SACRED SCOTLAND [3]: THE ISLE OF LEWIS
A Representation In A Painting, Of How I Remember The Eshcol Guesthouse, in Breasclete.
Arriving In Breasclete
We arrived at the port of Lewis called Stornoway. From there Jamie drove us through miles and miles of denuded valleys sweeping into low broad plains without trees and marked by lochs. I imagined summer mists and thicker fogs crept in from the sea to covers miles of fields of peat and moorland. I was disturbed by the complete absence of trees. The landscape had been completely denuded. It was lifeless. The group loved what they saw, but all I could see, was the emptiness of a land turned barren, ravaged and ripped threadbare of every tree, shrub, thistle and animal. In my soul I was utterly devastated, so much so, that I went into shock and grieving, unable to speak. It was very early in the evening that we arrived at our accomodation, The Eshcol Guesthouse, in a small town called Breasclete. It was in this tiny town that a peace came upon me. It was as though nothing moved accept the sun and shadow.
The Lookers And The Cat
I dumped my suitcase in my room and was in the carpark. The clear blue sky had turned a shade darker, but it was subtle, a characteristic of one of the long northern twilights, whereupon the land devoid of trees and empty of birds, seemed to cloak itself into a state of even deeper stillness. Before the sun had left the sky, I saw a light on the building next door turn on and off. It may have been a touch light, but there was no one there. Next, I looked to my right up and I saw a white van parked behind a wall. The way in which the van was positioned, allowed the familiar cat, that seemed to be following me, to be seen once more. I then turned back to the building, to see that another light had started to turn on and off, so that both lights worked in unison. I walked over to the only other car in the carpark and saw the sticker: Lookers. These were angels. It felt like my angels were alerting me to the fact, that I was being watched by angels, who I did not know. This was about angels. Different country, different angels. Angels everywhere. That was fine by me.
The Callandish Standing Stones
I Took Every Opportunity, To Practice My Mediumship, By Channelling Information About The Stones And Surrounding Landscape.
We spent almost three days on the Isle of Lewis driving around and looking at the standing stones. They included: Callanish I [Clachan Chalanais], Callanish II [Cnoc Ceann à Gharaidh] and Callanish III [Cnoc Filibhir Bheag] megalithic stone circles.
Jamie introduced the group to a local expert on the stones named Margaret. She had been studying the stones for years and had dseveloped her own theories on how and why they were erected from what appeared to be a feminist perspective. I wasn't the mother earth goddess type, but I found Margaret's dedication and passion for the formations inspiring and listened with interest. She seemed to be a kind of genius.
 
Jamie's Face Appeared Mottled Grey In Several Photos [Left] And Was Totally Grey, In A Place Near The Stones, Where I Was Told Not To Go [Right]. It Was So Noticeable, As To Strike Me As Being Odd.
Jamie was able to get drunk and stoned at the local pub and I did not feel that the island, largely devoid of visible people, warranted enough traffic for this to be a danger to the group, so I was alot more relaxed. We spent our time on Lewis visiting various stones and circles on the island, and I took every opportunity to pick up on many impressions at the sites, particularly the comings and goings of ancient people, where the paths between the stones seemed to be a place of pilgrimage. The noted that the stones did have their own energy and that their positioning in relation to the elements appeared to be deliberate. While visting these sites in Scotland I had been shown these energy vortexes, interdimensional slips, travelling holy men and ancient spiritual pilgrims etc. But I had also seen death, sacrifice and at one site, group sex.
On the second day of exploring, I found another gift. It was a few beads on the end of a thread. I was told to dowse with it, so I took the opportunity to ask even more questions about the place, such as what direction the people had walked from site to site, and was answered as the beads and cord moved with a life of their own. It was only months later, that I noticed that tiny orbs were in the photos. Had they been responsible for moving the beads or was this simply a play of photographic light? The dowser disappeared once I reached had The Calladish Standing Stones [I]. I scanned every inch of ground, but was unable to find it. This had disappointed me, but it had still felt fantastic to receive these gifts from spirits who cared for and humoured us.
 
Divination And Light Orbs At The Stones [left]. Margaret And The Group With Stones [right].
While on Lewis we went to visit some local artists on the Isle of Harris. The artists we visited were lovely people, but as we entered their shed to view the sculptures that the one of the artists had created, the work turned very dark. He had been sculpting a series of blue creatures that he refered to as faeries. But to me, they looked like something African or like Gollum. I could not stand to be in that shed for very long and prefered the company of the dogs. They were friendly and welcoming making everyone in the group afternoon tea, as we purchased and discussed their art, which included photography of many sacred sites, inspired by pagan celtic mythology.
Roughing Up The Dogs Of The Local Artists Who Had Both Jumped Onto A Wooden Bench To Greet Me.
A Ferry From Tarbert To Skye
It was hard to leave Margaret and the standing stones behind on Lewis. She was such a nice woman and she was so knowledgable and passionate about the stones. But it was time to go and so Jamie drove us to Tarbert on The Isle of Harris where we would catch the ferry to Uig on The Isle of Skye. I was staring at the wharf as the ship came in when suddenly something completely unexpected happened. As the large ocean ferry had passed between the pylons on the jetty, the lettering that was featured on the side of the ferry, appeared intermittently between the pylons, so that each letter made up a word and then a phrase. In this instance, what I saw slowly and clearly spelt out in this way was: BRING THE BRIDES. I turned to Denise saying, "Oh my God! Did you see that?!" She hadn't, as she was busy taking her photos. What I had seen was Mackenzie's response, to a group of us going to Greyfriars in Edinburgh, at the conclusion of the trip. He must have heard us talking about it. It amazed me, that he was able to manipulate the lettering and pylons.
I mentioned this to Patricia once we were on board the ship and she said, "Well I'm not going!" She seemed to be afraid. I began to think that it wasn't a wise idea for these women to accompany me back there afterall. But Denise wanted to go and do some healing work at the tomb. She felt that all he needed was love. "Okay," I said. "But I have read that a Minister actually died, after he tried to exorcise the place."
Tarbert, The Isle Of Harris, Scotland. |
