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Surprising St Levan
A wayside well and a stone with a life of its own
The South West Coast Path could easily be described as the South West Pilgrims'
Dowsing Route. There are so many mysterious places close to the Cornish coast
for dowsers to investigate, that I could write a book about them - perhaps I
will!
The bitter east wind was scything along the Penzance promenade with an unwelcoming edge, so we sought out a section of the SW Coast Path that faced west and was at least potentially a little more sheltered. This strategy led us to the village of St Levan - just a couple of miles south of Carn les Boules, where the Michael & Mary lines first make their joint landfall on the English (well Cornish anyway) mainland.
The OS map shows that there are the remains of a chapel and a well, so that's where we headed. They are not difficult to find, as not only is there a sign stating St. Levans Holy Well, but they are right on the Coast Path.
Without the sign however, this significant piece of archaeology could easily be mistaken for the remains of an ancient beach hut. The label 'Chapel' is something of a misnomer for this tiny shrine, adjacent to a somewhat overgrown, but still distinctively holy, spring. The rather heavy-handed, but clearly necessary, patching up of the structure of the chapel does not detract from the impact of its crossing earth energy lines and sense of peace. It is easy to imagine, in times when visitors were less frequent, that a period spent in this tiny building, facing the dramatic spectacle of the Atlantic contesting space with the formidable cliffs of West Penwith, would rapidly transport the supplicant to another reality and heal their woes. The adjacent well exhibits the distinctive signature of crossing water lines, with one water line flowing into the shrine and one energy line snaking across the well.
As ever with dowsing, the obvious may be interesting, but the unexpected can be electric. Having got this far, we decided to complete the day's activities with a quick walk up to the parish church of St Levan - maybe half a mile to the north.
In the churchyard is a huge rounded natural stone block - split into two, deep in the geological past. This striking rock - known as the Saints Stone - is surrounded by pre-Christian myth and pagan fertility legend. Apparently, women seeking a family were advised to sit in the crack that all but splits the stone in half. Naturally I expected to find obvious crossing lines and powerful forces. What I did find was one fairly languid earth energy line and a similarly wandering water line, neither making any attempt to align with the split - and that was it. After pondering this for a while, I was led to ask for the presence of an entity, which there duly was - and was this a friendly spirit? - apparently not! My rods all but flew out of my hand. I regretted not having undertaken my 'May I, Can I Should I' routine with more care before I started. However, the energy in the stone did not seem malevolent, just defensive - as a guardian would need to be with a bearded bloke poking about with copper rods and asking daft questions.
I backed off, and worked instead on the clearly ancient stone crosses in the churchyard. The biggest and most imposing appeared not to be on any energy lines at all (and dowsed as having been moved). Another was almost on its original spot, but seemed to have been edged over a bit to make way for a burial - while the third, on a gatepost leaving the graveyard, was still in situ, with a substantial spiral spanning across a very recent burial plot.
Inside the church, the plot thickened. The largest cross in the graveyard appeared to have been removed from the crossing point of two 'female' energy lines in the west of the old aisle and placed outside, near to the Saints Stone - and, according to the guide book, to 'neutralise the effect of the Pagan forces'. It is rare indeed to see such a bold acceptance that such things required neutralising, let alone find a memorial to the attempt. The cross dowsed as having been completely ineffective in this respect. Clearly, those undertaking the relocation were not dowsers. The cross itself bears a typical cruciform carving at its head, yet in the slanting daylight of a January afternoon, the figure appeared to me to be distinctively feminine. It dowses to having been originally designed as a Christian figure, but the sculptor evidently had a very different idea of that form from that of a modern-day observer.
There is yet another subscript to this fascinating place. Through the church itself ran two huge 'male' energy lines (already 25ft across prior to stimulation). These cross at what the guide book describes as 'the round' of the current altar - an interesting turn of phrase, given its rectangular shape. The deviceless dowser would have no difficulty in sensing and describing 'the round'. The Saints Stone outside the dhurch appears to be on a separate alignment, which implies that, despite the legends, it may not the have been the original location of veneration, or at least not the main element of the sacred site. It may even have acted as a kind of decoy for the true location of the power of St Levan.
There is further evidence of the merging of the old and the new; the pagan, the celtic and the roman faiths in the design of the rood screen, with its beautiful representations of dragons, snakes and greenwood foliage.
The font, although a magnificent artefact, also dowsed
to having been moved. But in yet another contradiction, it is still sited directly
on one water line. The original site appears to have been, somewhat inconveniently,
in the middle of the aisle.
On leaving the churchyard, I returned to the guardian stone, to see if it had
reconsidered its position - and, having sensed me in action for a while, was
no longer unfriendly. Just doing its job. Mind how you go.
Nigel Twinn
Tamar Dowsers
February 2006