The Tree in Winter

Borderlands Tree reduced

The tree in Winter

Its life-trail etched against the sky

reveals what we cannot

Who stand below and try

—

To see within

How we became this shape

This pattern in the now

And asking how

—

Did we result in this?

Our branching tale of history

Concealed in layered thoughts

And wrapped in finery

—-

We would

Be dead and left to rot

So naked in the winter wind

Yet she is not


 

©Stephen Tanham

Singular Mind…

Stuart France's avatarStuart France

*

Few are born to ascent.

Those few that are may lack the strength of character to attempt it.

Without recklessness it is almost inconceivable.

Our Minstrel, hazards the mountain path alone,

and asks none for advice, for who could tell him even of its existence?

If he falters, his limbs rot where they fall.

Torn from his torso by that pitiless Cave Bear who crouches,

ravenous, in the depths of our consciousness.

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Riddles in the church too…

Men of Meaning…

The Immortality Of Rocks #writephoto

Just desserts…

Sue Vincent's avatarThe Silent Eye

“No…! Really? That’s terrible…” It may well have been, but I doubt the subject of their gossip would have appreciated the evident relish with which the two women were discussing her misfortunes. I wasn’t eavesdropping, the strident voices were inescapable in the waiting room.

“Must be karma…” She folded her hands on her bag and sat back, nodding sagely.

“Yeah,” the lady almost licked her lips, “She must have done something really awful in a past life to deserve all that…” Here we go again, I thought, itching, as always, to jump into the conversation on that one subject, at least. Then, I suppose they would say the same of me… 

It is no secret that I have fulfilled the criteria of the infamous ‘Chinese curse’ and lived in ‘interesting times’. What with one thing and another, life has never had chance to become monotonous, though…

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Castles of the mind

Bamburgh Castle smaller

Do we have ‘castles of the mind’?

Traditionally, ancient castles were built where there was trouble… Do we have the equivalent in our minds and emotions? Have we, over the course of our lives, built up strong fortifications with which to repel those intrusions which, as children, we considered frightening?

The foundations for such things can begin very early, and be formed of some very primitive fears and, even, strong dislikes. That dark green colour of the man in the long raincoat who collected money and caused mother great distress. The child would see the pain of a caring parent whose finances were stretched to the limit; the deeper truth that it was a door-to-door insurance man, making his Friday call in time to tap into the new pay packet would not be seen until later in life… but the coloured raincoat would be remembered…

We smile at such memories, now, but their effects can linger, unseen, becoming the bedrock of fear and prejudice.

Fear is a topical subject. We live in a world where some of the artificial ‘bogeymen’ have taken flesh, become leaders of what we assumed were states governed by some sort of ‘reasonableness’. When that is blown away, we are left staring at the ragged ruin of the personal safety blanket behind which we have lived most of our lives.

We’d be living a life at the edge if what we did, individually, could repel the kind of boarders that strut their aggression and lack of compassion on the world stage, today. But confronting those fears in our own lives, and holding them up to the light of adult reason and mature feelings is an essential practice for anyone treading a ‘non-fluffy’ mystical path.

Bamburgh beach

To do this alone is very difficult. To do it in a group of trusted friends, new and old, is an empowering thing. In the Silent Eye, we offer this when we can construct an environment that is conducive to trust and empathy, and in which we can share examples of these powerful structures in our personal histories. We are modern mystics, not psychotherapists. Our method is for each of us to work with their own individuality to increase stability and confidence – enough to invite the deeper parts of ourselves to extend their loving reach into our everyday ‘selves’.

The ‘borderlands’ between our carefully-controlled ‘normality’ and the effects of those early experiences are the places where we can widen the paths of light which drive mature and reflective energy into the murky places of unresolved immaturity.

So, we thought, why not run one of our ‘walk and talk’ weekends in a part of the UK associated with borderland of its own?

Northumberland is one of Britain’s most wild and beautiful counties. It shares the Scottish border with Cumbria in the West and extends, on the map, far into what appears to be Scotland. Until Anglo-Saxon times it was an independent kingdom, and later, was the seat of important families whose role was to ‘police’ the borderlands from such castles as Alnwick (home of the Percy family) and Bambrugh.

Northumbria coast smaller

Northumberland’s landscapes vary from rolling hills and river valleys, to wild coastlines and castles – castles which have been used to enforce a borderland between the Scots and the English for hundreds of years. Thankfully, things are more peaceful, now, but the history remains written in the land…

Not everything in this ancient landscape was devoted to warfare. The island of Lindisfarne, which will form an important part of the weekend, is famous as one of the original homes of British Celtic Christianity.

Our ‘walk and talk’ events are friendly and informal. We ask those attending to bring one or two readings from their favourite books, poems, or other sources of inspiration. We listen and talk… and share. If someone is ready to enter their personal borderlands, we hold their hand and walk with them.

The cost per attendee is £50.00. This is an administrative cost, only. All personal costs and booking, such as hotels and meals are the responsibility of those attending. Meals are generally shared and the cost divided between those partaking.

Come and join us for our September event. Weekend of 14-16 September, 2018, based in the beautiful town of Seahouses on the Northumbrian Coast.

Bamburgh Castle+Text smallerAA

To register your interest, send us an email at rivingtide@gmail.com.


Stephen Tanham is a director of the Silent Eye School of Consciousness, a not-for-profit organisation that helps people find the reality and essence of their existence via low-cost supervised correspondence courses.

His personal blog, Sun in Gemini, is at stevetanham.wordpress.com

©Stephen Tanham, Silent Eye School of Consciousness.

Harbour’s Night Light

She stops, the gentle collie

Tasting the air at the breakwater’s end

The day in the car forgotten

Enchanted by the dingle ching

Of cables and pennants

The hiss of moonlight on cold sea

The stroking breeze from the eastern sky

—

And, suddenly, I am thirteen

And the sea, unseen

And the night, unkissed

Have come for me…

—-

©Stephen Tanham

Troubled reflections

Sue Vincent's avatarThe Silent Eye

Have you ever stopped for a minute to consider how much you do because of other people? Not for others, but because of them? There’s a difference, and it is a big one. Doing ‘for’ can have many motivations; love, duty, obligation, care, to name but a few… But what about the ‘because’? And how easy is it to separate the two? The lines between are often blurred and what we grumble that we have to do because of others, we may be doing for them… while things we think we do for others, or even for ourselves are often motivated by more subtle reasons.

I was discussing the question with Ani as I was tidying up today. She is an intelligent listener and a great leveller of ego. My housework always used to be done first thing in the morning… I’d get up early to make sure it was…

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A Pound of Flesh…

Listeners…

Sue Vincent's avatarSue Vincent's Daily Echo

Wouldn’t it be great if we all knew how to live and love without needing to be told how? But looking around, it begins to seem as if we have lost that knack.  Instead, we have coaches, psychologists, psychiatrists, mentors, therapists… and look back with almost romantic nostalgia upon simpler times, when the world wasn’t mad and we did not need professional help.

I contend that the longing is misplaced. Therapists  and teachers have always been around, we have always needed them…we just called them by a different name. Most of them didn’t specialise in one fragment of human need, but brought a lifetime’s experience to the problem at hand. We called them elders, wise-women, druids, minstrels, priests or storytellers.

The practical skills would be taught by those who knew best. Granny would teach you how to spin or make bread, while grandfather told tales of the hunt or plough…

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A poem for 2/23/18

Alethea Kehas's avatarThe Light Behind the Story

Sitting with irrational fears is worth an exploration. This is what came through today:

Junco on plant hanger

Relax into the faith of unknowing

Time whispers promises to those who wait

Unfolding through the now of the eternal present

Unwraps the gift of the self

♥

Let go of the shield of delusions

Fear gripping the heart wears a false hand

On a body of decaying wants

♥

To shed the shell of the outer

Examine the pieces that you have stitched together

Then pull the threads through truth

And let the lost voice sing

Its forgotten song

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