Poets, Mavericks & Prophets

Notes On Alchemical Psychology is a series of texts dedicated to personal creative therapeutic work, merging the old ways & the new. In this note, I reflect on the Summer Solstice, the mythical Isle of Avalon, the legend of the Holy Grail, soul loss and soul retrieval, Solar integration, and our superior psychological function, one that directs how we navigate the world, our gift and our treasure, an overflowing Chalice to be shared with others.

There are places that feed our body and soul with their organic bounty, their history, traditions, sacred geometry, where the spirits of the land love us, enjoy our presence — we vibe, as they say, in accordance to the same resonance — they gift us the key to their secrets without us having to do much, except be. These places are rare, but they do exist, and we recognise them as soon as we enter their realm, there is no doubt in our mind that we are appreciated here, no second-guessing of how we should behave, only a knowing that we have arrived home, even when the location is far away from where we have designated our home to be.

If we are fortunate, these are places that are sacred not only to our personal sphere, but to the community at large, and for millennia. Places of power, the chakras of the planet, where the Anima mundi breaths, where its heart beats — pilgrims flock to them, tourists circle them, initiates guard them, and they remain the pillars on which this world rests, just like the proverbial elephants on the shell of the Cosmic Turtle.

One of these centres for me is Glastonbury (Somerset, United Kingdom), ever since I set foot on its green shores twenty-seven years ago. The mythical Isle of Avalon, the Camelot of legend, the sanctuary where it is said Mary Magdalene retreated and Joseph of Arithmea hid the Holy Grail. A meeting place of the ancient pagan Druidic and early Christian currents of worship, the Goddess land, a happy coiling of two serpents, a co-existence and a joining of two Springs, the Red and the White, an actual hill to climb on (and defend), the Tor, with its old tower keeping watch where once the Church of St. Michael the Archangel stood — the fearless, protective, solar Archistrategos, the chief commander of the heavenly hosts — still watching over merry England, right at the spot where key lay lines meet, and then shoot down all the way to the Giza plateau, sheltering the labyrinth of lore below, with its secrets upon secrets, upon secrets, to unlock, decipher, and forever keep.

Traces of our souls imprint these holy places, so we might visit them again, and retrieve the essence of who we are, untarnished by the inevitable corruption of life. In some unfathomable way, they also piece back the bits that are missing, lost along the way, captured in a maze of trauma and heartbreak, ones that we left behind, as they remind us of defeat. Yet, without them, there is no path to follow, one that is born in our hearts, without masks and flights of fancy. These points on Earth acts as passwords to the corners of our psyches keeping guard of the memories harbouring pain, fear, and shame, areas of our inner fortress that the Sun has not shined on for decades, maybe lifetimes.

These corners are the shadowlands where our personal treasure is buried, as the bounty so often sinks with the ship, and sits on the seabed, uninterrupted, until someone courageous (or adventurous) enough dives down deep and glimpses a shine of a diamond piercing through the dark waters below. A diamond that was once our hope and our contribution, the unique way we reflect the skies.

C.G. Jung, in his Psychological Types (1921) spoke of the superior psychological function, the natural way of navigating the world for us, out of the four which he identified as feeling, thinking, sensing and intuiting. As this is something that we are very good at, it presents a special talent to be shared, our overflowing cup, the one that should never run dry. For me, this is intuition, and although I have been trained otherwise, it is a steady vessel I know so well, and in perfect detail, one that brings me through safely to the shores in all the turbulences of life. The cornucopia I share, and it just keeps on giving, but I so rarely credit it for all its curious riches.

It is tricky when the environments we are raised and live in value something other than what we excel at. To be born in a town that rates the rational above all else, and be a poet, to be a one-man-think-thank in a village of fools, a wizard in a family of sports enthusiasts, a pirate in a country that likes things orderly. This is an experience that can wound, confuse, unsettle, isolate, and disorientate, until we find like-minded folk, and start congregating in spaces where people like us are eagerly accepted, where we are free to shine.

Healing our inner star starts when we begin valuing our own Solar principle, the need to emanate light, be visible, be the centre of attention, celebrate our aliveness in a way that excites others, intuit how we contribute to community with our radiance, offer joy to Gaia with our particular set of talents, the singular worth of our peculiar perspectives, the igniting energies of topsy-turvy worldviews.

Or, we can travel far away, find our own serenity in a place where we are loved back, as the cinema man said, just as we are. Where the land conduits just the right vibration, rhythm and melody for our bodies to react as a Stradivarius violin, and our spirits to soar high, hawk-like, as sharp-eyed as Apollo’s bird of prey.

The day of the Summer Solstice is the longest in the year, and now it is the Northern hemisphere’s time to bring in peak sunshine, and honour the central star of our small universe, the protagonist, the life-giver, the One which causes worlds to bloom (or burn) — a flaming wonder whose warmth and endless light shaped our planet to its beautiful form. The symbol of individuality, excellence, sovereignty.

Let’s meet it within too, with gratitude.

Happy Solstice.☀️

AUTHOR: ©Milana Vujkov

Photo: The Chalice Well, Glastonbury, England, UK

Disclaimer – These notes follow a personal journey, and are offered as philosophical & creative inspiration. Although I am a psychologist by education, the material within them is not therapy or substitute for therapy. However, they are dedicated as temenos for accessing the therapeutic numinous, in hope of being of good service to your soul in exploring the potentials of each moment in time.