I asked the wind, what is it you are here for why are you doing this? It said;
to unleash chaos, nature is not tidy or manicured.
Seeds will be earthed and reborn.
Category: Wellbeing
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Spirit of Land,
Spirit of Land, of Nature, of Home
I am called to the in-between spaces in the land of my home. Colloquialisms name this place “the back of beyond”, and “the wylds”. These liminal lands have a language of nature, a creation of sounds to describe the textures. Artists once stayed here to try to capture the mood, such as John Ruskin, Wordsworth, Constable and Turner.
There was a vast vocabulary of Celtic, Norse, and Roman sounding names for what we now, only call hills and waterways. Our mountains rolled off our tongues as pike, peaks and plains, to vales and valleys over the spine, to crags and riggs, across howes and fells. The glacial waterways were meres and tarns, a pow, a dub of “watter” over to becks and brooks, down ghylls with foaming force, to fords to cross riverbeds and streams.
The mood of this land arises at sunrise through misty peaks over craggy edges. The hilltops breathe mizzle to mossy becks and pooling brooks. The water chatters down fell and force into meres where the spirit hovers, not touching, but tiptoeing across the tarns on the wisps of the Helm wind.
This is sacred breath to me.
It is visceral, it sharpens the senses.
It is magical, mystical and musical.
It is transpersonal.
The humidity touches the skin, just like the mist that kisses the meres as kin.
It is the spirit that one can see “up on’t fell” on temperate mornings
and when we breathe with Her, Her breath, Her bur.
In my homeland her name was Modron –
Mother of the Earth, Mother of the blue planet.
Image: Cumbrian Lake District UK
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Mary Magdalene Feast Day
Magdalene Week has arrived, and today I am reflecting on the double meaning of the goddess scabbard: the protective solidarity of sisterhood and containment, alongside the shadow side of the blade it holds.
I have taken a decent into the Magdalene studies since my teenage years. There are many courses, events, gatherings, in every continent. The name of the Magdalene flows throughout history, with Schools offering initiations, from Pope Francis with the Feast Day of Mary Magdalene from 2016, 1996 to the present Magdalene Laundries historical documentaries, published investigations, and ongoing campaigns that brought our attention to the forced unpaid labour, psychological trauma, and mass grave discoveries, the Gospel of Mary codex purchased in Cairo in 1896 by German diplomat Carl Reinhardt and taken to Berlin, and the erroneous homily of 591 AD by Pope Gregory, also Freud to Galen and to Hippocrates, with so many more connecting Hysteria and the womb.
There is a longing for priestess-like communities rooted in sisterhood, inclusivity, and commonality. There is also the deep need for sheltered and protection still to this day. There will be no end to the mystery of seeking her ways, her rites, her initiations and that is all transformative and meaningful. It is the journey of all journeys towards the sacred. But the cautionary marker for me has been to stop mixing up the profits and the prophetesses. We are not there yet as a collective, when the price for inclusion out prices those in great need. We see high-cost mystery schoolings and charities asking for donations for women’s shelters. A balance needs to come in before we can see the Feminine line as one that is taking care of all women, all women as equal, safe and sovereign. Today the words from the Gospel of Mary still ring out. And if I were ever to advocate a teaching path, I would say this…
Read the words, go look at the Gospel of Mary, you can find it free online. Contemplate the words, rest in silence and resist thoughts, desire, bindings, turnings and open to the teachings of Hers and His in Kenosis. Through the study guides of the Gospel and Heart Centering Prayer Practice, in my opinion, I have found this to be the closest I have every attained to what the teachings may have resembled. And they can be free or worth a few books at the most. I know some will say, that the Gospel of Mary holds no evidence that She was the Author, so please do your own analysis.
Think of Her and Her story.
Dream into Her
Sit with others in Silence or Sacred Spaces
Be Cautious
Be Creative
And reflect on the history She is connected to, in both story and in name.
Women And Hysteria In The History Of Mental Health https://share.google/TluqVyE19thJ8eGZK
Jean-Yves Leloup 2002 The Gospel of Mary Magdalene Inner Traditions Publishing
The Gospel of Mary David Curtis
Cynthia Bourgeault 2004 Centering Prayer and Inner Awakening Cowley Publications
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Tai Chi at Furness Abbey
The Refectory: A Place of Restoration
In a medieval monastery, the refectory served as the communal dining hall: a place of nourishment, gathering and restoration. Its name comes from the Latin reficere, meaning “to restore” or “to refresh”. More than a practical space, it was also a setting for spiritual discipline, shared presence and renewal.
Recently, the Abbey has welcomed a new event to this communal area, while honouring the monks’ original values of respect, communion and spiritual engagement. This area hosted the first Tai Chi class, with local teacher and trainer Caroline Arnold. The refectory became an excellent outdoor venue to offer connection: to the body, to one another, and to the land, place and space around it.
Movement
Within the walls of the refectory, sunlight streamed through the corridor from the infirmary chapel, while the wind moved gently around the participants. In the heat of June, a fresh breeze offered relief. It seemed to have no single direction but swirled and whispered through the space with a quiet sense of care.
Above, the resident house martins played in the shifting air, echoing the movement below. The group followed the instructor’s flow, they copied each gesture and moved through the energetic sequence in unison. For a time, they seemed to become one body, one mind and one shared rhythm.
Nature Joining the Dance
Butterflies arrived as if joining the dance and offering their blessing to the day. The Monarch touched chosen participants, ceremonially reenacting the Accolade as a confirmation and time honoured ritual.
The movement rose within the containment of the ruined walls, from the ground below towards the blue sky above. Patterns of energy welcomed in the nature of all those present above and below.
Honouring the Past, Nourishing the Future
The stone walls seemed to respond as the feldspar, quartz and granite remembered centuries of gatherings, as the refectory was open as a communal space once again. One might wonder what memories stirred within its walls, and what echoes of the monks’ former life remained.
Aurora brought the session to a graceful close with a sound bathing experience. The crystal bowls evoked memories of bells and chants that once resonated across these grounds, drawing the afternoon into a deep, contemplative stillness before returning us to the Abbey’s present moment.
This day marked a renewed spiritual connection: a gathering that nourished the soul and honoured the energies of the land and the monastery of old. The refectory remains a grand space for commonality, reflection and connection to the spirit of place. In being reimagined for contemporary spiritual practice, it honours the past while opening itself to a soulful future.
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The Quest – Arrival at the Gates of the Abbey
The road to the Monastery reminded Godfrei of childhood fireside stories. Of landscapes belonging to the Faery Queen and tribes of old. Her whispers in the hedgerows that enchant the riders from their horses into the thicket. Beyond the world of living and into the worlds of the hills and mounds. The twisting lanes, oaks that appeared as old men standing with twisted limps and shadows of those long gone. As they journeyed into the valley, they descended under the sun line, as if heading towards the core of the earth. The horizon now disappearing. As the hazy light obscured his vision, he just closed his eyes and was absorbed into the sounds of the land. The rhythmical chant of the horses, the gentle thud on the earth, the birds singing in his heart, an ensemble of nature. They all seemed to move now as One, not six riders on horseback, but One instrument.
The scuffing sound of the horse hooves brought Godfrei into the world again directly opposite the gates of the Abbey. He had suddenly re-entered the world, his ears unable to adapt to the bustling villagers. The locals with their carts and commotion of deliveries, was a sight he hadn’t been accustomed to for so long. The journey from the Bay had been in secret, in the dark of night, until now. His heart raced within his ribs. Was this real?
Was that his name?
There again!
His riders were all dismounting!!!
He knew this voice calling in the crowd, now arms stretched out towards him.
He was slower, wearier, than the others, his hearing too dismissive from the long time alone in his own thoughts, and now, the back-and-forth noises.
“Godfrei, dear Brother, are you well? Come, come we have been waiting for so long to welcome you, come”.
As he looked with pinpointing precision a brown sullen figure with the familiar voice emerged as if from the walls of the sandstone bricks. It was Adam. Their eyes connected and Godfrei felt the highest zeal of energy. Joy flooded through him. He leaped down off the horse, in one long lurching movement. His legs unflexing from the sleepiness felt like blocks of wood, and pain rose to his hips, with stiff staggering steps he lumbered forwards. Adam with the same furry of excitement stretched out and wrapped his flapping brown sleeves over Godfrei like the wings of a swan, a shout of praise, streaming notes of a psalm, both in rapture abound one another.
Godfrei was home. His legs buckled and Adam lifted him upon his chest with cries of “home now Brother you made it. We have you now, all is well. There will be a feast at Heaven’s order, to welcome you this day. Come, come Brother no more does your body need to wither and wane in the tests of Our Father. Be inside the dwelling of Our Mother’s House, for you are truly a blessed sight, come, come, dearest Brother”.
Godfrei could have sworn that he had passed out then spent the day wavering without his faculties. In the proceeding hours the Brothers took care of his bodily needs as expected. They washed him, inspected his wounds, delt with his injuries, dressed him in robes of their Order, fed him, prayed over him. After the blessing by the hand of the Abbot, he was granted rest in a private dormitory, Adam would reside with him also, taking care of all his needs. Tomorrow would be a day of the first transcriptions, but right now he could not even grasp the first words to describe what had begun so long ago. And all he wanted was rest… all his body wanted was rest. The only thing that kept him going was the picture in his mind of this Abbey.
He would not see his Brethren travellers until the transcriptions were complete. Just as protocol dictated, for fear of merging details and inaccurate misgivings. Beyond that, he still needed to deliver the charge in his possession, which remained with him all day, always within arm’s reach. The task was not yet complete. He let out a long sigh and heard Adam stir nearby, “will this journey ever end”.
Photographs taken by JT Salmon and recreated with Copilot.
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The Quest – St Mary’s and Michael’s Church Urswick
Part 3 The mythical storytelling of the Knights in Cumbria
They arrived at the northern coastline after nightfall. Immediately beyond the shoreline, the sounds of the woodland became apparent. The forest transitioned seamlessly from sandy terrain to the firm, crisp substrate beneath the canopy of leaves.
Their walk took them towards the starlight sky. At its summit, they felt the breath of the planet, the wind caressing their path, that now coiled down the earthly side of their mission to the Pele tower of the church. As they continued to walk the winding path the stories of those who arrived at this location over the centuries moved them within their hearts. The pilgrims, and the mystics appeared to be walking with them like their times on the labyrinth. Inside the thick stone walls, there was a distinct atmosphere; the stones seemed to hold a notable presence. Accounts from elders had long referenced this location as one established by the first Christians. It has been maintained by local villagers that continue some of the oldest traditions, their traditions from New Jerusalem and before.
The moon slanted through high windows onto the ancient stone floors worn smooth by generations of footsteps. Outside, the breeze sang through the yew trees in the graveyard. The night seemed to hold its own benediction. Wrapped in their cloaks, their faces softened, free from the strain of flight and fear. Here, within walls blessed by both time and faith, they trusted the silent guardianship of the stones.
Upon awakening, Godfrei felt well-rested and appreciative of the restorative sleep and profound dream state he had experienced. The sense of guidance provided by the “Her” remained with him. He recalled a similar depth of reflection during his travels as a young man in desert caves, where his early initiations with the elders took place. The resonance of the church evoked memories of those subterranean environments, akin to the nurturing spaces revered by the keepers of the Way. The church appeared intentionally designed to mirror the qualities of those ancient, earthbound sanctuaries.
When he stepped outside, instead of encountering the glaring sunlight he remembered from the rocky enclosures of his past, he was met with a gentle morning mist and diffused light. This was “Her” language —an environment characterized by vitality, abundance, and growth. The language of Her presence, Mary of the Fields. As he gazed across the landscape, he noticed a statue, he must have brushed passed Her in the night. And just behind Her in the field beyond, the standing stone.
Godfrei surveyed this landscape, absorbing the freshness of the morning dew, and his reassured vision of the path ahead. He recognized a growing awareness, welcoming him as he approached the final stage of his journey. His calling to reach the Monastery was strong, his bones ached for the restorative enclosure of the Abbey, but his spirit was already there. It felt like his heart was flowing psalms into his veins, chanting rhythmically with every breath.
AI image This is the St.Mary and Michael church at Little Urswick UK, her previous name was St. Mary in the Fields. This church has history dating to the 10th century. A patronage of the Savigny and Cistercian orders, with a Stone Cross with Viking runic markings, the Tunwini cross. The tower has a sandstone Mater Dolorosa carving from Furness Abbey after the dissolution. And yew trees at the gates. The history emanates the rich spirit of land, place and space. For more information look at the Historical fragments at the Church.
Here, in the Church we find another Graveslab, a thirteenth century ‘Le Franceys’ grave slab which currently stands next to the ‘priest’s door’ in the chancel of Urswick
church. The slab is flat and tapered from head to foot with ‘floriated cross elaborately
carved in relief, and inscribed along the chamfered edge, in Longobardic characters + HIC :
JACET : AMICIA : FILIA : JOHANNIS : FRANCESSI, John Le Frances, named as witness to Roger de Lancaster in Ulverston in 1284 . HIC AMICIA engraved into the slab indicated a statement like Here lies a dear friend.
The stained glass windows above the altar had the most wonderful display of heraldic shields. The surroundings windows throughout the church had fabulous symbology to go and decipher for your pleasure.
This little Church is full of history and legends of Celtic Cumbria in Furness and the Tunwini Cross.
There are many delightful stories and history named in Ossik Coots and Collared Doves. Check by Reverend Colin R Honour. M.Ed.
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The Quest to St.Patrick’s Chapel and St. Peter’s Church
The Quest
This series of blogposts combines historical sites in Cumbria and the Borders with personal reflections. I am on a quest, a Calling, to go visit the paths of the Templars, Mary and Magdalene Way. I am trusting my intuition, the sights and signs I find as I go and the Earth’s grid that connects me to land, place, and space across past, present, and future. These posts document my journey and the insights I uncover within myself. The writing is a blend of personal insights, historical findings and storytelling. I feel I am one long storyline unfolding with the next steps.
The Calling presents the Quest,
and the Quest propels the Way.
AI generated with CoPilot Microsoft imaging The Knights Templar’s Crossing
As they neared the coast, their safe harbour that had been established more than 400 years prior was in sight. Their course had been maintained throughout this journey, guided by comforting signs, the swans nearing the coastline, the stars, their Stella Maris.
This time the crew felt the pressure of their final departure. They had nearly completed their mission, at least by sea. They observed the prominent chapel on the coast and expressed gratitude to St. Patrick and St. Martin of Tours. The ship groaned against the waves, but predominantly, they heard their own voices in adoration, as they chanted together through these final moments to shore.
The chapel came into view, followed by the lights along the shore. They had entered safe waters, and the sight of the Bay served as a reassuring indicator of their proximity to Sanctuary, a place they now longed for. The Brethren on the sandy shore were prepared to extend a warm welcome, offering necessary care and support, especially given the near completion of their mission. The promise of rest was both a source of nourishment and a reminder of their fatigue. Their bodies instinctively recalled the safety of the Abbey, lulling them into premature rest. They had to summon inner strength to keep moving forward.
The sky resembled a velvet canopy, with stars lighting their way to the shore. She remained their reliable guide once again. They travelled when the moon was waning, navigating through the night under Her starry cloak. Upon anchoring on the shore, they discovered that their elder companion had passed away. The movement of the ship and their voices in prayer had gently carried him into eternal rest.
Suddenly they realized this changed everything. It demanded a delay to their journey for another day and night. The following period would be dedicated to honouring their long-time mentor who had guided them since the beginning. One of them took responsibility immediately and could be heard speaking to the Brethren on the shore. The others all silent onboard, now below deck. When they all raised their gaze at the same time from their beloved elder, at peace, they realised this wasn’t just about the Rites of Parity, but a successor.
They all felt the same rise of notability. The one who was to be given the keys. They all shared the same thoughtful consideration for the individual who was to be united with the formal rites of the keys, who was not yet aware of the important duty he was to undertake. His life was about to change with the formal transfer of authority, marking not just the departure of his elder brother but also the transition of responsibilities into his hands before proceeding to the Abbey. It was necessary to conduct this ceremony with due solemnity before handing over the charge in their hands to the guardians of the grail.
History of the Chapel
The ruin dates from the 8th or 9th century and is built of sandstone. Near the chapel is a group of six rock-cut tombs from the 11th century and a separate group of two rock-cut tombs. Each group has an associated socket probably intended for a timber cross. The buried skeletons uncovered were dated as no earlier than the 10th century. 1,200 artefacts were also recovered, which showed that the site had been occupied about 12,000 years ago (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St_Patrick%27s_Chapel,_Heysham).
Archaeologists found that the cemetery was split into a large central area with two smaller sites in the east and west. Bodies were placed on their backs, in a traditional Christian east-west orientation (with their heads pointing towards the west). Some had their arms crossed, which was also an early Christian practice. A mix of women, men and children were interred. Perhaps surprisingly, ten people, two of which were children, were buried under the floor of the chapel itself. Around eighty-four individuals from the community were buried on the site during its use, with an even split between males and females. They are reburied in the church yard at St Peter’s church.
Of particular significance was the burial of a woman who was placed close to the south door of the chapel. She had been wrapped in a shroud and to the right side of her pelvis was a curved ‘hogback’-shaped bone comb of Anglo-Scandinavian design.
Heysham also has a Viking age hogback stone in the nearby St Peter’s Church.
Photos by Janice Turner Salmon 
It is not known where or when St Patrick was born but, historians place him sometime in the 400s. In recent years, two places have been put forward for his place of origin, Ravenglass in Cumbria and Birdoswald near Hadrian’s Wall. After six years in Ireland, he escaped and returned to England. It’s not clear where he made landfall – local tradition holds that it was at Heysham (https://lancashirepast.com/2024/11/30/a-history-of-the-rock-cut-graves-and-st-patricks-chapel-heysham/).
All photos by Janice Turner Salmon
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We are Equal, we are as One….
The author Cynthia Bourgeault says that any discord in the ranks amongst the apostles is simply silenced in the canonical gospels. It is when we look to the gnostic writings that we see a lack of harmony amongst them. Here in the Gospel of Mary Magdalene we see that Peter and Mary are far apart rather than side by side in their perspectives. We see Peter looking on, clinging, it appears that Peter is stuck and Mary is free. When the gnostic scriptures, the Nag Hammadi, were discovered didn’t leaders and academics say these same things about Yeshua’s teachings, sounding strange and not fitting with the other recordings of his ministry. And yes, I agree that the Gospel of Mary is so much more a metaphysical account than a retelling of the life of Yeshua. The core message I receive in the present moment about this passage, (page 17 and 18) is that she names him, “My Brother Peter”, my equal, As Yeshua named them My Brother’s and Sister, there is no hierarchy amongst them. In the eyes of their Saviour and in the eyes of Mary, they are all equal, Brother addressing Sister, Man and Woman.
What do you see between the Mind of Peter and the Heart of Mary?
The Gospel of Mary – pages 17 to 18. The final pages and the interaction between Mary and the Apostles. -
She wept….
We are approaching the end of the Gospel and now we see the disciples doubting her experience of the vision with the Saviour. She is challenged by the other Apostles, and she wept. I talk about the breaking down, as the breaking through, as Mary stands fully in her Power. We are taking a step towards the Bridal Chamber, as Mary’s Gospel is paving the way for this to be the most critical teaching……
In this video I am reminded of being fully witnessed brings us completely central in our truth. I see how being seen is a powerful, and a result of circle practice.
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Reiki Meditations – from me to you
I have created two meditations for all Reiki Practitioners new and established. A routine daily practice for cleansing and opening to Reiki Energy. Although anyone can follow the Hatsurei-Ho meditation and enjoy it as a meditation, just follow my voice and the Reiki will flow. It is a great way to bring Reiki into your daily spiritual development. The energy will flow and assist in your connection to the Universal Life Force Energy all around.
The second recording is for everyone. It is Reiki infused as a Reiki treatment session. It is intended as a releasing meditation that flows from your feet upwards through the body to the head. It brings awareness to parts of you holding on, and with my voice, in Reiki, it invites these places of your body to let go.
You can download these mediations by going to my Shop at Ko-fi.com, just follow the link below.
I request a donation for the download of my energy to your energy. Please donate to me at the link below, the donation is £5 for downloading and you can listen as often as you wish.
Thank you for your gorgeous and generous support, I appreciate your exchange, from my heart to yours.
