Glastonbury and the Tor. Scratching under the Spiritual Surface.

Living in such an attractive part of the world means it is quite easy to take what I have so close to home for granted. However, from whichever angle you approach, Glastonbury Tor never fails to catch the eye when you see it. At only 518 feet high, it is by no means a formidable mountain. Nevertheless, it commands the area for many miles around. Sat within the mystical Isle of Avalon, with St Michael’s tower perched proudly on top, its elegant sweeping slopes make it one of the country’s most recognisable and appreciated landmarks. It would, therefore, be amiss of me not to revisit Glastonbury, with wandering in mind. To look again at the whole place with a quizzical eye, allowing myself to focus on what makes it such an incredibly unique and magnetic town.

I will admit that I can, at times, play up to the somewhat grumpy persona that I appear to have built for myself over the years. That said, when your friends openly refer to you as an ‘old man’ from back in your twenties, there must be something in it. Maybe its roots lie in my upbringing, but it is fair to say that I have a reputation for enjoying a good rant and putting the world to rights. Who doesn’t? I hear you say. I suppose the issue for me lies in the fact that where once my general chagrin could be seen as a parody of Victor Meldrew, now I fear that if I’m not careful, I will actually morph into him.

Part of the challenge for me is to let things run off just that little bit more easily. To continue controlling the controllables and not let things frustrate or worry me as much as they can. There is absolutely nothing I can do about the day-to-day actions of the general public, the state of the nation, or if the weather is set to ruin my plans. Yes, the world I live in now appears vastly different to the one that I grew up in. For a man in his fiftieth year, that can often feel like an alien, if not scary and concerning place to be. I will, of course, be forever grateful that I had the 90s to enjoy the first time around, as well as remembering concerts, gigs and festivals through the memories captured in my brain, rather than through a smartphone. Now, that is one thing that I am happy to grumble about. Tickets cost a fortune. Just watch it, for pity’s sake. Who looks back on a 78-second clip of their favourite band with terrible sound and thinks ‘Thank God I recorded this instead of watching it’? Apologies, I may be slipping into Meldrew mode.

Nonetheless, I believe my generation can feel lucky that we have straddled such different and defining eras. To have enjoyed a childhood, education, and life’s bucket list experiences without them being documented, discussed, or analysed over social media is something that I genuinely appreciate. Likewise, the wave of technological and cultural advances that now form part of everyday life is something we’ve been able to embrace rather than fear. I often see how stranded and confused my parents can get alongside their reluctance to change their views or opinions. They are lovely, kind, and giving people, who through the lens of today’s society are racist homophobes! Moving with the times, rather than against them, is an essential part of navigating my way through the challenges that I face myself, as well as functioning with a more positive, open-minded, and carefree mindset. Where better to do this than Glastonbury? It is the very epitome of embracing a free spirit and alternative lifestyles.

For many, Glastonbury will instantly conjure thoughts of the music festival. The fact that it isn’t in Glastonbury at all is something that locals are often willing to point out. Indeed, ‘The Pilton Festival’ takes place some 6 miles to the east. However, whether the notoriety of the festival keeps Glastonbury more firmly in the public eye, does not discount the fact that it is simply a place like no other.

My aim today is to walk up through the town, slow down and observe. To utilise the ‘Mural Trail’ as a loose guide before winding my way to the top of the Tor. Starting on the outskirts, it is clear that Glastonbury has become a draw for those who favour a more nomadic lifestyle. Old caravans and ‘van lifers’ are an ever-present fixture around the peripheries of the town. At first glance, it is a sight that can cause a level of uneasiness and has the potential to feel a little intimidating. It does look scruffy and is most certainly unconventional. However, it is also an indication of the draw that Glastonbury has for those who wish to live more off-grid and slightly detached. It is a bone of contention for many residents, for numerous reasons, but today, it simply acts to set the scene.

There are so many murals now popping up around the town that it is impossible not to have your eyes drawn to them. Bold colours on buildings, houses and walls offer an instant sense of what this town is all about. I certainly didn’t see them all, but shall return in time to do so. They provide an impressive gateway to the town centre and a high street like no other. It is here, though, that I find myself challenged about my feelings for the place. What does Glastonbury want itself to be? On one hand, you have the healing centres, offering an array of counselling, massage, psychotherapy, Reiki, Yoga, serenity and soul-focused ideologies, alongside specialist bookshops. All provide the opportunity to immerse yourself in meditation and spiritual enlightenment. However, these more discrete venues are somewhat overshadowed by the growing number of establishments cashing in on the ‘magic’. This may seem a little harsh, even naïve, but I can’t help but feel that the town has become something of a Glastonbury-on-Sea. Where sticks of rock, buckets and spades, and saucy postcards have been surreptitiously replaced by a plethora of crystals, tie-dye garments, and bongs.

I’m keen to keep an open mind to the benefits of the alternative therapies and belief systems offered here. However, I can’t help thinking that their authenticity and integrity are somewhat diluted by the souvenir and memento shops that seem to punctuate the town. A doubt that is also not helped by the sight of eight cider-fuelled men arguing inside the grounds of the church halfway up the street. For a place whose very existence is based on peace, freedom, and looking beyond the conventional, there remains a tangible edge of unease when pausing to watch what’s happening around me. Making my way out towards the Tor, I am greeted by a man dressed as a wizard doing readings around your past animal self. I politely decline and put my best foot forward, although for the next few minutes find myself musing over what I may once have been. I push that to one side when I can’t get the image of ‘Donkey’ from Shrek out of my head.

Thankfully, my wander today takes me past two sites that help to nullify my feelings about the High Street. Before ascending the Tor you are met by two contrasting venues that help to bring alive the special place that Glastonbury has in the hearts of so many. In the first instance, the ‘Chalice Well’ comes into view. Discrete in its location, entering here offers the visitor a beautiful hidden garden, with a well that is fed by one of two underground springs that rise from beneath the Tor. The Chalice Well Trust maintains this garden and its ethos states, ‘Chalice Well welcomes pilgrims and visitors of all spiritual paths, faiths and beliefs. We seek to facilitate a connection between people, nature and the spirit of this special place.’  Now that proved much more up my street.

Furthermore, just around the corner in the adjacent road sits ‘The White Spring.’ An unassuming Victorian building that belies what lies inside. The temple built on the ley line of Michael in gratitude for the gift of pure water features a series of pools, fed by the red spring, and are sat in candlelit semi-darkness. Shrines dedicated to Brigid, The Lady of Avalon, and King of the World of Faerie all add to a sense of folklore and ancient cultures. It is something to behold and totally beyond initial expectations. Regardless of what my own beliefs might be, the authenticity that I was searching for earlier gently glows here. The sunlit serenity of the gardens at Chalice Well acts to give greater depth to the darkness of the White Spring, producing a ‘Ying and Yang’ effect. It allows visitors to get to grips with the spiritual connection between the earth we occupy and its power to heal and inspire. There is credibility here that can challenge ignorance. On walking down towards the Tor path I stand patiently and wait my turn to sample the spring water that people are filling their containers with for free. There is certainly a feint metallic taste, but its cold refreshment encourages further sipping.

And so, the final part of my visit takes me to the top of the Tor. This is a walk that I have enjoyed on numerous occasions in the past. However, today I feel a little different as I begin to make my way up the grassy bank and onto the stepped path that has welcomed a steady string of pilgrims over thousands of years. As I’ve said, it is not a particularly challenging summit to achieve, but the views from the top, as well as that sense of importance that this mound of earth holds, makes it special. Looking out over the Levels, to the distant Bristol Channel in one direction and Wells Cathedral nestled not too far away in the lee of the Mendips, I take my time to reflect. Parts of Glastonbury on my wander, I will admit, did try and spark the Meldrew inside me. Leaving me feeling a bit cheated and sceptical. That said, looking beyond the window dressing, I found a significant part of me consciously trying to understand and appreciate what Glastonbury means to so many. It would be easy to scoff, even mock, elements of why some treasure this place. However, considering my own acceptance of how empowering being in nature is to me, I have found myself more open to why Glastonbury remains a ‘Mecca’ to those with a deep set of spiritual beliefs and the curiosity to enquire.

Rounding the tower, the picture I am afforded the chance to take is striking. Glastonbury Tor perfectly signalling its shadow of dominance over the land below. It felt a fitting way to finish today’s wander.