This gave us a few days to get all the particulars sorted out.

We would need to get to the Channel Tunnel two hours early on Monday to check in and go through all the border formalities.

Because of the season and the areas we’d be traveling through, the car needed winter tires.

Having never driven through Europe, changing tires for a trip like this would never have occurred to me.

In truth, I didn’t need to think about the tires, so I focused on what needed my attention which was packing.

What would I need for this trip?  I’m pretty good at packing but I feel a bit out of touch since I haven’t traveled much over the last few years.

On the other hand, packing should be easy since all I had to choose from was what I brought with me.

The days flew by and before I knew it, it was time to leave for the tunnel.

The car had its new winter tires, the luggage was loaded, and all that was left to pack into the car was us!

My excitement was building.

Passport – check!

Tea – check!

Snacks – check!

Can’t go on a road trip with no snacks haha!

I’m ready.

Once we were underway, it was explained that the crossing itself takes about 35 minutes not including the check-in, loading process etc.

There would also be a border check, and our travel documents would need to match each person in the car traveling on that reservation number.

I’m not sure why, but that made me feel a bit nervous.  What if there was some sort of error and we couldn’t get on the train?

Then I remembered I didn’t want that to be my truth for this part of my journey and swapped out that thought for a new story line where “everything is always working out for me”, especially since I made it this far in the most magical way.

Arriving at the Channel Tunnel felt much like arriving at the Midtown Tunnel, lots of traffic lanes with cars and trucks waiting their turn to board.

And there they were, border agents!  They checked our documents with our faces, and whatever else they needed from my host and waved us on.

We pulled into the lane that matched the number on our reservation pass.  Now we waited.

There was nothing fancy about the Channel Tunnel loading terminal.  It looks very industrial.  The only way to describe it is that it reminds me of big shipping containers end to end which makes sense since some of the trucks in the waiting queue with us are very large tractor-trailer types.

I was deep in thought when the light flashed our number, and it was our turn to drive into an enclosed vehicle carriage (shipping container).

A tunnel worker directed us to our stopping position.  There were several cars ahead of us, too many to count.  There were only one or two behind us.

Once parked, I felt myself relax.

Apparently, we were to remain in our car, engine off, during the journey but were permitted to get out to stretch our legs if needed.

Once we were underway it became very noisy and as I took in the interior of the tunnel it registered that there would be nothing interesting to see.

There were no windows in sight.

Then I noticed many people, mostly children were passing the car on their way to what I assumed was the bathroom since there’s no vending machines or refreshment counter.

It felt like a combination of traveling by train and plane, although I didn’t experience the ear-popping sensation that sometimes comes with flying. There was nothing particularly strange about how my body felt.

Then the reality hit me, we were UNDER the English Channel!

How unnerving! Ha

Happily, it was an uneventful trip to the other side.

We pulled away from the Channel Tunnel and onto the highway; off we went on our merry adventure.

To my surprise there was nothing to see except land as far as the eye could see.

Farms to be exact.

And to further my amusement there were cows and horses.

Not one sheep to be had.

Just then I realized that the sheep had become comforting in a familiar kind of way.

I wonder what else would be different about this trip?

“The tunnel?” I repeated, feeling curious.

Why do we need a reservation?

This was another part of England I hadn’t heard of yet.

“The Channel Tunnel”, they said.

I shrugged, shaking my head.  I still didn’t know.

I must’ve looked like a dog who heard a whistle humans can’t hear.

They explained it was a way to travel from England into Europe through France.

We would be going underneath the English Channel.

Under the water.

Into France.

We’d need our passports for the border check.

My passport.

From England to France.

No plane.

This adventure suddenly felt bigger than a tunnel under water.

I sat there for a second, letting that land, sipping my tea.

“So how does it work?  You’re buying a ticket for us to use the tunnel to drive to France?”

“Is it like the Midtown Tunnel in New York?” I asked.  “The one that runs under the East River?”

I was familiar with that underwater tunnel.

You pay a toll to drive through it.

They responded, “Not quite like that.  We can’t drive through it”.

They explained that we’d drive the car onto the train, which would carry us into France.

I had so many questions.

Would we see the water from inside the tunnel?

You can’t in the Midtown tunnel but then you’re driving so it would be distracting.

How long does it take?

Where in France were we going?

I was feeling excited about this new experience even though France was not at the top of my “countries I’d like to visit” list.

I felt grateful for another unexpected experience.  We spent the rest of the evening discussing the details.

Ok, so we’d all be passengers in our car, which would be transported on the train.

They explained the trip through the Channel Tunnel would take roughly thirty minutes or so and there wouldn’t be anything to see.

Oh my, thirty minutes. Got it!

Thirty minutes in a train underwater felt like a long time.

We decided to leave Tuesday, and their daughter would be coming with us.  That meant we could each bring only a carry-on size suitcase so everything fit in the car.

I was told to pack for a few days stay and I suddenly found myself wishing it was spring, summer or fall so I wouldn’t have to contend with trying to pair up outfits for these heavy winter sweaters.

It’ll be fine, I thought.

As they were discussing key points of interest, and their daughter’s need to bring her school computer with her so she could stay on track with school assignments and lessons, I was absorbed in the idea of needing to get my stuff organized.

“What would I pack?”

When Tuesday came, we packed ourselves into the car and prepared to leave the comfort of their home behind.

I did not know what it would feel like to travel beneath the English Channel for thirty plus minutes.

Or, more importantly, what awaited us at the French border.

My suitcase was packed.

I had my passport in hand.

The tunnel was waiting.

So were the border guards.

There were children to tend to, a class to prepare for that we were all co-sharing as teachers and much needed down time to recover from all our traveling.

In all my excitement I had forgotten about the class.

We had planned to share my client’s journey with healing for those who were interested in going deeper in their own.

My client’s husband had his own coaching business, and they had been talking about working together coaching others.

We planned this class as we arranged my trip thinking it might be interesting and fun to combine our knowledge and set up a class that would be offered to both of our client lists.

We had a lot of people signed up which meant we would need to spend time making sure everything was ready.

I felt very comfortable with this, it was my happy place.

The class would take place through Zoom, and I was already very familiar with that application through my own client work.

I felt ready to get back into doing some teaching.  After all it was through my work that I was now in the UK.

I sat with that for a moment.

In truth, I initially turned it down when it was offered, it was enough for me to support my client in the way that I had.  My reward was to know she was in remission

Healing had happened.

That seemed enough.

Yet here I am and, in a day, I’ll be co-hosting a class with my clients turned hosts.

How unbelievable and exciting!

I never imagined my first trip to the UK would have been because of the work I was doing.

My only objective was in supporting people who came to me for help, meeting them where they were.

In my mind it made more sense that I would one day see the UK because something prompted a spontaneous trip there.

Maybe it would happen through a friend suggesting we should plan a trip to explore the places to paint.

Or perhaps it would be a family vacation like the many I’d taken with my brother, his wife and my mom exploring different islands like Hawaii, Cozumel, Jamaica and many more.

There was also a moment’s reflection for me knowing that the path opened to this trip through someone first having to become ill, holding that illness but also holding a deep desire to find healing.

I’ve been told many times that the work is not easy.  I know this truth, I was my first client, my mom was my second.

I laugh thinking about her now.  She had her angel oracle cards, crystals and sacred jewelry.  Sometimes I think she wanted to be in the work for me more than herself.  It was a way of finally supporting me in a way she never could before.

I knew if she could see me now, she’d be as happy for me as I was for myself.

The car had come to a stop.  We were waiting for the gate to open so we could pull up to the house.  It pulled me out of my thoughts.

Two and a half hours of driving had just flown by. It feels good to be back.

Back to reality!

Once in the house the first order of business was dinner.  Everyone was hungry and waiting on us to return.

Only one problem, everyone wanted something different! Haha time to get the food figured out and relax before bed.

Tomorrow, we’d have our class to tend to.  After tomorrow I’ll be able to proudly say I taught a class in England with my clients, who had become my hosts and more importantly my friends.

It doesn’t feel real, but it is.

Over the next few days there’ll be Formula One Races to catch up on amongst other things, while sitting near the fire with a nice cuppa, which feels warming in the cold damp evenings.

There’ll be more visits to the riding stable to watch their daughter and her horse go through their lessons, and a visit to get some cheese from the cheese shop which is local to go with the sourdough bread from the farm.

Life here is full in a different way than my life.  For one I don’t have children to tend to.

That did it, suddenly I’m back home and I need to pack for my move.

I’m no longer distracted exploring beautiful architecture, shops, food, the culture and landscapes.

Being in their home reminds me of the home I left behind which includes packing myself up.

I’m realizing that I’m not thinking about the move, maybe I’ve resolved that inner conflict.

It’s now about packing, gathering up all my belongings to put in storage indefinitely.

That feels big, I remind myself I’m ok.

Everything is perfectly perfect.

Suddenly I’m called out of my thoughts as I’m being asked how I liked my trip so far.

It makes me smile, so far, it’s been great!  It felt like I’ve always lived there, like one of the family.

I’ve integrated easily; they made it easy.  It feels comfortable, like I’ve always been here.

I feel like I’ve done so much since I arrived.

And then realize I still have thirteen days here!

That feels like a long time, but it’s not.

I sit back in my chair, warming by the fire sipping my Earl Grey listening to the conversation taking place around me when I hear a voice ask, “Maria, what would you like to see next?”

My body gets tense, and I’m blank, I can’t think of anyplace.  We’ve already done so much.

I tell them I don’t know.  I feel like I saw everything that felt important to me.

My hosts smile at me.

Then they turn to each other, and I hear “I think we should schedule the tunnel for Tuesday”.

“The tunnel?” I ask and take a sip of tea.

My curiosity was piqued.  What might I discover here?

I knew Oxford was a big college town being the home to one of the most prestigious schools in the UK from what my hosts mentioned about it, however, I didn’t expect it to feel quite so scholarly.

But in absolute transparency I’m not exactly sure what I expected.

We were in search of the parking garage that we found online which was in the restaurant we agreed to meet my client at and drove toward that area.

I noticed the streets were more compact with lots of foot traffic.

Oxford didn’t feel like a place I wanted to rush through.  There was so much to take in, with buildings of all shapes and color lining both sides of the street.  It felt interesting, needing to be explored slowly.

I didn’t want to notice the architecture; I wanted to take in the people who belonged here.

We found a spot in the Westgate Mall Garage.  The exit brought us up into the mall which had a nice variety of shops all decked out for the Christmas holiday.

Upon seeing the decorations, it suddenly registered that everyone back home would be celebrating Thanksgiving tomorrow.  The festive atmosphere felt very uplifting.

When we reached the street, I noticed the restaurant we were meeting at, Compior Libanais, was located on Queen Street which made me giggle a bit.  Queen was showing up a lot! We ate at the Queen of Cups in Glastonbury and then the idea of the Queen pulling up at the Billesly Manor in her carriage suddenly appeared in my mind and now the restaurant is also tied to Queen.

I kind of felt the “Queen for a day” vibe happening here.  I think life is trying to tell me there’s only up from here.

I thought about it for a moment.  The past has all my baggage.  My only job right now was to have new experiences that would have me interacting with life in a whole new way.

And I was!

I was called back to the present when my client walked into the restaurant.  Our first order of business was a nice warm hug which turned to pure joy in being able to connect this way.

We all took a seat and as we began chatting the waiter came over to take our order for tea which felt fitting since we left a grey, chilly overcast day outside for the moment.

It would be good to start with something warming.

I asked how her trip to Oxford was and she indicated she enjoyed the town, so it was nice to arrange to meet here.

We ordered our food and continued talking through our meal.  I was enjoying getting to know her outside of Zoom, but this was different.

I was used to meeting people in person, that’s how I started my practice, many years ago.  It was all there was back then.

And now I’m here, in England looking at my client sitting across from me.  It’s so exciting to work with people around the world but now we’re not on Zoom, we are here together.

Live in person.

My mind is screaming “can you believe this???”

It didn’t seem real and yet it was.  She had told me she wanted to meet in person and was willing to travel if my time in England allowed for it.

I looked around the restaurant taking it in.  I felt humbled.

For a few moments, the conversation faded into the background. I was so excited I could barely focus.

Who am I right now?  I deeply appreciated her willingness to connect with me in this way.

I let myself feel it and eventually came back to join the conversation.

We talked about her work as a yoga teacher, and a trip she was planning on taking to teach.  I thought how wonderful to have access to so many countries so close in proximity.  Although we have that in the states, each state isn’t so different from the next in the way countries are.

It was fun to hear about travel and everyone’s experiences abroad.  I felt like I needed to catch up in that department.  The last time I was anywhere outside of the states was in the late 1990’s when I went to Germany.

Oh, how I long for a nice adventure!

Lunch ended with a lot of laughs and dreams for good health and happiness in all our future.  We hugged, and said our goodbyes going our separate ways.

I was excited to have this time to explore a little.

I wondered what magic Oxford had in store for me.

Once again there was no itinerary of what to see or where to go.

I Invited the feeling I was having of simply wandering about.

I didn’t want to rush.

There was so much to take in.  I was like a kid in a candy shop looking at everything and everyone.

When we left the restaurant, we were on Queen Street, which as narrower than some of the other streets I saw driving into town.  All the connecting streets appeared to be narrow.  This is probably why all the cars are compact.

Even though there were cars driving up and down the streets there were people everywhere walking at an easy pace.

No rushing.  Not them, not me.

I felt this deeply and it made me want to slow down even more and really take it all in.

I was interested in how everyone was dressed and played a game in my mind of who they might be and where they may be headed.

Some were clearly students and some appeared to be professionals who worked in the area.  I’m sure there were also a good amount of those who were visiting the area like me.

We walked down the road, on the sidewalk.  The fresh air and walk felt good to help with digestion.  I ate more than I should have.

The cobbled road was lined with all kinds of buildings, some stores, some flats and others included little eateries and coffee and tea shops.  The buildings were all different, all connected, in many shapes and sizes.

There was an old-world charm about Oxford that I really loved.  I could see myself living here.

It felt like something out of Harry Potter.

And then I saw it!

The Oriel College with its coat of arms proudly displayed over two incredibly large wooden doors which served as the entrance to the college.

It felt old like writing was done with quill pens on parchment paper and important documents stamped with a wax seal.

I wondered what it was like to attend college there.  It felt very familiar.

A little way down we ended up the University Church of St. Mary the Virgin.   It held a peace I can’t explain, like a place you could take refuge in.

I noticed there was a bike resting against the metal fence in front of a beautiful lush green courtyard.  There was an ease about this spot.

I got a sense of welcoming here.  It felt inviting in a way that contrasted with the gothic architecture and high arching-stained glass windows.  This was a place I’d make a note to come back to.   Something was stirring something deep inside me.

I’d never been one for church.  I didn’t like the rules and structure, it always felt a bit stuffy to me, but this one hit different somehow.

As we walked on, we were suddenly in the presence of architecture that felt as though it popped right out of an ancient medieval academia movie set.

It didn’t feel real and yet it was.

The sign on the stone wall said we were standing in front of the University of Oxford.  This school feels important in some way.

. 

Then as if right on cue, Professor McGonagall pops into my mind.  It’s as if I stepped onto a Hogwarts set which felt fitting since nothing about this building felt real.

In that moment I had left Oxford and was standing in Hogsmead.

The only thing missing was my wand!  Ha!

Mental note to self: Do Not return without wand.

We had walked a bit farther and came upon the Bodleian Library.  This area was much livelier as students were rushing past probably heading for a class, they’d prefer not to be late for.

There was hustle bustle energy here that I didn’t feel anywhere else.

Maybe I just hadn’t noticed what was happening on the outside around me, I was busy with the reflection happening with in, lost somewhere between my feels and thoughts.

As I was having this awareness I realized we had turned a corner and were walking in a new direction that took us into a market area where vendors were setting up for the holiday season rush.

We stopped at a booth with beautiful handmade hats, scarves, and blankets.  Then a thought stopped me in my tracks.  I would love all of it, if I wasn’t heading to Florida where I wouldn’t need any of it.  It’s only cold in the morning in the winter then warms up as the day progresses.

I realize my joy has always been the winter months back in Long Island which is why I felt at home here in England at this time of year, sweater weather!

And they know a thing or two about wool and sweaters here.

Ah why did I have to think of Florida again.  It’s taunting me.  I have a thought to just buy what I want.  Normally I’d do that, but my logical self was saying it wouldn’t be practical to buy it and leave it in storage.

What if I get there and find I like Florida?  A long shot, yes, but then what?  Then I wouldn’t need these wooly items even though I know they make me profoundly happy, along with my boots, in some odd way.

I’m sad for a moment and then suddenly a thought pops in.  Right now, while not practical I would have a great excuse to come back and visit Oxford again!

This feels true to me, and it seems to soothe me. Besides, if I really want a wool hat, gloves or blanket I could buy wool from anywhere in the UK and crochet my own.  That would feel almost as satisfying for now.

Then of course I’ll book a trip back for some time in the distant future, around Christmas, and get my woolies. Ha!

Now I’m seeing the fun here.  It’s an ebb and flow.

I love Oxford.  It might be my favorite place so far.  Maybe it’s my connection to all things paper, pens, pencils, books.  I’m a book geek and where there’s books there’s paper.

I’m feeling content.

I think what I loved most is there was no rush.

No itinerary.

Oxford was very literary.  Amazing architecture, and feelings of dark academia in a deeply atmospheric kind of way.

There’re layers here.

The ordinary feels other worldly and extraordinary in a very memorable way, a way I was not expecting but left myself open to.

I feel as though I’ve only scratched the surface and would love to come back to go deeper.

Oxford.

Charm.

Books.

Paper.

Harry Potter.

Although I don’t feel ready, it’s time to go.

I’ve had another full day which I find myself in reflection of.

In many ways England feels very familiar, almost like home.  Everywhere I go the feeling is warm and inviting.

I remind myself, most of my corporate career involved working for two English banks, Barclays Bank and National Westminster plus the countless online art courses I’ve taken with British artists.

This reflection suddenly makes me aware it’s been a while since I thought about home or the move that’s waiting for my attention when I return.

Why did I have to go there!?  I was feeling so peaceful just a moment ago then BAM!  My brain wants me to suffer; I’m having too much fun.

I recognize my mother in that statement, “Laugh too much now and you’ll be crying later”.

I was always bracing for the aftermath of a good time.

Why, I thought.  That statement doesn’t even make sense to me now and yet it popped up as part of my living truth.  Is this meant to quell the joy I was feeling and push me to feel like fun is bad?

Yes, I was hesitant to make this trip and have this experience because there was a part of me that thought I didn’t really deserve it.  I offered resistance when it felt outside of my comfort zone with thoughts about how I’ll be perceived.

It seems ridiculous now that I even had that thought or played with the idea of not taking this trip due to fear.

And here I am, no fear, only joy.

What does that mean?

I feel the move waiting for me.  What will it be like to move across the country and live in another state, especially one I’ve been so resistant to.

Was it just the weather I was saying no to, or was it the fear of leaving something comfortable, something known.

I’d be all alone except for Joe who’d pop in occasionally.

No friends or family around to judge me.  No one to make a face if I’m having too much fun.

Was I afraid of feeling free?

I realized something.

I’m not feeling fear towards the unknown.

I’m feeling fear towards unbecoming the version of me that no longer feels like my truth.

In that moment, I smiled, knowing that it’s really the same thing.

It’s still the unknown, in some way, and just as exciting to test who I am when I’m really on my own.

I’m starting to unwind myself from the idea that there must be a plan.

A plan made me feel safe.

There it is again.

Control snuck in somehow.

In that moment an awareness hits me, this is coming from my head not my body.

Suddenly I think of my mother.  She held a lot of fear.

Wow did that land!  It was her perspective.

The need to plot out where I’m going, when I’m going, how I’m going, which then leaves room for me to not get it right in some way which meant I could miss the mark,

That was always in the back of my mind.

But there’s no such thing.

We had no plan and it was working.

I was having a great time riding the flow of life living in the moment for what came next.

And all the laughs came without crying!

Snapping me out of this deep reflection I hear a voice ask me if I’m hungry.

Of course I am!!

The conversation in the car now turns to our next location, which is the Billesley Manor Hotel, on the outskirts of the town we just left.

My hosts are excited to share it with me.

The first thing I noticed as we approached the hotel was fields upon fields of sheep. It was becoming less surprising and more welcoming.

In some odd way I found them comforting.

Maybe it’s because I love sweaters and sweater weather.  

Silly sheep, something so simple yet satisfying to my heart.

We make a left heading up the road between two fields.  The one on the right is no surprise, sheep fill the pasture.

Then I look to my left and see what appears to be the most perfectly landscaped lawn I’ve ever seen.

And then I see it!

The Billesley Manor Hotel!

It’s magnificent!

It doesn’t look like a hotel; it looks like someone’s estate.  It feels like something out of a movie. I’m intrigued and completely in awe.

As we pull into the parking area, I see there are several stations to charge E cars.  My mind is blown.

It seemed so out of place in this centuries-old hotel, and yet very relevant to today’s new cars.

I look back to the grounds as we head to the entrance in awe of a huge bonsai-looking tree that’s make a true statement against the backdrop of the moody sky.

I touch it.  It feels important in some way.

Maybe it has stories to tell about all it’s seen in its many years in this spot.

I turn toward the manor and am in awe of the number of windows it has.  It’s a very tall and long building, like something out of a fairytale.

I imagine a horse and carriage pulling up to the hotel with the Queen herself.

It felt so fancy to be here.

We walked into the hotel.

It was very palatial but not over the top, with very high ceilings.

The manor has a classic old world Tudor vibe to it.

I thought about what it might have been like to live there.

As we walked through the hotel, I noticed large doorways with each room we walked through; many were arched fitting perfectly with the décor and ambiance.

The ceilings had dark wooden beams running along the ceiling often intersecting with each other throughout the rooms.

It felt very rustic and welcoming making me feel as though the manor was trying to tell me I belonged to her in that moment.

I noticed a stone fireplace in most of the rooms we walked through.

We’d arrived late and didn’t have a reservation for dinner, but they were very kind and accommodating, squeezing us in at the last minute.

We quickly found our rooms and unloaded our luggage. Really not much, we had one suitcase each.  I’ve never traveled this light, but it worked and I learned I don’t need much when traveling.

We had picked a spot to meet so we could head to dinner. It took me forever to find it with all the little nook and cranny staircases, hidden doorways and adjoining hallways running in every direction.

I was amazed at the maze-like intricacy of the manor.  I expected nothing less and, truth be told, I would’ve been excited to stumble on a secret door.

The dining room was very large and opulent with old world paneling on the walls and incredibly high ceilings.  There were people dining from all around the world, evident by the many languages being spoken.

We were seated at a table, handed menus and were talking about what to eat when I looked up to my left at the paintings on the wall.

I almost spit out my Earl Grey!!

Staring at me was a painting of a young Queen Elizabeth blowing a bubble with her bubblegum!!  I was completely taken by surprise.

We all laughed!

Some of the paintings were very colorful, in many ways, wink wink along with traditional oil paintings for that period.

The waiter mentioned some of it was an ode to Shakespeare which wasn’t surprising by now.

We each had our own thoughts about the art agreeing it made the dining experience feel very uplifting instead of dark and foreboding.

We finished dinner which was wonderful and headed to our rooms.

Our rooms were on different floors and as I made my way back to my room, I had the same experience trying to find my way back.

I wondered what the builders were thinking to build a manor in this way, with hidden narrow staircases and hallways.  Was this a thing back then?  Did they enjoy secret rooms and hidden staircases, I wondered.

Once in my room I got myself ready for bed. We had an early start in the morning, and I wanted to be ready and presentable to meet my client who I’d been working with the last few months.

As I was lying in bed my thoughts drifted to the adventure I’d been on the last few days. I don’t remember a time in my life where I’d had an experience like this.

It was an honest to goodness road trip.

I grew up thinking there was only camping.  That was my father’s idea of a vacation.

In a tent.

On the floor.

Yes, we had sleeping bags, but we slept in them on the floor.

The bathroom was usually far away in a remote area that you needed a flashlight to find should you have the need to go in the middle of the night.

It hit me in that moment of reflection, I realized I didn’t know what being adventurous was.

I thought camping equaled adventure.

I need to do this type of adventure more often.

No plan.

No fear.

No car breaking down.

Always a room to be had.

No getting lost.

No one arguing.

Plenty of snacks.

Still feeling in like with each other.

Lots of laughs.

No tears.

What was the difference?

Maybe it was different because this was normal for them.  They mentioned they’d often pack a bag and roam through Europe without much of a plan.

That had to be it!

They felt an ease about not having it all fully planned out, no I’s dotted, no T’s crossed.  Just get on the road and go because they knew it would all work.

This lands deeply!

I always wanted to be that kind of adventurer and now I was.

Suddenly I felt lighter. 

A weight had lifted.  The fear of the unknown that I was facing had vanished.

The next morning, I rolled out of bed ready to start the day feeling an even greater sense of adventure.  My life was about to have some mystery woven in and it suddenly felt ok.

After breakfast we packed up our rooms, loaded the car and decided to walk the grounds before leaving.

We made our way out to the side of the manor.  I noticed the trees and bushes were cut in the shape of chess pieces.

.           

How interesting.

Maybe my feeling of having lived here before in a past life was really about a sense of belonging I was feeling.

We returned to the car ready to go.

It was still moody and overcast and my beloved beautifully ginormous other worldly-looking bonsai-like tree, would stay in my heart forever!

Relaxing back into my seat we were off to the next adventure.

For now, I’m going to take in everything I’ve gained from this one night at the Billesley Manor.

One night.

No tears.

No fear.

Life needs to be lived.

And there it was…

An unexpected shift.

I’m arriving slowly, unpredictably.

Here.

After driving for some time, we finally arrived at our destination, The Egypt Mill which meant we were now in Nailsworth, Gloucestershire.  At least that’s what the text on the picture I took said!

I looked it up quickly and discovered it had once been a working mill and was now a quaint inn with a pub and overnight accommodations.

There was a beautiful charm to the inn, including the footbridge, over the river, from the parking area to the entrance.

The footbridge had overhead metal rails forming an open canopy with interwoven faerie lights. We exited the car and as we got closer, I could see a running water wheel that appeared to be fed by a narrow river in front of the Inn. It added a bit of enchantment to this already charming scene.

Upon retrieving our room keys, we had to go back out the entrance down to the left and into the next building, which also had a charm about it. We agreed on a meeting time for the morning, and I continued down the hall to my room.

My room was absolutely beautiful with an old-world charm to it and for a moment I felt like I stepped into my own little fairytale.

I loved that it was light and airy with old hardwood floors and a comfy bed.  The wall at the head of the bed was nautical blue lap board with two matching armoires on each side which gave a nice contrast to the other walls which were cream colored.

It had a modern bathroom that fit the rest of the room as well as a cushioned chair matching the blue of the headboard, with a chair across from the foot of the bed and a desk with stationery and pens in case you needed to write something down.   The room was very thoughtfully decorated.

There was a book of Gloucestershire on the nightstand.  The information stated the oldest parts of the mill were dated back to the 14th century.  I could feel the history this place had and thought about the stories it might tell if it could talk.

I wondered what it was like back in the 14th century. This building had originally been a corn mill, then a textile mill, a dye mill and now it was an inn.

My mind was wandering through the years thinking about all the people who might have walked through the mill and here I am adding to the list of those people and that energy.  Life is amazing in that way.  I found comfort in being part of this mill’s history.

The room had a bit of a chill, so I snuggled into bed.  I was swallowed in the down comforter.  It felt very soothing, and sleep found me quickly.

The next morning, we had a wonderful breakfast in the pub dining area which was decorated with lovely tapestries interwoven with flowers which made the room feel other worldly.

During breakfast we discussed the possibility of meeting with another client I had been working with to help through breast cancer.  When she heard I was going to be in the UK she asked if there was a possibility we could meet.  My hosts were gracious in saying yes!  We agreed on a destination for our meeting which would take place in a few days’ time but first we had more places to see and experiences to be had.

We finished our meal and went back to our rooms, gathered our belongings, loaded the car and were on our way.

By 10:30 a.m., to my surprise, we were in the Cotswolds which is known for its picturesque architecture and landscapes, especially in the springtime when people come from around the world to see their beautiful gardens, however, that would not be the case today as it was November 26th and winter was on its way.

We had arrived in Bourton-on-the-Water which I’m told is known as “The Venice” of the Cotswolds since the River Windrush runs directly through the center of it giving it its charm.

There are low stone bridges over the river to keep the foot and street traffic flowing. As we drove through town to the parking area I was pulled in by the simple architecture, which felt very old world, as if I was experiencing a town in a historical romance novel.

The houses had either traditional thatched roofs or steep stone tiles and appeared to be constructed of stone along with the buildings and churches in the area. I was imagining how beautiful it must look in spring when the flowers are in bloom.

I noticed there were several references to sheep and wool here, which absolutely makes sense since England is a little bit cooler all year round with most wearing some type of jumper (sweater) from my experience so far.

We parked just outside of the town and walked along the river.  It was a beautiful day with a light wind blowing and the sun brightly shining down upon us; perfect weather for a stroll outside.

Rissington Road ran along the river into town and turned into High Street.  The road was very narrow, allowing for two small compact cars to easily pass. Anything larger and there would need to be a courtesy decision made by one of the drivers to allow the other to pass.

I saw a lorry delivering groceries to one of the stores. It was like a very large box truck here in the states and I immediately wondered how a large vehicle like that managed on these very narrow roadways.  It seemed impossible and yet here it was.

As we entered the town I could see a post office, a woman’s clothing store, a store that sold everything cooking related, a stationer, as well as the Edinburgh woollen mill selling everything wool, woven and textile according to its sign.

There it was again, wool.  

There was also a gift shop on the corner with an array of collectibles which seemed an appropriate shop for a tourist looking for chachkas.

Looking around it all felt incredibly familiar, yet I’d never been here before.  Then suddenly I thought “I could live here”!

Oh wait, didn’t I say that about Glastonbury? 

Right, I did!

I think I’m in love with old world charm.  I feel like I could fit right in.

I’d keep that in mind if I ventured back, but for now I needed to keep pace back to the car so we could head to the next location.

Twenty-five minutes later we were in Cheltenham exploring Stow-on-the-Wold, a Cotswold market that looked like a storybook village.  This felt like it was going to be the main headliner today.

Once again, I was in love! 

There were narrow streets lined with antique shops, clothing, galleries, and housewares.

To my surprise the road behind the shops opened to a huge parking area with more shops all the way around.

After venturing through many of the shops I wandered into a homeware shop that had candles, kitchen towels and porridge spurtles. Wait what?

What’s a porridge spurtle?

It was a long, round wooden stick that’s carved at one end, making it thinner, with grooves and a small ball like mushroom cap on the end.  Apparently, it’s a great tool for stirring porridge, soup or mashed potatoes.

I eat those things therefore I need a spurtle!

That was my takeaway from here. I couldn’t be happier.

I had my spurtle, we could go!

We made our way to the car and off we went to… another destination!!

This is really turning into the adventure of a lifetime and an hour later we were in Stratford-Upon-Avon which was, both the birthplace and burial place of William Shakespeare.

It was also home to the Fourteas Room Tea Room Brassiere which was where we were going to enjoy “afternoon tea”.

The tearoom was a wonderful little place, nothing fancy with plain wooden chairs and tables.  We had gotten there just with enough time to order.  I’d been to a place like this back home for afternoon tea, but it couldn’t compare.

I knew tea was a staple in the UK, but afternoon tea felt like something else entirely-a little fancy with a charm all its own.

We each chose our preferred tea which was served in our own teapot.  I chose Earl Grey.  Our tea arrived first.

A short time later we all had a three-tier tray placed in front of each of us filled with different types of finger sandwiches, scones with jam, clotted cream and pastries for dessert.

It was truly an experience to be had and now I needed a walk because I had eaten everything! Ha!

We left the tea house and walked up towards the main street which was already bustling.  I noticed how different this town was.  It was beautiful in a different way, more robust and ominous at the same time.

Each storefront and building held its own charm and character but not quite with that same magical feeling I had felt in comparison to the places we’d been to earlier.

It felt stodgier and more structured to me with a very strong medieval type of architecture that felt a bit dark and intimidating. Definitely not laid back or relaxing in any way.  It was worlds apart from the Cotswolds which was the complete opposite.

I could picture knights jousting or dragons flying overhead especially when I saw the church on the corner. It had a very serious tone to it.

Even the bank, which I thought to be HSBC, had a serious tone.  The name simply said, “Old Bank”, nothing more.

This town didn’t hold the same feeling, I couldn’t see myself living here.

Afternoon tea was my takeaway from Stratford.  I felt as though I had a taste of England in a brand-new way!

Daylight was slipping away and we needed to get to our next destination.  We settled into the car and headed off again.

By now, the mystery of what’s next? was beginning to feel a little like opening presents.

You don’t know what’s in the box until you get there.  

For now, I was happily settled into my seat, along with my prized spurtle, heading toward whatever came next.

Once again, I was awe of the magic I was feeling that made ninety minutes seem like ten and then it happened again.  Suddenly we were off the bus walking to the car.  I was still marveling at my experience with the stones when a voice asked, “what would you like to see next?”

“Wait, this isn’t all we’re here for?  There’s more??”

I’m about to burst!  I can’t believe it.

Road trip!!!  Yes!!!  Who doesn’t love a good adventure?

Then I stopped, realizing I have no idea where we should go, I hadn’t done any research to know what could be next.  I was certain my face was mirroring the blank thoughts in my head.

I replied, “I don’t know, what else is over this way?”  I was suddenly thinking about having three weeks here and all I came up with was Stonehenge and possibly London.  I honestly felt that anything else I saw would be a bonus.  I wasn’t sure what time would allow for. I didn’t want to impose; they still have the day to day and children to tend to.

Maybe it wasn’t fair to leave it up to my hosts to figure out.  I’m wondering If they are upset, I didn’t come with any plans in mind.

We settle into the car, and started to head out of the parking area when they ask how I might feel about a visit to Glastonbury?  Excitement shot though me like fireworks!  Yes; yes that sounds great.  I’ve heard of it by way of three mystics, I know of, from England who happen to live in Glastonbury.  One has a YouTube channel and often does her podcast from key spiritual locations in the area.  How fun!

They’re excited that I’m excited and off we go!

As I settle into this new adventure I realize I mistook their quiet for being upset when that wasn’t the case, no one was upset about my lack of planning.  They only wanted to give me the same gift I had given them, which was to make sure my trip was everything I’d hoped it would be.  So far, my time with them was wonderful and I was feeling like a true adventurer in a faraway place.

We’re on the road when I think about the time and ask, “How long is the trip”  “A bit over an hour but it’s a beautiful ride through the countryside”.  I prefer a drive so I can experience the charm of this beautiful county.  I’m excited to see Glastonbury and already wondering what magic is waiting there for me.

We’d been driving for a while.  As I looked out the window deep in thought, I noticed the lush green fields seemed to roll on forever.  I was imagining faeries dancing around the trees in the field when I heard “do you have any interest in visiting the Tor”?  I pull my attention back and look straight ahead seeing what they were pointing to in the distance.  It looked to be a huge pillar in the on a hill. I asked “what is the Tor?  I’m not sure I have interest in seeing it”.  I didn’t feel a yes in my body at the thought of going there.

They explain it’s known as the Glastonbury Tor and it’s connected through mythology to King Arthur and Avalon. They explained that it’s said to be a highly spiritual site and even validated that the youtuber I knew of did some ascension energy updates from this location occasionally.

Interesting, still I felt nothing. 

I’ve always felt a connection to Avalon through Merlin but somehow seeing the Tor did not feel like something I needed to do at this time so I said I’d pass, and we could continue to Glastonbury.

They asked again if I was sure, I was.  I didn’t feel a pull there, but I felt it with the mention of Glastonbury.  Theres something there, I can feel it deep within.

After driving for a little over an hour through a winding country road which seemed to wind to sharply to the left, we were suddenly in what appeared to be a tiny town…  but wait, don’t blink, cough or sneeze, you will miss the town!

The street we wound up on was High Street, which appeared to be the main road or really only road in the town.   There was what looked like a town square with some kind of obelisk in the center, maybe a meeting point of sorts, like the town center.  As we drove by I could see a few sketchy looking characters hanging out with bicycles parked around it.  Later as we walked it, I saw the plaque on the pillar which said it was the Glastonbury Market Cross bringing High Street and Market Place together.

There were only two roads, the one we were on and another road, but then I saw the sign read “for pedestrians only”.  As I looked closer, I saw it was a cobblestone road that appeared to have a handful of restaurants near the square and possibly a bunch flats further down the cobblestone road.

Since we were arriving later in the day, we were able to find a parking spot on High Street which only allowed for two hours parking so we’d have to move the car or leave.  I found that interesting.  It was just like home; we have towns with metered parking.

We exited the car to the sidewalk. I was standing there taking in the street with the lights aglow from the stores against the beautiful, moody sky.  It looked like something out of a movie.

High Street didn’t appear to be wide enough for two cars to pass but somehow, just like every other street I’ve experienced since being here they seem to figure it out.

As I was looking at all the storefronts my hosts were dealing with the meter.  I noticed each building, though attached to each other had a different color and architecture from the next. It was such a beautiful street, I would love to have gotten there earlier to have more time to explore.

It appeared most of the stores were already closed except the one we parked in front of which I was now grinning at.  “Dicketts the Stationers & Co.” is what the sign said but as I looked in the front window all I saw was art supplies of every type.  I asked if we could step in for a minute, I knew we were all hungry, but I wanted to experience an art store while I was in England.  I could now check that off the list.

When I entered the store, I could feel the magic!  More “friends” that made me feel like home, art supplies of every kind.  The store had all kinds of paper, pens, cards, clever gadgets as well as some of my favorite Derwent pencils, Daler Rowney paint and so much more.  Then it hit me, these are British brands I buy back in the states, another familiar feel making me feel at home.

I intimately knew this store from deep within and thought this is where I would shop if I lived in this area.

There was really nothing I needed since I brought a few art supplies with me, so I didn’t buy anything.  I was feeling all about the experience I was having.  I would remember this.

It felt magical, I wanted more, so I left the store and was back on the sidewalk and for a moment I thought my eyes were tricking me.

There in front of me was an apothecary!!  Star Child Apothecary to be exact.  A big store that felt magical without even going in, in a tiny, charming town in historical Glastonbury.  It had an old-world vibe to it, and I was excited to explore it before it closed.

The minute I walked in the aroma was the first thing to hit me.  I realized it was a combination of the candles, smudge sticks, incense, essential oil and herbs collectively.  The scent was relaxing which was good because I needed to come back down to Earth and focus.

I felt dizzy with excitement, there was so much to explore in a short amount of time.

The store had old wooden floors and was very long and wide.  Everywhere I looked there were huge wooden shelves from the bottom to the top holding candles, books, incenses, tarot decks, oracle cards, essential oils, herbal teas, and assorted tools.

It was a beautiful shop decorated in a way that made me feel like a witch, magician or some magical creature might walk in any moment.  It had a Harry Potter vibe, and oh there it was again.

Magical and perfect!

As I turned back to the register area, we’re greeted by a woman who said to let her know if we needed help with anything.

I was lost in all the botanical goodness surrounding me.  There was so much to take in.  It felt impossible to know if I needed something from here.  This is the type of shop I usually want some kind of takeaway trinket from but there was nothing hitting me at the moment except the overwhelm of my senses at the sight of it all.  So much to explore so little time.

I was looking at the large jars of herbs on the counter behind the register.  My mind was drifting to thoughts of my younger self, wanting to cast a spell with an eye of newt, toe of frog and tongue of dog, which I learned much later in life that as mysterious as that sounded, these were just cleaver covert names for the plants being used in a spell or ritual.  It was a kind of code for witches only. How disappointing there was no jar of newt eyes or frog toes… I’ll opt not to take a tongue of dog though.

I liked it, it was a fun way to make the magic of plant medicine seem like more.  I love a little mystery with my magic.  I laughed at the though of adding an eye of newt (mustard seed) to my made-up potion, it always makes me giggle to hear my mom sigh in the background “oh Maria”.

It was then, suddenly in that moment, reflecting on spells and potions that I remembered my hosts mum having a touch of eczema on her finger that we tried to help her with through a loving conversation.  I was feeling it could be stress and possibly grief contributing to what she was experiencing.

Eczema can be tricky.  I’ve had a lot of experience working with herbs over the years, and somehow the fun of reflecting on spell casting in my younger years suddenly reminded me of an herbal oil I could make for it.

I spoke with my host who’s mum it was, she thought it was a good idea, so we approached the woman behind the counter to get an 25 grams of Lavendar, St. Johns Wort, Comfrey, and Calendula.  I couldn’t make a salve since I didn’t have proper equipment, but upon returning to the house, I could make an oil that could be rubbed on her finger daily to soothe the anger of the eczema.

Happy with our purchase for our witches’ brew, although there was no eye of newt or toe of frog, I felt content this would be a powerful ointment once we got it into the cauldron, sorry I mean pot, with some olive oil although that might not happen for a few days.

Wow the excitement is building in me, a magical potion awaits my crafting!

We leave the apothecary, bag in hand, this has been another magical moment and then I’m pulled back to the present by the gnawing of my stomach.

It’s not just me, all three of us are hungry and in need of food.  Google says the Queen of Cups is a good place to eat and it’s open until 11pm, with excellent reviews.  I hear the menu has hummus, falafel, potato batata, olives, pita bread and more, I’m in!

The directions show it’s on the cobblestone road near the Obelisk in the town square.  The sky is dark and cold but incredibly beautiful.   I’m thinking about how blessed I’m feeling for the amazing adventures we had today, but my thoughts are put on hold.  We’re navigating a darkened ally to the Queen of Cups.  It’s looking like something out of a movie, a darkened street, no lights, only the lights on the building to guide us.

The building is very old world with a charm that feels welcoming.  The sign out front is a simple hand painted sign with the name, nothing fancy.

We walk in and are warmly greeted by the hostess and shown to a table.  I notice we almost have the place to ourselves; there’s only two other people having food.  It’s got a nice chill vibe, very low key with light middle eastern music playing in the background.

We order tea as we read the menu, which looks amazing.  We all agree that we can’t make up our mind, laughing at wanting to try it all and agree to get a bunch of sharing plates so we can have a taste of everything.  The food does not disappoint.

I think about my favorite place to eat back home, the Pita House.  The owner is Turkish and the food is incredible.  I smile at the familiarity.

We share about our experience with the stones; they are more interested in mine since they’ve been there many times before.  Our conversation runs to the moon and back.

And just like that it’s time to go, the meter is expiring and we need to be back at the car.  We leave the Queen of Cups and the air is a little crisper, the walk feels good after our meal.

I look around.

We’re the only car left on the street.

We load up and buckle in; I find out we have a ninety-minute drive to our final destination for the day.

I settle into my seat, full and happy.

Road trip!

**Note** In transparency I did not take the picture you see here of Star Child Apothecary.  I realized once we got back to the car and tried but it was too dark at that point and came out as a very dark blur.  This picture is from their website and the photo credit goes to whomever took it, very thankfully.  The photo of the street looking towards the square was taken after we parked and exited the car.

Stonehenge!

And all I could think was, could this bus go any slower?

People were beside the bus on the walking path, along the road to the stones, so of course the driver had to creep along carefully.

I understood that.

I did.

Excitement was building.

And the feeling inside me was big; I felt like screaming “out of my way people, I need to meet the stones”!

I wanted to jump off the damn bus, run to the stones my arms open wide, and hug them!

I wasn’t sure what that meant or what it was about them that made me feel this way.

It was in that very moment I caught myself, realizing that would not happen, not now, probably not ever.

As I looked out the window of the bus I saw it, the obstacle in my way of fully meeting the stones.  A thick thigh-high rope surrounding them keeping me thirty to forty feet back, they looked small like one of those rune sets you buy on Amazon.

I spotted another deterrent, security standing at stations around the area.

I thought “Really?” Ha!

I’d have to settle for ogling them from a distance.

I immediately felt sad thinking I’m finally here, all this way across the pond, hours on a flight then by car only to find out I can’t touch them.

Upon talking to my hosts, it became clear that even if we scheduled a private group tour, which only happens in the early morning or late evening, taking guests out past the rope barrier, one would still not be able to touch the stones.  That was strictly enforced to protect their structural integrity.

Some of the excitement I held fell away, I was feeling a bit let down. I settled back into my seat wondering why I was here if I couldn’t touch them.

I imagined connecting with their energy, their ancient pulse deep within the Earth, holding the knowledge of everything they’d experienced over thousands of years.

But it was not meant to be.

There would be no hugging.

I’d felt robbed in that moment, but I was not going to sulk.  Instead, I needed to focus on this gift because, after all, I am standing here. With the stones.

Surely that must mean something?

I’m lost in my thoughts when suddenly the bus rolls to a stop.

We’re finally here!

We exit the bus a short distance away from the path to the stones and, oh geez, there’s people everywhere, also here to meet the stones. There are so many!

In my mind I’d never imagined I’d have to share this moment with anyone outside of my lovely hosts.

Silly me!

Stonehenge is a national treasure, of course there’d be people.

As we exit the bus the air is cold, the dampness relentless, bringing a chill to my bones and somehow setting the perfect backdrop for this adventure.  Purplish-silver clouds scattered against a beautiful clear blue sky, and although it’s cold with a strong wind at least it’s not raining.  I can bear the biting cold, of course I can, it’s for the sake of being one with these ancient stones I’d longed to see.

I looked around in awe.

The field they sit in is expansive; it makes the stones look small by comparison.  Everywhere I look there’s green, it’s green and lush.

As I gaze upon the stones and imagine them bursting through the ground to claim their position.  In this moment, It feels like they have secrets and stories only they can tell, but don’t yet share.

In each direction I look, there are no trees to block the view. The sky appears to swallow the horizon in every direction; It makes the stones look small. I feel small too.

I start to think about what these ancient stones might have been like, what might they have been used for centuries ago.

My mind seems to be off on an adventure all its own.

The beauty makes me forget how cold it is and I start to turn in a 360-degree circle to take in the view.

I’m caught in the moment. It’s amazing.

Except what is that noise in the distance?  There aren’t houses nearby, only a few trees far off in the very far distance.

I continue to turn; and spot it!  To my disappointment the noise is coming from the motorway running alongside this magical place. I can see the cars; both sides of traffic are flowing as if Stonehenge was just another field in the English countryside.

What is a motorway doing so close to the stones, I wonder?  It seems off.

We are not in Disney my head screams, this is an ancient site, sacred ground I’m exploring.  I want them to speak to me but in this moment, I’m only hearing noise.

These stones had been standing on this land thousands of years, the motorway had not.

I need to breathe and bring myself back to why I’m here.

The motorway gave me the feeling of being at an amusement park.  I was expecting grandeur for these amazing ancient stones, somewhat private with mystery abounding, there was none of that.

Here they sat in the middle of Salisbury Plains with a motorway and noise.  Quite frankly it felt rude to do this to them!

I stood still and closed my eyes for a second, taking a deep breath.  Ahhh.

That did it.  With my eyes closed I reset the scene, I recentered myself, remembering that the aesthetics is not the most important part.  The most important part was what am I feeling when I stand with them on this ancient land.

I’m back!

I open my eyes and look at the stones noticing how they are each uniquely individual. Different shapes, and sizes, where they sat in relation to each other, how they connected or didn’t.

Were they trying to tell a story I was trying too hard to read?

Relax I thought.

Simply be present with them.

Then suddenly I remembered something.

The sign in the info center stated researchers were studying Stonehenge’s possible connection to the moon and its lunar standstill cycle.

I looked back at the stones.

That was it!

I am the moon.

Of course I didn’t need to touch the stones.

I didn’t need buzzing in my body or tingling in my feet.

And I didn’t need some big mystical experience to prove that I had connected with them.

I simply knew and strangely that was enough.

I closed my eyes again and breathed in this newfound awareness.  It was my connection to the stones and the moon, and it was all coming together, suddenly I could see it in the structure of the stones.

In that moment I didn’t need to feel anything, I already had so much more.

A knowing.

Something within me shifted.

It felt exciting and peaceful at the same time.

I closed my eyes and took another breath.  When I opened them I smiled.

And just like that I was ready to leave.

I finally felt one with the stones!

It was simply a moment of knowing that they too, felt the moon.  She was part of them, and they were part of her.

The stones had the view of her I’d been searching for my whole life, laying back in a wide-open field, nothing in the way for as far as the eye could see.

This was my sacred spot now.

A place I will always think about on a full moon.  The one point on the Earth where my soul touches the moon, the stones and the untold ancient mysteries that fill my being.

This is what I came here for.

Standing there, I realized the moon is in her waning crescent phase – a time I had always associated with rest, surrender and the quiet pause before a new cycle begins.

I thought about the move waiting for me back home.

Another new cycle.

Of course.

I smiled.

Maybe I don’t need to know what’s next.

Maybe, for now, I only needed to receive what was already here.

I looked back at the stones.

I felt different.

Not because they had given me something.

But rather because I’d finally stopped asking them to.

The sun was starting to fall making the sky look more magical than it had earlier.

The stones looked different to me.

I smiled.

I’m ready to go.

Walking back to the bus, I stop to take a picture of a crow that flew in to sit on the fence post I was about to pass.

The crow was beautiful, black with deep purple accents throughout its feathers.

Crows seem to always appear at meaningful moments in my life.

Of course there would be a crow.

The bus pulled in to take us back to where the car is parked.

I took one more look at the stones before boarding the bus.

I’d arrived wanting to touch them.  Hug them. Feel something big enough to prove to myself the connection I’d imagined for so many years.

Instead, I stood thirty to forty feet away and received something much quieter.

A deep knowing.

Nothing needed to happen.

Nothing needed to be proven.

I smiled to myself and at the stones one last time.

Receiving.  There it was again.

And in this moment, it felt easier.

Scarcity is sneaky.  Didn’t I believe I was worthy of having and keeping a horse in my life?

Just as quickly as I entered that beautiful place in my mind where everything horses lived, that place was also showing me where healing was still needed.  I was deep in this new awareness when, suddenly through the magic of lost thoughts, we were back at the house and talk of what to eat for dinner was bringing me back to the present moment.  I’d leave that new awareness to be delt with at a more appropriate time and enjoy what was transpiring through everyone’s favorite topic… “food”!  I saw that this family is no different here in this land far far away.

Another sense of the familiar making me feel more at home.

The final decision was a food delivery service related to DoorDash, since the children wanted something different than we did. So, with the order placed we got ourselves a cuppa, which is tea, and sat back finding ourselves in conversation sharing deeper bits and pieces of ourselves.  They were asking me what I thought of England so far.  Was it the picture I had in my head before arriving?  I must admit that it was more!  I’ve always felt connected, at different times in my life England would show up through the job I held at National Westminster Bank or Barclays Bank or favorite books read.  There was always a strong connection which now seemed to deepen by the minute.  It was nice to have this time with them.  This is a version I would not get to see if we only connected through Zoom.

This was a glimpse into their life, and it was unfolding in all the ways life normally unfolded.  There were decisions to make, laundry to wash, dogs to feed, children to taxi to school and oh how the list can go on.  It’s not the type of things I thought about when I thought about these people I only knew through the lens of Zoom.  Zoom made them smaller than they were, I realize now it does that for everyone.  We come together to explore a problem, which needs us to step outside so we can find the solution.  During that time, it’s all about focus to get results for the purpose of healing, not idle chit chat about the newly formed rainbow in the sky or the way the stars look at night.

I don’t recall seeing the night sky and stars while on my trip.  The atmosphere is mostly overcast with rain more than not.  I still loved it, all of it touched my heart deeply.

It was time to retire for the night.  There was a chill in the air on this night, I was happy to be in my cozy room that felt like being in a luxury hotel.  For a minute I thought about asking them to adopt me, Ha!  Then I wouldn’t have to think about where to live.

No way Maria, I thought, stop that right now.

I am not thinking about the pending move.  Talk about escapism! Of course, I laughed because this is my brain.  It’s like two of us living in the same body.  One is the ego edging me on to my doom and the other my voice of reason talking me out of the hole I just spiraled down.  This is normal for me; I’ll have the thought and laugh at my ego at play.  I like to recognize these funny little moments so I can heal the fear that’s masked behind it.  Fear that it might not work out and I might not be ok when I get back home.

I gently reminded myself I was ok, everything was always working out for me and with that I suddenly remembered there would be a lovely treat to look forward to upon waking up, my new favorite cup of coffee that felt like I step into a coffee shop with a skilled barista knowing just how I like it.  Life was better than it had ever been right in this moment and that’s what I need to focus on.

The decisions, packing and stress can wait.  I’ll stay here in this moment feeling the feels of being fussed over.

I was becoming a good receiver!

The next morning, I woke up and saw the rain had finally cleared.  The decision was made, it was time to embark on our trip, Stonehenge was going to be our first destination. We packed, clothes, boots, trainers (sneakers), jumpers (sweaters), snacks and bags loaded into the “boot” (trunk), and off we went—my kindred soul family and I, coffee in hand, we were on our way!  I was feeling incredibly happy.  I love adventures, especially car rides through the beautiful countryside so I can take in the scenery.  It did not disappoint. Each moment of this adventure seemed to be taking me further away from the challenges waiting for me back home.  I was letting go so I could receive.

In that moment: I realized “this is where I belong”.

As we pulled away from the house it suddenly hit me that I was going to see Stonehenge!  I dreamt about a trip there my whole life.  It felt like all the magic I’d ever know or felt in any way would now, in the strongest way possible, rise to meet me.

My goodness… It’s getting real now!!

We headed out on to the motorway.  That makes so much more sense to me than highway does.  It’s one of those moments you realize the importance of words and how they can deepen the experience we have in life or make it more meaningless.

As we drove through the beautiful countryside, I imagined myself living there in all its magic. The streets were quaint and charming but extremely narrow in some areas—so narrow that if two cars were coming toward each other, one would need to pull over to allow the other to pass. My hosts told me this was a courtesy each driver followed; otherwise, there would be a high rate of accidents. Not only did I not see any accidents while I was there, but I also never heard any sirens. I found the culture quite fascinating, as everyone seemed to have a bit more respect for each other’s well-being, especially while driving. It seemed essential; otherwise, you’d be looking at an accident around every corner.

What surprised me most was the amount of open land, which usually had sheep grazing on it. This was the norm just about everywhere we went. The sheep made sense, since their climate calls for cozy wool jumpers due to the cooler temperatures.  I love a well-made sweater in the winter.  The sheep added to the coziness and charm of the country.  I can’t remember the last time I saw sheep in a pasture back home.  It was mostly cows and horses.

Our destination of Stonehenge was about two hours away.  As we drove, I noticed the landscape was becoming more rural.  Everywhere I looked all I could see was green grass and sheep grazing on it.  I was already feeling magical. I was looking forward to whatever I was going to experience on this trip.

Then without warning in the far distance, I saw something!  It looked like giant stones set on their end sticking up out of the ground.  Far away they still looked small, a circle of sorts, looking like I could roll a marble and knock them over.  Was this it?

Are we there yet?

My excitement was building.  It felt very surreal to be in the presence of these ancient stones on this ancient ground but before I could step out of the car and get my feels on, we had to park! Oh yeah, that!  In a huge lot we found a spot, locked up the car and made our way to the ticket booth.   While my hosts were arranging for tickets, I was looking around the little shop.  Cute little souvenir chachka’s all over and unlike my former self it didn’t interest me.  I was there to collect my experiences, energy exchange and whatever else the land wanted to offer me. My hosts insisted I receive a hemp tote bag with a picture of Stonehenge printed on it along with a beautiful book on the ruins.  It was very generous of them. I was all too happy to be a good receiver!

We stepped into the info center which tells you all about the stones and the history of the land plus other relics and artifacts that were native to that area.  There was so much interesting information to read through before visiting the stones.  I made my way around to each station; something stopped me.

The Moon.

I learned that I was visiting Stonehenge was during a rare astronomical event known as a major lunar standstill, something that occurs approximately every 18.6 years. Researchers were studying whether some of the stones may have connections to the Moon’s most extreme rising and setting positions at the time it formed.

Of all the years I could have come here, I was standing at Stonehenge during this lunar phase.

As a Cancerian who had spent much of my life paying attention to the rhythms of the new and full moons, I couldn’t help but smile.

Of course.

I had questions.

Lots of them.

But first, I needed to meet the stones.

Before that could happen, I had to make my way through customs, which was surprisingly easy. After a short walk, there they were! The moment I saw them, the last nine months played through my mind like a movie—everything we had done together, the uncertainty, the trust we had built, and all we had walked through along the way.  And now the moment we had waited for had arrived: we were standing face to face, sharing hugs, laughter, and tears of joy.

After retrieving my luggage, we made our way to the car. I felt excitement building for the incredible adventure that awaited me and my gracious hosts.  As I buckled in, I kept thinking how this was really happening.  I was finally in England, a place I had only dreamt about visiting.

Driving away from the airport, I was in awe. It was November, the day before Thanksgiving in the U.S., and as I looked out the window on the drive to their home, all I could see was lush green everywhere. Back home, everything was already turning brown and drab as the days rolled into winter. The stark contrast made me feel like the faeries were always at work in this magical land far, far away.

As we drove, we talked about the things they still needed to do to complete their day. Upon arriving at their house, I met my client’s teenage daughter who was attending a home-schooling program, her mum as well as two dogs and a cat.

We took my luggage to my room on the second floor. It was beautiful and welcoming; my clients had made some upgrades to make it even more comfortable than I could have imagined. When I first arrived on the second floor, I noticed stairs led to a third floor, where the master suite was located.

To my delight, before leaving me to unpack they opened a door at the back of my bedroom and to my surprise I had my own private bathroom, which was larger than my bedroom!  I had a shower and a free-standing tub unlike any I had ever seen before! It felt like living inside a storybook. When the house was designed, all the bedrooms had their own private bathrooms.

Their house was beautifully designed, and I was happy to have a beautiful space to relax in and unpack my suitcases.  It had been a long day, and I just wanted a minute to sit and decompress after the long flight and car ride to their home.

The room had a very large closet with two doors that had built in compartments for everything.  It was like one of those custom bedroom designer closets.  I loved it, the space made it so easy for me to lay out the clothes I had bought with me.

I finished unpacking and went to the window.  I was looking out into a beautifully manicured backyard with a gazebo.  It was so sweet looking it made me want to paint it.  As I was standing there, I started to realize how far away from home I was.  I had left everything behind, the packing, the money worries, the uncertainty, and the destination I couldn’t see.  It would all be there, waiting for me when I returned home.

That moment felt heavy, like a weight sitting on me.  I sat on the bed and began thinking of how I was losing precious time packing while I was here having the trip of a lifetime with all costs covered, it felt in some ways, like I had won a lottery.  But still there was this unresolved part of my life lingering overhead.

The feeling I was having was the despair I thought I left behind.  I knew I had to shift myself or I’d ruin the next three weeks with thoughts about what I should be doing right now.  I started to think deeply, was that really my truth?  Did I need to go into despair and down the victim rabbit hole having nothing resolved?  I know how this all works.  We’re always exactly where we are meant to be in every moment.

Being here at this time under the pressure I was feeling surrounding the move had great purpose too, didn’t it?  If I was my client asking for help in this situation that’s what I’d say, look for the gift in all of it even when you can’t see it.

Control had followed me all the way to England.

I needed to write, writing always helped me but I left my journal behind, so I pulled some drawing paper out of my book and started to write a gratitude list.  That’s one thing I can always count on to help me shift.

The first thing I wrote was how this trip found me; I hadn’t looked for it.  I wrote how I had needed to open to receiving.  If I could receive an amazing gift such as this, couldn’t I also receive the perfect outcome to my move?  Wouldn’t the breadcrumbs take me to the right place in that situation just as it had brought me here, to my dream trip with these generous and amazing people?  Couldn’t the new living situation be a replica with someone to welcome me that was just as generous and amazing?

I could feel myself shifting, it was working!   The heaviness was lifting. I was feeling better, happy and thankful for the goodness that had come my way.  I was choosing England fully, every experience and put my thoughts about trying to solve my housing situation on hold.  If I didn’t let go, I would miss this amazing adventure completely.  I made the choice to let go and stop dwelling despair of my move and choose England and fun!  I put my mock journal away and got myself together so I could go downstairs and join my hosts.  I was in a place of deep gratitude and looking at all the good in each moment.

Later that evening, we went to collect their son from school, which would be like high school here in the states. He looked very scholarly in his proper school uniform with the school’s crest on the blazer. He was waiting for us at his day house, a place where students can study, socialize, get counsel, or rest between classes. I realized this is how the Harry Potter stories are depicted since the writer is British. The students report to different houses—it’s a real thing in England. Now all of it made sense to me!  When I mentioned it to my hosts and their son, they didn’t think it was remarkable in any way, just another thing in their world while for me it was as if the magic of the books and movies had suddenly come to life.

When we arrived back at the house, we settled in to enjoy a bite to eat, a warming fire, and some good conversation. During our time together, we began discussing the places I wanted to experience while I was there.  The ones in my mind were places like Stonehenge Glastonbury and London.  They stated they would happily take me wherever I wanted to go but I really didn’t know where that was.  Being in England felt a little like coming home in a way and that was enough for me.

Since the rain was not cooperating, we needed to wait a day or two before embarking on our journey. It was during those first few days that I got to know my hosts on a deeply personal level. Each morning, I would wake up to a lovely cup of coffee their mum made for all of us. Some mornings we had porridge, and others we had sourdough bread, jam, cheeses, and an assortment of goodies for breakfast.

It always made me feel happy inside.  I felt like I could just stay in this world and live here in this beautiful land.  I was drinking English tea in… England, I had to sit with that for a moment.  It made me giggle.  So silly perhaps but so important to me in a way I can’t explain.  It felt like coming back to me and some moments felt sad when I thought why wasn’t I born in England?  I’d have an accent.

I must admit it made me stop a few times to consider if there was something else going on here.  Something much deeper at a soul level.

The next afternoon they asked if I wanted to take a ride to stable to watch their daughter ride her horse in the indoor arena. The pair were beautiful together! The barn was rustic and charming, having a very old English feel to it with horses in every stall. I would’ve been happy going there every day.  It brought me back to a time in my life when I was around the same age riding at a local stable, but it was never as picturesque as this.  The stable was nestled in a location that was a bit remote and required us to cross a narrow bridge before pulling onto the grounds to park.

The grounds were green and lush.  It looked as though it would be a perfect setting for any movie where there were horses ridden across a field. I wondered if the riders or even the barn owner appreciated the beauty or if they were so accustomed to it, it went unnoticed.  My hosts seemed to have an appreciation for the beauty as well as the horses which were all magnificent. I never imagined I’d be connecting with horses during my visit to England, yet here I was, surrounded by a stable full of them.

There I stood breathing in the familiar smells of horses that I’ve loved since I was a little girl. I’m thousands of miles from the life I left behind along with the move I put on hold, I was standing in a beautiful old English riding stable- something I had wanted to experience for as long as I could remember.

Here, right in this moment I felt my heart sing with joy.

It was magical, and I had found something familiar.

Horses.

Of course there were horses.