A Seer Speaks…

*

“There are three worlds which we can seen while we are still in the body:

the earth-world, the mid-world and the sky-world.

The shining beings belong to the mid-world,

while the opalescent beings belong to the sky-world.

*

I cannot decide whether or not the life and state of these beings

is superior to the life and state of maknind.

They themselves are certainly more beautiful,

and their worlds seem to be more beautiful than our own world.

*

Among the shining beings there does not appear to be any individualised life.

If one of them raises a hand they all raise their hand.

If one drinks from a fire-fountain, they all do likewise.

They seem to move and have their existence in a being other than themselves

for which they act as a sort of body.

*

Theirs is a collective life and so calm

that we might have more varied thoughts

in five hours than they would have in five years,

yet one feels an extraordinary purity and exaltation about their existence.

*

Beauty of form has with them never been broken up by the passions

which arise in the developed egotism of human beings.

*

Some of the tribes of these shining beings

seem to be little more than one being

manifesting in many beautiful forms.

*

Among the opalescent beings in the sky-world,

there is an even closer spiritual unity,

but also a much greater individuality.”

– Seeing the Unseen

 

 

 

 

A Thousand Miles of History XVI: The house of the raven…

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

We could have chosen to visit Chysauster, that being the biggest and best preserved of the ancient settlements in the area, but that very fact means it is more likely to be full of people… and it was the lives of our ancestors, rather than those of our modern siblings that drew us. Carn Euny, on the other hand, although it is only a few miles from St Just, is about as far off the beaten track as you could wish. Narrow Cornish lanes lead to even narrower lanes… and finally onto tracks that look as if few vehicles ever use them, and even fewer should. Perfect. So, to a litany of ‘are we there yet’ and ‘we’re in the middle of nowhere again’, we headed in search of mystery.

By the time we actually were in the middle of nowhere, we knew there could have been no more…

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Wayland: The White Horse…

The Silent Eye

*

But according to some, Wayland has far more onerous

responsibilities than shoeing the horses of passing way farers…

*

A group of local lads were enjoying a drink

one evening at the White Horse Inn, Woolstone,

when an unknown man wearing old fashioned garb

entered and ordered a pint of the local beverage.

*

He wore a leather apron, a tall hat,

and he took his drink and sat

to one side of the ale-house by himself…

*

After awhile the sound of a horn rang out

and could be heard

echoing eerily through the vale…

*

Startled from his reverie by the horn,

the stranger leapt to his feet and hobbled

out into the night, his pint unfinished.

*

As the uncanny sound faded over the downs

the locals looked out and up to the hillside

to find that the White Horse was gone!

*

When dawn broke…

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Seeing the Unseen…

 

*

“There is a distinction between images seen in the ‘memory of nature’,

and the vision of actual beings now existent in the inner world.

Just as one may close one’s eyes and see a vivid picture memory

in the mind’s eye, or, one may look and see actual images with the physical eyes.

When seeing these inner beings the physical eyes may be open or shut

but if open these beings are not seen with the physical eyes.

*

It is comparatively easy to see while at ancient monuments

because such places are naturally charged with psychical forces

and were for that reason made use of long ago and deemed sacred.

*

The inner beings fall into two classes; those which shine,

and those which are opalescent and appear lit from within.

It is very difficult to intelligbly describe either class of being.

*

The first time I saw the shining beings I was lying on a hillside.

I was listening to the music of the air and to what seemed to be the sound of bells

and was trying to understand the aerial clashing in which each gust of wind seemed to

break upon another with an ever changing, silvery sound.

Then the space before me grew luminous

and I saw one beautiful shining being after another.

*

The first opalescent being I saw, there was initially just a dazzle of light,

and then I realised that this light came from the heart

of a tall figure seemingly made of air.

Throughout the transparent body ran a radiant, electrical fire

of which the heart seemed central.

Around the head and through the waving luminous hair

which was blown about the body like living strands of gold,

there appeared flaming wings like auras.

Light seemed to stream outwards from all directions

and the effect of this vision left an extraordinary lightness, and ecstatic joy, of being.”

– A Seer Speaks

 

 

 

 

A Thousand Miles of History XV: Under one roof…

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

We had finally found breakfast, in a little café that doubled as a bakery, gallery and bookstore…and there can be no better combination. Well fortified for the rest of the day, we strolled back into the misty little town of St Just. It would have been impolite not to visit the church while we were there. Silly too, as we could tell from the little bit of tower that peeps over the rooftops that it is an old one.

We were greeted in the churchyard by an ancient Celtic cross, bearing a simple carving of Christ with His arms wide open, more weathered, but not unlike the one at Kniveton, the little church that smiled. There is another eroded cross there too, and, we were to find, at least another one inside the church.

 

Above the entrance to the porch is yet another sundial. Many churches have lost…

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A Thousand Miles of History XIV: Just a place to play…

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

We liked St Just as soon as we arrived… the little town, just a few miles from Land’s End has a good ‘feel’ to it, even when it is shrouded in sea-mist. It is a place of old stone and flowers, and, unlike many more modern towns, it still projects a strong sense of history and community…in spite of the inevitable traces of tourism.

Although breakfast was our priority, the first thing we found was a mystery. Heading towards the obvious central point, the clock tower, we found ourselves within what looked like a henge, right in the middle of the town.  Now, Cornwall is better than many places at preserving its archaeology, but for a town to have grown up with its walls pressed close to a henge would be unusual, to say the least. The earthen banks seemed almost, but not quite right, though, and the circle of…

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Wayland: The Blessed Isles…

The Silent Eye

*

The tone of the tale once Britain is reached,

becomes very different…

*

Alighting on Berkshire’s High Downs,

Wayland came upon an ancient chambered tomb,

and made it his home.

*

Tradition now has it,

that if ever you are riding the Ridgeway,

and your horse loses a shoe,

you need only tether it nearby,

 leave a silver-sixpence on the uppermost stone of the tomb,

and on your return your horse will be shod and your money gone…

*

Wayland, it seems, never works while being observed.

*

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A Thousand Miles of History XIII: A toe in the water

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

The legendary land of Lyonesse lies off the uttermost point of Britain. It is told that the people of that land were tall and fair, beautiful to behold, wise and learned. At the centre of their lands was a wondrous city, with a great place of worship… or a castle… at its heart. No tales survive of why the cataclysm came that drowned the land in a single night, though later, there were the inevitable whispers of wickedness and the wrath of the Christian God.

Only one man of Lyonesse escaped the deluge, a man named Trevelyan. Out hunting near Sennen, his horse cast a shoe and delayed him as night fell. Falling asleep beneath a tree, he was awoken by the roar of the rising sea and, mounting his horse, rode before the crest of the wave to higher ground at Land’s End. Local families still bear the three…

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Wayland: Silver-Smith of Souls…

The Silent Eye

*

There are a number of intriguing aspects to the legend of Wayland Smithy…

The earliest written sources appear late and are decidedly piecemeal.

*

Wayland is the son of a God, Giant, or King of the Otherworld.

He is schooled in metallurgy by Dwarves, whom, in skill, he quickly surpasses.

He lives, hunts, and works alone in a region associated with wolves and bears.

One day he comes upon a swan-maiden bathing skin-less.

He finds her skin, appropriates it, and she lives with him for nine years.

At the end of which time she discovers her hidden skin and flies away.

*

Wayland is then taken captive by the King of Sweden,

maimed to prevent escape and set to work on an island…

Wayland surreptitiously kills the king’s sons, turns their skulls into goblets

and presents them to the king and queen.

Their teeth he turns into a brooch…

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A Thousand Miles of History XII: Hirvedh Treguhyon

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

We left the Merry Maidens, still buzzing with the magic of the stone circle in the mist. Distracted by the profusion of wildflowers in the hedgerows, we might have driven blithely by, but…
“Whoa…”
“What’s that…” we said in unison as my foot hit the brakes, just seconds after resuming our journey.  Finding nowhere else to park, we turned around, parked once more at the Maidens and walked back to look at what had caught our attention.

You almost have to be ‘tuned in’ to stumble across Hirvedh Treguhyon. From the road, it seems to be no more than a couple of stray boulders in the grass of the verge, but in fact, it is a superb example of a Neolithic entrance tomb… a rare type of passage grave. It was once covered by a mound of earth, with only the entrance visible and blocked by a carved stone…

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