The Modern Mysteries

The Silent Eye

The ‘mysteries’ have been with mankind as long as we have existed. They are a collection of paths that take us inwards; restoring a sense of self deeper than that which reacts, and showing us that mankind is much more than a biological animal – though animals, and their focus on the ‘now’ have much to teach us, too.

The reason these paths work is that we are more than we appear to be. The reactive nature of the self-in-the-world, the personality, fixes it into a certain relationship with its world. This is vital for survival but not so for our potential evolution. Mankind is not a finished project. Nature can only take us so far, beyond that point we have take responsibility for our own self-development, and the power for this comes from within. To begin this, we have to loosen the grip of the world on our reactive…

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Moons of Mountain: Never…

 *

“So when do I get that drink you owe me?”

“Soon…”

*

The warmth of silence as she threads the eye of a needle.

*

“I like your owl.”

“It’s Minoan.”

*

It would have been a privilege

to spend

the rest of my days

here, forever.

*

Never.

*

It never was

so good,

again… ?

Moons of Mountain Ana: Nestle…

*

Gemma’s warmth as

she links my arm and

the world stops screaming…

*

You are an island dark with life;

A swan-hatched dream, taking flight;

A blue-shot cormorant, nestled in night.

*

Gemma’s warmth when she talks about

the sort of house she wants, her bottom

drawer, and the colour of christmas decorations.

 *

The warmth of a smile

 when I look at her crotch:

 earth / urge / air / care.

  *

O’ for another storm stressed day,

when the sky spoke and

our world yielded… to rain.

 *

‘I could have run much faster.’

‘You should have been here over Christmas.’

*

Of all the things

I’ll never get chance to do…

Moons of Mountain Ana: Vamp…

*

Becky is beautiful

but kind and cruel,

in turns.

 *

Her eyes flash when I call her a vamp,

and when I bad mouth her boyfriend.

 “You make me laugh,” she says, “can I kill you?”

 *

She has the hair of a teenage friend,

the eyes of an old love, the profile and

features of a desirable aunt, the body of

the goddess Parvati, and a smile like paradise.

*

Her mischief resembles that of a childhood adversary.

 “I’m going to turn you into an ass,” she smiles.

*

 Her hoot face is reserved for her most cunning lies,

 “I thought I’d see you there,” yet she still

succeeds in soothing the situation.

*

 ‘Does she really sleep with him?’

*

“I’m sorry about your Grandad,”

she says, like Mum at such times.

*

Warmth floods the room…

 

Moons of Mountain Ana: Rituals..

*

Regardless of content, our most intense moments have a habit of assuming ritual clarity.

Together, the figures our characters cut are colourful, and bright, and amusing;

the wheel-spinning white car which your mother read about in my story, or Roma’s amber earrings, Louise and Paula, uncharacteristically, dressed in black.

*

Gemma,

who plays football,

and for whom love… is too painful?

*

Did I really say that?

She wants to travel, or that?

‘Me too! ’/ ‘that’s how I drink’/ ‘I do.

*

If only it,

and you,

and I

were true!

*

Even Sandra

mimicking my mudra,

and Mimi’s mint.

Moons of Mountain Ana: Laburnum…

*

With almost perfect symmetry little Josh

wants to take some flowers back to Mum.

*

 He plucks from the two Laburnum

grown together over a garden gate;

harmonious estate,

or the strain of embrace,

stretching… to cleave ?

The scent from the cups is intoxicating,

and yellow… Becky’s colour…

 *

O’ my tyger tree,

 your blossom

 will spread that smile

over lips which profess to disdain flowers.

 *

…On the way back Josh has an idea: he wants to visit his Dad.

 

Moons of Mountain Ana: Sulk…

*

Becky’s sulk face is adamant with indignation.

If she only knew how perilous it is to neglect the young.

*

…Our roles are reversed for the tale

of mum and dad and a kitchen knife,

which Fiona tells in sobs on the stairway.

 *

Something I said has recalled her

feather streaked cheeks of pain.

 *

She laughs

and we go on up

to talk about

a tennis ball

turned inside out…

 *

Becky speaks quietly

but her quiet voice banishes

distance like a shout,

“Josh, come back inside.”

 *

Is this redemption, or merely the wisdom

of being old enough to know better?