Basically, Glastonbury looks like any English town. Until you stand in the middle of the main street. Where the smell of incense is like a faint whiff in the air as one passes colorful facades with signs offering enlightenment, crystals, aura-healing, tantric massage and alternative literature.
The sun is on its way down. I find myself on top of the Glastonbury Tor, overlooking the city. For a moment it almost felt as if I climbed up the stairs to Slottsfjellet in my hometown Tønsberg. But only for a moment. I have not seen many people sit by Slottsfjellet in meditation. Neither is there an ashram* at the foot of it.
I sit against the wall to St.Michael’s Tower on top of the hill. Admiring the misty sunset that adds a dreamy haze over the city. It is so peaceful. People talk quietly together. Philosophize. Meditate. Some are playing and singing inside the tower.
The only thing I knew about this place was the Glastonbury music festival that takes place every second year here. This year was not the year. I did not know that the city is referred to as the hippie capital of England. Or that the legend of King Arthur has a good foothold here.
I am here only for a short stop over. It feels so wrong to rush through here as Glastonbury should be seen at a completely different pace. Sitting down with your legs crossed, facing the sun. Philosophising about the myths of Avalon.
The air is cool when I stroll back down to the town again. My skin feeling a little chilled although I am still feeling warm inside. Preserving the peace of the sunset and sleeping like a baby that night.
* In Glastonbury you find an ashram, Shekinashram