dragon lines in England – The Light Behind the Story

A few months ago, I came across an article that said middle-grade and YA readers are now seeking stories about strong friendships rather than romance. Perfect, I thought, because the bond of friendship threads through my middle-grade Warriors of Light series. It is, you could say, a rather non-traditional love story. The six young protagonists are driven by their philial love for one another, as well as their filial love, and their love for Earth.

A giant in the land that helped to inspire the character Albion in *Keys to the Heart*. Photo taken at Jordan Pond, Acadia National Park in 2018

A year after visiting Arbor Low, I journeyed back to England for another weekend of Silent Eye adventures, and to partake in my graduation ceremony. “You need to come to this one,” Sue had urged me. “It’s all about the ley lines and the hexagram star.” Once again, while exploring the ancient landscapes of England, I would discover more insights about the stories that had been whispering their secrets onto my pages.

These sacred waters were the site of my graduation rites

We spent a very busy day following the ley lines (aka dragon lines) in the pattern of a hexagram star, hopping from church to church to feel into their energy. Many of the ley lines/dragon lines in Earth follow geometric patterns and connect to sacred sites. As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, churches were frequently, and probably not coincidentally, erected atop ancient sacred sites and dragon lines (it makes one wonder about religious images of dragons being slain or “tamed” in paintings and church windows). Truthfully, the day for me was mostly unsettling. To me, the energy of the land beneath these religious edifices feels not so much sacred, but deadened in an attempt to exert power and control.

Sue standing beside one of the churches we visited that is situated on a hexagram of ley lines

So when we journeyed away from the churches to visit ancient sites that still feel alive in the landscape, I felt much more at home. One of our stops was to visit the chalk giant embedded into a hillside in the Cerne Valley. Legends tell that the Cerne Abbas Giant, with his erect phallus, was a fertility god of sorts. Couples would (and perhaps still do, although it is now fenced in) flock to the hillside to make love in the hope to conceive.

The fertility giant in the background of a “Hardy” sign.

But I was more interested in the idea of a love story about the land itself. The carne giant, as well as a giant I saw a month later in the landscape of Acadia National Park (see above photo), helped inspire me to created the character Albion (whose name is derived from an old name for Great Britain) who appears in book two of the Warriors of Light series. The giant Albion, whose body is comprised of the British Isles, holds within him the heart of Earth. So Albion became part of the love story I was writing. A giant whose body is a part of the body of Earth. The two, like the yin and yang energy that exist inside all of us, cannot live without each other. Keys to the Heart is not the love story of romance novels, but about the love that threads the life into the veins of Earth and all of her children.

“The ley lines, lad. The ley lines. The lines of light in Earth. Some call them dragon lines. They haven’t been right for quite a long time now. Clogged by darkness. Broken by greed. I’m a mess. But then again, that’s nothing unusual these days. The entire planet is filled with broken lines and clogged pores, you might say. But you’re here to help fix that. So much work to be done. You best get started.” — Albion speaking to Ari, Book 2: Warriors of Light

“When we saw the cover of your book, we knew you had to be here,” Sue confided after I arrived for the June 2018 Silent Eye School of Consciousness workshop. The hexagram started appearing to me before I enrolled with the school and even before I met Sue through the wonderful world of blogging. Sue, though, has been my primary human guide as I navigate this sacred symbol and others.

Labyrinth_MainImage_Small — From the cover of my new book, *The Labyrinth*. Book 1 of the *Warriors of Light* series

The mystical hexagram seems to defy time and language, appearing throughout history and prehistory on Earth, as well as in the alignment of heavenly bodies. As above, so below. It unites the male and female aspects of ourselves and the “world” at large. Six years ago, I realized this symbol was asking to take form upon the pages of the book I had begun to write. Appearing in a grove of oaks, it looked like a maze of broken light. As I wrote, allowing myself to be led by the unseen force of the higher consciousness, I came to realize that lines of energy exist in the Earth and within us as the life force energy that is the “Light of Life” itself.

Ancient symbols predating religion appeared throughout the churches we visited during the June workshop.

And so it was no surprise that I was drawn to the workshop before I even knew why. The hexagram, leading the way. There was the hexagon around the Cerne Abbas giant, which aligned with the stars above. Orion mapping the inner and outer-landscape at each site we visited. Seven churches forming a star with an inner point of light. And, dragon lines running through it all, guiding present and long forgotten footeps.

“In the middle of the hexagon is the source of the golden light, but there are a million paths to get there. I don’t know how to explain it exactly. It’s like a spider’s web. There are smaller lines of light, like veins on a leaf, which fill the large star we share, all leading to the center.” — Sula, The Labyrinth, Book 1: Warriors of Light

I’m not sure I’ll ever be wholly or holy comfortable in a church. Although I admire their outer beauty, there is a rigidness to their structures that constricts my cells. An old church sits atop Brentor in England. Dedicated to St. Michael, it resides along his ley line. Inside the church, which still feels very solid and powerful in form, there is a stained glass window of the saint who is often seen in other churches slaying a dragon. Not so here.

Instead, the dragon lies dormant below him. The mound of earth itself, having erupted with its fire energy thousands of years before. It is no wonder I was not comfortable within these fortified walls. Although the saint here looks a bit wild and paganish with his feathered attire, his visage is fierce as he looks down upon the land with his sword poised for striking. His skirt wears the eyes of the peacock. Is there a bold defiance in this image inside a church that has laid claim to the land?

Stuart and Sue explore the top of Brentor. Sue blends into the fortification, while Stuart gazes into the landscape.

The gargoyles here do not appear on the roof of the stone building, but in the guardian stone itself, which sits, placed by Nature one presumes, at the base of the hill.

There is not just one face in this Guardian Stone filled with protective gargoyles.

I like this stone, as I do most stones that feel like there is a living presence within them. They often feel like friends, and when approached with trust and an open heart, they have much to share. Eyes are often drawn to them without always knowing why.

The jagged rock of the guardian stone mirrors the tor it guards. Born of fire and earth, it is a hybrid of forces that feel unbalanced. I cannot help but think of Glastonbury Tor, so different from Brentor with its elegant conical shape, which to me feels very feminine, yet powerfully in control and aligned with the sacred heart. I do not recall seeing a guardian stone when I was there two years ago. Just ewes with their spring lambs dotting the landscape with the energy of rebirth and the promise of a resurrected heart filled with Christ-consciousness for those who wish to ascend its summits.

My daughter poised for flight atop Glastonbury Tor, filled with exhilaration.

Brentor, in contrast, seems to represent a struggle of forces. As though the the battle between Earth and Man has yet to be won. Its church is largely intact, and dominates its summit, unlike the solitary tower that remains rather elegantly atop Glastonbury. Beautiful and non-threatening. Yet, is there really a victory to be won here?

Despite the masculine feel of Brentor, it is guarded by Hathor’s animal.

The giant that lies under St. Michael’s church at Brentor may be latent at present, but history has taught us that we cannot conquer forces that are greater than ourselves, because these forces also reside within us, unbalanced. When we disrupt the energies in Earth, as we are doing now, She responds to our unease. When will we learn?

A sacred stream runs through the body of the land below Brentor.

Water, like fire, runs through the veins of Earth. Nearby the base of Brentor, there is a small stone enclosure that appears to mark a sacred stream. Unlike Glastonbury, this one is mostly hidden, and there is no urging of tourists to gather. Yet, there it is filled with hope, carrying the blood of life through the land.