meet the pilgrims at the Threshold when they dare attain a wider consciousness.”
I ask: “What is this landscape that I see below us?” Merlin says: “You see around us the true pattern of space and time, ever changing with the pulse of life. Here is the real Glastonbury with its Michael’s Mount. Around is the pattern of the land going back through the ages – from iron to space age. What I wish to show you is the path of human revolution and the destiny which is already there in divine reality. Now your heart centre is awakened, you need to beware of obsession, which can delay your Awakening.”
“What obsession?” I ask. “Tell me and I will avoid it.” Merlin laughs. “Ah – if it were only that easy, all suffering and evil would be seen for what it is – self delusion, created by ourselves. For instance, I will show you pictures of this land and see if you are in danger of identifying with the transient and so losing eternity.”
I find myself alone in a vast weeping crowd. We are at the foot of the Tor. The people look pretty poor with shabby home-made clothes and I notice their bad teeth. Why are they weeping? Then more important people arrive on horseback or carriages. They have a feeling of power and the people shrink away from them. I am about to witness an execution. A quiet man is taken forward and I watch his death after such horrible torture that I shut my eyes. I know who he is – the Abbot of Glastonbury. I keep telling myself this is only history. I feel profound sorrow.
The scene changes, but the story is the same. I see primitive people offering human sacrifice to the Gods. The Gods look on. The human indifference to suffering I witness in later centuries, in their acceptance of the slave trade by otherwise kindly families who have decided that they can do nothing to stop it, in fear of losing their livelihoods if they speak out. And I think: “I always liked those I took to be good natured, kindly people, but now I despise them. They won’t jeopardise their comfortable lives by intervening and so angering their neighbours.”
Two centuries later I see a city being bombed. I know it is Bristol. Its centre is flattened out. People, animals and buildings are reduced to dust. I recognise the same Gods and Goddesses as before, calmly looking on. And I begin to see the connection. As we sow, so do we reap. This is the Law. If the Deities were to intervene, they would also be Dominants ruling over human subjection.
Then to the dying wailing of an air-raid siren, I find I am whirling through the labyrinth of time and space again – back to Merlin and the hilltop. “You have passed the Test,” he says. “You have faced the truth. The Gods only intervene when inspired by the Divine Spirit. Although you hate evil, you care for people and animals whether they behave well or badly. You maintain the balance of your work for true Charity through feeling and honesty of mind. Your sense of humour saves your sanity.”
“Why then do I need help from these Alchemists?” I ask. Merlin replies: “Because, although you are balanced, you lack inspiration, the White Dove of the Divine Spirit. Without divinity you are exiled from Eternity. Eternity is not infinite length. It is Now.”
I find I am rising above Avalon and the planet earth and I become aware of our starry galaxy. Through The Tor and all other Sacred Hills on earth are connected with the great channel leading to the spiritual centre of the galaxy.
So what do I truly want? I only want to know how I can help the old woman I neglected. I am back in the dinner-party. Merlin stands by me and the members are collected at a Round Table and on it are glasses and cups, some valuable and some cheap. A tall stately woman addresses me. “This is the Feast of the Gods,” she said “and all may partake.” I look round. Here is Manannan and Grainne, and Cerridwen and Taliesin – and I recognise famous artists and poets, and those who are great but unknown to fame.
“Your true prayer is heard,” says the Lady, and she rises into celestial heights, surrounded by the stars. “I am the old woman in the bed, An Cailleach, She Who Weeps. Give Me to drink of the Grael, and you will forgive yourself.” She lifts her right arm and it becomes the withered arm of the old woman. I am once more in the Care Home. She is reaching towards the cup. I know what to do. I reach for the cup and I pick out the teabag, now sodden with my tears. I gently ease the old lady back onto the pillow and I squeeze the strong tea upon her dry lips. She smiles and then she falls asleep.”
Gwenyth Vivienne slowly returns from trance. The lines of care on her face have vanished. She smiles and joins in the thanks to the deities. The Company share reports. Gwenyth says: "I have found that She who weeps also smiles."
Note: These Rites may be used for meetings of the Muses Symposium and the Arcadians.
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