Daily Archives: May 3, 2018

Rings of Earth and Sky

The Silent Eye

To find that time and circumstance

Had placed us in an isle of fertile space

Where others led us to a place

A ring wherein the sky and earth would quarter meet

There is no sense of wonder deeper

Than that of being ‘brought’ and left

To gaze as heavens’ hand caress the land and sea

And consciousness completes the longing three

Strange markers lined the way

As if to say: be sure; discretion is required

Before that letting go of owning self

Surrenders to the land of higher health

And then the ring of bright companions forms

Called, named and present

From far and distant lands

To be here, to be now, to be

Brought forth: the moment birthed

For which no words have face

Where vision sees the depth of beauty’s kiss

And all are silent, knowing touch of grace

A sharing cake and golden mead

A silent…

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Stratford-Strange III…

*

… “I suppose, Carbrook Hall ‘took the biscuit’ in that respect.”

“Yes, it’s one thing to be ignored by a bar-tender at a bar but not to be seen at all!”

“And all the while I was snapping away, being not inconspicuous, in a less than full drinking establishment. At Haddon Hall we managed to completely clear an otherwise packed living room, so that you could sit in front of the fire.”

“That place did feel homely!”

“And at Barbrook, in the sun, we walked a landscape that nobody else could see…”

“And then tried to point it all out to another group who also couldn’t see it!”

“There is, though, I think, a link with these experiences.”

“I know, they’re all old places.”

“It’s a phenomenon known as ‘time-bleed’,” announced a third, somewhat gravelly voice, and we both turned our heads sharpley to watch, intrigued, as the light strewn figure drifted across the room towards us…

*

 

 

A funny thing happened on the way home.

Shamanic Paths

It was an oddly euphoric moment of complete clarity.

The sun, low, casting great shadows across the landscape; highlighting features in the landscape normally hidden from view. The first flowers of Spring, punctuating in yellow the intense verdant of the season.

The sky, uncluttered blue, held aloft lazy seabirds surfing the cliff drawn breeze. Darker, the sea, unflecked and still, etched a clear horizon against a distant fog.

In the midst of all this, an instrumental started playing on the radio. I couldn’t quite place it, but the arrangement conjures growth, nurturing, the mother. The cadence seems to mirror the rise, fall, and turns in the road; the mood reflects the landscape as it reveals itself around each corner.

A couple of verses in I realise it’s Christina Perri’s “A Thousand Years”, and I’m humming along, trying to remember the words:

Time stands still
Beauty in all she is
I…

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