Last week, I began sharing my own journey with the Sophia presence. I took you to Tara Hill, County Meath, Ireland, promising you would meet someone within a Holy Well on Tara. Now we are ready to enter that well.  

There is a ritual to follow. First, we remove our shoes. This is both a sign of respect for the sacred presence we are approaching, and a practical consideration. Shoes are heavy and can make our return to the surface more difficult. We’ll also need the agility of our toes for the downward climb and the ascent afterwards.

The mouth of the well is encircled by stones, each laid in its place with such care that they seem always to have been together, like a community of friends, melded into a solid surround.
Now, get a good grasp on the stones at the top of the well. Feel for finger-holds until your hands are securely rooted, then let your body drop into the well so that, still hanging by your hands, you are immersed waist deep in the clear dark water. Next, scrabble with your toes along the stones nearest your feet until their grip feels as secure as your fingers feel above them.

Don’t be afraid. I’m right here beside you, both of us clinging frog-like to the inner wall of the well.

Now breathe deeply. Fill your lungs.
The plunge will be sudden and deep.
Let go.
Fingers. Toes. Anxiety. Fear. Even, and especially, expectation.
Drop down.

Darkness enfolds us. Silence, deeper that any we have ever known. Water holds us as it did before our birth. We are safe.
The descent is slower now, our body’s weight balanced by the weight of the water. No longer plunging, we are now drifting downwards. Down. Down. Still further down.

Our hands brush against the stone walls of the well. Suddenly, the stones on one side vanish and we flow with the water into an open channel, a birth canal. With a rush, we are carried forward, dropped into a pool. Just beyond the pool, we see a dusty red rock cavern, lit by the faintest sliver of light from somewhere high on the walls.

Swim across the pool. Pull yourself up and out onto the rocky ledge. Notice that we are both immediately dry, neither skin, nor clothing nor hair show signs of our watery descent. We feel refreshed, as though we have just wakened from a sweet afternoon nap.

And we are not alone.

She is already here, sitting just a short distance from us, resting against a large, smooth rock. She gestures towards a place where we too may sit, a smooth area of stone with secure back rest. We settle in.

She is wrapped in a wool cloak of midnight blue, faintly patterned with stars. The cloak’s hood partially hides her face, giving a sense of a shadowy, not-quite-real presence. She appears to be tall, slender, neither young nor old. Strength, compassion, wisdom emanate from her, glow from her eyes.

I have brought you here to meet her. She will have questions to ask you. She will want to know what you are seeking. Be clear. She does not like vagueness, as I have learned to my cost. Nor will she spare you any of her time if you lack passion. Only a deep desire will win you her attention and her assistance. If you are blessed (as I was) she will offer you her companionship, her love, her support and her guidance for all the days of your life. If that is your deep desire.
But do not bother to ask her name, who she is. She will not tell you.

For now, just sit here beside me. Listen to my conversation with her. When you feel ready, speak to her. Don’t worry about how you’ll know when the time is right. She’ll know. She’ll ask you why you have come.

Relax. Listen. She is speaking to me.
Welcome to the well of presence. I’ve been expecting you. I see that you have not come alone.

“You told me that I would recognize when the time came for me to share with others what you have been teaching me. The time is now. I am sure of it.”

Good. How do you wish to begin?

“I’ve thought about this for a while. As I remember it, each of your deep teachings came to me through an ancient tale. I want to retrace with you the journey you and I have made together along the road of ancient story. I’ve created an opening so that those who are ready may travel the way with us. I hope you will be the Storyteller.”

Would you like to choose the first story?

“It must be a story of desire and longing. Every journey, as you have taught me, begins with longing. Will you tell us the story of The Stolen Bairn and the Sidh?”

( to be continued)

Photo shows Tara Hill at Dusk