A few months back I asked D if he'd like to be kidnapped for his birthday. Looking a little wary (possibly because I am either perceived as semi-dangerous or because I play too much with drastic words-- e.g. I once texted my mother that I 'decapitated the fan' and she jumped when reading it the first time), somehow we thought it wouldn't materialise because of many other pressing commitments. Magically, though, things fell into place and that saw me frantically calling up every B&B available in Glastonbury only to be told that all were fully booked. And. . . I managed to book us a yurt eventually. Much to our delight. Because it's been our life-long dream to live in a yurt, mad people that we are.
Even though Glastonbury is known more famously for its muddy music festival, it is also the spiritual hub of the UK. Beyond the many magic and Wicca shops and touristic lures lining the high street of the tiny town, closer inspections into it reveal fascinating facts such as the major intersection of ley lines that account for its energetic properties, labyrinths and two natural springs. Legends it is imbued with include that of Joseph of Arimethea and King Arthur. Being a sucker for the Arthurian Legend, I nevertheless was absolutely psyched. I know what they go about re. scientific skepticism and intellectual skepticism etcetera, but sometimes life is also made more beautiful tempered with some love of beautiful legends and of something transcendental, rather than evolving into obsessive parochialised clinical cynicism. Albert Einstein's words ring through here: “Behind the secrets of nature remains something subtle, intangible, and inexplicable. Veneration for this force beyond anything that we can comprehend is my religion.” (For more beautiful Einstein quotes look here).
Sleeping in the yurt (it had a double bed, mind you) and feeling like some Mongolian Warrior Princess (also another phantastical notion swimming in my head), I was rather amazed to think that 2000 years ago before the Romans drained the sea, our exact location would be. . within the water! We also visited our Mystical Friend Lucia there, and got acquainted with her amazing Psychic Dog a.k.a. Zen Master, discovering that she stays at the foot of the Tor! Of course, to climb hills and do loads of walking necessitated the use of The Gladiators. These photographs were taken in The Abbey, where ruins of the ancient Monastery remained. A beautiful and immensely tranquil vast expanse of land with great trees towering overhead, badger holes and herb gardens, legend has it that King Arthur's tomb was discovered here. The magnificent ruins only spring to mind how human beings, in their quest for power and domination, destroy not only other lives but also great works of art that are replete with history, reminiscent of how the Taliban destroyed the Buddhas of Bamyan. I loved The Abbey so much that ten-meals-a-day-me had to be literally hauled out of it to go for cream tea. Lol. "You don't want SCONES? What is wrong with you??"
crochet-front dress from Bintan resorts; Diva feather earrings and rings; Warehouse cuff; vintage bracelet; Rubi gladiator sandals