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A Dorset Weekend With The Silent Eye – Part Three

Journey To Ambeth

This is part three of my account of a recent weekend in Dorset with The Silent Eye. Click here for Part 1 & Part 2.

After lunch, we were to visit seven churches in the course of the afternoon, starting with Cerne Abbas. This, despite the fact we only had a few hours to accomplish it, seemed completely reasonable. Time was already starting to play tricks on me, stretching and slowing, and the afternoon was to prove even more challenging in that regard…

We started in the lovely parish church at the centre of Cerne Abbas, adorned with carving both outside and in. it was a pleasant church, one that hummed with activity and felt much more alive than the strangely vacant church at Cadbury the evening before.

There was a man painting icons at a table and several of our group spent time in conversation with him. I…

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Forthcoming events with The Silent Eye…

The Silent Eye

Full Circle?  – Finding the way home…
Penrith, Cumbria
Friday 7th – Sunday 9th December, 2018

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Home. It is an evocative word. The images it conjures are different for each of us, yet few other words touch heart and mind in quite the same way. Birth and death, laughter and love, longing, fear and aspiration… the cycle of human life plays out within its walls.

For many, there is another ‘home’ beyond the physical confines of this world. That too may seem different for each of us and the path to its threshold is shaped by dreams. Few places illustrate this as clearly as Castlerigg, an ancient stone circle ringed by mountains and one of the most spectacular sites in the country.

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The people who have walked this world before us have left traces of their lives and belief, written in stone upon the landscape. From church to stone circle…

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A Thousand Miles of History XXXIII: The chapel in the grove …

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

A ruined chapel stands in a tiny clearing, sheltered and roofed by the trees that cluster close to its walls as if to offer it protection.  The walls still guard the interior from view and a single doorway in the northern wall gives entrance. There is a sense of simplicity and peace about the chapel and its glade; centuries of prayer have hallowed the place… and its sanctity may be measured in more than just the hundreds of years that its walls have survived.

The chapel is not large, measuring just twenty-five feet by eighteen, with stone walls two feet thick making the interior considerably more intimate. The stones still stand eight or nine feet high and entering the green-roofed precinct, you leave the world behind.  This seems right, for this has been a sacred space for longer than the chapel walls have closed around it, in spite of the…

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A Thousand Miles of History XXXII: The wells of the wishing tree…

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

“Ooh!” My companion, well used to the consequences of such exclamations, braced himself as I swung the car off the road we were supposed to be taking and onto a narrow lane. The sign was intriguing and, although we had visited our last planned site of the day, one more couldn’t hurt…

I would probably not have followed the sign had it just said ‘holy well’, but it also sported the words ‘and Celtic chapel’ and that made it irresistible. We had no idea at all of what we might find, but, in my defence, I had this vague notion of the site being close to the main road. Quite why I should have thought so when almost every other site we had visited had entailed a fair walk, I have no idea…but I didn’t expect it to be more than a ten-minute detour.

Leaving the car, we…

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Contagious thought…

The Silent Eye

My son is suffering from earworms. Not that I mean to imply that he is the victim of some aural parasite, simply that the most bizarre and unlikely of songs have been taking up residence in his consciousness this week and refusing to leave him in peace. The sheer randomness of the music he is playing in the jukebox of his mind is staggering and has been cause for much merriment.

For the past month or so, my son has had no bathroom. As he still has neither floor nor door, he is obliged to ablute chez moi. This state of affairs seems set to continue for a while, but the routine to-ing and fro-ing between his home and my bathroom is usually enlivened by conversation along some weird and wonderful lines. Driving him home the other day, he admitted to the latest earworm… a popular song from his…

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The Chimpmunk & the Serpent: Part 2 of my visit to America’s Stonehenge

Not Tomatoes

Continued from Part 1

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My body wanted to follow a path that wasn’t there. The arrows pointed left, while an invisible rope of energy tugged my heart to the right. I resisted the pull. If I had been alone, I would have followed the illogical urgings of the heart, but I was not. Deb and I had arrived without preconceived plans, but Sophia had brought her drum and offerings, and we both wanted to honor her intentions (I later learned Deb also had an impulse to walk a counter-clockwise path) so we followed Sophia’s followed her lead along the marked path.

IMG_4636 A rather blurred photo of our small guide in the fork of a tree that guides the eye to a wall of (serpent) stone

She was, though, not our only guide. I noticed the chipmunk around the same time I noticed the serpents. Out tiny guide appeared throughout our…

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Sally’s Cafe and Bookstore – New Book on the Shelves – Mister Fox: Winter’s Tail by Stuart France and Sue Vincent

Smorgasbord - Variety is the spice of life

For Sue Vincent and Stuart France fans, and Mister Fox... then latest book has been released. Mister Fox – Winter’s Tail

About the book

Where is Mister Fox? The night howls in triumph… pale eyes watch from the shadows… It is the night of the Hunter’s Moon and the dancing ground should be alive with flame as the Foxes dance in the dark. But the dancing ground is deserted. They are gone. No earthly light pierces the gloom, only the sickly glow of a veiled moon. Don and Wen stare in disbelief. Whispers in the shadows, a faceless voice, a tale of ambush and betrayal… of Foxes driven from their home and scattered, condemned to wander far from their ancestral lands. Charles James Fox wounded… none has seen him since that fateful night. Will the Hunter’s Moon pass in darkness? Have the Demon Dogs succeeded in their mission to…

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Principles of Fire (5) A Tribe of One

The Silent Eye

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They who set out to discover the twin meanings of the word ‘self’ must walk a certain path. The route to the deeper, real self lies only in the journey through the everyday self. Without this study – and its consequent effects – there can be no personal transformation.

We have to learn to look at ourselves with intensity if we are to begin to glimpse the false edges of what we take ourselves to be. There are many forces at work to guide and help us. This is not a journey that is taken alone. To paraphrase the ancient Kabbalists: The universe is awake to an awakening Adam. Our birthright is the state of full and inclusive consciousness, free from the accumulation of the personal past. What prevents this state of living is the power of that past…

The ordinary, everyday self is characterised by one word: reaction…

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A Thousand Miles of History XXXI: The mystery of the weeping stones…

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

There was one more site we intended to see before we hit the road in earnest, and that was Lanyon Quoit. It is one of the best-known dolmens in Cornwall, probably in part because it is so easy to access, standing in a field right beside the road and not far from Mên-an-Tol. We were really looking forward to seeing this site and so, it was with some excitement that we climbed the stile into the field.

It looks amazing in the empty landscape. The huge capstone, weighing around thirteen and a half tons and over eighteen feet long, is supported on three upright stones. Old stories tell that a man could ride a horse beneath the capstone, but today you must bend your head to enter the chamber that would once have been encased in earth. And for once, it was not a happy place.

The ancient burial chambers…

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In your own words…

The Silent Eye

There is a long tradition in esoteric circles of keeping a journal. It is a tradition to which Companions of the Silent Eye adhere, making a record of the thoughts, questions and realisations that arise from their own meditations and the work of the correspondence course.  There are many reasons for doing this, from the simple discipline of writing down these ideas to ‘earth’ them, helping to fix them in memory… for like dreams, such tenuous thoughts can easily dissipate…to leaving a record that might just help someone else who comes after us and reads them one day. Their most important function, though, is as a record for the writer.

When engaged on this inner journey, we stumble into strange areas of the mind, heart and soul and, like a traveller on an unknown path, we may bring back traces of meaning like dust upon our feet. We do not…

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