In early January, 1999, during a break between heavy storms and flooding, I traveled with my Welsh friends Pam and Nairere to Holy-well in northeast Wales (or Cymru in Welsh) to visit St. Winifriede's well. On the way we passed the snowbound and magnificent Snowdonia mountains.

Having lived very close to the well of St. Non (also known as St. Nonne) on the coastline by St. David's in Pembrokeshire, we were very aware that during many centuries before the Protestant Refor­mation there had been an extremely important pilgrimage from St. Winifriede's Holywell up north to St. Non's well and St. David's cathedral in southern Cymru.

So important was this pilgrimage to Medieval Catholics, that two such journeys were considered as important as one to Rome. To this day both places are Catholic shrines; of course, originally they were sacred sites of the Goddess and Her Water/Earth powers. Both holy wells are trance-inducing and have magic healing qualities.

In February, I traveled alone to Malta and Gozo to seek help and in­spiration from the Great Mother Goddess who indwells there in the gigantic temples. For months I'd been utterly lacking in any creative energies, either for painting or writing, as a result of having been operated for breast cancer in April of the previous year. Any energy I did have was zapped by the radiotherapy treatments as well as the inordinate amount of time I had to spend just to keep my health together.

I prayed that the Goddess of Malta and Gozo would revive me and bring back my inspiration. I had been to Her temples several times before and have friends on the islands. I feel safe there. Miraculously it worked: I did many drawings in the temples, and even finished works that were then exhibited on Malta. I also had powerful experiences with the beautiful Black Madonnas and came back home and did several large paintings straight off. I thank you, Mother!

Photo 1: Sculpture by Marsha Gomez, from an exhibition of her art,
 which Monica visited at the La Pena Gallery/Museum in Austin, Texas

In July, I traveled again with Pam and Nairere on a pilgrimage in France. I hadn't been there since 1985 when my young son Leify died in the Basque country, run down by a car. Since then I feared going back to France, but it had been a second home to me when I left Sweden at 17 years old in the 1950s. I love the language, culture, and the land itself. I felt that this being the end of the Millennium, as well as my 61st birthday on New Year's eve, I must not return at last and face my fears.

A Basque medium told me some years earlier that I have unfinished "business" with the Paleolithic caves in the Basque Pyrenees which I visited the day before my son died. It was the Lammas Full Moon, the time of the Harvest Mother, and I was in the caves with Musawa, editor of the We'Moon diaries, whom we were visiting.

The medium told me that I must return to the caves and listen there to what the spirits have to tell me. So Pam, Nairere, and I set off by ferry from Plymouth to Roscoff in Bretagne/Brittany. We drove in the night south to Dirinon in Finistere seeking the tomb and well of St. Non. We knew that according to Welsh legend, she traveled to Brittany and died there. We found, however, that the Bretons believe that she was also born here in Non's oak forest, her hermitage. We found St. Non's holy well and asked for her protection and blessing for our journey to France. We believe in Her powers.

From Dirinon we headed for Carnac in the Morbihan, land of the ancient megalithic Mother of the standing stones that march in row upon row across the land. The stones were temporarily fenced off so as to protect them and the vegetation from the vast numbers of visi­tors who come yearly. I had been amongst the stones in the early '80s when this had not been a problem (sacred sites are becoming too popular).

From Carnac we drove in the hot sun to the south of France and were able to borrow a friend's dilapidated but comfortable old farmhouse near Traves in the foothills of the Pyrenees. We were happy to have this base to rest and recover. The places I needed to visit were not far away.

I'd been to Lourdes with my son and Musawa on August 15, Maria's Ascension Day, one of the greatest festivals in the Catholic world. Forty thousand pilgrims were at Lourdes that time and we stood in the dark, a sea of lit candles all around us. Everyone was singing "Ave Maria." It felt so blissful. There was a real love of the Divine Mother at Lourdes, which, of course, would have been an old sacred site of the Goddess with its grotto and holy well of healing waters. But only eleven days later my son was dead. I couldn't understand why, oh why? Now I found myself crying my heart out, sitting in Our Lady's great cathedral. I asked the Divine Mother to help and heal me.

We found that wherever we went in France so much help and kindness was given to us. so much support from ordinary French people who sensed that we needed it. We were indeed guided and blessed!
Thank you, St. Non.

Please click below to continue on page 2