I answered an inner call to visit the red and white springs of Glastonbury last month.

It was a pilgrimage of a lifetime and simultaneously ordinary. I have much to share, but what comes to me today is how struck I was by the separation of the two springs.

One with press and a marketing team, a gate and a fee to enter, precise and manicured, full and lush. A picture of beauty with her iron-tinted waters protected and flowing, accompanied by soft voices and silence. Old Yews gated in as grand guardians–much to protect and much to receive. 

The crone, sage, or conscious elder does not shrink away from the unknown; they welcome it and say, "Hello, friend," with a wink and a smile, because they know that the seeds of new life rest in the dark. Or, as one of my real-life crone mentors, Sil Read, often says, "The gold is in the shit".

Fear also dwells in these dark, unknown parts the soul. You've likely bumped up against some of these inner soul gems–those prickly and seemingly impossible inner callings that seem too scary to unpack–that's the shit asking you to alchemize it into nourishment for yourself and others.