The Western Gate

Avalon Working
by Mark Nemglan
Scarlet Imprint

I could have sworn this was printed by the publishers -Holy Thorn; whose output reflects the path carved by Dion fortune, as it is, this book came out at the same time as Dion Fortune’s- A Path To the Grail (by HolyThorn), which I suspect I was really after, sometimes these mistakes are meant to be and I’m glad I made it, Scarlet Imprint are a great publisher and have some equally well ranked authors/works.
A well researched book is what I’m promised here. It does draw on the parallels of other systems from across the globe. For instance those whose temples and sites were aligned for the purpose of agriculture by means of the stellae seasonal clock, be it by solar long shadows or Sirius on the horizon or the Pleiades dance across the sky, and thereupon outlines the significance and similarity in the design of Glastonbury. Be you Christian or pagan or otherwise, Glastonbury is a haven for those for whom spirituality and philosophy, nature and mystery are a calling.
Regardless of whether you believe in ley lines and dragon lines, the ancients may well have, and thus those old straight tracks aligning significant sites are there to be trodden. Glastonbury is a nexus of these, a battery of sorts and much is made of the Red and the White Springs that flow from its Iron or Chalk sediments.
Glastonbury is also the alleged resting ground, or internment of King Arthur, who one day will arise!! and well, will probably be shot dead by the web of capitalist and power mongers, but hey ho, ’twas a good dream while it lasted.
Merlin of course ! That Atlantean/everlasting/extra-intra terrestrial/ Fae/ wizard/ philosopher … and I want more, I want more juice about Arthur and Merlin… but this book is about Avalon. Glastonbury. Not Albion.
It’s a fine book, the hardback version, in Natures Green with Blood Red inners to compliment the crisp white pages, (The Red, Green and White significance is explained), there are also White and a Red silk page markers. It’s special, that only a dosing in purifying or ‘Glastonbury -Avalon-Merlin’ incense could add the finishing touch.
The contentious (some say laughable, some laudable, some lamentable) Glastonbury Zodiac as espoused by Katharine Malting is somewhat glossed over, though is dealt with, and that’s good, I find this distracts from Glastonbury’s natural beauty, it adds an element of doubt and criticism over the natural wonder that is Avalon.
Avalon- The Isle of Trees/ Glastonbury- GlassTownBorough- so named from its designation as the island of the sea of glass from the former lake that surrounded the area.
Whenever I am reading of Avalon/Glastonbury or the Arthurian legends I want poetry, and romantic visions…. I want escapism and dreams to unfold. This book is part scholarly before we move straight on, of course to the practical efforts to be synchronous with the Glasto’ vibe.
And, I am at odds with this approach as necessary as this approach is. Yes, as I’ve walked around the street of Glastonbury town where all the ladies seem to dress like Stevie Nicks and all the men like they’ve arrived from some folk/minstrel band its easy to see, and become a part of a spirit that is not grounded, which this book is, well at least-in balance until we reach the subjective practices. It seems as though most of the people you’d talk to in Glastonbury or get to know in that strange high street and subsequent ‘pubs seem to wear rose coloured glasses and have flowery visions, their minds drift upwards somewhere at the ponderance of any question , sometimes a gentle sigh and a pair of closed eyelids will be all that is offered, but what would you expect from an alternative, from what is that sanctuary and haven, the refuge of the wanderers and the cradle of mysticism in England, sorry Britain, sorry Albion. There’s nothing wrong with living with your head in the clouds, but who will till the soil and feed them? There is little to differentiate the ‘drop out’ and the parasitical Landlord.

We the readers are referred to as the catechumen, or sometimes the postulant, or wayfarer throughout the book. Its annoying and somewhat patronising, perhaps not meant to be but none the less….
There are some strange drawings which require explanations, take this one, a sort of wheel of the year, (ignore the scribbles and vandalism, I did that to circumnavigate copyright law, thus making it an interpreted work…)

highlighted the path of the waxing and waning of the Esoteric or the Exoteric self, though its appears, according to this diagram the Exoteric self doesn’t actually wane? mistake, or not? This catechumen doesn’t know. Nor is it explained.

There are many descriptive terms of the locations and the whereabouts of various markers and sites of Avalon, and it would be so well served to have provided an ordnance survey type map of this, rather than perhaps those viz.fancy typeset diagrams. at times we are verbally told of routes to walk, what lies east and in front etc, with no map, or pictures to view, just text, there are photos at the back of the book of locations but these are not indexed or referenced during the text.. As it is, I decided to buy the ordnance survey map for the area myself, and duly, is now filled with Sharpie Pen highlights. (Geographic survey map no.296)

During some of the rites we are given a script to read including the handy phonetic translation, however we are not told exactly what this means, in fact I cannot recall what language is actually being used as certainly each time some `call is asked to be barked we are not reminded what dialect we are being asked to say, let alone its meaning, let alone… why? Though an alternative English call is also given, but is this the translation? shrugs shoulders and wanders on.... frowning, but each time there is a rite in the pilgrims visualization the addition of each untranslated, unremarked call becomes a source of annoyance. I must have skipped over the bit where the language was discussed, not paid attention, Welsh, or Cornish or Scottish or Irish?… Surely I must’ve missed the description and reasoning behind the prayers/calls ! I feel the urge to rewatch that great film Excalibur and just keep saying Anael, Nathrack… &c… in fact so annoying is this that I speed read from the beginning…. Brythonic ! Of course … and the author says that those to whom the charge is attested will understand… so we don’t have to. The Catechumen doesn’t need to understand the meaning of the words spoken &c…. Well pat this occultist who needs to know on the head and tell me to go and sit in the corner nicely, and quietly?
Now it’s not the first time that I’ve seen an author declare we don’t need to know what is being said, the wiccans harp on about sacred chants and words of power whenever anyone asks them to translate Eko Eko Amaloy etc and they’ll always give recourse to remind us Crowley spoke often of the language that we don’t understand and yet has power. Crowley also ate cakes of menstrual blood and spunk (semen).
The irony or stupidity of this, need to know or not, is that the whole point of occultism is To Know! That we are asked to say something that the recipients will understand and we do not is the blind mumbling incoherently to let people know the way to go. Then… to add salt and alcohol to the wound, we can recite in our native tongue after and presumably those hidden realms will understand that tongue anyway ? Why the pretence? Why can’t I know what is, apparently, the old language of the Britons ? I can easily research Sanskrit/Egyptian/Sumerian. It is at this point I realise perhaps I am in Glastonbury, dealing with the pedlars of illusion, the phoo-phoo powder that will bring all sorts of desire. Don’t ask what’s in the powder…. It’s a need to know basis….. anyway let us return to the trek of the fool….
The visualised and pilgrims journey across Avalon continues, there are more arcane sentences to utter, no translations or etymologies given, and now we have more and more … the “poetry”. That poetry I explained at the beginning of this review I’d want in any book about Avalon…. I retract that wish here and now. It’s the poetry from our twelve year old selfs book of shadows, naive and flowery poetry. It is here, it does not enamour me, it does not enrich my soul nor evoke memories of wandering in that hallowed shadow of the Tor.
This pilgrim, me, I began now to flick through the pages, reading as the crow flies as it were. skipping here, hopping there….The rest of the book, visualize this path… no pictures, no map, say this, no translation, or this… shite poem….. and that was it.
The book is about Avalon, about Glastonbury, and it will in some sparkle some vestige of peace and tranquillity, is it necessary to embark on a contrived pilgrimage with unknown words and unremarkable poetry? we are the pilgrim here yet I feel perhaps, with a broken staff and a grail of Buckfast.
Herein is the lesson……, my lesson, in words anyone can understand, Glastonbury is full of the waifs and strays of society. It is a beauty and mystery that cannot and should not be unravelled, it just IS. If you visit there, ignore the hippies, the ex-travellers, the crystal swingers and smudge stick wafters, the preachers, healers and fragile flowers who are strewn across its path. Just go with your own mind, wander, walk, don’t say anything, no prayers or offerings, just wander, think nothing and at night, as you close your eyes you’ll understand the beauty of Avalon. But if you like pretty crystals and dream catchers then be a catechumen and join the fluffy sheep wandering makeshift patterns in the fields.