Category: Consciousness

Cycles of Light (2) – Wheels of Fortune

Part two of our investigation into the mysterious mental and emotional construct we call the ‘week’ and its celestial influences… This time we begin to examine the intimate relationship between events on Earth and the map of the ancient heavens.

End of the Line

Take me out in darkness Where the only light is black Like a railway platform leading To the forms that end the track ⦿ Let endless trains of thinking Pass, ghostly, through the night And cease their whistling thunder In a silence turning bright ⦿ Let what I am-not die there On the empty, singing rails As sleepers are run over As tickets blown … Read More End of the Line

Cycles of Light (1)

The mysterious mental and emotional construct we call the ‘week’ and its celestial influences… Click on the link below for the post…

White Iron Bride

No coward this white train That dared to speak a virgin’s mind Stripped, to the abuser’s rule That sought to quash Dissent in journeys’ end ➰ It’s flaming red still trails the skies A freer voice than iron ways Where iron minds, entitled Lay down iron roads Within the minds and tongues of Those who cannot within their minds Travel by themselves… ➰ Unliveried, … Read More White Iron Bride

#ShortWrytz – Heysham Village

Heysham Village on the Lancashire Coast. I love the way the autumn colours cling onto the year, knowing that Christmas will bring its own brief riot. And then the season of long grey days, unbroken, will begin, again… ©Stephen Tanham

Standing on Plastic (1) – EcoBricks and Suburbia

I’m standing on a plastic bottle, and, for once, I’m not trying to crush it for disposal so that it won’t fill up the bin–or even the recycling box. What I’m doing is testing it for weight-bearing density. My bottle, which used to contain four pints of milk, is jam-packed with thin pieces of cut-up plastic, such as wrappers, carrier bags, the outer layers … Read More Standing on Plastic (1) – EcoBricks and Suburbia

The Whirlpool

It begins with a feeling… A feeling that something has fallen: like a vital bridge being destroyed. As it develops, you sense the landscape being stretched, allowing forms of life alien to your own to enter the world. And then you become conscious that there is a velocity, here – that we are all going somewhere we didn’t ask for. After a while you … Read More The Whirlpool

Bad morning at the pharmacy

It’s been a bad morning at the Boots pharmacy in Kendal, which is why I’m posting some gentle pictures of the park where, earlier, I walked Tess before the catastrophe… The annual ritual of the flu jab is upon us. We soothe it with breakfast in Kendal afterwards; but we have a Collie dog, Tess, who needs at least two good walks plus frisbee … Read More Bad morning at the pharmacy

Fear and Love in the High Peak (2) – “I want a posset!”

The first visit of the Silent Eye ‘Rites of Passage: Seeing Beyond Fear’ weekend was to the Derbyshire village of Eyam (pronounced Eem) – The Plague Village. Our family has a personal connection with Eyam and the terrible events of 1665-6, when bubonic plague, newly arrived in Derbyshire from London, took the lives of 260 of its occupants: over seven-tenths of its population. No-one … Read More Fear and Love in the High Peak (2) – “I want a posset!”

Big Bubbles

Once there was an ocean A bright blue ocean That shone shimmering gold As its waves crested and fell And the bubbles danced with joy ➰ Then a bubble grew bigger And gathered other big bubbles We’re not bubbles they cried We’re a cluster of bubbles And they rose to the top of the waves And flew off into the bright sky ➰ Higher … Read More Big Bubbles

Fear and Love in the High Peak – part one

It’s not the best of photo resolutions, but the above image says it all. Briony saluting the Derbyshire landscape in her own way at the end of three days of the Silent Eye’s Tideswell-based workshop: Sue and Stuart’s creation; and a wonderful experience for the group of souls who braved the provocative title for the weekend… Rites of Passage: Seeing beyond Fear …and decided … Read More Fear and Love in the High Peak – part one

Somber not Sad

A second on an icy breeze A chill that fears no coat A fading colour unafraid Of its own transition floats ➰ From the order of formed green To the falling of bronze The collecting whisper Is the voice of the colder wind ➰ North of the east and south of the west Nothing turns bad Culling life-magic, living no death Is somber not … Read More Somber not Sad