It is a familiar conundrum.
Whenever we come across sites like this, and we seem to come across more than a few, there is an inevitable question.
How much of it is natural?
Without question much of it is, but the more one finds that is not natural then the more one tends to question that which was initially assumed to be so.
On our most recent jaunt we came across the suspicious looking stone above.
To my mind that was very obviously a positioned stone.
It is an interestingly enough shaped stone in itself but more than this, it seems almost inconceivable that it could have fallen like that or have been left by retreating ‘Ice Giants’.
But then there arises the inevitable following question.
So why was it positioned in this way?
And to this question, unfortunately, there is not always a readily forthcoming answer.
But this time we were lucky.
Question: ‘When is a stone, not a stone?’
Answer: ‘When it is a nose (and an eye).’
Another one of Robin’s early efforts.
When invoking the Bardic Spirit there are not too many candidates around, unfortunately…
For a spell this was my all time favourite song ever, if only for its helter skelter whirl of minor key madness…
We are the tablecloth, and also the table, and also the fable of the dancing leaves…
as never was
The new moon is shining
above the years
Ask the snail beneath the stone,
are there any stars at all?
Like an eagle in the sky,
safe in the care of
The humane train
The new moon is shining,
‘Waltz of the New Moon’ appears on The Incredible String Band’s third studio album, ‘The Hangman’s Beautiful Daughter’, which is widely regarded as their finest album.
The title is colloquial slang for a gallows or scaffold.
Over all the land the wild flowers grow,
Echoing kind to kind.
Heavy in my hand in the sloping rain.
They roofed their slates of grey,
Heavy in my hand I brought it home,
Black as the thoughts of doom,
A man told me it came from the moon…
Dancing horses told their tale.
Among the stones it called me,
There my hand it knew.
Forests and centaurs and gods of the night,
Never that sun shone on…
‘Oh, who can see in the eyes of fate,
All life alone in its chronic patterns?
Oh, swan, let me fly you
To the land of no winds blowing.
I know nothing, and know that I know nothing;
All is in the eye, and in its blinks of seeing.’
The first verse appears to record a conversation between Swan and Fate. Swan asks a question and is invited by Fate to another world where no winds blow with the proviso that Fate itself is ignorant but merely watches. ‘Blinks’ here, operate as links of time.
‘So just like the morning,
The ghost of the following day…
Hoary, Hoary, Hoary, Hoary…
Rear the rollers, wild and stormy…
Echoes holy… Only lonely… Gone beforey… Hoary… Hoary…’
The start of the next verse may represent the journey or flight and certainly if the morning is the ghost of the following day we have now travelled or somehow got beyond time in some way.
(Later in the song it becomes clear that this ‘disjoint’ in the day is not natural and can be rectified.)
This is immediately followed by an exhortation to listen…
‘Hoary’ here, is ‘venerable’, ‘ancient’ and ‘holy’.
Whatever decides Fate is very old and appears to be linked to the Sea which despite an absence of wind still rears and is stormy.
This ‘something’ is older than loneliness.
‘Oh, rivalry and opinion still cast their wild spells.
Effort and contrariness change the directions of time.
The lion still growls in your hollowness.
Please let’s be easy, please let’s be friends.
Watching and learning like small children.’
In this verse the wild nature of whatever governs Fate appears to be linked to Swan’s propensity for dissension and emptiness.
Swan is exhorted to reconcile its differences with Fate and learn together by watching for and listening to the lonely ‘Old Friend’.
By so doing the schism in the days can be rectified and a harmony achieved which needs not fame nor fate.
‘Till out of the morning
Is growing the strength of the day…
Hoary, Hoary, Hoary, Hoary…
Hear the rollers, wild and stony…
Echoes holy… Only lonely… Gone beforey… Hoary… Hoary…
Servant of fame or fame for a servant, (Hoary… Hoary…)
You see what you see, you see seldom what is
Servant of fate or fate for a servant, (Hoary…Hoary…)
You see what you see, you see seldom what is.
(Hoary… Hoary…) Servant of fate, Oh…’
‘The Eyes of Fate’ by Robin Williamson, appeared on the second Incredible String Band album entitled, ‘5000 Spirits’.