Still time to add your presence to this powerful creation…
‘…I would beget and would be begotten
I would eat and would be eaten
I would hear and would be heard
I would be understood being all understanding.
Dance ye all!…’
– The Round Dance
#5. Heaven in Earth
“In which Gawain returns from his adventure relatively unscathed,
the Veiled One claims her due at Camelot
and the Company of the Table Round enjoy the festivities of the King
and the entertainments of the Lord of the Dance.”
The eyes have been dotted, the tees have been crossed, to all intents and purposes the ‘donkey work’ of writing the five dramas for next year’s April Workshop: Leaf and Flame- The Foliate Man has been done. There will undoubtedly be minor changes between now and then, there always are and these are usually flagged up in the communal read throughs which will take place at our three remaining monthly meetings.
There…
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+ Greek Myths, Heracles, Hercules, Higher Mind, Journey of the hero, Labours of Hercules, Mystery Schools, myths and spirituality, Silent Eye School, Uncategorized
Nine Deadly Sins with Coffee, part 43 – The Point at the End of the Nose
by Steve Tanham
Nine Deadly Sins with Coffee, part 43 – The Point at the End of the Nose
.Alexandra.
I had seldom seen him him laugh so much, nor so good-naturedly.
The journey to ‘here’ had taken several weeks of thought, and I could – finally – see the care with which he had constructed it. On one level it was infuriating; on another–a much deeper one–I was tempted to say it was infinitely beautiful…
In response and some deference to this, I had spent ages with the makeup. A thin layer of jet-black, supplemented by a slightly opaque lacquer, topped off with a tiny starburst picked out in white pencil. Easy enough, you might think, but it took me four attempts and forty-five minutes to get it right.
It would have looked sensational, on, say… a balloon. On a barrister in a pin-stripe suit, walking hurriedly through the unusually busy streets of Morecambe on a wet Monday morning of the last working week before Christmas, it clearly didn’t. The five minute journey from the car park was a lesson in itself… As humans, we’re not very good with the unusual. We mistrust it… I don’t know whether it’s genetic or societal; but something in us is deeply afraid of that which is different… The end of my nose, for example, on that December day.
When I entered the cafe, he looked up. I think he had detected my change of mood at the end of last week’s meeting. His anxious glance to the door, as I entered, confirmed it. But his face lit up when he took in the visage of the madwoman before him.
“In honour of Rudolf for the colour-blind?” he asked, rocking with mirth in his old wooden chair, which was making ominous creaking noises – Rose was not known for the extravagance of her furniture budget.
“Whatever do you mean?” I asked, mustering innocence and pretending to ignore the curious faces of those around us. Several, for some reason, were regulars at this odd time of seaside day; and for a second which set me blushing, I could have sworn that literally everyone in the cafe was looking at me…
“Bit of a rush this morning, dearie?” asked Rose, as she brought my coffee. “Lend you a mirror if you like?”
I just smiled at her kindly, understanding her taunt and letting the moment unfold and unveil its potential. I suspected that they both knew that – and that Rose had moved from her customary protective stance to one that said, ‘okay then, darling… but, after this, you’re on your own…’
Aware that the ‘flow’ had unspoken power in it, John sipped his coffee and stared at me before speaking.
“So,” he said, softly. “As obvious as the black starburst on the end of your nose?” His composure weakened and he nearly spilt Rose’s carefully prepared latté. “I assume that this magnificent gesture, in the interests of mutual lunacy, is related to a certain Greek Doe?”
“What little gesture?” I retorted. I hadn’t finished with the opening, yet.
He nodded, saying nothing and feeling for the right entry into my mind. The Huntress called Alexandra was still hungry – very hungry.
“Are you saying that there’s something wrong with my appearance?” I asked.
“Not ‘wrong’ with your appearance…” he said. “…simply unusual – though very stylish…” he paused, looking for the right words. “…in its own way.” He was still rocking, though playing by my rules – which had become very important in my quest.
It was time to unveil the script. “I can’t see anything wrong with my nose, anyway?” I queried, looking him straight in the eye. That’s what had taken forty five bloody minutes to get exactly right – I literally couldn’t…
He leaned forward, suddenly conscious that there was a lot more to this than simply Christmas.
“No…” he said. “Of course – how clever!” he sat back and, in the face of my continued silence, I could tell he was thinking on another level about what I had done. “And there is, from your viewpoint, nothing at all unusual about what’s on the end of your nose – you literally can’t see it!”
And there was the heart of it, I thought… I wondered where he would chase the trail next – as Heracles had to, for a full year, while he pursued the elusive Doe…
He spoke in measured tones, “But I… being well intentioned towards you – as you know,” he raised his eyebrows for my confirmation. I gave him nothing. “might point out that I can see something very unusual at the end of your nose!”
“You mean you are aware of it?”
At that, he leaned back and signalled to Rose that we might need more coffee. She had been standing right behind me, and I would like to say that I could feel her grinning at the power-exchange in the dialogue; but that might be fanciful.
“That’s so very good…” he said. “Who knows?”
He had caught it… “Well, I know, that I have an end of nose…” The fresh coffee came, silently. My half drunk one was whisked away, with an intensity that was not hostile. “But, you are telling me that I don’t know all there is to know about it?”
“In the sense that a friendly fellow like me… or Rose might?,” he nodded to his compatriot in the land of the idiots, before continuing. Rose had re-taken her position behind me, it seemed, though I could see her less than I could see the black and white starburst on the end of my nose.
“Babies don’t know they have ends of noses,” I said. “They think the pinkness, glimpsed occasionally, belongs to the world. They don’t realise that it moves with them and not with that world…”
This was gathering pace, nicely, I thought. I continued, “So they have to become aware of their world first, and then they find, much later on, that the end of their nose projects into it but really belongs to them!”
He sat back, beaming at me. “So, we move from awareness, to knowing… to?”
The claws flexed quickly, out and poised. “Why…” I said, finishing my coffee and making him wait. I stood up to go and planted the customary kiss on his head. “… the end of ‘noing’, of course!”
When I had parked the car at Lancaster and taken my reserved seat on the train, I thought of them both – and their astonished faces as I left. I was still chuckling as the train left the urban landscape and emerged into the pale green of a Winter’s morning; but the claws had long retracted.
“Happy Christmas, uncle John,” I whispered; and then silently hugged Rose, too.
———————————————————–
Nine Deadly Sins with Coffee is usually published on Thursdays.
All images and text ©International copyright, The Silent Eye School of Consciousness, 2016.
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Wonderful blog about using house plants to protect against domestic poisonous gases…
Pilea
In recent decades, in the interest of energy efficiency, our homes have become increasingly airtight. Unfortunately, that also means that toxic chemicals commonly used in building materials, home furnishings and household cleaners off-gas and build up within our interiors with the potential of making us sick. The good news is that NASA research found that many commonly grown houseplants not only produce fresh oxygen, they also clean the air of indoor pollutants.
Palm
Formaldehyde, found in virtually all indoor environments, irritates the mucous membranes of the eyes, nose and throat and is linked to asthma. Sources include urea-formaldehyde foam insulation (UFFI), particleboard and pressed wood furniture. UF resins treat paper products (grocery bags, waxed papers, facial tissues and paper towels) and are used as stiffeners, wrinkle resisters, water repellents, fire retardants and adhesive binders in floor coverings, carpet backings and permanent-press clothes.
Fatsia
Trichloroethylene (TCE), a commercial product, is used in…
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Some food for thought…
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It was early December, 2015, in southern San Francisco. Bernie and I were on a week’s holiday in the USA. It was not cold, but was raining, which was good news for drought-ravaged California, as the first sustained rainfall for several years streamed from the skies across the state for most of our visit.
This very British rain did not dampen our spirits, because the primary destination for our trip was housed inside two huge, aircraft-hanger style buildings called the Cow Palace.
Within the two giant halls of the Cow Palace is laid out the most wonderful reconstruction of Dickensian London you could imagine, even down to a London Docklands ‘alley’ making use of the connecting space, where ‘rough folk’ will regale you as you make the dangerous crossing from one hall to the other!
Downloadable map from the Dickens Fair website at http://www.dickensfair.com/general
Following a roller-coaster of a road trip to meet up with some old friends in Sacramento, we had just come to the last two days of our visit to the West Coast and the main reason for being here – the annual Dickens Christmas Fair. We were kindly given visitor tickets by the man who runs the fair, Kevin Patterson. We’ll meet him later…
Mr Dickens was speaking. In a very English voice. Bristling with oratorical skills, Robert Young, who has played Dickens for longer than anyone can remember, was welcoming the ‘early’ group – people like ourselves lucky enough to get tickets to the opening carols and the warm-up, as well as a day full of astonishing costume drama and historical reconstruction… Oh and a lot of fun, too…
As Dickens, Robert was new to us; as Robert Young, he has been a visitor to the UK many times.
It’s the 34th such Fair and something in the order of 6,000 people per day were due to follow our early group through those doors for a journey back in time to a literary twilight zone that is pure magic.
To quote from the event’s webpage ( http://www.dickensfair.com/general ) “The Great Dickens Christmas Fair is a one-of-a-kind holiday adventure into Victorian London – an elaborate party with hundreds of costumed players performing and interacting with patrons in over 120,000 square feet of theatrically-lit music halls, pubs, dance floors, and Christmas shops. It’s a twilight evening in Charles Dickens’ London Town – a city of winding lanes filled with colorful characters from both literature and history. Enticing aromas of roasted chestnuts and hearty foods fill the air. Cries of street vendors hawking their wares ring out above the bustling crowd. Dozens of lamplit shops are filled to overflowing with Christmas gifts. The Dickens Christmas Fair is a treasured Bay Area tradition since 1970 and a splendid way to celebrate the holidays.”
Traditionally, the Fair takes place on five weekends leading up to the weekend before Christmas.
Our ‘early’ welcome talk finished with a flourish of Dickensian characters acting their parts as the day well and truly began… and then, the doors opened into the main event space and the half-world of Mr Dickens’ erudite welcome became the full-blown setting of London Town. No-one new to the event can anticipate the sheer intensity of what follows as you are projected back in time… and into the attentions of hundreds of period-dressed people; so much so that you feel like the ones in odd dress!
Music, dancing and constant cycle of floor-shows
A Tarot reading, perhaps?
Period costume of excellent quality is on sale if you want to join the thousands of fellow guests who already sport it!
We had been advised by Diana Young-Peak, one of our hosts (see below) to head for ‘Mad Sal’s establishment’ as our opening foray. This took us right across the twin spaces of the large halls to the farthest corner, where ladies of dubious repute were lounging outside a salon offering what looked like bawdy entertainment.
Mad Sal’s – enter at your peril!
Bernie and I took our seats as the show began and a rather attractive Mad Sal took centre stage, with her singing team of entertainers around her. They called for volunteers, and, being mid-theatre and in a dark part of the auditorium, I kept quiet and hunkered down in my seat. Sadly, it did little good, as one of Sal’s girls came up behind me and marched me on stage to be seated, with one other victim, on a stool.
Sal began to sing, in an excellent voice, and moved to stand by my stool. As she sang, the word ‘kiss’ graced the verses several times and she seemed to be coming back to it, with more and more emphasis…
Being a slow Englishman in such matters, I began to notice that the entire audience was giggling. I looked up from my inattentive reverie to see Mad Sal standing with one hand on hip and pointing, with the other, to her recalcitrant visitor and directing him to her left cheek! I duly kissed… and was kissed in return, eventually being allowed back to my seat with good natured warmth, at the end of the song. The entire performance, lasting perhaps thirty minutes, was very professionally done, and great fun.
After such excitement, we needed a drink. There were several hostelries in the twin halls, so we made our way to one which, in addition to alcohol, offered tea, coffee and herbal drinks. Duly restored, we continued our explorations… It was still only late morning.
A timeless classic – Punch and Judy
I had instructions from my co-directors in the Silent Eye to try to photograph the Punch and Judy show, which we knew was part of the Fair. The lighting was difficult, but the lady and gentleman running the show were very amendable to my moving around, using shelves as tripods and generally being a damned nuisance… I tipped them handsomely at the end of the show, while the audience of a hundred or so children were departing, and they let me take some posed shots in return. Some of these may feature in one of Sue Vincent and Stuart France’s forthcoming graphic novels…
The everlasting appeal of a show whose strange origins fade into history…
Our three wonderful hosts: Left, Robert Young (Dickens); centre, Diana Young (Writer of the Saucy French Postcards Tableaux Vivants); right, Kevin Patterson, who along with Mrs Patterson, runs the show.
We were getting hungry, and a very special treat awaited us. Kevin Patterson and his wife run the Fair through their company Red Barn Productions. Kevin had invited us to afternoon tea with Diana and Robert in one of the period tearooms. Soon, the five of us were tucking into sandwiches, crumpets, cakes and tea… heaven. To follow that, Kevin offered to show us a very secret place within the Fair. Kevin’s father had created the original event – known then as the Renaissance Fair, and located in Marin County, north of the Golden Gate Bridge.
As a tribute to his father’s memory – and the latter’s sense of humour, Kevin has created a secret room at the show, known as ‘The Opium Den’.
Kevin’s tribute to his Dad – the ‘Opium Den’. His father’s picture hangs on the wall of the Den.
We were treated to a cocktail in the succulent interior of the Opium Den; and enjoyed its seductive atmosphere. Its location within the Fair is a well-kept secret.
Queen Victoria and her husband the Prince Consort watch a display of swordsmanship, ending in a royal toast.
One of the delights of the Fair is the appearance of groups of actors playing related parts. You can be strolling along or having a drink, when everyone stands because members of a royal family, such as Queen Victoria and her entire entourage, are going past in procession – everyone takes this very seriously!
One of the most popular and intimate features of the Fair is the series of readings given in one of several reading rooms throughout the day by the great man, himself. Robert Young as Dickens will begin reading from one of the books, then, suddenly, will stand and begin to act the part of the chosen character – very much in the original style of the author, himself.
We spent the rest of that afternoon wandering, drinking tea (well, me, anyway – I was driving) and generally chilling out. Something rather more ‘adult’ was booked for the early evening ahead…
I mentioned that Diana Young-Peak was one of our hosts. She is also the writer of one of the most popular attractions of the Fair. Each year, Diana creates a “Saucy French Postcards Tableaux Vivants” show which operates on three levels: the audience; the front stage, populated by the three main characters in the story, who act as the narrators; and the backstage action, which features, at best, partly dressed figures drawn from classical mythology. Frequently members of the backstage are naked, or nearly so, but always tastefully posed… The backstage actors operate in a part of the stage which is separated from the front section by a ‘scrim’ screen, made from semi-transparent material that adds a further ‘classical’ feel to the whole show. In a time-honoured prohibition, the scantily-clad, whose time exposure for each shot is brief, may not move…
The whole ‘saucy’ feel is not subtly constructed, and the envisaged titillation can be deceptive in its delivery… and its effect. As Horatio and Letitia Everard, assisted by their housekeeper, our well-heeled married couple discuss current events in their own lives with reference to various classical scenes. The viewer’s eyes and ears are drawn from the innuedo-ridden Mr and Mrs dialogue to the ‘still life’ of the various human bodies assembled for the next snapshot of what each of the married pair is really thinking…
It should be just funny, and rude… but it’s not just that; it’s also really beautiful…
The naked or scantily-dressed forms behind the scrim are arranged with incredible artistry – often holding agonising positions for the long few seconds in which we get to gaze at the intensity of the twenty or so people who are literally ‘giving their all’ to support Diana’s creation. It’s worth the price of admission, alone. That it comes, included, at the end of each wonderful and well-filled is amazing. I took lots of vivid images, but they’re all in my head… photography, as you’d expect, is strictly prohibited, to protect the identities of those brave and dedicated players behind the veil.
Diana speaks of the spiritual egregore of the show. It’s not a word often used outside the esoteric community. It refers to the collective spirit or soul of a gathering, an organisation or endeavour, or even an idea whose time has come; but one in which the whole is greater than the sum of the parts.
The Founder – Ron Patterson, Kevin’s Father
The Dickens Fair has an egregore. It is a very powerful but subtle one. It is driven by hundreds of people who give their time and presence, freely in most cases, to bring the Fair to new life each year. It’s very much their home–and this is their Christmas…
Treat yourself to a trip to this astonishing event… put it on your bucket list. You’ll not be disappointed.
©Copyright Stephen Tanham, 2016. Picture of the Cow Palace exterior taken from the Fair’s website.
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I wander downstairs… the world is silent except for the little grunting noises Ani makes as I cuddle her good morning. I don’t speak dog fluently, but I have a feeling these short, low grunts are an expression of affection; you only ever hear them during cuddles and that is how we start our day, the small dog and I.
As the kettle boils I think about the headline I’d read about a twenty second cuddle being good for your health. I hadn’t looked up the science behind it, prepared to agree unquestioningly that cuddles are good for you. Just having someone close enough to open their arms to you, someone you trust enough to be able to hug back… that shows you have affection in your life and that has to be a good thing. Even if the arms are paws.
Cuddling is instinctive in many situations, from the…
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Still time to join us in April… you’d like it!
“Short body and thick waist,
with bulging buttocks spread
more delicious to the taste
was the one she by her led.”
– J.R.R Tolkien
#4: La Chapelle Verte
“In which The Veiled One reveals the true answer to the riddle of a woman’s heart,
Merlin and the Lady unleash the animate soul of the Greenwood…
and Sir Gawain strides forward to meet his Doom…”
The eyes have been dotted, the tees have been crossed, to all intents and purposes the ‘donkey work’ of writing the five dramas for next year’s April Workshop: Leaf and Flame- The Foliate Man has been done. There will undoubtedly be minor changes between now and then, there always are and these are usually flagged up in the communal read throughs which will take place at our three remaining monthly meetings.
There is still an awful lot of work to be done in terms of music…
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Feel the energy
There is magic in the air
Abracadabra!
Rabbits are in hats
Ladies take chances with saws
Worn out seat edges
Don’t anyone breathe
And don’t let anyone blink
Lest they might be fooled
The conjurer’s hand
Pulling coins from behind ears
When not hiding cards
Masters of their craft
They troll for the fish named Tom
No matter the age
©2015 Annette Rochelle Aben
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Book sculpture from www.KellyCampbellBerry.com
Christmas is over, the New Year approaches and I’m thinking about taking down the tree and packing it lovingly away under the stairs. The trouble is that the removal of the Christmas trimmings will be my signal to start a clear-out. It happens every year, not through planning or habit, but just because and itch develops.
When the tree initially comes down, there is a moment when the room lacks light and colour in comparison to the red, green and gold of the festivities. It doesn’t last long… and then it just looks pleasingly simple and uncluttered. Then the itch starts…
For most of my life I have lived within a family situation and, over the years, the ‘things’ we collect just build up. We don’t throw them away because they ‘may come in handy’ or, as often as not, because they have a value in…
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Christmas and New Year have always been special times for me – Christmas more than the New Year, as I have always come to view the Winter Solstice as the start of the the truly new, rather than the formal ending of the calendar’s twelve months. The solstice sees the nadir of the visible light, as the solar ‘victory’ changes the face of the year and the days begin to lengthen again. To those who live in awareness of these cycles, the Feasts of St Stephen and St John mark two very different ‘Earths’.
As children, we expect (probably too much) to receive presents and we wait with breathless anticipation to see what lies in those shiny parcels under the tree. As adults, we find that different experiences ‘feed’ us with that wonderful sense of the new–experiences rather than objects.
My year, both personal and ‘professional’, has been challenging and wonderful. Challenging, because the Silent Eye School has passed (and is passing) through what I can only describe as a spiritual ‘maturing’ process. Wonderful, because 2015 has contained so many gifts – some of them beautifully physical, such as the birth of Alice, our first granddaughter.
Grandad and Alice
Mum and Dad (Medi and Matthew) take a short break on the settee
Bernie and Alice
Others–and there have been many, might better be described as psychological. When you launch a new Mystery School, there are certain stages which, in hindsight, you have to go through. One is the sheer joy of beginning something, as we did in 2013. Then comes reality when you have to trade your time and that bag full of ideas for real stuff. As the real stuff gathers momentum, you have to accept that change happens not just to the developing entity – the School, but to you as well.
The period 2014-15 has been the stage when Sue, Stuart and I have really come to terms with the importance of our own personal evolution and its necessary process in ensuring that we are fit to run such an important endeavour – one to which others are turning for guidance and companionship in their own inner journeys. I am a strong-minded individual, and it takes a degree of force to stop me in my tracks and make me think…
Following the Silent Eye’s 2015 April workshop, my two companions were delighted to inform me that I would be taking a back seat for the next one while they wove their magic around my real and ‘magical’ personas in preparation for the forthcoming April 2016 workshop, Leaf and Flame.
Sue and Stuart on the Cow and Calf rock at Ikley
I will not dwell on the details – both nerve-racking and wonderful. Suffice to say that if you teach the process of esoteric psychological development, you should not be surprised when it knocks on your own door… Roll on April 2016, if only so my teeth can stop chattering.
The workshops have gone particularly well this year. April’s River of the Sun was followed by a wonderful Summer Solstice visit to the Avebury area. In September the Harvest of Being weekend returned to Ilkley for the last time in the present cycle. December, though plagued with rain, saw us instigate a pre-Winter Solstice workshop at Rivington; which, despite being somewhat shortened by the rapid count of flood-closed roads, was viewed by those present as deepening their experience of this most important of periods of rebirth within the symbolic earth. The Silent Eye School moves on … and we are very happy to have begun such a journey.
Barbara and a very symbolic bridge at Rivington (taken during our planning trip in October)
The year ended with a most wonderful December and three very special gifts: The first was the production and Amazon launch of The Ballad of Bakewell Gaol, a three-section poem in the style of Oscar Wilde’s Ballad of Reading Gaol, which I had written at Stuart and Sue’s request for their new series of books, “Land of Exiles: ‘But ‘n Ben'”. I did not expect further publication and was astonished and delighted when they presented me with a Graphic Novel version.
This was followed, two days ago, by the, again unexpected publication of “The Beast in the Cafe” a book version of the serialised Coffee with Don Pedro blog posts. I am truly humbled by the effort my two friends have put into this most special set of Christmas presents… I may even turn up for the April workshop and cancel that sudden trip to Australia!
Let me close with two things: firstly we all would like to thank Sheila Chadwick for providing us with a warm and wonderful home for the local Manchester group of the Silent Eye. We meet in Sheila’s house once a month, and we hope to go on doing so for a long time to come.
Finally,in December, Bernie and I were invited to visit three very special people in California. They run a School not dissimilar to the Silent Eye and have done so for many years. Every year they also focus on a Dickens Fair, held just outside San Francisco, to which thousands of people come over the course of four weekends. The Fair is a major event in Northern California and has an egregore which has to be experienced to be believed.
Three of the organisers of the Dickens Fair – Left to right: Robert Young (aka Mr Dickens), Diana Young – playwright; and the front of house Director of the event, Kevin Patterson.
We live, and if our lives are truly rich, we go on learning. May learning never end… a big thank you to those who have been instrumental in both elements in this most challenging and wonderful of years.
Happy Christmas and may 2016 bring you success and fulfilment.
My normal blogs will resume in the New Year.
Steve Tanham.
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Sue could do with lots of healing thoughts…
Sun in Gemini 
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