Tag Archives: interpretation

What do you see..?

The Silent Eye

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An email came in from one of the Silent Eye’s Companions. He was wondering about our perception of the world around us, saying that we walk through our days not really looking, because we are so used to our environments that we don’t give our attention to the details. Same workplace, office, staircase, or traffic every day. It would, he suggested, be interesting to develop goggles that only record what we truly see.

He went on to speculate that the playback of that movie would be for the most part a blank screen with perhaps a few people popping in and out of existence, or a tv show we have watched, maybe a few personal interactions. That, he thought, would be it. The rest would be blank because we don’t really see it, we expect it to be as usual and so we don’t truly register or process what we…

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Heart to heart

The Silent Eye

“I don’t get it,” said my son. “We’re an island… how can we be short of water?” I had been telling him about the shocking state of the Derwent Valley reservoirs. I have seen them very low before, but never this low. The water is no more than a trickle in the lake bed and the villages drowned at their creation are once more feeling the sun on their stones. We discussed desalination, technology and our acceptance of water-on-tap in developed countries. From there, we went on to other countries, where the populace is not so lucky and water may have to be drawn from a dirty well several hours walk from home. My son continued, “I mean, if seventy per cent of the earth’s surface is covered with water, and, if it all comes from the sea to begin with and goes back into the water cycle, how come

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Days of Honey

France & Vincent

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“When the sun rose once again it was more than a new dawn for the world. A new order, a new era had begun.

And it was time.

We from whom the stars were seeded were sent to earth to walk amongst you. We wore flesh like a garment, clothing our immanence, choosing the limitation of your little lives as our place of working.

The people were nomads, chasing subsistence where the water rose and the animals ran. We could do nothing with them except seek them across the desert. How were we to teach them if they could not stay still? How could they listen if their days were taken by their need for survival? Indeed, we saw such violence and starvation in that arid land that even the gods wept.

It was a problem.

Famine and war had raped the earth and the people were little more than…

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Religious Syncretism: iconotropy…

The Silent Eye

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… “Is he meant to be a giant?”

“In the story he is two-thirds divine, one third-man.”

“Which doesn’t actually answer my question.”

“I don’t know, is he meant to be a giant?”

“Ah, I see… Well, if that is a full grown lion, then he is very definitely a giant.”

“The Hebrew story-tellers saw fit to make the lion, a cub.”

“With the express aim of de-gigantisising him I expect.”

“Is that a word?”

“I shouldn’t think so.”

“So why would they downsize him?”

“Because the strength of their hero didn’t come from his size. It came from God.”

“The Spirit of the Lord.”

“The Spirit of the Lord, that’s right.”

“But if Gilgamesh is two-thirds divine, doesn’t his strength come from ‘God’ too?”

“Gilgamesh has a divine mother, Ninsun, and a father who was born human but later became divine.”

“Ninsun, is a name to conjure with,” murmurs…

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Songs of the Stone: beehive hut…

France & Vincent

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Big-Earth…

Little-Earth…

Bigger-Earth:

Earth-Man-Stars.

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…I followed Kraas’s footfalls as she walked towards the stone.

Just then the moon appeared in the sky overhead and shone its half light directly onto the figure before us.

Out shot a scrawny claw which grasped and held my wrist in its iron grip, “He has silver?” screeched the witch of the wood.

I gasped in pain, slowly unfurling my still tightly clasped fist.

The hessian pouch lay scrunched and soggy in my sweating palm.

The witch snatched it up and emptied out the three, hard won, coins into her left hand…

Stepping to one side she hurled one silver piece in front of her, “For water,” she cried…

And one behind her, “For earth,” she cried…

And the third above, “For air,” she finished.

The coins disappeared from sight into the black night…

“This will do for the fire,” she grimaced, fingering…

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Dear Don: ‘The Dark Virgin’…

France & Vincent

hawk hill nick 246Dear Don…

Thought you might like to see what has been happening at the Virgin of the Ridge since last we were there. I can’t believe the change in the place since we wrote about it in The Initiate and Heart of Albion!

As I pulled up by the hedge in our usual parking spot, the first thing I saw was a red kite wheeling round the tower! I probably didn’t even need to go in after seeing that… and half expected it to be locked. The kite had vanished… as they do. The tree stump with the nails is nowhere to be seen now.

hawk hill nick 216The outer door was shut and I had little hope, but lo and behold, it was unlocked. Of course, I glanced across at the postcards… I couldn’t not really, could I? The dark image has been replaced by a picture of a rainbow over…

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Father Bear…

HM15 970Pentre Ifan

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Which translates, ‘Ivan’s Village’ but was also formerly known as, ‘Arthur’s Quoit’.

Another ‘quoit’, and only a few miles away from the last one.

This seems, if anything, a little unimaginative.

Or, alternatively, it could signal a connection between the two sites.

The more obvious visual parallels though are with our first site, Carreg Samson.

Seen from one angle Pentre Ifan now frames the distant peak of Carningli (Hill of Angels) and like St Samson’s stone the upper ridge of its Cap follows closely the contours of the terrain which has always dominated its horizon.

We have been moving deeper into the country on our three-fold quest and the sites have become increasingly populace.

We met no one at the first site but at the second, we were hurried on our way by a couple of visitors as though we were holding up play on a golf course.

Here, we pass an entourage on the way in and on our way out we are replaced by another one.

The conveyor belt effect…

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True to the form in which we have cast these sketches we are over heating by this point in the proceedings.

Still, we have just come from a long climb up a big hill on a very hot day and the surrounding recumbents prove more than a tad adequate as baking stones.

It is perhaps just as well.

By paying too much attention to the stones one can start to become  a trifle uncomfortable in quite a different sense.

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For one thing, it becomes abundantly apparent that the central stone is not a support stone at all.

Not a support stone?

Quite definitely not.

But if it is not a support stone then what is it doing there, what is it, and why does it have claws?

Stone claws, or perhaps talons, which are firmly rooted in, not to say sprouting from, the earth?

Well, that is true, but even so…

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Maybe, whatever it is, is pointing the way.

Pointing the way to what and where?

To Ivan’s Village.

Whatever that means?

Ivan is Ian… is Jan, and Janus, the god-form of portals, is two-faced and looks both ways. In and out, up and down, before and after, here and there.

Ivan’s Village is Janus’ place!

Well, it is one aspect of Janus’ face, or Jane’s, certainly.

All of which means, we are still no nearer to an answer…

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…Not necessarily…

The symbolic preoccupation of all these structures seems to be with Headlands, (end of the land and start of the sea) or Mountain peaks (end of the land and start of the sky). And by extension with islands which is land situated in the sea, and also with birds which are beings that fly in the sky.

In other words the builders of these structures are concerned with thresholds and what lies beyond those thresholds in the domains which they bound. The analogy always involves the natural environment which is then related to their, and hence to our, own experience.

So, it is not so much from here to eternity but rather from here to our apparently limited horizons and then on beyond them…

Which may very well be an eternity or if not, then at least, an endless round.

Simple.

Eloquent.

Profound.

And that is just the formal symbolism of the structures, without consideration of the precise geometries of their situation…

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Despite the conveyor belt effect we still get time enough to do what is needed.

And we conclude our ‘…Prayer’ with a little chanting.

Impromptu.

Because that’s the way…

we like it.

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You think that will have gone unnoticed?

Quite possibly not.

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Practical Geometry…

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‘My goal is to teach practical geometry to our students, not as something new, but rather as a collation of older scattered material. Say what you will. I think our predecessors worked miracles. They had immense energy, and tried to get to the truth. Hard work could not dampen their ardour, nor any obstacle deter their efforts. They had deep insight into marvellous and almost incredible matters, and even in lesser ones they provided many examples of wisdom. To equal them may not be possible; not to try would be a disgrace. But enough exploration; let us address our task…’

Hugh of St Victor –  AD 1096-1141

Solution…

‘Setting riddles is much easier than solving them.’

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… “What a strange planet. Where I come from people solve three riddles every morning before sitting down to first breakfast.”

The ‘High School’ Solution…

The clue in the poem is that the poem as a whole does not make sense. The individual lines make sense but the sense of the individual lines is not picked up by successive lines and does not follow through to the end of the poem.

Also, we may notice that two of the lines are identical.

The lines alone then are significant and as students of calligraphy will be aware initial words and especially letters are often deemed to be most important because the start of anything inevitably colours its conclusion.

The first words of each line then with letters emboldened.

Dark… About… Lost… Great… Ever… Traversing… Yonder

Back… After… Yonder.

Dalgety Bay is in Scotland, or as we prefer North Albion.

The story of our sojourn there is told in, Lands of Exile: But ‘n’ Ben.

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