In December January and I went house-sitting in North Wales. It was a beautiful house on top of the cliffs with views overlooking Harlech and the Irish Sea. The owners were in the process of converting it into a healing centre. We had spent periods of time there before, both helping in the renovations and taking breaks from our intense lifestyles. We had come to love the wildness and raw beauty of the mountains, making long walks through the magnificent scenery and spending hours in front of roaring fires.

While we were there we built a bender in the woods nearby, in a beautiful spot on top of some sheer cliffs overlooking the sea. The trees there were old and in some places impenetrable, their roots cascading over huge lichen-covered boulders. Close by were some mature wild cherry trees in which herons built their gigantic nests every year. It was delightful, and we smiled often at our new status: a two-bender family!

I had in my possession at that time an unusual book of runes which I was avidly studying. It had a section with instructions on how to make new compound sigils. I was determined to advance my understanding of this useful and potent magic. I had spent weeks pouring over their simple and profound beauty and I felt I was starting to get to the heart of their essence.

One day we parked the car under a special hill overlooking the sea. January wanted to get rid of her tomahawk once and for all: burying the hatchet! She wanted to do it alone, so I waited on the cliffs and stared out to sea. All at once I stiffened. On the tall sand dunes a mile ahead, defined by tracks in the long wavy grass, I could see a sequence of runes! As the hair rose on the nape of my neck, I quickly searched for pen and paper and wrote them down. I knew then that they were a great gift of power, and I was exceedingly grateful to Spirit for revealing them to me. I wondered how many similar magical gifts we miss every day, just because we are not tuned in, or are not operating at a high enough frequency. I resolved not to throw this opportunity away. Intuitively, I knew that I had to use them sparingly, and only use them when the conditions were appropriate.

During this period of time I was faced with a dilemma. At the time it seemed a Catch-22 situation: buggered if you do, and buggered if you don't. Another Gabrielle Roth workshop was looming close, this time a teacher-training course. January wanted to do it, and so did I. There was a problem, though. She told me she felt threatened by my ability to do whatever I put my mind to, and felt overshadowed. At that period of her life she wanted to forge a definite identity for herself in order to feel whole, and to increase her self-esteem. She really wanted one skill she could call her own, separate from me.

She was an exceptional and inspired dancer. She had introduced me to the exciting and fulfilling new universe called Dance and I couldn't get enough of it. It filled me with joy and brought me alive in wonderful ways. Besides, the first course I had done with Gabrielle had me hooked: I wanted to develop my new skills further. There was a deeper side to it as well. I wanted to do the course both for myself but also for our relationship. When we met for the first time in the meditation room at Ferngrove, January had asked me in one of those special moments if I wanted to dance with her. This was no simple surface question. In those magical spaces between words, I heard her asking me, quite clearly, if I really wanted to be her Dance Partner through life. I had said Yes.

I knew with all of my being that we would have taken the first, irrevocable step of growing apart if I did not attend this course. This was unthinkable, for I had no concept yet of a life without her.

This situation was one of those major crossroads in one's life: I could smell it. Whichever way I decided would have far-reaching consequences. After some soul-searching I acquiesced. I decided to honour her request. As she packed her bags I knew that I only had to say the word to accompany her, but I held my peace. I had to give her her freedom. I watched her drive away from me, on many levels, up the long rocky driveway and over the hill, and then I completely broke down.

The next two weeks were unbelievable as I entered the realm of grief. My reservoir of suffering seemed bottomless. My old wounds opened and my pain flowed like a torrent from a breached dam. I walked through the woods, a soul in torment, crying for my lost love. I knew that our agreement to dance together had been terminated. Every day I would force myself into extraordinary hikes through the woods and mountains in a frantic attempt to leave my pain behind, to no avail. Of course it was not only my grief at losing January. It was a lifetime of suppressed pain and lost love, triggered and spiralling to the surface. It filled the hills and valleys around Harlech.

On our earlier training with Gabrielle, she had told us that there was a way we could always get in touch with her, whatever the circumstances, wherever she was. All we had to do was to play a track of the Eurythmics called 'The Power of Love', and she would be there. The album was there at Hendre and one day I put it on. I danced a five-rhythm dance of power, as freely and dynamic as I possibly could, the tears streaming down my face. I wanted my dance to be impeccable and the best I could possibly perform. I needed it to embody my true feelings and love and send them to January, Gabrielle and all there with her. I danced for my life, for my love.

Towards the end of the dance the phone rang, and on impulse I answered it. It was January! She was happy and sent me her love. There was silence for a moment, and then suddenly Gabrielle was there. She sent me her love and said she missed me. I was so tongue-tied that no intelligible words actually came out of my mouth, but it somehow put my soul at rest. Too soon the gateway had closed and they had rung off, but I had learnt a wonderful thing: the power of love is strong indeed!

On one of my forays through the woods, I discovered a very special tree. On one of Dan's workshops, he had talked about Black Lightning Medicine, or the carbon scrapings taken off a lightning-blasted oak. The Native American people consider this material very potent healing medicine. It is the result of the union between Heaven and Earth, the Thunder Beings and the Lightning Tree: I was delighted. I filled a small glass jar with the black carbon, and also took a length of charred ivy that caught my eye. It was so like a snake it took my breath away.

I divided my time between the house and the bender. I knew I needed something to help heal my torn and raw heart, but didn't know what it could be. I thought of a flower essence, but I didn't know if any plants were flowering at that time of the year.

It was Christmas Eve, and while walking rather frantically along the main pathway through the woods, I saw a flash of pink on my left. I turned, and there was a fully alive, healthy foxglove! I was especially excited because foxglove produces digitalis, a well-known heart medicine.

This area of the mountains is full of foxgloves in the summer, yet in the season of the winter winds they were merely brown rustling shrivelled stems. I looked everywhere, and this was the only live one in the whole wood. There was something very strange about the whole affair, and I suspected that there was a fairy conspiracy afoot.

With the appropriate prayers and thanksgiving I picked it and took it back to the bender. I placed it into my crystal bowl together with fresh springwater. Normally, a flower essence is made by allowing the sun to shine through the springwater in which the flower is immersed. I knew there would be no sun in the murky sky for next twenty-four hours, so instead I made a beautiful crystal mandala and placed the bowl in the centre. The essence would be irradiated with crystal energy rather than the sun. Same difference, and it's the intent that counts!

On Christmas day, the celebration of the birth of the magical Christ-Child, I imbibed of this healing potion for the first time. It gave me solace and peace from my mania. I felt the beginnings of a new way of relating, where there is trust in the guidance of Spirit, love and respect for the destiny of others, and empowerment to follow one's own path without doubt or guilt.

In February, January and I attended what was going to be our last Medicine Wheel gathering with Dan. We were parked again in the woods at Haselmere, and made ready for a few days of intense energy work. Dan was acting strangely and seemed very close to the edge. This didn't instil much confidence in the group, and we found it difficult to open ourselves up in what felt to be a potentially dangerous space. We did some circle work, but it was overshadowed by the feeling of some imminent catastrophe.

In this strange period Dan gave me one of his treasured artifacts, a statue of one of the Atlanteans that stand on the pyramid at Tula, New Mexico. The Atlanteans are described by Carlos Casteneda as the successful results of the ancients' impeccable intent. They guard the temple space when warriors are undertaking Dream journeys and are exploring the realms of the second attention, or higher consciousness. I was overjoyed. It was for me a symbol of attainment in the practice of Dreaming, or the use of the magical will. I received it with gratitude and determined to use my energy well.

During our time at Hammer, matters grew so bad that the group stayed increasingly together for its own protection. We were scared of the sudden mood shifts and rages that swept through Dan. One evening, as the wind howled through the trees and whipped dust and crackling leaves into spinning dances, we grouped together at the end of our tether. Dan had finally let go of any semblance of groundedness, and the storm outside seemed to be the effect of the demons let loose by his threshold state.

The shadows had a life of their own and seemed malevolent, reaching out to restrain anyone who passed their haunt. The house and the woods had turned and it seemed that we were the enemy: we were foreign bodies that needed to be expelled to ensure the continued existence of our host. That night we all slept together in the king-sized double bed of the guest room, huddled together for comfort and warmth.

Sometime that night we heard the clumping of giants' feet ascending the stairs, and Dan burst in. Although he was small in stature, his shadow, monstrous in the bizarre lighting conditions, flew directly at us across the ceiling. He was furious, and shouted at us to separate immediately and join him. It was more than Dan speaking and we knew we were under attack by some demonic force that had temporarily taken him over. We knew that staying together was our strength and held on to our defensive position: the entity was unable to do anything about it. Howling, he stamped his way down the stairs again and out into the stormy night.

The next day Dan was nowhere to be seen. We packed our belongings and completed, having left donations for the use of the house and for Dan himself. A little confused and scared, we knew that an era had ended. We were to gather together with our friend and teacher no more. Dan, thank you for all you gave us. Journey well on the path you have chosen, one that is too difficult for most of us to follow. I pray you will be loved, helped and healed on your way, and that you find your heart's desire...

During the early spring, I experienced an eruption of negative emotions and needed a break from both January and people in general. I wanted to spend some peaceful time on my own terms. An Oak Dragon colleague called Barbara offered me her house and car while she was away in Greece with her friend Nancy. I jumped at the chance and invited Howie, a lifetimes-long Medicine friend, to join me.

Barbara lives near Fowey, on the south coast of Cornwall. She owns a delightful house on the side of a hill giving a lovely view to the south-west. The building is surrounded by gardens and trees, and sweetly-smelling honeysuckle climbs up the walls.

It is a friendly healing space. A mature, well-tended herb garden in large earthenware pots greets one at the front door. It created an excellent sun-trap, and if there was any clear weather, Howie and I would be out among the herbs, immersing ourselves in the fragrant air and baking under the golden sun. Lizards and butterflies were our constant companions, insects droned through the sleepy air and a family of extremely vocal owls did the honours during the night.

During the day we walked, exploring the environs and checking out any wells, springs or standing stones in the area. I am a maker of magical tools and am always looking out for natural spirals in wood. They are produced when honeysuckle wraps itself around saplings, and over a period of a couple of years or so, squidges them into a spiral shape. I was delighted to discover some well-formed spirals nearby in a wood which overlooked the sea, and we harvested a few excellent wands.

Howie is an archeologist and has an eye for ancient evidence. He is able to read the landscape well and we found some knapped flints close to the spiral wood. We also found some lively spring flowers by sparkling streams and made flower essences from some of them. Celendines, violets and primroses were among those I picked and bottled. Such concentrated life-force!

One day we made a journey to Boscawen-un stone circle in West Penwith on the tip of Cornwall. We parked the car as close as we could and walked half a mile along gorse-lined walled paths to the stones. This stone circle is my personal favourite in all Britain. No huge earth-shattering mega-temple this, but a severely perky sacred site, and a good friend. During the Crystal Journey I had planted a Parvarti crystal under one of the stones and we had bonded in a deep and familiar way. I felt both empowered and completely relaxed with its spirit. How I celebrate and love to spend time there!

Howie and I entered the open area encompassing the ring. We stopped at the perimeter stones, and after a short pause I walked to the leaning central megalith. I embraced it, and told it my news. We communicated for a while until I had left my past behind and became fully present. We felt good with one another. I then sat down awhile, taking in the surroundings. It is a lovely little stone circle with a large eight foot long standing stone in the centre, leaning at an angle of about forty-five degrees. The perimeter stones, mostly intact, are about three to four feet high. All are of local granite except for one in the west which is a striking white quartz boulder.

It is built on the side of a small hill. To the west there is a small stream hidden by impenetrable bracken, and far horizons. There is a feeling of privacy and safety in the stones, for the site is difficult to see from any road or track save by the tiny concealed path upon which we had arrived.

When it felt right I took out the equipment I had brought and laid it on the ground. There was a lovely dressing of shells and flowers already arranged into a spiral pattern by the great stone, and flashes of ribbons and coloured materials tied to the surrounding trees. I was very happy that this sacred place was still loved and worked by visitors and the local people. I swiftly added my offerings and created a combined altar, a fitting celebration for peace and healing between all people and the powers of Nature.

Whenever I have spent time here before, I have felt in my dreaming a close relationship with St. Michaels Mount. Although logic may disagree, whatever I have done at Boscawen-un has connected with the faery Mount, and then sped up into the heart of the country along the Great Ley, or Dragon Path, as I like to call it. So, with this in mind, I allowed the morning's working to unfold.

All is so relaxed and peaceful. I allow myself to drift and let go of time and everyday concerns. I observe and merge with my surroundings, loving the wildness of the Cornish countryside and the part of me that is so aligned with these blessed stones.

I lean against the central stone and immerse myself in the Dream. I visualise a healthy planet where the waters run free, sparkling and tinkling, clear and rainbow fresh, fish a-leaping. The atmosphere is clear and becomes the true medium of Spirit, the air like champagne to taste, and the birds rejoicing in their element. The land is verdant, fertile, and the spring flowers are bursting forth in celebration of life. Animals and humans co-exist in love and respect, eternally grateful for the precious gifts abundantly provided by their Great Mother. The sun and the sacred fires of the planet are meshed together, inseparable, the etheric networks of energy pulse healthily and golden around and through the earth. A deep blue healing aura, luminous and alive, envelopes the Earth.

It is so important to focus on the healthy and the positive! My prayers and love connect with Howie's and the circle starts to spin smoothly, joyfully. The central stone changes shape, ruffles its feathers, and looks fiercely through golden eyes over a curved, razor beak. I welcome the Power into the circle, and give thanks for the gift of life. I then take out my Rescue Remedy, a Bach Flower homeopathic mixture for shock and healing, and place a drop onto each stone. Flowers are great healers.

I wish any hurt or damage in the Land to receive immediate healing, both for the Now and also in the long term. I imagine the flower essence covering the stones in a sparkling, rainbow canopy. When the timing is appropriate, my prayers are despatched up the Great Ley and observed to filter through the smaller energy capillaries to every tiny part of the land.

Then I place a drop of each spring essence I have just made onto each stone and the same visualisation made. Spring is here! To all of those wounded and isolated places, you are not forgotten: feel this new, vibrant energy reaching and filling you with new life!

By now, of course, the land through this simple Working is once again whole, united, and as pure as it was originally intended by the Creator/Creatress. I laugh, sing and dance through the stones like a madman or fool, for spring is the time for uninhibited celebration. And it is.

Howie told me afterwards that, half-way through the proceedings, a boy and girl appeared. In his mind's eye, they entered the stones from the north, and stayed in the circle until the end. They radiated their love freely, joyfully, laughing and drinking deep of the lifeforce in each other's eyes. They danced and twirled through the stones in bursts of creative energy. Dressed in light, bright swirling clothes and bedecked with flowers, they personified the spirit of spring. Howie was deeply affected, and repeats the story from time to time for suitable audiences in front of the fire!

Howie also taught me unequivocally that psychic powers, and telepathy in particular, are possible. Indeed, they can be experienced and worked with quite normally without making a big deal out of it. Our evening routine was to stand on the patio and watch the sunset, then light the fire in the living room. We would then sit for hours, staring into the flames and talking, or holding our silence as the mood took us. During that time I realised that I was becoming aware of messages from Howie that arose purely in my consciousness, without the use of words. I wondered if they were my imagination or really coming from him.

I realised that I had always been aware of unspoken messages from others. I had been lazy, knowing that if I acknowledged them, I would have to make huge changes in my consciousness. It would result in far too much work restructuring my belief systems! Sitting by that beautiful, cheerful fire I decided that this was the time to find out more about telepathy. So I reprogrammed myself to act on any subliminal message that came through, and some extremely interesting results followed.

A concentrated mind is important, and enough time to fully relax. I found out that telepathy does not depend on silence or peace: subliminal messages always found their way through despite the background noise. Similarly, I discovered that the secret of telepathy is to accept and act on the information arriving or arising in ones awareness immediately. The automatic reaction when it arises is to dismiss it as imagination. This is probably to do with one's conditioning which states that such practices and powers are impossible. If 'answered' immediately, a psychic message from another is experienced as perfectly natural.

For instance, on many occasions, I would receive instructions like "It's your turn to make the tea." If I didn't hesitate and immediately said "would you prefer hot chocolate this time?" or "make it yourself you lazy bugger", Howie would carry on the conversation as if his original telepathic request was a normal vocal communication, and in most cases would not realise anything was amiss.

I became aware that he picked up my psychic communications to him and dealt with them similarly. He would either answer them immediately, later, or not at all. If he reacted immediately, I would experience his reply as if our communication was simple verbal communication. There was no 'jolt' or disturbance.

If he replied late, it was a little disturbing and I would always think to myself "why is he pissing about?" If he didn't reply at all, I felt safe and willing to sweep it all under the carpet again. Unconsciousness.

I always knew if I had sent him a message. Normal thought, or using 'will-power' just didn't work. I couldn't force it. It seemed to happen by itself, it actually happened quite often, and my thought or instruction was accompanied by a sort of pulse of energy which came from somewhere in the front of my body at about the level of my navel.

We had only a short time to practice our new way of communicating, but it was enough to start me on my way. I realised that true telepathy operated on the feeling level. My mind couldn't really get round the concept of 'feeling a thought', but that seemed to be the procedure. I'd love to delve deeper into this fascinating subject with interested people, in a more disciplined way! I suppose I will have to wait until the time is ripe. Still, it was a major breakthrough in my life, and I started to become aware of the subliminal messages that are constantly being broadcast by people. They are usually far closer to the truth than what is uttered aloud. Thank you, Howie.

At Beltane a very special dream of mine became physical reality in an incredibly beautiful way. I had been asked by an old friend, Persh, if I would help organise a group trip to Dingle in southwest Eire to swim with Fungi the dolphin. I was delighted, and spent time with the team planning and getting all the diverse elements of the trip together. The group was called The Green Samurai, an active esoteric group working with environmental issues and inner growth teachings.

The plan was simple: gather a group of people, organise necessary equipment, hire a coach and driver, pack, drive to Dingle, unload, erect a mega-bender for everyone to live in, swim with the dolphin, and return. And so we set off, having decided to cut and gather the bender poles before we left in case there were difficulties finding them there. There were twenty-five adults, fifteen children, and the occasional in-betweener. What a drive! Matty, Persh's partner and driver, did very well on such a long run.

Eventually we arrived and piled out of the bus. The farmer had given us permission to camp on his land for the duration, and soon the mega-bender was up. Most of us were total strangers and we made rotas for cooking, tidying up, washing up, and other chores: it worked very well. I entered the world of the kids and became magician with flute, crystals and nature. My organic top-hat became an integral part of my body and I strode the cliffs and open fields of Eire as if I were a king on a children's adventure where I ruled the world and all dreams came true.

On the second day the bravest (or stupidest) of our merry band went for a swim. Dingle is on the side of a bay maybe three quarters of a mile long and a half wide. The bay is connected to the sea by a deep channel three hundred yards wide. We were camped near the mouth of the channel under a huge old circular tower above a cheerful sandy beach. Here were the greatest number of dolphin sightings, and it was the favourite place to swim if one wanted to meet him.

The sea is very cold, but I cannot put on one of the wetsuits we have brought with us. I can't bear the thought of being enclosed and cut off from the outside world by a restrictive rubber straight-jacket. They are too small for my considerable bulk, anyhow. There are a few swimmers out in the middle of the channel and I catch the occasional glimpse of a fin. Fungi is here! At this point I have to face two of my deepest fears: deep water and the cold. As I child I nearly drowned in water while out of my depth, and I very rarely allow myself to venture into deep water. In addition, cold water is very painful to me and, despite my early morning cold showers, any extended foray into cold deep water quickly brings me to panic.

I try to swim out to the centre of the channel, but soon the terror hits: I turn around and make frantically for the shore. It is freezing! Shivering, I stagger ashore into the wicked breeze which cools me down even more. Despairing, I know that my hopes of meeting Fungi are impossible. I can't fit into a wetsuit as I am too big, and the cold will kill me if I try swimming without protection. My shoulders slump and I feel like crying.

I keep looking longingly at the fin which appears every so often in the middle of the channel, and suddenly a manic mood overcomes me. I know that I will regret it to the day I die if I don't meet the dolphin. I throw caution to the winds and know I will meet him even if it kills me.

I run back into the water and swim for my life. The sensors under my body know that I am moving out into seriously deep water as I swim fifty yards, then one hundred yards into the sea. With relief I realise that the temperature seems to have found a steady level, and the cold doesn't seem to be increasing.

In a state of reluctant belief I know that, barring emergencies, I will be allright. And here he is! He comes and checks me out, keeping his distance, but coming close nevertheless. I have been given a large beautiful turquoise bangle the year before, and I want to give it to him. I take it off, and hold it awhile. As he cruises directly below me, I drop it onto his back and I know that it has been received.

After a while I check my position. Fungi and the other swimmers seem far away. To my horror I see the current is carrying me into the bay. I have only had to swim a hundred yards or so into the centre of the channel from the beach. If I am swept into the bay, I will have a distance of many hundreds of yards to reach shore, and I am not sure if I can make it. I strike out for the rocky waterline, and seem to be making maddningly slow progress. Then I see a fin break the surface next to me! It is Fungi, obviously knowing what is going on, giving me some greatly needed support. He swims with me all the way to the seaweed-covered rocks which I reach just before they give way to the open bay.

Happy to be alive, I celebrate with a few whoops and shrieks. On an impulse I pull a long strand of seaweed off the rocks and twirl it in a circle underwater. Fungi rolls in the same direction! I reverse the movement, and he mirrors my every move! We then play together like a couple of kids (or dolphins) until I get cold and have to make my way back. The rocks are covered with very slippery seaweed and the going is slow. It is much safer and quicker to swim back in the shallow water, and my new friend stays with me until I am safely back on the beach.

While walking past the cliff on the way back to our camp, I get drawn to a crevice in an interesting boulder. Imagine my delight when I peer in, and see a large perfect crystal growing from the solid rock! I put my hand in and wiggle: it comes free and lies gently in my hand. It even looks like a dolphin. Thank you, dear Eire, dear Fungi, dear Great Spirit!

The next couple of days were a little stormy. I had to spend my time making the bender galeproof and encouraging the other members of the group. Any spare time that came my way, I spent striding over the land exploring and collecting 'Kerry diamonds', single crystals that have fallen out of the eroding cliffs onto the beach. Some of the crystals I found were fresh, sparkling and many-faceted, others had been sand-blasted and water-worn to create magical sea sculptures. Each contained a little unique spirit that was great fun to get to know; I would sit on a rock or dune for ages, peering at my new little friends and exploring their features.

I loved the evenings and nights storytelling and making music. At last, sated by gentle magic and happily exhausted, I would snuggle up to the children by the fire and drift happily away to the rhythms of the sea. Invariably, when I woke in the morning, I would find at least half a dozen kids pressed up against me, or on top of me, in all sorts of crazily contorted positions. I felt like Peter Pan!

The last full day at Dingle dawns in golden shafts of light, and I feel that something special is going to happen. Kate and I decide we have worked enough, and are going to devote the day to purely spiritual and joyful pursuits. We are both crystal people, and have brought our favourite gems with us to Eire. We know of a special cove half a mile to the east: we determine to make an altar there and set out our crystals. If guided, we will do some sort of ceremony with the Spirit of the Land, the sun, and the sea.

In bright sunlight we set off and reach the cove. It is a long way down from the clifftop. We half walk, half scramble down a steep spiral path until we finally reach the beach. For a while we explore the rocks and hidey-holes, then Kate calls me over to the cliff-face. A gentle waterfall tumbles off the top of the cliff into space and arrives at the base in a mixture of atomised spray and lazy drips. It splashes onto a flat, natural rock altar covered in moss and creates the most delightful fairy rainbows in the sun. This is to be the centre of our operations today.

We take off our restrictive clothing and feel the sun's welcoming rays pierce through our skin, deep into receptive bodies. Kate is exquisitely beautiful, and I feel myself glowing with life-force. We both radiate an intense joy of life and celebrate our physicality in innocence and openness. After opening ourselves to the sun awhile we enter the sea together, exploring the bay and cleansing ourselves. I am close to the cliff in deep water when I see crystals. Reaching into a hole in solid rock, my hand feels a crystal and it comes away easily into my hand. As I look at what I have harvested, I see it is icy clear quartz with a lovely mineral deposit upon its surface, making it radiate a luminous red like blood. I carry it back to the shore in my mouth so as not to lose it.

We leave the water and allow the sun to dry us, then walk to the waterfall altar. Such radiant natural beauty, such simple stillness! We then get out our crystals, assemble them, and make a wonderful spontaneous mandala upon the mossy altar stone. As the pattern of sparkling crystal grows, the sun bounces and plays amongst them, sending quivering rainbows flashing merrily into the world.

Kate and I are two children in bliss as we play with the elements: the breeze strokes the fine hairs on our sensitive skin, the sun kisses our very beings. The sea shimmers in dancing sparklets as far as the eye can see, and the crystals, dense transparent matter, bring the rocks and cliffs to life with their otherworldly, prismatic magic. Our love for each other, for Nature, and our Mother the Planet transmits these natural miracles to All Beings everywhere.

The last crystal is placed and all is perfection, complete. Our reality fuses with all of Nature. A giant fish jumps clear of the water, hovers for an eternity, and then crashes back with a resounding splash. Fungi! We realise then that we are no longer detached beings. We have dissolved all separation. Of course he is here at the precise time our combined prayers shoot through space and the etheric web of the planet!

For a startled instant we stare at one another in recognition, and then our eyes soften. We willingly surrender to the dance, giving thanks for the roles given to us this special, magical day. We run to the sea where the dolphin is going mad in an excess of life-force, and hurl ourselves in. He is powering himself through the narrow channels between three small islands, his streamlined body furiously pumping, causing large bow-waves to break against the cliffs. From time to time he hurls himself out of the water in a burst of exhilaration.

His delight is catching and we follow him as best we can. He comes up to Kate and lets her stroke him before flicking his tail and accelerating with alarming speed into the darkness below. I climb an island and wait for him to reappear. With a whoop, I dive-bomb him as he shoots past and he dodges. We then dance underwater cartwheels, first me on top and then him, spinning in joy below the waves. Unfortunately I have to break off and rise to the surface for air; he then plays with Kate awhile. I dive-bomb him again, and he leaps out of the water over my head.

After a while I look inland. I am astonished to see most of the group are there at the water's edge or in places with a view, watching spellbound. I find it meaningful that nobody feels like joining us: the action is for Kate, myself and Fungi alone. And how did they know what was happening?

I could have expected maybe three or four people exploring the coastal cliff-path to have noticed what was taking place, but certainly not the fifteen or so people who were there. They have been drawn here, a relatively distant bay, as if to witness the energetic culmination of the group's time here at Dingle. For a while I watch their eyes. Their bodies are in this world, yet their spirits are in the place where wonders and miracles are commonplace. They are deeply submerged, like us, in the sacred. Suddenly Fungi shoots below me and I dive, reaching for his tail. Then I completely forgot all that is not immediately concerned with my reality, the dolphin, or the sea...

In May January and I returned to our bender in north-west Wales to do a month's retreat. We walked, did a lot of meditation, and I prepared myself to stop smoking for a month. On the full moon we shaved our heads. I had done it many times before, but it was the first time for January.

We took turns to sit on a particularly comfortable rock which was covered in a thick cushion of moss and lichen while our partner cut our hair, and then shaved off the stubble. A long and delicate process indeed. Overhead, weeping ash and silver birch trees sang to us of what was to come as we renewed ourselves. We looked extraordinary when the operation was complete! The old had fallen away, and we prepared ourselves for the gateway that was now opening up for us. We buried our hair in the roots of a tree overhanging the cliff, and hoped that it would turn into good compost.

We then attended a Rainbow Circle camp close to Leominster. We were a striking couple, heads clean-shaven and striding through the field in long flowing clothes. I felt like an alien with his partner, inspecting a gathering of space-beings on a planet with similar features as mine. Most of those present were earthlings but there was a smattering of other life-forms in evidence, mostly friendly.

We were approached by a young alien called Crazyhorse who befriended us. He taught sacred dance and we joined him on a couple of his workshops. He was adamant that this gathering of beings was unique in the world's history, and the combination of energies present was perfect for shifting the planet into the next phase of its evolution. Noticing the large proportion of space-cases about, I couldn't agree but it was all great fun.

One late afternoon as the sun was setting over the wooded hills to the west, he approached January and myself. "It is time to unfurl your wings", he said intensely. "Who wants to be first?"

January said she would, and he started to massage her back, both physically and energetically. After a while he finished, and it was my turn. Then started the strangest experience. My mind wanted to dismiss it all as a joke, yet my energy body was telling me that something very real was happening. Something was there between my shoulder blades that wasn't there before, and was it my imagination, or did it start to stir when I focussed on it, and willed it to move? Was my poetic creation at Gabrielle's puberty initiation becoming real in the phenomenal world?

Another teaching was given to me on that camp, and this applied to one of my favourite subjects: standing stones. Stan, our friendly, jovial shaman had found a pile of large stones that, according to the farmer, used to be a stone circle before it was dismantled. He felt it was his mission to re-erect the stones where it felt correct, close to the camp by some trees.

Although it was my pet subject, I got very strong messages to keep my distance – or else. So, although I was invited, I attended none of the preliminary meetings in which those interested discussed where the stones should go, how they should be moved, and when. In fact, the matter had almost escaped my attention – until the screams started.

I was with January and Dan in his small dome, in the middle of a healing session with a tricky little schizophrenic girl who wanted to play with our realities rather than surrender to the process of her integration. We had been led up the garden path, down to the septic tank, and round the chicken run before we got the message. Then we heard screams coming from outside, so we went out to investigate. We were led to the area where the stone-moving was in operation, and it was not a pretty sight.

On an apparent level it was not obvious what was going on, but on an energetic level it was poison. Something was very wrong with the group, and I felt that they had opened a Pandora's Box of energies of which they had no experience. Surges of a deep, primal hysteria seemed to swirl through the group, and the trees shook violently in sympathy.

At a guess, they, and Stan in particular, had not listened to what the spirit of the land wanted. January, Dan and I looked at one another, and turned away. It was none of our business. We had heeded the instructions given to us when the idea was first mooted, and had kept strictly away. I prayed that it would resolve itself naturally, and promptly forgot about the whole matter. The camp needed a few earthed and together people to help hold its centre, and we seemed to be the ones to fill the bill this time round.

We drove onto the field, familiar now, at Honey Street at Alton Barnes. I wanted to try out a new site plan, one that hadn't been tried before in its pure form: every structure facing inwards around the circumference of a giant circle. At the centre would be a temple, a white dome with three doorways, and an eternal fire that would burn throughout the camp.

On arrival, I saw that the cafe marquee hadn't been erected where I had instructed, and I had a silly argument with another site-crew member who had put it up it in my absence. Feeling dirty and very insecure, I dwelt on the whole issue while the rest of the equipment arrived. I then realised that I could use my strong feelings of discontent in a very constructive way. I'd had enough, and something needed to change. I was going to disappear.

I had booked the Oak Dragon tipi as my living space during the first camp. I spent a couple of delightful hours erecting it and moved in my belongings. Major change was upon me, and I resolved to spend the camp in my own internal space, working through what was necessary and emerging like a butterfly at the right time. I really enjoyed telling the site-crew member he was welcome to be site manager and, much to the surprise of all, disappeared into the tipi.

Tipis are incredible structures. They are primarily fire spaces, and their conical shapes are a powerful archetypal form which beckons Spirit. As such, they are ideal for withdrawing, undertaking a spiritual retreat, and working consciously with the fires of transformation. It helps if one knows how they work, of course, and how to keep a hearty, smokeless fire dancing at the hearth!

Well, I withdrew. Many people tried to entice me out, but I wasn't budging. I kept my fire burning happily, and fed my past to its flickering, hungry flames. I dreamt the dreams of the future and stayed silent. I felt like a snake withdrawing to safety while its old skin slowly unravels and returns to the earth. My body, new and glistening, was preparing to emerge. Essentially, I was tired. I was tired of doing the same old thing time and time again, structures up, keep them running, structures down. Then structures up, and so on. I had done it for two years, a long time. Somebody else could do it for a change. It was easy enough.

I wanted to focus on matters that were new, and needed. I was sad that Oak Dragon and the camps had become very samey: each camp had a different title, but essentially they were very similar. Each department had stayed the same since the first camp in Cornwall: Admin, Cafe, Kids Area, Welfare, Site... I reckoned that a change was due in the fundamental approach to setting up camps. I decided to create the Beauty Department.

What would its first creation be? It would be a gateway, of course! I wondered at my obsession with orifices and decided, as obsessions go, it was pretty harmless compared to some...

During the nights I had been on the prowl, and had gathered the equipment needed for a big surprise. I had noticed a white door in its frame in the site equipment pile, I had plenty of string, and had made some stakes while chopping wood. So, about three quarters of the way through the camp, one night at midnight, I girded my loins and went to work. In an hour or so I was finished. Mid-way between the temple at the centre of the site and the perimeter circle, aligned to the Alton Barnes White Horse, there now stood a white door. It could be used in the usual way, by turning the door knob, opening the door, and stepping through the frame. Well satisfied with my efforts, I walked through and then retired to my lair.

I watched with interest the reactions of those at the camp the next morning, and subsequently. Nobody actually asked me what the door was, or what it was for. I couldn't have answered them anyway, except to confirm to them that, yes, it was a door, and yes, one could walk through it if one wanted...

My main hobby for the rest of the camp was to watch people react with my little white gateway. It was amazing to witness the thousand and one possible ways to interact with a door in the middle of a field. Some people simply walked up to it, opened the door, and walked through, bless them! Some approached the structure like deer, suspicious and careful as if it would bite or swallow them whole. Some would eventually go through, but most would inspect it from every which angle and fight shy of the actual operation. It's obvious, isn't it, that doors are for stepping through? Then there were those who never went anywhere close and, I presumed, denied its existence as it stretched their sense of reality too much.

I started to emerge from my isolation and by the end of the camp, had moved back into the truck. The tipi was booked by somebody else for the next camp, so I cleared out my belongings. I expressed my gratitude to its spirit for being able to spend prime time in such a wonderful space!

The next stage of the Beauty Department moved into action. I told the site-crew that I would take responsibility for the lighting of the camp at night, and stored fifteen or so hurricane lamps at the truck. I have always been fascinated by the stars: during this camp, for the first time, I would attempt to bring them down to earth. If it was my destiny to be the agent for connecting the Star Beings with the Earth, so be it. I might as well get on with the job!

The participants of the second camp arrived and pitched their tents. That evening at the introductory talk, I told everyone that we would be travelling on a star journey together for the duration of the camp. I explained that, every night, I would be lighting the lamps and positioning them in the exact shape, scaled down, of the major stars of a particular constellation. Each star-group has an inherent quality and by re-creating the constellation on site, its essence would thereby be brought to earth. So went the theory. I hoped that my plan would help me to understand the stars better. I asked for feedback about people's experiences in order to gather data. I determined to collate all of the information gathered, and attempt to come to some conclusions. I announced that the first night's constellation was to be Cygnus the swan.

One of the magical powers of the swan is to take us humans on its back, if we dare to accept its offer, and it will carry us into Dreamtime. There we will undergo the transformation we need at that particular stage in our lives. We are then returned to earth the same person, yet subtly different. During the camp we would take off on Swan's back, spend eight days or so in Dreamtime, and return during the night before completion day.

And so it was. I had an accurate star map and strong intent: I reckoned that would suffice. The swan landed in the centre of our space that first night, and took the camp with it on a journey through Dreamtime. I was nervous but not unduly so, and readied myself for whatever would manifest.

On the next day, the first visitor from the stars arrived. I was called to the gate in the early afternoon, and there was Christine, a Canadian woman that had befriended me long ago at Vaschist, a small religious village up the valley from Manali in India! She had won the trust of the villagers; I was tolerated as her friend and many doors had opened for me because of her.

The high spot of my time there was being invited to accompany the entire village to their sacred lake high in the mountains for their annual ceremony of renewal. This was a great honour as only a very few westerners had experienced this intimate part of the villagers' religious life.

And here she was, as large as life in a green field, in England, with Ivan! She couldn't stay long, but we spent a lovely afternoon together talking about everything and nothing. It surprised me how strong my feelings were towards her. They weren't sexual, but had the quality of the deep bonding that becomes forged after magical adventures undertaken together.

Just before she left, she told me she had something to show me. She took off her training shoes and her socks. The sight of her shocked me into a state of higher consciousness, and I still don't know what passed between us while in that state. What she revealed were not two feet, but talons like an eagle's. Her feet were dreadfully misformed and twisted out of shape, and I suddenly saw her as a mythological creature such as a griffin or phoenix in human form, visiting this sacred space on a very definite mission. Whatever the reason, my energy body was catapulted into the realm where myth and magic rule. I know it was a very difficult thing for her to reveal herself like that to me, and I felt incredibly honoured. Dear Christine, I thank you for coming and for revealing such wonders to me that afternoon.

The third day saw me full of creative energy, and I decided that the temple space needed a bit of beautifying. Armed with balls of different coloured wool and a ladder, I wove a huge spider's web inside the structure which covered the ceiling. It took hours, but finally I stood there, proudly viewing the results of my labours. I was excited about the next part of the creation. I would do what I had never done before: the spider would be comprised of a group of assorted crystals representing the major stars of the Pleiades.

I had a selection of particularly perky crystals which, put together in the Pleiades configuration, should have some very strong effects. Two of them came from the entrance pillars at the entrance to the labyrinth at Knossos, Crete. Another was the blood red dolphin crystal. One was a Herkimer diamond given to me by a special friend, and another was from the Crystal Mountain.

The central one was the 'Mother Crystal', the first crystal I had found in the middle of the path in India, which led me to the others in the cliff. And so it was. I became the spider and wove, spinning sparkles in the temple Dreamweb, innocently, silently.

Finally the Pleiades had arrived at the centre of the temple. I wondered how they would manifest in the camp itself. I didn't have long to wait.

That evening there was a strange feeling permeating the camp. An unnatural silence hung heavily over the field like an oppressive shroud and people were jumpy. Peter the bagpipe player had obviously tuned into it and was wandering the site playing some beautiful melodies. Some strange sounds started issuing from the central temple space and I sensed something wrong. I got up to investigate.

Wearing my voluminous purple poncho and dijereedoo slung over my shoulder, I walked across the field. There were some really crazy noises coming from the central dome! My hair stood on end. As I entered the space, a curious scene awaited me. A wild looking man wearing South American clothing stood in the sacred fire under the spider's web. The temple decorations lay strewn around the floor. The whites of his eyes flashed in the dim candle-light, and he appeared truly crazed. He carried a strange electronic device that flashed on and off, all the time emitting a series of bleeps and crackles much like a manic shortwave radio. The whole atmosphere was of deep magic, chaos, disrespect and of wanton destruction.

"Who are you?" I asked him.

"You big guy", he replied, "too big". He started to kick the fire around the floor of the dome. Sparks flew unheeded around the space, the flames flickered and died, and choking smoke billowed upwards.

"Who are you?" I tried again.

"Me not like you, magician", he replied.

"I'm sorry but you must leave immediately", I said. "This is a private gathering".

"Me from outer space, man. Come visit." He started to rip down some more of the greenery that decorated the space.

"Sorry. You must go now."

'You fuck off now!"

I called over some of the site crew from the cafe. I explained the situation and we picked him up, gathered his belongings, and carried him to the entrance of the field. There we deposited him in an undignified heap, and told him to scarper before we called the police. When he stood up and collected his gear together, he turned towards me, the focus of his anger, and pointed his finger.

"You die!" he shouted. "I kill you! You will die, you see!"

The hairs rose on the back of my neck. However much I dismissed the whole situation, I was scared. I wondered what I had let loose into the world by opening this stargate.

If we thought we had successfully dealt with our strange visitor, we had another think coming. We woke in the morning, patting ourselves on the back for having seen the last of him. And then we looked towards the gate. There, on the roadside verge was a black tipi. The 'spaceman', as he was now being called, had erected a conical shelter out of black bin liners just to one side of the entrance to the field, and didn't seem as if he was going to move.

The symbology was awesome. Just as erecting a white tipi creates a spirit space for deep transformation, right at our gate was a very powerful black space. I wondered, not for the last time, what I had let loose into our collective reality....

We managed to ignore him for half a day, and then some of the more radical members of the camp started to make contact with him. They then began to talk among themselves, saying that we should allow the stranger back into the camp, and that he wasn't such a bad sort, really. They ignored the fact that when he was on site before, he was a noisy disruptive pest and destroyed a lot of beautiful creative work. As soon as you could say 'sabotage', the camp was divided on the issue. In the confusion, a 'loving and compassionate' person invited him in, and that was it.

It is not easy to move in a divided group: some might say impossible. So the spaceman proceeded to wander around the camp disrupting any activity he approached, and profaning any space he entered. As guardian of the site, I had originally acted as I had felt fit and my decision was overruled. Despite loud alarm bells ringing in my ears I could only wait and see how the situation would develop. I was also aware that this situation was the direct result of the star energies I was working with. I hoped the forces at play in this situation would have mercy on us.

As time went on things would disappear, only to be found somewhere else on the field. On the first night of his arrival a tipi was removed from its position on one side of the field, and a crazy sculpture made with the bits had appeared in the morning by the shower unit. Nothing seemed to be held sacred or safe on site and an increasingly anxious atmosphere hung oppressively over us all.

On the third day of the arrival of the Space Being, I was sitting inside Palden's dome at a meeting. I became aware of the hissing and bleeping of the alien's radio machine getting closer. There was a particular menace to the noise this time, and I felt a bit like a ship must feel with a torpedo on its tail. The sound got increasingly loud: soon it was directly outside. Then the antenna poked inside the structure, searching... Finally it pointed at me, and there was a sudden eruption of electronic noise from the exasperating thing. I jumped. The Spaceman's face appeared, triumphant.

"You dead now!" he crowed. "You dead!"

Most people were wary of our uninvited visitor by now but as yet no formal complaint had been received. The next morning, I heard raised voices and went to investigate. Miles was at the gate tipi confronting the Spaceman and he was very, very angry. I understood from the altercation that Miles had woken up to find his personal altar, upon which his most valuable possessions had been placed, was missing.

The evidence pointed towards the alien, and Miles wanted to find his bits. I appeared a split second before they came to blows; I ordered Miles away and informed our guest that he had ten minutes to pack his gear and leave. In our subsequent interaction, old memories of violence and paralysis arose in my consciousness.

I am in the garden at home. It is a sunny day in early summer; I am feeling very alive and I celebrate my body. I have been wrestling with my brother Jonathan, but I am too strong for him and it is no contest. I feel a bit frustrated but it is still a great feeling to be alive.

Suddenly there is a loud rustling at the hedge and two of our neighbours wriggle through. They enter the garden and we say hello. I am seven, Jonathan is five and a half, the elder boy is nine, the younger is five. Full of myself, I challenge them to a fight, all at once.

And they come. My body feels like a bull, a tiger and deer: it moves efficiently and instinctively. Within two minutes the two neighbours are running for the hedge in panic, and my poor brother is standing on the lawn in front of me, the fight forgotten, blood flowing from his nose and crying his eyes out.

All at once I realise what I have just done: for the sake of some sport I have made those weaker than myself suffer. I watch my brother with a sort of horror, as I feel his pain, his confusion and his despair as though they are mine.

Something shifts in me at a profound level. I vow never again to harm another soul, especially using physical violence. Never again will I use my strength, physical or psychic, to manipulate or gain ascendency over other souls in such a way as to cause them pain. Never again will I allow this afternoon's work to be repeated.

From then on I start my career of harmlessness: from then on I am in some strange prison, for I find that I cannot defend myself from aggressors. Others soon find my weak spots and torment me mercilessly, but there is nothing I can do.

"Don't do that, Ivan, you know how much that hurts me!"

"Sorry, sorry, SORRY!"

At first the spaceman obliged and started to gather his belongings, then people started to gather. Someone entered the tipi and tried to 'negotiate', which only meant they distracted the whole proceedings and broke the momentum. I asked the person to leave, which they did, but the previous flow had foundered.

This guy was tricky. He kept on moving, placing his belongings in one position and then another, making it difficult to see exactly what was going on. What made the whole thing infuriating was that he kept on knocking things against me, not very violently, but each touch was painful and energy draining. For instance he would move a piece of wood and knock it against my shins, then he would drop his case on my ankle, then step on my toes, then he brushed past me in the confined space hitting me in the ribs.

I went to the entrance of the tipi and asked Rose for advice. After a moment's thought she said that the tipi was his place of power, and we should dismantle it to ease his departure. So while I dealt with him inside the structure, the others took down the canvas from outside and the light streamed in. I felt that some of the shadow had lifted and it felt easier.

He then brushed past me and stuck a needle into the back of my hand. That was a mistake. Everything went silent, peaceful, and I watched the scene with detached interest. In slow motion my fist snaked out, effortlessly, and found a docking point just below his chin. His head flew back, his legs buckled, and he collapsed at my feet.

In a jiffy we had carried him out of the tipi and threw his belongings into the back of Alex's truck. I sat on the front seat and he was bundled in next to me while Sig, Dan and Naomi travelled in the back. We roared off towards Devizes police station. When the truck started moving he woke up and after travelling a mile or so he hit me with a piece of wood. Alex slammed on the brakes and stopped. By this time he was attempting and almost succeeding in biting a chunk out of my upper arm.

Dan grabbed his hand and bent back his little finger. It was a dirty move but it did the trick and he let go of my shoulder. Blood trickled down my arm and dripped off my fingers. With the aid of David's 'persuader' hold we got him face down in the rear of the truck, we all sat on top of him, and Alex took off again. After a bouncy and very noisy ride we stopped at the police station. The back doors flew open and the police looked in. Making a quick decision, they informed us that this was not the place for our reluctant passenger. We had to drive an extra three miles to the local mental hospital.

So off we drove again, and finally stopped in a cloud of dust outside a large country house. The back doors opened again and this time we were greeted by doctors and nurses in white coats who made a quick diagnosis.

A doctor entered the truck and approached. When a sharp set of teeth just missed his ankle and a gob of saliva dribbled down his shirt, he got the message. Another doctor with a large syringe entered and with no hesitation plunged it into the alien's buttock. He quickly became subdued, and was removed forthwith.

I emerged from the truck in shock. I told the others that I wanted time to myself and walked through the large and beautiful gardens. When I was far enough away I burst into tears and let my sorrow flow into the welcoming ground. I cried then for all of those children so wounded that they had rejected the type of behaviour acceptable to society. They were dangerous to themselves and to others, and couldn't be allowed to roam free as their spirits were born to do. I cried for the child inside myself who had had pure motives, attempting to create a sacred and healing space for all, but who had been wounded in following that dream of beauty. Why? I prayed that there would be healing, forgiveness, and lots of love. The sunlight streamed through the trees and there was a freshness among the dappled greenery. Scented flowers soothed me and I knew my prayers had been heard.

A helping and caring hand seemed to stroke away my pain. I let the healing power of Nature wash over me and then I returned to the others. Naomi gave me some healing on my arm. She was very good at it and I felt fully cleansed. Bites from humans and animals can be dangerous and need immediate treatment. We then drove slowly back to the site.

All the way through the remainder of the camp I changed the star configurations at night, spending about two nights on each. There was Lupus the wolf, then Cassiopeia, Lyra, and finally Cygnus again to return us back to Earth. There were very real changes in the dreamweavings of the camp with each new star-pattern and I received good and detailed feedback from those present which confirmed my own conclusions.

Possibly the strangest effect was when Cassiopeia was invited to earth. That night an emotional explosion rocked the site. The couple who were running the Gate and managing the finances started to fight and their very noisy process lasted a long time. Finally, the man left the field in a noisy and dusty exit. Afterwards they didn't succeed in working through the problem and their relationship didn't survive.

When I was working out the exact dimensions of Cassiopeia from my star-map, I had noticed that a 'W' was only one way of viewing the constellation. It actually gave me the feeling of a lightening flash, or a snake striking. The head of the snake, or business-end of the thunderbolt was close to, and pointing directly at, the living quarters where the Gate couple were living. Even though I knew that they already had problems inherent in their relationship, I nevertheless gave great respect to Cassiopeia when I drew it, or worked with it, after that camp!

Another extraordinary celestial 'working' happened on this unusual camp. One of the skills I regularly offer during camps is teaching the Dance of Life that Dan had taught me. I found it invaluable for a group to dance together before breakfast, stirring the camp into balanced wakefulness and setting the pace for the day. Towards the end of the camp there was a total eclipse of the moon, and I invited all those who were interested to come together to participate in a Dream dance. We would dance from the point the moon first became occluded until it became whole again. There were about twenty-five takers.

It was too strong an operation for me to do alone and I recognised it as a situation where I should use the runes that had been given to me at Harlech. I carved them carefully onto the snake ivy from the lightning-blasted oak and then consecrated them. When it was finished I placed it on my altar. Yes! That should do.

We gather in the early morning at about one o'clock and make our circle as a dent starts to appear in the full silvery disc of the moon. The conditions are perfect, starry and clear, and a ghostly mist swirls at chest height over the field. There are very strong forces present tonight and I realise we are about to attempt a profound magical operation. I know that we will be enhancing and honouring the natural marvels happening this night, and it feels very good.

I welcome all beings present and open the circle. We enter the dance in the usual, conscious way by chanting as we first move. This allows us to get into the rhythm and to attune with each other. At the start of the second round we enter the Silence and begin to circular breathe in unison. This is a difficult interface, yet we have practiced well and it goes perfectly.

Very soon afterwards we enter the Dream together, and everything flows like the silver mist which is moulded and caressed by the touch of the breeze. It undulates in slow motion: tendrils reach for the moon, only to fall back and dissolve again. Everything takes on an ethereal quality and shapes appear in the shadows. They take advantage of this rare gateway and join us in the dance. Our centre is strong and I feel the rune snake glow with otherworldly power. I am very grateful for the support of this magical ally. I realise we are dancing a forbidden dance. Our ancestors would have been huddling in their shelters by now, doing all they could to avert the evil eye and hoping the world would still be in existence when the horror was over.

We dance for our lives, for our very awareness, and give thanks for this opportunity. We are opposing taboo of the strongest magical nature and I hope that the fear of the world will be reduced just a little bit by our actions this night. From time to time dogs from the nearby village start to howl, both singly and in chorus, serenading the death of the light and welcoming the supremacy of the shadow worlds. The trees take on personalities and prowl the hedgerows; the silence is thick and heavy like some viscous liquid in which we are all immersed. And the shadows play as never before, becoming more and more solidly manifest in the physical world.

We dance through the dark of the moon which glows a baleful orange-red in the heavens. We are on a voyage that, once embarked upon, permits no hesitating or stopping until the safety of the far shore has been attained. And dance we do. One hour, two hours, and on. In slow motion we have become one entity. We are alone in the starry universe with only our unified breath and our courage to sustain us.

With relief I notice the dawn brighten the sky and the stars slowly fade. The cockerels begin to crow and the last shadows return to the realms from which they come. Startling golden rays shoot over the horizon, gilding the mist that lies thick on the land. As the first diamond arrow of liquid light pierces the morning, the spell breaks and all there is to do is to complete and give thanks.I start the chant to bring us back from the Dream and into the light of day.

Finally we complete and, still in silence, watch the earth's star climb above the horizon, helped by Kephra the scarab god, whose job it is to guide the sun through the darkest part of the night into the kingdoms of dawn and sunrise. Such hope! Such life-force! Such abandon!

Together we make our prayers as a circle, and then share all the energy we have generated, and have attained, with All Beings everywhere.

It was, subjectively, probably the longest camp I had ever attended. Finally the swan was shining again on the field, but flying in the opposite direction in order to bring us all back from the Dreamtime to land. With a definite sense of relief I witnessed everyone there return, pack their belongings the next day, and depart. I knew that a lot had happened on a magical level, and it would be a long time before I assimilated it all. Until I did, I would not experiment like that again. I would wait until the time was definitely right before attempting something similar.

I thanked the Star Beings for their presence, wished them well on their travels through space and time, and asked them to stay in contact with me on my path. They twinkled their reply.