After visiting the Wells Cathedral in the morning, we hop over to another site of spiritual interests in the afternoon.
This is
Glastonbury Tor, where some people believe it to be the site of the mythical Avalon of Arthurian Legends. The tor (or 'conical hill' in Celtic) stood alone on the gentle Somerset plains. It is quite logical how the area had been an island in a lake.
As you amble up the green slope, ascending from the green pasture lands towards the summit, the vistas around you grow increasingly breathtaking.
Here stood some of my friends against the vast endless plain. How small indeed is a man, yet we have taken over, cultivated, and dominated the landscapes, carving and dividing it among ourselves, and bending it to our own ends.
The topless (I mean roofless) ruins of St. Micheal's Tower. The St. Micheal's church could well have been felled by the same earthquake that does some permanent damage to the 'frozen river' in Cheddar's cave.
Standing at the top of the tor, there seems to be a ring of mist around it. Is this white halo the holy light of Avalon? Perhaps there is a basis for all the legends and myths, if only at times much exaggerated.
Seeing my first thunderstorm in UK has to be the reward of climbing this hill on a rainy day. As lightning flashed and thunders rumbled in the distant, under the gray foreboding clouds, we are reminded that even though we have taken possessions of these lands, we have not tamed the storm. The wild majesty and awesome might of the primordial forces still reign to a great extend. (Even as we have our undeniable influenced in screwing up the weather, when nature plays its card, it is still as fierce as what the Cro-Magnon had witnessed.)
Not far from the foothills in the town of Glastonbury is the huge ruins of Glastonbury Abbey, the purported resting place for King Aurthur. Very little skeleton remains of the abbey to fully imagine its majesty at the height of its glory days. One can only look and ponder how kingdoms rise and kingdoms fall, even Camelot's days are numbered. As it is said, only the Jerusalem-to-Come, whose builder and sustainer are far above us will endures forever.
This is Glastonbury Tor, where some people believe it to be the site of the mythical Avalon of Arthurian Legends. The tor (or 'conical hill' in Celtic) stood alone on the gentle Somerset plains. It is quite logical how the area had been an island in a lake.
As you amble up the green slope, ascending from the green pasture lands towards the summit, the vistas around you grow increasingly breathtaking.
Here stood some of my friends against the vast endless plain. How small indeed is a man, yet we have taken over, cultivated, and dominated the landscapes, carving and dividing it among ourselves, and bending it to our own ends.
The topless (I mean roofless) ruins of St. Micheal's Tower. The St. Micheal's church could well have been felled by the same earthquake that does some permanent damage to the 'frozen river' in Cheddar's cave.
Standing at the top of the tor, there seems to be a ring of mist around it. Is this white halo the holy light of Avalon? Perhaps there is a basis for all the legends and myths, if only at times much exaggerated.
Seeing my first thunderstorm in UK has to be the reward of climbing this hill on a rainy day. As lightning flashed and thunders rumbled in the distant, under the gray foreboding clouds, we are reminded that even though we have taken possessions of these lands, we have not tamed the storm. The wild majesty and awesome might of the primordial forces still reign to a great extend. (Even as we have our undeniable influenced in screwing up the weather, when nature plays its card, it is still as fierce as what the Cro-Magnon had witnessed.)
Not far from the foothills in the town of Glastonbury is the huge ruins of Glastonbury Abbey, the purported resting place for King Aurthur. Very little skeleton remains of the abbey to fully imagine its majesty at the height of its glory days. One can only look and ponder how kingdoms rise and kingdoms fall, even Camelot's days are numbered. As it is said, only the Jerusalem-to-Come, whose builder and sustainer are far above us will endures forever.
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