1. Madron Well

From the recording Heartwood

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Madron Well is an actual place in Cornwall, England. Enormous trees arising from a sacred spring, and strewn upon the mossy branches are hundreds of colorful wishes, ribbons of belief, prayer and hope, to heal and protect. I took no pictures, it felt too sacred, too intrusive to try and force the awe of Madron into a hard image. It was so alive, so mesmerizing, so moving. I was singing the whole time, if not out loud, in my heart. This song is my image of Madron Well, my offering.

Springs are often dedicated to the gods, all around the world. What was most memorable about this one was that there was both the old and new faith paths coexisting side by side. It is a relatively unknown place, we were taken by a man named John Moon, on a sacred sites tour of Cornwall. We were the only people on the tour, which meant we got to see all the sites that we wanted to and could stay for as long as we liked. Most of these sacred sites would be impossible for a foreigner to find, unmarked, often lying in farmers fields, off the beaten track. Madron Well was no exception. There was nothing to mark the road that pilgrims once took to beg the goddess of the spring to heal their afflictions. Merely a worn path beneath huge arching trees whose presence was felt like a plucked string vibrating. We walked beneath the verdant leaves, whispering their secrets all around, while the sun made crystals through the canopy and the hills sung around in joy. The spring itself was a marvel, a gift of love and light, with massive trees strewn with ribbons, clothies, and everything and anything people could leave as an offering (including bus tickets and socks). And even in the dizzying array of offerings, all seemed meaningful and heartfelt, none diminished by their smallness. Yes the power of the land was strong here, as fresh as the spring morning. Down the way from the trees whose arms stretched like a goddess embracing, was the Christian shrine, laden with candles burned down to the quick in the cracks of the crumbling walls. The two sitting side by side, and all around was peace. I left Madron Well, practically glowing. I will never forget the gift of such beauty, the weightlessness of such joy. I wrote this song right after we got back from our trip to England, Spring 2005


Come my pilgrims walk the road to my sheltr’ing arms
Along the trodden forest path ‘Neath the canopy
Tie a ribbon, say a prayer, whisper all your dreams
Sing a song of heartfelt praise, I will answer thee

Hear the dryads voices strong amidst the rustling leaves
See the colored hopes of others dancing bright and free
Tie a ribbon, say a prayer, whisper all your dreams
Sing a song of heartfelt praise, I will answer thee

Oh come to my spring
Oh come to Madron Well
Let my tears ease your suffering
Let your heart be light

Drink the sacred waters here, bathe away your pain
Then lie upon the grassy hillocks, ‘mid the springtime flowers
Close your eyes and dream a dream let the visions come
Move your limbs in reverence, I will dance with thee

Sit in silence hear the songs of those that came before
Gentle murmurs of a stream endless in its course
Close your eyes and dream a dream let the visions come
Move your limbs in reverence I will dance with thee


Now my pilgrim walk the path to your native land
A song carried in your heart lightness to your step
Think of me in joy and sorrow, I am always here
Know the wellspring of your heart for magic lies in thee