+ #Silenti, Consciousness, Lake District, landscapes, Photographic techniques, Photography, Seasons of the year
Gold and Grey
by Steve Tanham
I love that moment – when summer sun and dark clouds fight to cover the land below in a fast-moving and alternating patchwork of colour and it’s absence.
If there’s gold on the land to bejewel the electric grey of the sky, even better…
Here, at Fell Foot Park, on the southern tip of Windermere, the extremes always seem to be marked, both summer and winter.
All you need to do is: be passing; point and press; smile a lot…
And then treasure each second of the gold’s existence… for the all-dark will not be far behind.
©Stephen Tanham 2023
Stephen Tanham is a Director of the Silent Eye, a journey through the forest of personality to the dawn of Being.
http://www.thesilenteye.co.uk and http://www.suningemini.blog
Share this:
+ #Silenti, Consciousness, esoteric psychology, Gurdjieff, Incarnation, Photography, Psychology, Silent Eye School, Spiritual Enneagram
Nine Keys: (1) The human hologram
by Steve Tanham
Modern spirituality is aligned with psychology in many ways; one of them being that whichever direction we travel in on our quest to ‘find the real’, we need to start with the personality.
The personality is where we live. We think of it as us. Because it’s ‘me’, there is no questioning how it views things. True, we can be aware that we tend to judge this and that wrongly – very occasionally; we can find ourselves in lifelong friendships with people we initially hated; we can find colour and warmth and even excitement if we step out of its increasingly dull shadow … but generally, we don’t.
We don’t because that sense of ‘me-ness’ is embedded in everything we do: the yardstick for whether to do this or that. It’s the severe internal critic when we know we’re being rash or foolish, or just plain foolhardy despite that inner voice. But that critic may not be the truth, either.
The core of the personality is formed in the early years of our lives and cemented into a rock of personal identity sometime around the age of seven. Until then, we would have viewed life through a focussed lens that more or less answered our needs for security, love and the company of people we liked. But we allowed for an opening or two into another place, from which that spring breeze of fresh air still blew.
Perhaps we had a wise mother or father, who could still make us think and question how we came to conclusions. Perhaps we had a theatrical uncle or aunt who commanded great excitement with their presence, as we sat, entranced, for hours, while they told tales of wisdom beyond mystery!
After seven years of age, or thereabouts, we stopped questioning that this thinking-me was my-self. It was self-evident; there was no-one in here arguing with it.
Now, as adults with many miles on our personal journeys, we may not even be aware that we can examine the part of us that considers itself to be the whole of ‘me’. In all of this, we should never lose sight of the fact that the sense of ‘me’, our identity, is precious.
The body can still be a mystery, of course – especially when it goes wrong… or occasionally, when it’s in a relaxed state where there is an easy and peaceful glow, and everything is suddenly more intense – and yet quieter at the same time…
We have no memory of ‘building’ that, not even as a one-off, let alone a psychological process to repeat it, reliably.
And yet this personality we all possess – and which is truly a treasure. Is entirely made of the past…
The personality is the accumulated knowledge of our reactions to the world, stored as our egoic self. It is rightly our self and no-one has the right to change its position in our world … except us.
And the only reason we might want to diminish its preeminence is that our life has run out of that breezy freshness we used to find all the time.
In our age of depth psychology, science, technology and genetics, we have some great ‘ideation’ tools for building new ways of thinking. These are seldom used to consider the me. But when we do, we can come up with some wonderful ways of considering our-selves.
One that has emerged over the past few decades is the conclusion that our formative years lead to the creation a holographic movie of our early lives. This movie constantly plays on the screen of our consciousness, but not in a ‘flat’ way; rather it can be seen from any angle we like, allowing us to react to not just the old, but the new, making original connections between the old bits.
But … and it’s a big one, we only get to react within the original plot of the film, no matter what we are trying to do – even something totally new.
This is the reason why it’s so very difficult to change ourselves; because those changes are only emerging within the existing movie story, albeit dressed in new clothes. Over a short period of time we conclude that the new and exciting teacher of this and that is really just another storyteller; and we’ve tried what he said and it doesn’t work … for me.
And there’s something grindingly familiar about this process of disappointment.
The problem is the movie – the fabulous holographic movie, whose existence the personality doesn’t want us to know about … because that’s the edge of itself.
Everything in that movie gives us a fixed set of attitudes with which to respond to whatever comes our way. Over these, we layer depths of like and dislike, grown sophisticated as we developed our personal power and rightness.
The core of that rightness and the way it paints everything we encounter can be investigated and found to have developed from a small number of keys. Hiding within all of us is a nine-fold pattern of response that conditions our psychological lives – but does not touch what lies beyond in the realm of the inner Self.
By working with these keys, we can break open the egg of our lives, no matter what age we are, and fly into a bright, deeper and more exciting reality that lovingly embraces the existing personality – lighting up its potential and making obvious its weaker aspects.
In part two, we will consider the nature of these nine keys and the means by which we might begin this journey to a much deeper identity than anything we have ever known.
©Stephen Tanham 2023
Stephen Tanham is a Director of the Silent Eye, a journey through the forest of personality to the dawn of Being.
http://www.thesilenteye.co.uk and http://www.suningemini.blog
Share this:
+ #Silenti, Consciousness, Lake District, Mindfulness, mystical travel, Photographic techniques, Photography, Travel, Travel and Photography
Wet Summer Light
by Steve Tanham
Ulverston on a June day. Immediately after a dowsing in one of the rainstorms that have ended two solid months of sunshine and blue skies here in the extreme north-west of England.
It’s actually a pleasant change, though I have no desire to ‘hex’ the lovely summer we’re having.
We’re in Ulverston – a lovely market town that used to be in north Lancashire, but is now part of modern Cumbria. Ulverston is directly across Morecambe Bay from Morecambe.
Ulverston is a ‘working town’. It’s not twee, nor has it ever been viewed as a hippy location, but it does have an artistic and creative consciousness. Its roots are old industry on a small scale. It used to have a famous brewery: Hartleys, long absorbed into one of the faceless brewing combines and closed. It used to have a world-famous part of Astra Zeneca down by the old port at the end of the canal. But that was closed and its operations moved south (of course) in the name of profits, leaving hundreds of local workers bereft of employment.
These days, Ulverston has to fight for the stability of its existence… and it succeeds by being local to everyone.
This is the birthplace of Stan Laurel, of Laurel and Hardy fame. There’s something of their humour in the ‘hardy’ character of the place, as it continues to survive, and even prosper, in its own quiet way.
There is a Laurel and Hardy museum – well worth spending an hour, especially on a wet day… and, as with anywhere in Cumbria, there are lost of those.
The market brings in visitors, especially in the summer. It hosts dressing up festivals where many wear full Dickensian garb. There are music and literary weekends. But it does all of this on a scale that feels decidedly human – approachable and friendly.
It’s a pleasant place to be. And it has one of the best vegetarian cafe-restaurants in the region. We’ll get to that…
A friend staying with us wanted to visit one of the local specialist fabric and crafting shops – Ulverston has several. The rain had left everything with that ‘just washed’ smell and atmosphere. It was a good chance to stroll around and take some photographs. The ‘wet summer light’ was perfect.
I’ve always enjoyed exploring the small alleyways that cross-cross the centre of the place. They were not designed to be pretty; just evolved, organically, to get you past the main thoroughfares – if you knew where to find them.
I love the muted summer light of such times, just after a downpour. It’s much brighter than the light present in the short winter days, and it carries a certain ‘softness’, emphasising textures and reflections, and giving depth to shadows.
The photos were all taken in a single sequence along Lower Brook Street – an open space that becomes one of the longest alleys until it spills out into Union Street, from where Market Street – the centre of town – is accessible.
You can see from the photographs how much effort many of the residents put in to make the brief summer full of colour – even in this simple alleyway.
It’s a gesture (and hard work) that has always made me proud of the town. Its not unlike my home town, Bolton – which could well learn a lesson or two from its northern cousin.
Eventually, the ‘pretty’ dies down, and the bare stone ferries you to the end of the enclosed ‘cut’.
There, only yards away from where the alley emerges, is our destination: a late breakfast at Gillam’s famous vegetarian restaurant.
An hour later, we emerge; in my case full from one of the best cheese rarebits I’ve ever eaten. I’m not on commission, I just love it…and the rest of this place.
©Stephen Tanham 2023
Stephen Tanham is a Director of the Silent Eye, a journey through the forest of personality to the dawn of Being.
http://www.thesilenteye.co.uk and http://www.suningemini.blog
Share this:
Soft paw from softer body rises
Warm tongue licks away the dust
A scrawl of cables underlines the difference
Between the self contained-
The loving organic
And human objects of desire…
©Stephen Tanham 2023
Stephen Tanham is a Director of the Silent Eye, a journey through the forest of personality to the dawn of Being.
http://www.thesilenteye.co.uk and http://www.suningemini.blog
Share this:
+ #Silent Eye, #Silenti, Ancient Landscapes, Consciousness, Lake District, Photography, Silent Eye School, Spirituality
Water-Circle+Cross (5-End) Gummer’s How
by Steve Tanham
There is always a poignancy about meeting up on the final day of one of the Silent Eye weekends. So much has been shared that it seems impossible that the beginning was only two days before. Everyone arrives ready to depart at the end of the morning, or – if they have the luxury of another hour or two – at the end of the final lunch. Many have journeys that will take up most of the day.
It’s a mellow time, but also one full of reflection. Often, new friendships have been made, and there is that sheer intensity of ‘being here’ and having shared something wonderful.
It’s important to pick a Sunday morning location that facilitates this; that gives a lot but allows an easy departure, too.
From nearby Fell Foot Park, Gummer’s How looks like a half-day climb. But there’s a road that cuts across the hill and does most of the work, leaving a walk of about 45 minutes. The ample car park also takes away the stress of finding safe places to leave what, at this stage, is a small convoy of homeward-bound vehicles.
A herd of long-horn cattle share the lower part of the path.
The path begins with a gentle climb until you cross a stream, when it suddenly becomes much steeper and requires a determined push upwards…
At this point the rocks become more like ‘steps’ until the way forward opens up and levels out.
Gummer’s How is popular with school trips. I’ve heard many a teacher say, “So this is up to you… You can take a gentler curve to the right and approach the summit using a longer path … or you can just go at the scramble in front of you!”
The school kids – fit young bands of elastic – usually go right for it.
I’ve done both. The scramble is more prone to error. The day before had been a hard walk, so I recommended the gentler ascent, and we all took it. Once, again, the weather was beautiful and the climb a joy.
The semi-circular way skirts the side of the peak, revealing a delightful landscape of forest and valley below to the east and towards Winster. This is unseen from the peak and provides a reward for the more cautious choice.
There is a short scramble up the side of a limestone boulder, then the path opens up into a curving meadow, and the peak is visible ahead.
The view from the peak and its old ‘trig-point’ – long ago replaced by GPS signals – is one of the widest and most informative in the Lakes.
Lake Windermere is partly visible below, but I was planning to take us down to a nearby edge from which the whole ten-mile length of the lake could be seen.
Look south (left in the photos) and you can see along the line of the A590 to the Hoad Monument at Ulverston and the edges of Barrow-in-Furness in the far distance.
Once everyone had drunk their fill of the views from the peak, I led the party down towards the edge of the upper meadow to where the land drops away and the whole lake comes suddenly into view.
It’s a ‘what was that!’ moment! Everyone stopped, surprised that the Gummer’s How peak was not the most spectacular view, after all.
It was time to bring things to a close. We gathered just back from the sheer drop of the viewing edge, in a gentle hollow where we could review our weekend and carry out our final discussions.
We had one last part of the workshop to carry out: the final assembly together of three stones we had each used to signify the three energy centres of belly, heart and head. We would take these away – as charged and active tools for our own use.
With a final use of our Mudra – a hand ritual that we had used throughout the weekend, we packed our ‘now-precious’ stones into bags and pockets and made our way down the mountain.
Everyone agreed it had been a meaningful and fun weekend. We had tested ourselves against the landscape and emerged a close band of companions with a shared quest. I knew the memories would keep coming back to everyone in the weeks and even months ahead.
And the May weather had blessed us with the perfect experience of one of Lakeland’s finest landscapes.
Some were able to stay for a snack lunch at the Yew Tree Barn, not far away, others had to get off to begin long journeys home.
None of us really wanted to leave…
Surround yourself with beauty … and it will do the rest.
Ancient Sufi Wisdom
Before departing, we discussed the ideas for next May’s workshop. The plan is to move the centre of action northwards, to Wordsworth’s home landscapes around the town of Grasmere. We are likely to use Ambleside as a base of operations as it’s a bigger town, with more accommodation and cafes. More details to follow, here, as it takes shape.
The provisional title is ‘The Magical Landscapes of Wordsworth’. We will use extracts from his mystical encounters with nature to inspire us as we wander around his most loved hills and lakes.
The dates will be the weekend of 17-24 May, 2024.
To be added to our mailing list for this event, and stay abreast of developments, send an email to rivingtide@gmail.com
This is Part Five, the concluding post.
©Stephen Tanham 2023
Stephen Tanham is a Director of the Silent Eye, a journey through the forest of personality to the dawn of Being.
http://www.thesilenteye.co.uk and http://www.suningemini.blog
Share this:
©Stephen Tanham 2023
Stephen Tanham is a Director of the Silent Eye, a journey through the forest of personality to the dawn of Being.
http://www.thesilenteye.co.uk and http://www.suningemini.blog
Share this:
+ #Silent Eye, #Silenti, Consciousness, Lake District, landscapes, Photographic techniques, Photography
Where Seagulls Dare
by Steve Tanham
Didn’t know they were there until I was reviewing the photos later – the seagulls. A whole flock of them whirling overhead, back right of shot; unseen but brightly present…
Fell Foot Park on the south-eastern tip of Windermere. It’s a National Trust estate with a delightful walk in a figure of eight that takes you away from the final basin of the lake and up the slope of a meadow.
When you emerge from the meadow and descend to the water’s edge, the lake has become a river and is busy narrowing itself to fit under the stones of Newby Bridge.
And a coffee back at the boathouse? Be churlish not to…
But the hidden seagulls made my day!
©Stephen Tanham 2023
Stephen Tanham is a Director of the Silent Eye, a journey through the forest of personality to the dawn of Being.
http://www.thesilenteye.co.uk and http://www.suningemini.blog
Share this:
+ #Silent Eye, #Silenti, Ancient Landscapes, Consciousness, Lake District, Photography, Silent Eye School, Spirituality
Water-Circle+Cross (5) The Wray home?
by Steve Tanham
Wray Castle is an imposing neo-gothic building on the north-western shores of Lake Windermere. It’s not a real castle, but looks very much like one, and was crafted according to authentic historical plans. It was built in 1840 for a retired surgeon from Liverpool, James Dawson, who also commissioned Wray Church on the same estate.
He used his wealthy wife’s fortune to create it, and it was intended to become their main family residence… but she didn’t like it, so it was never occupied in the way he had intended.
As can be seen from the pbotographs, It is an imposing creation, and we can admire Dawson’s vision… and sense his disappointment … and perhaps smile at life’s hubris-killing moments. We’ve all had them, but perhaps not on this scale…
But the story has a happy ending…
After Dawson’s death in 1875, the estate was inherited by his teenage nephew, Edward Preston Rawnsley, and later passed to Hardwicke Rawnsley, a cousin and clergyman who had a keen interest in protecting the countryside from the kind of rampant private development that was taking place on the other side of the lake.
Wray Castle has an association with another key player in history of the National Trust, Beatrix Potter, whose love of these parts began during a summer holiday in 1882, when she was 16. In 1905, she used the royalties from her first book, The Tales of Peter Rabbit, to buy the first of many farms nearby, though she never owned the Wray estate and its castle. On her death, the considerable estate she had amassed was passed to the National Trust, whose development she greatly assisted.
Hardwicke Rawnsley, who had become the vicar of Wray parish, was strongly influenced by the ideas of the respected social reformer, John Ruskin. He conceived of the idea of a ‘national trust’ that would buy land in the area and hold it in the public interest, preventing the sale of the assets to private developers – in perpetuity.
The house and grounds at Wray have belonged to the National Trust since 1929, and the house has been open to the public on a regular basis since 2013, though it performed other functions during the war years and after.
It is thanks to these people that the National Trust exists in the form it does today, though that perpetuity should never be taken for granted, as recent activity for the infiltration of the Trust by a conservative group based in London demonstrates.
Anyone standing in the beautiful upper gardens of Wray Castle in the afternoon of 20th May, 2023 would have seen a slightly weary group of walkers making their way – as quickly as their guide could provoke – along the lake path and completely bypassing the track up to the castle grounds, which, thankfully, had remained unseen…
The unstated plan for our workshop group to have lunch at the other Joey’s (vegetarian) cafe – within the Wray Castle Building, had been abandoned by the organiser, though none of them knew this. Our gathering for coffee, first thing, and our two stops high on Claife Heights, had resulted in us running very short on time for something critical; a something that was now about a kilometre away from the tired band of walkers.
We had much bigger problems than a delayed meal. We had to get the whole group over the next hill and along the shore to catch what no-one was expecting – a small and little-known ferry to take us to Ambleside, via a triangular sailing to Brockhole, the National Park’s visitor centre on the opposite (eastern) shore.
With a few minutes to spare, we rounded the headland and trudged, wearily, past the old boathouse and onto the pier. Within five minutes, the ferry came into view, beginning its wide arc round the bay to enter the small jetty space.
We had made it with a mere five minutes to spare… Our onward connections and the rest of the day were safe…
The trip to Brockholes is a matter of 15 minutes. Some passengers get off there to explore, but we sat comfortably enjoying the relaxation after the day’s exertions.
After Brockhole, with the sun still strong in the sky, the boat turned back towards Ambleside’s ferry point at Waterhead. Spirits had lifted with the refreshments, and the scenery was glorious. It was slowly dawning on the group that the day’s walking was finished; that we had, as stated, crossed over the head of the lake back to the east bank, but not by walking.
No-one was abusive…
Arriving twenty minutes later in Waterhead, we needed to buy our tickets for Bowness – our final ferry crossing of the day. The cafe on Waterhead pier provided such delights as scones with jam and cream … and hot tea. A hasty snack later, we watched as the incoming ferry docked. We were in luck. It was one of the most luxurious boats of the fleet – the Swan. Our return leg to Bowness would be in style.
Surround yourself with beauty … and it will do the rest.
Ancient Sufi Wisdom
Everyone was quiet during the return journey. There was a happy mellowness about the late afternoon.
I had anticipated that we might need to cut out the visit to Wray. To compensate for the day’s meagre rations – thank heavens for Kendal Mint Cake – we had booked a table for dinner at the other end of the lake: The Swan at Newby Bridge.
There was just time to walk from the ferry point at Bowness to Ferry Nab and collect the cars for the short drive to the southernmost point of Lake Windermere – Newby Bridge.
It has an excellent bistro. The rushing was over. We could take our time over a fine meal. No-one left in the least bit hungry….and everyone was smiling.
To be concluded in Part Six
This is Part Five
©Stephen Tanham 2023
Stephen Tanham is a Director of the Silent Eye, a journey through the forest of personality to the dawn of Being.
http://www.thesilenteye.co.uk and http://www.suningemini.blog
Share this:
The small village of Skelsmergh lies at the end of one of the long, twisty lanes that follow the valley of the River Mint and eventually merge onto the A6 trunk road: formerly the main highway across the Shap Summit to Penrith, then on to Carlisle and Scotland.
The M6 motorway reduced the A6’s critical role … but left it much less frantic for those whose concern is scenery over speed.
Skelsmergh lies on the town border of Kendal, forming a liminal space between the town and the wildness of Shap – famous for its alpine-like roads and long-gone transport cafés that provided emergency food and lodgings for lorry drivers trapped there in snowstorms.
This is a fierce place in winter.
But not today. Fresh out of our Pilates class, I can linger and rest the camera on the roof of the car … and smile at the infinite green palette before us.
Summer shots are my favourite, but Skelsmergh can provide its own drama in the winter, too.
Note: the historic images of Shap are from the website trucknetuk.com and edited here by the author.
©Stephen Tanham 2023
Stephen Tanham is a Director of the Silent Eye, a journey through the forest of personality to the dawn of Being.
http://www.thesilenteye.co.uk and http://www.suningemini.blog
Share this:
An early start; coffee and croissants in this lovely gem of a town, rich with West Yorkshire history.
A short visit to the local street market to buy strawberries, run them back to the car, then meet up for lunch with my son and his son – our grandson.
The heavens opened. The pavement stones gave off hints of steam as the rain pounded them. We made for the car at the other end of the town centre, laughing to be cool and wet instead of hot and breathless.
And there was the shot: right next to the car… An alignment of stone wall, retained flower bed with flowering shrubs, and a sky washed blue and pearl
It’s a lesson in not putting the camera away … too soon.
©Stephen Tanham 2023
Stephen Tanham is a Director of the Silent Eye, a journey through the forest of personality to the dawn of Being.
http://www.thesilenteye.co.uk and http://www.suningemini.blog
Share this:
+ #Silent Eye, #Silenti, Ancient Landscapes, Consciousness, Lake District, Photography, Silent Eye School
Water-Circle+Cross (4) in the realm of the sky-god
by Steve Tanham
There is a feeling – as Lake Windermere falls away below – that you are leaving behind one realm and entering another – one dominated by a sky-god.
Within minutes we were climbing strongly, part way up the road that snakes over the hill and down to Hawkshead. Fed by the traffic from the chain-link ferry, it climbs steeply, twisting and turning its way through Far Sawrey: the once-home of Beatrice Potter, the famous children’s author and co-creator of the National Trust, much of whose original land she gifted from her own estate.
The Saturday morning of the Silent Eye’s 2023 ‘walking workshop’ – Circle-Water+Cross, was in ‘full-climb’ and began in glorious sunshine. We had opted for the road-based ascent because its gradient was less steep than the direct but tricky trail that winds up from the Claife Viewing Station We wanted to minimise the risks, and allow our muscles to bed-in for the long day’s walking.
The journey would take as high over Claife Heights, along most of the northern length of Lake Windermere and eventually down to a mystery destination on the shore, several miles north.
With a nod to Tolkien, we turned right at the Cuckoo Brow Inn, to gain access to the steep and stony track out of the village of Far Sawrey and, finally, up onto Claife Heights.
There are various pathways across Claife Heights – not everyone wants to stay close to the lake. Between them, and confusingly, they seem to share only four destinations: Hawkshead, Belle Grange, High Wray and Blelham Tarn. It makes a big difference to your day to pick the right one… But the signs indicate paths that sometimes cross-cross each other.
There is no substitute for knowing exactly where you’re going, and, as I found out on the day, that may take more than one preparatory visit! At least we now had the lake on the right to keep us straight. I knew the path we were on – thankfully not too muddy – would take us down to Belle Grange, from where it was under two miles to our mystery location by the lake.
We just had to keep an eye on the time…
On a previous walk, when Bernie and I were carrying out a final recce, we had struggled to cross a long muddy section that I now wanted to avoid. Unfortunately, at the next divergence of paths, I couldn’t locate the photo (on my phone) that I had taken as a guide of what not to do at this juncture.
So we ended up right back in the (at least familiar) mud… Mercifully, the track had mainly dried out, and we passed through to the highest point on our walk without further difficulty. We’d been walking for about two hours at this point.
We had now worked our way back to the eastern edge of Claife Heights, and Lake Windermere was often visible through gaps in the trees. It’s reassuring to see familiar landmarks on the opposite shore. Our diversion up the Sawrey Road had costs us about 30 minutes, but we were making steady progress.
No-one else knew how far we had to travel. I had kept quiet about the final stages of the day’s journey…
The final part of the climb is marked by a place we collectively called the ‘blasted heath’ – a desolate peak where everything seems to be dying – see photo above. In fact, the place is the subject of a programme to restock the heights with indigenous broad-leaf trees.
From here the path began to descend for the first time. After a few more minutes’ walk, we came across a recess beneath trees that was perfect for our late-morning stop.
The essence of these outdoor weekends is spontaneity. We had an important task to perform – drinking tea from the giant flask I carry in my backpack for such occasions, and – for those I could persuade to do so – eating Kendal Mint Cake to keep our energy reserves up. It’s amazing what a bar of concentrated sugar can do for the spirits!
Humour aside, having exercised our legs and lungs, and now refreshed ourselves, we needed to shift our attention to the core of the workshop – the inner emotional state, and the power of this beautiful landscape to affect it.
Surround yourself with beauty … and it will do the rest.
Ancient Sufi Wisdom
We were taking two journeys. The outer one was to literally flood our sensual consciousness with beauty. In parallel with this was an inner, emotional journey involving the a kind of ‘sensual flowering’ of the centres in the belly, heart and head.
To assist with the focus, we had begun, on Friday afternoon, with each companion selecting a polished stone from a full bag, and associating that stone with the location and ‘feeling’ of the belly centre – located about three fingers below the navel and two-fingers into the body.
It was time to select an additional stone and associate it with the heart centre.
Collectively, we held the belly-centre focus and felt it ‘warming’; then allowed the restoring energy to rise in an organic shape so that its upper ‘branches’ surrounded the heart like a tree around the sky-picture of the sun.
It was only later that I realised our mental and emotional actions exactly mirrored the green, sheltered arbour in which we carried out the exercise.
We set off down the final stage of the descent to Belle Grange, on the lake shore, but one of the party had received a message from a long-standing friend of the Silent Eye – Barbara. She was having a struggle with a condition that required help and had asked that, since we were all together, could we consider sending some healing.
Briony, who is a trained shaman, offered to lead the group in diagnosing and then treating the condition. I will not divulge her methods, but she invoked her travelling tarot cards to ask the underlying nature of Barbara’s problem. This done, and joining hands, we set about visualising an energy response to this ‘diagnosis’.
Feeling recharged with the peaceful energy such endeavours bring, we set off along the remaining descent to Belle Grange.
The healing had cost us a further half-hour, but had been well worth it. But we now had problem. I no longer held out any hope of us completing the day as originally planned. Moreover, I had noticed that our pace was dropping. We were getting tired.
A drastic revision was needed if we were to avoid a most disappointing turn of events…
I held back, extracting some Kendal Mint Cake from my bag, and did some serious thinking as I weighed up what the group could best cope with…
A large marine clock was ticking.
To be continued in Part Five
This is Part Four
©Stephen Tanham 2023
Stephen Tanham is a Director of the Silent Eye, a journey through the forest of personality to the dawn of Being.
http://www.thesilenteye.co.uk and http://www.suningemini.blog
Share this:
Perhaps the loveliest we’ve ever seen. Any guesses where?
Post update 19:00 Tuesday 13 Jun. The location was Hampton Court Palace, next to the River Thames.
Several people guessed correctly, as per the comments. Well done and thank you for participating….
©Stephen Tanham 2023
Stephen Tanham is a Director of the Silent Eye, a journey through the forest of personality to the dawn of Being.
http://www.thesilenteye.co.uk and http://www.suningemini.blog
You must be logged in to post a comment.