5 A NEW SPIRITUALITY?

For many people any connection between drug use and the spiritual quest would seem farfetched, and the very suggestion of such a connection would seem quite monstrous. A good  deal of Christian ministry in the field of drug abuse has started from the assumption that  the drug scene is an evil from which young people must be rescued. Soho too has been seen  as a centre of evil, and has attracted evangelical crusaders as a light attracts moths. So Billy Graham paid a ritual visit to Old Compton Street in 1965. So Piccadilly Circus is  regularly visited by zealous Christians who hand out tracts and offer free food, and  sometimes gospel music. At times one gets the feeling that Piccadilly consists solely of evangelical Christians, social workers and tourists, each group thinking that the other groups are the local indigenous population. Very often during my time in Soho we have discovered some new evangelistic campaign which has sprung up without any consultation with, or approach to, the Christians on the spot. These activities seem to show little or no understanding of the common order of the Body of Christ in which 'bonded and knit together by every constituent joint, the whole frame grows through the due activity of each part, and builds itself up in love.' (Ephesians 4.16).

Once a group of students from a Bible college descended upon Soho and posted stickers saying 'Faith Not Filth' on all the strip clubs. They then returned to their homes in other districts, leaving the local Christian community in Soho to apologize for them and clear up the mess, and to try and undo the harm which they had done. It has probably not occurred to such sincere people that the pastoral work of the Body of Christ in Soho might be set back a few years by this kind of activity, or even that there are Chritians living and working there, whose ministry might be affected by these escapades. I regard many of these crusaders as a positive menace. They are incredibly silly, obsessed with sex, have a distorted view of evil, and see Soho as the 'sin centre' of London. They are aggressive., intolerant, and insensitive, rushing clumsily into situations which they do not understand and dabbling with problems which they have not studied. This does not apply to all evangelicals, but it does apply to many of the people who seem to be drawn to Soho. In addition, some of these groups seem to contain a number of highly unbalanced individuals who are drawn to work here through their own psychological disturbances more than for the good of the district. Many young people have been put off Christianity as a result of their contact of and experiences with these groups.

The aggressive naivety which is characteristic of much evangelical work in the field is exhibited in their literature. Factual inaccuracy seems to be a fundamental prerequisite in the writers. The best known evangelical writings are those of the American Pentecostalist, David Wilkerson, author of The Cross and the Switchblade (1962) and numerous other books. These books show a burning faith in God and a commitment to Christ and the salvation of souls. They also show a degree of intolerance, disrespect for facts, and an unbalanced approach which is very disturbing and frightening. Thus The Cross and the Switchblade tells us that 'marijuana . . . quickly leads to the use of heroin', a view contrary to all the evidence. In an article in The Pentecostal Evangel in1968, David Wilkerson said, 'I consider marijuana the most dangerous drug used today.' and claimed that 'marijuana users become just as 'hooked' as persons addicted to heroin.' Teenagers are advised to 'report it to the police immediately' if they see another teenager smoking marijuana. The view, accepted by most scholars that 'the dangers of marijuana have been overrated' is dismissed by David Wilkerson as 'an outright lie'.

This combination of intolerance and sheer ignorance cannot be excused by reference to the writer's practical experience. Proximity to a situation is no guarantee of reliability or objective analysis. Indeed it is sad that many of those who work closely with drug abusers are among the most inaccurate and unreliable commentators. David Wilkerson's writing is full of misleading comments. Thus his book Purple Violet Squish (1969) tells us that 'a hippy is one who removes himself from physical and intellectual reality' and 'believes only in himself'. The hippy scene is dismissed as a 'bogus gospel. . . as old as the devil himself.' We are told that 'the LSD movement is headed down into the same dark cave where all the radical new theologians are hiding'. Father Philip Berrigan's action of pouring blood on draft files is described as a 'bizarre action of the unique yippie movement'. Wilkerson has no time for 'misguided liberals' or leftist priests, or for the Underground Press which supports them. But neither does he care for 'hippy evangelists'. 'Take off your love beards and grow up', he tells them. He warns that 'the church is not a cheap crash pad for hippies'. The magazines which come from Teen Challenge show the same degree of arrogance and insensitivity.

I find this kind of evangelical writing terribly sad, because the love of Christ does not surely show itself in contempt for the views of others. Our zeal for truth and refusal to compromise with evil ought never to lead us to a disrespect for accurate scholarship or to an inability to listen and to learn from those with whom we disagree. Fortunately, not all evangelical Christians working in the drug scene are of this type. I think particularly of the wonderful ministries of Barbara and Doug Henry at the Coke Hole Trust near Andover, or of Frank Wilson at Life for the World in Gloucestershire. I am proud to number these Christian workers among my friends. They show a deep faith and humility which puts me to shame, and serves as a source of inspiration and example. We have had particularly close links with the Coke Hole, where numerous young people from Soho have received help and been brought to life in Christ. My criticisms of some evangelical attitudes must not be taken as an attack on all evangelicals. But I have felt so deeply how much harm has been done to the Christian cause by the impact of the type of attitude and literature which I have described.

One of the presuppositions of many Christian commehtators is that the drug culture is one facet of a wholesale attack upon Christian moral standards. This is a viewpoint which would presumably be shared by such movements as the Festival of Light which talks of 'moral pollution'. David Wilkerson certainly sees the hippy scene as being characterized by sin, emptiness and futility. Against the decadence of the runaway generation, he places the world of the squares. 'Squares do not demonstrate nor do they question every cultural, ethical, political and religious value of the day. Squares are convention'al and conforming. They don't burn their draft cards, and even wear service uniforms with pride. Squares are wheels who make the world go 'round'. Before we go any further, let me confess that I'm a square.' So Christianity becomes identified with the square world, with conformism and with the established order.

I do not accept this position. Rather I view much of current drug abuse as one aspect of a protest against the decadence and materialism of our western society. To the hippy it is the establishment which is immoral, and his attack upon it is primarily a spiritual one. I agree with Caroline Coon's view that the hippy represents a moral protest against 'a society whose moral spirit is lower than it has been for a long time'. But I would go further than this and say that the fundamental motivation behind the drug culture is a search for spirituality. The recent Interim Report of the Canadian Government Commission of Inquiry The Non-Medical Use of Drugs (1971) observed:

We have been profoundly impressed by the natural and unaffected manner in which drug users have responded to the question of religious significance. They are not embarrassed by the mention of God. Indeed, as Paul Goodman has observed, their reactions are in interesting contrast to those of the 'God is dead' theologians. It may be an exaggeration to say that we are witnessing the manifestations of a genuine religious revival, but there does appear to be a definite revival of interest in the religious or spiritual attitude towards life.
With this comment a large section of the Underground would agree. So Alternative London observes: 'Over the past two centuries the established Christian churches have adapted themselves to please the scientists and intellectuals to a point where they have lost the essence of religion. Many young people are now disillusioned by the direction in which society is developing, and have become aware (often through drugs) that intellectualism cannot provide answers to the only important questions in life.' The name of Timothy Leary is now inseparable from the psychedelic movement. It was Leary, dismissed from a position at Harvard in 1963, who firmly placed the LSD cult in a religious framework. 'It's the same old pursuit', said Leary. 'The aims of our religion are those of every religion in the past: we work to find the God within, the divinity which lies within each person's body.' Many of Leary's critics have misrepresented his position, and have given the impression that his view is that psychedelic drugs can of themselves produce instant mysticism. What he actually says, in The Psychedelic Experience and elsewhere, is that drugs can help to produce the religious experience. The right preparation and the 'right set and setting' were necessary. At the same time, it should be emphasized that Leary does state that the 'drug induced ecstasis is now called the psychedelic experience,' and claims that 'experiences of enlarged consciousness . . . have become available to anyone through the ingestion of psychedelic drugs'. This claim is the basis of the psychedelic religion.

It is a major claim but not a new one. William James in 1902 made the same claim about nitrous oxide, as did Benjamin Blood in 1874, and many devotees in earlier centuries about other drugs. The use of chemicals to induce religious experiences is a long-established
phenomenon. I do not see any a priori reason to doubt the truth of the chemical claim. Experiences of enlarged consciousness, what Alan Watts calls 'cosmic consciousness', always involve alterations in body chemistry, and whether these chemical changes occur 'naturally' or are irgluced by the introduction of external chemicals, does not seem to me to alter the nature of the experience. The human body itself is a complex of biochemical forces. Moreover, the research on psychedelic drugs seems to support the view that the two kinds of experience are similar and at times identical. There is a good deal of data on this question in Masters and Houston's The Varieties of Psychedelic Experience. In 1970, I took part in a series of three programmes on BBC-2 TV entitled 'The Timeless Moment', in which the experiences under LSD, psychosis, and mystical religion were compared. The most detailed work has been done in the United States by Dr Walter Pahnke.

What I would strongly dispute is the relevance and value of the psychedelic experiences. The experiences of the mystics were evaluated and understood only in the context of a developing spiritual life. Any concern with the accumulation of experiences was condemned,  as by St John of the Cross, for example, as a positive impediment to spiritual growth. In the drug culture, however, one sees precisely this obsession with 'experiences' for their own sake. There is a good deal of evidence that LSD can produce religious experiences:  there is no evidence that it can produce religious lives. But Leary would dissent from this, and would claim that in fact the use of psychedelics has brought about a fundamental spititual change.

They bring you into levels of reality which aren't structured because your mind can't structure them. But the panorama and the levels that you get into with LSD are exactly those areas which men have called the confrontation of God. The LSD trip is the classic visionary-mystic voyage . . . In the last six or seven years a small group of us, which has grown with almost miraculous rapidity, has brought about a change in the consciousness of the United States.

Whether or not Leary is right, there is no doubt that real changes in consciousness are  occurring. In 1968, Dr Allan Cohen, a former research colleague of Leary's at Harvard, visited us at St Anne's. The Guardian on 14 September announced, 'Psychedelic drugs scene  in search of spiritual guidance'. Allan and! became good friends , and in 1969 he returned, and addressed a crowded audience on 'LSD and the search for God'. In this he referred to his disillusionment with the psychedelic claims. Cohen sees the search for love and meaning as the real motivation of the psychedelic revolution, but he rejects the drug route to consciousness expansion. 'When you see the psychedelic leaders of the world after a gorgeously mystical brotherhood love session, as they are coming down, having a bitter

argument about who should wash the dishes, a sense passes through one that somehow sainthood has been missed.' The psychedelic culture, Cohen claimed, had failed to show positive fruits in terms of spirituality. He points to the decay of Haight-Ashbury and suggests that heightened consciousness does not in fact result from chemical-induced experiences. Cohen and Leary agree that there has been a 'consciousness revolution', but Cohen sees the drug route as a diversion, an illusory path. So he argues for 'turning on' by an internal method, and he talks of 'a spiritual revolution which may dwarf in its impact any threatened economic or social-political revolution'.

In Berkeley, California, where Allan Cohen lives, the Committee for Psychedelic Drug Information publicizes his position. I met the leaders of the Committee in January 1970 in Berkeley and have maintained contact with them since then. This has been a valuable contact with the spiritual developments there. The inspiration for them, and for other ex-drug users, has been the Indian mystic Meher Baba, whose works on consciousness are among the best-known authoritative studies. It was the publication, by a young Sufi group in San Francisco, of a collection of Baba's utterances on LSD in a pamphlet entitled God in a Pill? which began a major change in the direction of many spiritual seekers on the West Coast. Cohen has described how a young friend and LSD enthusiast visited Nepal in 1965 and consulted Baba about psychedelic drugs, and has described the journey as 'a pilgrimage which became a focal point for the downfall of the psychedelic phantasy'. Basically, Baba's position and that of his followers (including Pete Townshend of 'The Who' who announced his rejection of drugs in 1969) is that the psychedelic experience is 'as far removed from reality as a mirage from water.' Reality is beyond them. So the Baba-lovers turn from the illusion to the reality.

We began to notice the movement away from chemical towards non-chemical approaches to spirituality in 1968. As well as the Baba movement, there was the growth in Chelsea of a community called `Gandalf's Garden'. Gandalf is the White Wizard from Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, a major source book for the Underground mystical revival. Gandalf's role is to remain in Middle Earth and to liberate it from the dark powers. He is seen therefore as 'the mythological hero of the age'. The central figure in Gaadalf's Garden was Muz Murray. Muz had a natural mystical experience in Cyprus which changed his whole approach to life and religion, and made him aware of the spiritual world. He returned to London in 1967 at the peak of the LSD epidemic, and became interested in the drug route. But he found LSD not only dangerous but also a purely 'horizontal' experience: that is, it could bring into consciousness experiences from the past and present, but could not take the subject into the future, as a natural mystical experience could. Numbers of those who were disillusioned with LSD turned towards mysticism of the Gandalf's Garden type as an alternative.

For a while a 'mystical scene magazine' entitled Gandalf's Garden was published, but in 1970 it was decided that the first priority was the establishment of ashrams, spiritual centres, throughout the country, and so the magazine ceased publication. Gandalf's Garden carried advertisements for a wide range of groups and facilities—meditation societies, vegetarian restaurants, mystical shops, and so on. It carried articles with titles like `The Cosmic Continent', `The Aetherius Society', `The Sacred Zodiac of Glastonbury' and `The Key to Self-Realization.' Contributors were not favourable to organized Christianity, which they saw as unspiritual and unrelated to the teaching of Jesus. One writer, commenting on the Billy Graham crusade, observed that `an evening spent with Dr Graham is as spiritually rewarding as Mrs Dale's Diary,' and that the message was 'as bright and flashy and devoid of content as an empty Kellog's packet'. But they were not wholly unsympathetic to Christian ideas. Thus a Dominican friar wrote in one issue: `When the apostles made their first public appearances they were so high that the people thought they must be drunk. And our whole thing began when an angel came to Mary and said, 'Rejoice!' We have no use at all for grey revolutionaries. We want people who really groove on our thing, people who find we turn them on . . . You can't have a utopia, at least not our sort of utopia, unless it turns people on.'

Another element in the recent spiritual revival has been the traditions surrounding Glastonbury and its Zodiac. Some young people claim that at the Chalice Well they discovered the influence of Jesus by direct experience. But they see Jesus as a great teacher or Avatar, born and reborn from age to age under many names. Glastonbury in seen by many young hippy seekers as a key to the future, and they have considerable sympathy with the off-beat type of Christianity which they associate with the Glastonbury myths. As Geoffrey Ashe, the authority on the Arthurian legends, wrote, 'Britain will begin to be reborn when Glastonbury is. The Giant Albion will begin to wake when his sons and daughters gather inside that enchanted boundary, and summon him with the right words, the right actions, a different life.'*
In Soho, particularly in Oxford Street and Piccadilly, the Hare Krishna chanters are well known figures. Their Temple is in Bloomsbury and from here they spend a large part of each day chanting the Hare Krishna mantra. According to their leader, A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami, 'the transcendental vibration established by the chanting of the Hare Krishna mantra is a sublime method for reviving our transcendental consciousness'. It was in 1965 that A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami, the founder of the International Society for Krishna Consciousness, arrived in the United States, and in October 1968, a small group of chanters arrived in London from San Francisco. Within a short while they had set up a commune and temple and made a record with the Beatles. They see the Hare Krishna mantra as the way both of  awakening God-consciousness in everyone, and also of overcoming the distractions of the present Dark Age (Kali Yuga). The mantra is seen as a purifying process which cleanses the mind and the senses. Chanting in the street is important. 'The movement's work is done,' says one of their leaflets, 'by preaching and bringing the ecstatic sound vibrations to our brethren in the streets of all the major cities of the world . . . Krishna Consciousness is a movement that will bring universal peace and Divine Love to every being on this planet.'
In London, the residents at the Temple follow a life of 'spiritual communion' based on the Hindu teachings on spiritual progress towards God-realization. There is no emphasis here on 'meditation' or on exploring the inner world, but rather on mental chanting and the chanting aloud of the Great Mantra.

Among other sections of young people, however, meditation has been popular, ever since the Beatles became involved with Maharishi Mahesh Yogi in 1967. Here again, there is a sense of reaction against a Christianity which seems unconcerned with spirituality and which is seen as superficial. A good example of the general attitude towards the Church is contained in an interview with George Harrison in International Times on 29 August 1969. 'Now I don't want to put down the Christians, but it was only through India and through Hinduism and through yogis and through meditation that I learned about Christ and what Christ really meant and what he stood for, and what he still stands for and what he still is, because the Christ-consciousness is like the Krishna-consciousness which is absolute and is in every speck of creation. But this is why I never became a practising Christian, because like most people they go to church, and it's all that thing about, you know, Tommy Jones has got a brown suit on, and here comes Mrs Smith with her new hat. So in church there's no good vibes to pick up. It's a bore.' He went on to suggest that the Church was not much concerned with spiritual experience or with meditation. This is a common criticism made by many young people, and it is a just one.

All over the London scene therefore we were seeing a resurgence of spiritual concern. Alternative London, devoted twenty-one pages to mystical groups. It included very diverse groups: Hindu-orientated groups like the Divine Light Mission, the Rama Krishna Vedanta Centre and Kundalini Yoga centres, Buddhist and Sufi groups, and a large number of occult and spiritualistic sects. Astrology and flying saucers have caught on in some quarters, as has witchcraft. There is a spiritual revival of which, for the most part, the institutional Church seems totally unaware.

In 1970 I was anxious to see what form the post-LSD spiritual scene had taken in the United States. My impression is that there have been three particular directions in which people have tended to move. The first is the marked movement among many former LSD users towards magic, occultism, and mystical or quasi-mystical forms of religion. In a study of communes in North California, it was found that, while LSD and marijuana were still used in many cases, the total consumption of psycho-active chemicals was substantially less than the average American norm. The older hippies were turning to the communes, to non-chemical `turn-ons' and to the eastern spiritual tradition.

One person who has studied the post-LSD scene in San Francisco very closely is Dr David Smith, the Medical Director of the Haight-Ashbury Free Clinic and Assistant Clinical Professor of Toxicology at the University of California Medical Centre. He claims that LSD in a psychedelic environment is producing real alterations in consciousness. He notes particularly that in working with chronic LSD users, 'one is continually impressed by their belief in magic and their intense study of metaphysical subjects'. Astrology is a major force in the lives of many young people in Haight-Ashbury, and it is not uncommon for an individual to alter a whole week's activities because of the behaviour of a passing meteorite. In a study of communes, David Smith pointed out that parents there often gave their children names derived from 'astrology, Eastern metaphysics, and psychedelic mysticism'. Some of the children's names were Oran, Morning Star, Rama Krishna, Ongo Ishi, Star, and Ora Infinitya. Thus, after entry into the psychedelic subculture, many straight, conventional young Americans have developed a magical frame of reference.

The second significant spiritual development in the United States has been a growth of underground, radical Christian groups. The Berkeley Free Church, which I visited in 1970, is one of the best known 'liberated churches', and grew out of Dick York's street pastorate in the Telegraph Avenue district of Berkeley. 'Turn on to the liberated zone! The Free Church loves you', announced the sign in the entrance. The Church began by operating a twenty-four-hour switchboard and organizing 'crash pads', coping with bad trips, and providing psychological and spiritual help and counselling. It has been described as 'an ecumenical youth church with one foot in and one foot out of the establishment'. Its memorial service for Ho Chi Minh caused violent criticism from other local churches. The Free Church sees itself as part of a wider movement called the 'liberated church' which reaches across the United States. A directory Win With Love lists such free Christian communities• around the country. Their basic theological approach is well expressed in John Pairman Brown's The Liberated Zone, and their liturgical ideas in The Covenant of Peace.

Out of the early street crisis ministry in Berkeley came two realizations. Dick York has expressed it in this way. 'First, that a paternalistic service ministry was not enough—that the only effective ministry for the Telegraph Avenue population was the development of a  community, a youth church. . . (2) You cannot minister to alienated runaways, drug users and street people without addressing yourself to the causes of that alienation.' So the Free Church began to celebrite the 'Freedom Meal' and to pass its members through the waters of Baptism. The other local churches cried, 'That is not what we intended you to do at all!' We were a creation, it now seems', Dick York claims, 'to salve the conscience of the Berkeley Church establishment. So they could say, 'Look how avant-garde we are: ecumenical ministry to hippies—even hippies!' But once a church grew up out of that, they were horrified! The problem . . . was that this new church, the Free Church, found in those very pages a manifesto for human liberation, a radical Jesus, a Good News for its own problems.'

The eucharistic rite of Berkeley, the Freedom Meal, speaks of 'Jesus our Liberator' and of the cup as 'the unending Constitution of a new society in my blood, poured out for liberation from your guilt.' The Litany of Intercession prays for 'the global movement of peace and liberation, the Church of Jesus incognito'. The Dismissal runs: 'Go in peace and love. Serve God with joy. Keep the faith baby. You are the liberated zone.' In Britain, no real Underground Church has emerged, though The Catonsville Roadrunner and 'Church' have been modelled very closely on the Berkeley model, even to the point of imitating the very language used. The weakness of this group, however, is that unlike Berkeley, it did not arise out of any real pastoral situation, and, because it is a second-hand movement with imported slogans and borrowed ideas, it does not really relate to anything, and may simply become yet another precious and introverted sect. Indeed, Berkeley itself could easily become very sectarian in its thought and ethos, separated from the rest of the church as from the mass of the common people.

A third direction which the post-drug spiritual movement has taken is that of fundamentalist Christianity. There has been a growth of groups like the 'Jesus Freaks' which Nova described as 'fanatical Christian Hippies'. They include the Children of God commune, founded by Jonathan Levi in Missippi, the God Squad, and Arthur Blessit's centre in Sunset Strip, Los Angeles. In many respects, the Jesus movement is well within the traditions of American revivalism. But its importance lies in two specific aspects. The first is that, unlike many evangelicals like David Wilkerson, the externals and language of the hippy culture are not rejected. The second is that, unlike most forms of evangelical Christianity, the Jesus people are highly critical and intolerant of the mainstream churches and their compromise with Mammon. They represent a radical break with the idea of Christianity as a bulwark of the American way of life. Thus in a sense they can be seen as a revolutionary force. But they are a revival of a tradition notable for its intolerance and its irrationality. In terms of spirituality, surely they are a regression.

One of the convictions which unites all the spiritual movements which we have seen is the belief in a coming age of spirit. Charles Reich in The Greening of America looks to a new age of consciousness which 'seeks restoration of the non-material elements of man's existence, the elements like the natural environment and the spiritual.' Hair sings of 'the dawning of the Age of Aquarius'. Leary and Cohen, while they disagree about the value of psychedelic drugs, agree that profound changes in consciousness are leading to a spiritual revolution. Radical drop-outs, influenced by Marcuse, speak of liberation in terms both of the individual and of the political structure. The astrologers tell of the planetary influences. Christians in many denominations are witnessing the revival of pentecostalism, and seeking the 'baptism of the Holy Spirit'.

I believe that we are seeing a revival of gnosticism, and of magic and superstition. It would be quite false to see all the signs of spiritual change to be healthy signs. There is a good deal of very unbalanced and deranged mysticism about in the Underground: gnostic ideas of a purely psychic illuminism; morbid interest in the occult and extrasensory powers; involvement with witchcraft and satanism. Even the apparently innocuous interest in flying saucers and astrology can hardly be seen as rational, and some of what goes by the name of mysticism can properly be described as magic and superstition. This is an age in which 'many false spirits have gone out into the world', an age of deep spiritual confusion. But it is an age in which many people are searching for the reality of true prayer and contemplation. The writings of a contemplative monk like Thomas Merton have obviously touched the needs of many in our generation, just as the works of Teilhard de Chardin have brought many to an awareness of spirituality. The harvest is certainly plenteous.

The labourers, however, are few, because we have largely missed the significance of these spiritual occurrences. Spiritual things are spiritually discerned, and contemporary Christianity is profoundly lacking in spiritual perception. We have been so absorbed with changing our image and becoming 'relevant', 'involved' and active, that we have lost our grip on our primary concern, the attainment of the Vision of God. Yet it is God whom men are seeking, and it is only a Church renewed and directed by the Holy Spirit which will be capable of guiding the present spiritual ferment and leading it to fulfilment.

One of my predecessors at St Anne's Soho was Father Gilbert Shaw. He was a great spiritual director and contemplative, and after leaving Soho he became Warden of the Sisters of the Love of God who have been a tremendous support to us throughout our work. Though he died in 1967, the year in which I went to Soho, his awareness of the needs of the present was very great. In one of his papers on prayer, he wrote:

It is vital that we should understand the changes of our age, and we can only do so if our prayer goes deep enough to root us in the unchangeability of God. If our eyes are fixed on him, then however violent the changes, we are not limited by ideas conditioned by the past or the present. We can help the present age by asking the right questions to enable people to see their need, and by standing firm in the stability of prayer to bring in God's true purpose. . . In this confidence we can face the night that has come upon the Church, knowing it has a purpose of purification, a purification necessary for bringing us back to root principles.

* For further light on the Glastonbury Zodiac ideas seeJ ohn Michell's books The Flying Saucer Vision, A View Over Atlantis and City of Revelation.