…I am part of where I think I am…
…because I surround myself…
…with the environment I want…
…in order to protect the image…
…of myself I have made.
THE INFINITE HIGHWAY
If one always returns to where one came from,
then one’s destination is halfway between where
one came from and where one is going to.
HALFWAY TO INFINITY
Every step along the infinite highway is simultaneously
an equal distance between an infinite future
and an infinite past, that is, it is halfway to and from infinity.
EQUAL PARTS OF INFINITY
To find the halfway point of any distance,
one first splits the distance into equal parts then,
when the number of equal parts remaining is equal
to those that have passed one has one’s halfway point.
The equal parts of infinity, however, are all infinite.
Infinity is the only thing that can be split into… infinities.
This is known as counting the for evers of forever.
Reflecting upon all this it appears…
‘The Ancient of Days’
Is a good poetic name for infinity.
THE INFINITE HOTEL
A Traveller approaches the Infinite Hotel and asks The Ancient of Days for a room.
Now, there are an infinite number of rooms in the Infinite Hotel, however, the Traveller is informed by the Ancient of Days that all the rooms in the Infinite Hotel are taken.
Q: How does the Traveller get a room in the Infinite Hotel ?
A: The Ancient of Days asks the occupants of Room 1 to move into Room 2 and the occupants of Room 2 to move into Room 3…and so on… and on… Infinitely, thus making room for the Traveller.
At any one time in the Infinite Hotel then, there will be any number of people on the corridors moving from one room to the next, and this number will be dependent on how many Travellers are seeking a room in the Infinite Hotel…
All the rooms in the Infinite Hotel have a name…
All the rooms in the Infinite Hotel have the same name…
The name of all the rooms in the Infinite Hotel is ‘After-Life’.
All the corridors in the Infinite Hotel have a name…
All the corridors in the Infinite Hotel have the same name…
The name of all the corridors in the Infinite Hotel is ‘Life’.
The occupants of each room in the Infinite Hotel have names…
The occupants in the room before yours are called ‘Parents’
The occupants in the room after yours are called ‘Children.’
The act of moving from room to corridor is called ‘Birth’.
The act of moving from corridor to room is called ‘Death’.
‘Life Duration’ in the Infinite Hotel can be defined as,
the amount of time spent in the corridor
before moving into the next room…
…If Tee’s study was the hub of intelligence, then Miss Hunnyfludd’s office, which comprised no more than a hastily compromised ante-chamber to its plush superior, was the heart…
Thomas Welch was currently making himself at home in the heart of operations and musing about his latest exploits in the name of service…
It was not, upon reflection, the most distinguished of performances from our number one agent.
“They’re already referring to it as The Big Stone Head Affair, Tommy,” said Hunnyfludd disarmingly.
“Oh, they are, are they, Hunnyfludd, and who, precisely, might I ask, are ‘they’?” Welch smiled sardonically and raised a secretly famous eyebrow.
“Why, those in the know, of course, Tommy, those in the know,” smiled back Hunnyfludd, equally sardonically for she enjoyed their little contretemps.
“Then we await with baited breath to see what The Moon will make of it, something infinitely cruder and more…
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There are approximately one hundred billion stars in our galaxy.
There are approximately one hundred billion galaxies in our universe.
How many stars?
Too many to count…
Yet every one of the approximately eight billion people on one of the planets circling one of those stars…counts.
And they say life on earth is an accident.
Otherwise, ‘Arthur’s Quoit.’
Of which there are a goodly number dotted about our Blessed Isles.
Which makes me wonder…
It is hard not to regard this Arthur as a giant too.
And indeed the folk record cares little whether it be a giant, or a king, or a saint who is responsible for placing the stones, only that their provenance be marked, and their links not forgotten.
The link at our previous site was with an isle and maybe if one were to sail from the isle to the mainland it would be useful to keep the stones, or the mound in sight. And if they couldn’t be seen it might have been unwise to set out at all…
The link at this one is with the setting sun on the now obscured horizon.
Now, a quoit is a ring thrown over an upright in the game which, like a lot of games, employs distinctly coital symbolism.
It would be easy to re-construct the ring, perhaps, the earthen mound covering the chamber would only need to have been circular in shape.
But the ‘upright’ might be more difficult…
Unless it were a beam of light?
Such a notion is certainly counter intuitive but it may widen our notions of being up-standing.
We begin to wish we had paid more attention to the ray diagrams of our youth and those interminable physics lessons.
Fortunately, someone else has already done the maths, although quite how is still something of a mystery, to us at least.
According to the estimable Mr Robin Heath, the midsummer sun set of 2800 BC would cast its light through the ‘v’ at what he calls the back of the monument but which we may want to call the front.
One has to wonder about a culture concerned enough about its environs to construct such a burial chamber.
A crucible for the last rays of the summer sun.
May it be that the structure was a calendrical instrument long before it was a tomb and that the bones eventually placed in its midst were once those of people connected to its construction and or continued employment?
When appropriate we still sometimes bury the tools of someone’s life long trade, or rather service, with ‘them’.
Such notions have wide ranging ramifications for recent theories of psychological crystallisation, but that is another story…
This being such a small portal there was little enough room for the reader so the Companions gathered around the periphery for another recital of the ‘…Prayer’.
The reading caused shivers which, given the designation we had somewhat irreverently foisted upon the structure, seemed curiously apt.
‘…history became legend, legend became myth…’
What a pleasant conceit, to suppose that this process produces myth. Whilst undoubtedly true for many legends the process can also work the other way. Many legends for example have produced history. Pre-eminently in this respect, at least for Britain, is ‘King Arthur’ whose story the scholars do indeed now refer to as a mythos.
But what is really going on here?
It is probably more accurate to regard all these forms as stories. We are not supposed to regard History as a story but as ‘recorded fact’ and also ‘true’, but well, really, the clue is in the name. So why do we set such store by stories? The clue is in the question.
The truth of stories lies in a realm other than the literal. And what is ‘the literal’ anyway’?
‘The literal is something that actually happened.’
‘And what do…
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With a total disregard for tradition we tackled our ‘just right bowl of porridge’ first .
It is strange to say, perhaps, but this particular conglomeration of, once covered but now exposed, structured stone did not, initially, feel particularly motherly.
For one thing there seemed to be a general reluctance for people to step inside.
Was this fear, awe, reverence… ?
Perhaps it was a commingling of all three emotions…
The structure does cast an illusion of wanton precariousness.
Those undressed slabs of rock together comprise an impressive sight and tonnage.
The bones of our ancestors were once interred here.
More recently it has served as a sheep shelter.
Whatever it was it was soon dispelled as we got ‘down and dirty’ in the chamber in order to read a contemporary ‘Druid Prayer’.
There is a theory about male and female standing stones.
The broader, squatter, shorter stones being deemed female whilst the taller, thinner, longer stones are deemed male.
It struck me that if the Cap-Stone were upright it would probably be regarded as a male stone.
According to another theory the Cap-Stone would definitely be male, irrespective of whether or not it is standing, for it has seams of white-quartz running through it.
From this angle though the Cap-Stone, in its present state, looks like nothing so much as a bird skull.
Which thought may cause pause for further thought…
Was there a deeper level of symbolism at play than the familiar Womb-Tomb equation?
There is talk in the official literature of a possible second chamber and certainly from this angle the Cap-Stone looks quite badly broken.
It would also explain the curiously lonely looking ‘stone figure’ to the right.
Whichever way one approaches the structure it is hard to shake the resemblance to a modern day coffin with pall bearers…
Except, perhaps, this one…
The Cap-Stone possesses contours which closely resemble a distant Head-Land.
This is best seen in image one.
When the structure was covered in earth and grass this resemblance would, presumably, be even more accurate, especially if seen from a distance.
The portal ‘looks out’ across an ocean which has an island in it.
It is from this Isle, legend tells us, that St Samson flicked the stones to land and take up their present position.
So, St Samson must, at some stage in his story, have been a giant.