The Vesica Piscis Project: An introduction |
Glastonbury Tor |
In the southwest corner of England is a region of low, flat farmland known as the Somerset Levels, or "the summer country." Over the last two millenia, an elaborate system of sea walls and canals has been been built, first by the Romans and then by British monks; before that the area was basically an inland sea, a rich marshland prone to frequent tidal flood. At the eastern edge of this area is small tract of high ground joined by four hills that at one time formed an island: this was and is the legendary Avalon, site of pilgramage and worship for thousands of years, and home to the town of Glastonbury. The most visually prominent hill in Avalon is Glastonbury Tor, which juts up steeply some five hundred feet from the otherwise gentle landscape. The grassy sides of the tor are terraced in a sort of labyrinth. The top is capped with a stone tower, all that remains of a church built there and dedicated to St. Michael around 1360. The realm beneath the tor contains a network of limestone caves. Issuing forth from these is the White Spring, presently hidden by a reservoir. Further east lies the Red or Blood Spring, more commonly known as the Chalice Well. Arising from unknown beginnings, it flows throu a grove ancient yew trees, its pools stained crimson by the water's high iron content. |
The Chalice Well |
In 1904, a Bristol architect by the name of Frederick Bligh Bond was appointed by the Church of England to oversee the excavation of the ruins of Glastonbury Abbey. Although eventually discredited by the Church because of a rather public interest in spiritualism and mediumship, it was Bligh Bond who discovered the proportions generated by the Vesica Piscis present in the abbey's design. In 1919 he designed and commissioned a wrought iron lid for the nearby Chalice Well in the form of a Vesica Piscis (rhymes with "Jessica Crisis"). In the spring of 1993, I took my first trip to Glastonbury. I have always had an affinity for the English countryside, and a passion for British history. I had just finished Marion Zimmer Bradley's "The Mists of Avalon" (see recommended reading), and the idea of a different history, or herstory, that had always existed but never been told was fresh in my mind; I was excited to see the sacred isle at last. When I finally set foot there, though, nothing in particular happened. I found the place at once compelling and unsettling, and a good fit in an odd way. We stayed for a couple of days, and I vowed to return. As the next five years unfolded, the Vesica Piscis, an ever deepening symbol of the place between, became more and more of a touchstone: my anguish over human injustice and environmental destruction grew, and I delved into eco-feminist writings and pagan practices; I began a more serious study of mythology and folklore, especially of the British Isles; and I discovered an ancient, rich world of queer spirituality that sang to a part of me that had been kicked shut, intimidated into silence since I was a child. Friends died. I fell in love. My lucid dreams went off the map. And I wrote lots of music. |
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The term "Vesica Piscis" is first recorded in literature in 1809, but is no doubt much older. It translates from Latin literally as "fish bladder," but more likely refers to any bladder that takes the form of a fish when filled (aside from the anatomical definition, a bladder can be anything that functions similarly: a sewn skin that holds wine, for example, or the air sack of bagpipes.) The Vesica Piscis symbol appears frequently in medieval art and architecture, and the symbol's roots go back further still. |
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The Vesica Piscis is made by linking two cicles together, bringing the outside edge of each to the midway point of the other. The almond-shaped center of the image is called a mandorla (Latin for almond; "vesica" or "vesica piscis" is sometimes also used to describe only this almond-shaped center.) The mandorla can easily be seen as a grail or chalice, connecting the symbol to Avalon. When the Vesica Piscis is displayed vertically, the mandorla forms the shape of a fish. The word "fish" translates into Greek as "ichthys", which is an acronym for "Jesus Christ, Son of God, Savior." Early Christians adopted the fish symbol as their own, and used it as sort of secret code to identify themselves to one another and avoid persecution. As previously stated, the mandorla has been much used in art and achitecture: as a frame for Jesus and the saints, or as the passage between heaven and earth through which Jesus ascends. Far from a secret anymore, the icthys has become the preeminent icon of bumper evangelism, and spawned a whole slew of angry responses: little fish with feet that say "Darwin," an icthys with shark fins, ones that say "kosher," etc. When the Vesica Piscis is viewed horizontally, however, the mandorla becomes a different sort of passage: the birth passage. The pointed oval is a universal symbol of the Divine Feminine, and in this context the Vesica Piscis is the vulva of the Goddess, surrounded by the crescents of the waxing and waning moon. The mandorla as birth passage can easily be seen on the sheila-na-gig figures found on Irish churches, and in the squatting figures of the Hindu goddess Kali. Almonds are a primeval fertility symbol, and as such are associated with the Phrygian goddess Cybele and her transgendered consort, Attis, and the Greek nymph Phyllis, who was metamorphosed into an almond tree. Fish, too, play a significant part in the lives of goddesses from many cultures. "Delphos" translates from Greek as both "womb" and "dolphin." The Chinese Great Mother Kwan -Yin often appears as a fish goddess, as does Aphrodite. Kali, as the swallower of Shiva's penis, becomes Minaksi, the fish-eyed one; Isis becomes Abtu, the Great Fish of the Abyss, when she swallows the penis of Osiris. A medieval hymn calls Jesus "the little fish in the Virgin's fountain." The Christ child is often shown inside a mandorla, superimposed over Mary's womb. Mary herself can be equated with the goddess Aphrodite Marina, who brought forth all the fish in the oceans; Marina's blue robe and pearl necklace, like the Christian Mary's, are classic symbols of the sea. On Cyprus, Mary to this day is worshipped as "Panaghia Aphroditessa." The connections are many. The Vesica Piscis illumines the common heritage of Christianity and the Goddess traditions it absorbed; traditions it would later vilify and all but destroy. The early Christians saw the mandorla as a bridge between heaven and earth. Beyond that the two circles of the Vesica Piscis represent life and death, with the birth canal - both of the Goddess and the individual - serving as the passage between. The place between: that is the essence and the magic of the symbol. Between life and death, heaven and earth, dreaming and waking , darkness and light, there is the priestess and the shaman; and between male and female, yin and yang, stands the priestess or shaman as sacred androgyne: the Paleolithic "soft-shaman," the two-spirit people of the Native Americans, the Galli of Cybele, the Amazons of Lesbos, and many, many others. |
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And there is a place on Earth where, standing high on a steep hill looking out over a flood plain, suspended between the sky and the underworld, one remembers, finds hope, and reclaims.
- Kingfisher |
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