All posts by Stuart France

About Stuart France

Writer and Director of The Silent Eye, a modern Mystery School.

Where Beauty Sleeps ~ The Silent Eye Annual Workshop 2020

The Silent Eye

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It is a familiar story. Both gifted and cursed at birth, a princess grows within the safety of a castle. Reaching adulthood, she is cast into sleep in the most inaccessible tower, surrounded by walls of stone and a hedge of thorns… waiting for the brave prince to cut his way through the briars and awaken her with the kiss of true love…

There is a lot more to fairytales than the wide eyed child understands, but we seldom question them as we grow up and tell them to our own children. We are so very familiar with them that they simply ‘are’.

Take the Sleeping Beauty story, for example, but in place of the princess, think of that essential Self we call the soul.

We are born into a magical world, where our childhood is peopled with fairies and wonders. We are given gifts and talents, yet we must…

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The Wicker-Tree…

The Silent Eye

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Why meet again, we three?

To quell a raging psychopath…

and tell the Way of the Wicker-Tree.

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Why we three?

Why a circle?

Why a dance?

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Because this way

None can say

Which witch is which…

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Nor can any see

a beginning or an end

to the Wicker-Tree.

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The Silent Unicorn

The Silent Eye and Lodge Unicorn na h’Alba

The Unicorn is an iconic spiritual symbol in the British Isles and particularly in Scotland. We will use the power of the elements and spirit of the unicorn to create your own Silent Unicorn within, culminating at the old hidden seminary at Scalan in the remote Braes of Glenlivet.

Dates:  Weekend  Friday 14th – Sunday 16th June, 2019

Location:  Based in Grantown–on–Spey and area

Cost: Workshop costs £50 per person. Meals and accomodation are not included and should be booked separately…

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The Bedouin

The Silent Eye

Image by Cuyahoga from Pixabay

It is said we learn most from those we would wish to emulate. Not copy, perhaps, but take from them an essence of thought, of action. If we are younger, of style, even…

There must have been a thousand people in the room. The university hall was full. When he stood up to speak, his movements were relaxed. His body language gentle, open.

What was it, that air? It wasn’t bravado…. just a sense of being at home, there.

Before him, there had been a speaker giving lots of do’s and don’ts – mainly don’ts. The celebratory mood with which we had all gathered had been blunted. The new speaker looked around the room to encompass the space – as though drawing in all the negative energy and using it as raw material for something very different – like crushed stones in roadbuilding. That…

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Lord of the Deep. Hunting Hum-Ba-Ba. ~ Willow Willers

The Silent Eye

Willow continues the tale of her experience at the Lord of the Deep workshop:

Ritual three Hunting the Tree Demon.

So peace came to pass

Twin brothers ruled the land at last.

A peace reigned and all was well

But Gilgamesh would send this soon to hell.

Enkidu begged his brother to be calm

Yet he cannot calm the giant ego bent on harm.

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So here I am again dancing the fates, I hold these two brothers lives in the palm of my hand. I am not alone the other fates are here too.

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To city elders, Gods and Goddesses they appeal.

Enkidu states his fears and his brother laughs

There is no stopping a giant ego

He is deaf to all reason, will not do things by halves.

One with heavy heart into the far beyond they go.

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Continue reading at willowdot21

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Dereliction of Duty…

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…It was a day of surprises.

For the matter beneath his feet to commence shaking was a surprise because it had shown no prior predilection so to do and hence had come to be regarded as stable.

Given the ‘most stable’s’ new propensity, somewhat less of a surprise but still, unthinkable, his previously stable walls also began to shake.

The third surprise came hot on the heels of the other two.

As the usually reliable roof-tiles cascaded around his head, he realised that a shock-wave could be seen with the naked eye.

It was the last thing he saw.

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Knockety knock…

 

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“The door-knocker, Herr Doktor, is misnamed,” said Herbert, giving the door three resounding knocks with his knuckles, “…door-knockers, rap!”

He demonstrated his contention and the door-knocker rapped-out three sharp retorts in marked contrast to the previously administered knuckle-knocks.

“Anyway, there doesn’t appear to be anybody home,” concluded the Doctor.

“More’s the pity,” grinned Herbert eyeing the elaborately designed door-knocker with evident relish.

The two men turned to leave.

Just then the door opened and a long, leathery-tongue wrapped itself around the Doctor’s ankle and dragged him within.

Herbert walked on, his mind elsewhere, oblivious…

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