Month: August 2020

#ShortWrytz : a little sand between the toes

You might not think it from the photo, but the rain was beating down when I took the shot. Tess’ pose gives a clue. She’s fed up, too… It’s the end of August, for heaven’s sake. But Storm Francis is trying to exterminate everyone north of Birmingham… For once, the photo is not about the collie… The subject is the faded ‘summer sign’ on … Read More #ShortWrytz : a little sand between the toes

The Entered Dragon (4) : the world within

Continued from Part Three I know these posts, so far, have been intense. The picture painted by Carl Jung and his Jungian successors of our linked internal and external lives is a detailed and vivid one. We began by looking at the Shadow, that suppressed ‘mind’ of parts of our psychological self (psyche) that have been pushed, by conditioning, society and personal choice, from … Read More The Entered Dragon (4) : the world within

Wine with Crows

We sat, in end of day repose To speak of evenings drawing cold And grass with moisture in its folds And share our wine with crows ➰ One, bolder than the rest Climbed high, as if to rise and reach A silver phantom, caught in sun’s Descending rays out of the west ➰ Within the moment’s crest and hiss What thoughts, I wondered, passed … Read More Wine with Crows

#ShortWrytz : The house by the river

We’re often in Kirkby Lonsdale. It’s the perfect dog-walk for Tess, our collie, who loves to chase the ball in its riverside park, then sniff her way along the riverbank as we enter the town by the steep steps that lead to one of the best views in the county – Ruskin’s View. This part of the Lune Valley was a favourite haunt of … Read More #ShortWrytz : The house by the river

The Entered Dragon (3) : beauty and the beast

Continued from Part Two The dream continues… We are frozen, the dragon and I. He cannot be seen, as he is mirroring my every move, behind me. My fingers explore the tip of the spear, the only movement left… I press the sharp tip into the skin of my right thumb. There is a slowing of time as the ancient metal pierces the flesh. … Read More The Entered Dragon (3) : beauty and the beast

My Own Trumpet

I’m not very good, nor comfortable, blowing my own trumpet… Writers on the internet know this feeling well: we are urged to promote our presence, yet our inner nature knows what sort of people talk about themselves all the time… This is particularly true if your main activity is of a teaching nature within a spiritual discipline. The road to understanding the ego – … Read More My Own Trumpet

#FurryFives : Feet

Human: Dont get any ideas! Misti: About what, Father? Human: About diving on my feet! Misti: it’s the way they wiggle… Human: It’s called fear! ©Stephen Tanham 2020

The Entered Dragon (2) : dancing with shadows

This time the dream is different. I know the dragon is there, but can’t see it. But I can see the heavy spear on the ground in front of me… I bend to pick it up. Something moves behind me, something heated and red, but no matter how fast I turn or twist, I can’t get a glimpse of it. Until I touch the … Read More The Entered Dragon (2) : dancing with shadows

Crow on a Summer Breeze

I am crow, on summer’s breeze Glimpsed in love with beating wings Within the bright sun’s leaving. ➰ My feathers’ strong and hollow shafts Are filled with air you breathe And softly lit in our reflected passion. ➰ Remember this when dark and sodden bird Looks out, short day’d from tree of Ash Asking nothing of your walk of logs to fire. ➰ Raise … Read More Crow on a Summer Breeze

Stripey sail, logical fail

We were walking Tess, our collie, along the estuary shore at Arnside. We had seen the stripey sails of the boats from the local sailing club and wanted a closer look. There was something odd about a passing seagull. I smiled, sure of my evidence for once… “Tide’s going out,” I said. My wife, Bernie, responded immediately. “Nope…” She was born in Heysham, across … Read More Stripey sail, logical fail

The Entered Dragon (1)

Like waking within a dream – or, at least, the point where the lucidity begins… I turn my head in the small theatre, expecting others to be smiling, if not laughing. But no-one is, because no one else is here… Just me and it…where ‘it’ is not the theatre. The curtains part and what I knew to be behind them takes centre stage. Leathery … Read More The Entered Dragon (1)

Brave acts, Books and Buns…

Mum had begun to look restless. She’d spotted something… We’d skipped breakfast, and were hungry, but had been assured that our destination was more than capable of feeding us. Overhead, an old steam engine thundered – way too fast – towards a bend in the track. I would have studied its doomed motion had my mother, who, at ninety, has dementia, not just wandered … Read More Brave acts, Books and Buns…

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