Tag Archives: magic

Callanish Calling: Star Stones…

France & Vincent


‘Imposing though it may be, it is also cramped…’

– Burl


“And in any case, it’s the wrong time of year!”

“I had that thought too, but we could just treat it as a ‘reckie’.”

“A ‘reckie’ for what? We’re hardly going to be able

to drag anyone else all the way out there.”

“Perhaps not, but as we are so close,

and we may not be as close again for some time,

if ever, we have to get there!”

“We will get there, if we pay the price.”


‘In it the moon dances continuously the night through

from vernal equinox to the rising of the Pleiades.’

-Diodorus Siculus

View original post

Callanish Calling: Thin White Stones…

France & Vincent


‘This site, important for its grandeur, its design

and its astronomy, is a complex,

of a diminutive stone circle, an avenue,

three rows and a chambered tomb…’

– Burl


“To be ‘called’ is not the same thing as wanting to go somewhere!”

“I know.”

“Nor is it the same as really wanting to go somewhere.”

“I know, but it’s sort of hovering in the air above my head,

as an incredibly exciting possibility.”

“I know. It’s the same for me too.”

“So how do we distinguish ‘calling’?”

“In this case, I’m not sure we do, or can. We just have to try to get there.”

“Oh, we’ll get there alright!”


‘…The circle stands conspicuoulsy on a ridge

overlooking the waters of Loch Roag.

– Burl

View original post

Dear Wen: Utterly Unacceptable…

France & Vincent

Dear Wen…

It occurs to me that the term ‘Hollow Hills’ may not be a landscape but rather a mind-scape description…

‘…The landscape of Cavan is dotted with drumlin hills but there are also many lakes and the drumlins form wooded islands creating areas of half water, half land… marshy, boggy terrain which is not easy to cross.

Perhaps because of this, Cavan has more secrets than most counties and some interesting places.

One of these is the ancient University of Tuaim Drecuin.Ilkwknd 109

Its name is thought to survive in the parish of Tomregan which includes the town of Ballyconnell within its boundaries.

In the grounds of the Church of Ireland church there is a stone called ‘the Tomregan stone,’ which is said to depict St Bricin, founder of the university, performing an operation.

St Bricin is referred to as a saintly physician of extraordinary skill.

One of Tuaim Drecuin’s…

View original post 229 more words

Dear Don: Utterly Unacceptable…

France & Vincent

Dear Don,

Ah yes… Columcille…. it all clicks back into place now… My mind seemed stuck on Aidan…Nick Birds SE Ilkley 2015 uffington avebury cropton Helmsley 003

I am not surprised you are happy about the Minahane being revisited. There was so much more in there at second reading that I hadn’t been ready to see first time round. Lord only knows what I’ll find next time…

Nick Birds SE Ilkley 2015 uffington avebury cropton Helmsley 048Funny, I had the conversation about establishment about the same time you were writing this. When professional reputations, bursaries and income are on the line, the status quo seems much more appealing than walking out on a limb. That is for Fools…

… which says a lot about us, I suppose.

“none of them orthodox all of them utterly unacceptable on so many levels…” rather says it all… as you know full well that I will rub my hands in glee at that one and be delighted to assist…

We may…

View original post 246 more words

Callanish Calling…

France & Vincent


Dear Wen,

I have booked an additional day off work – The Wednesday…

However, we possibly need a bit more of a plan than,

‘If we have it we can fill it’,

for me to book any more time off!

Love, Don x


“What did you have in mind?”

“Well, I thought we might want to take a look at one of the Scortish Isles?”

“We’ll be quite close to Skye?”

“What’s on Skye?”

“Not a great deal, archaeologically speaking, but Callanish is not far from Skye.”





Stone-Circle ‘Gold’!



The name alone is capable of conjuring a mystical reverie.

Ah, Callanish…

Soskin completed his personal Odyssey into pre-history there.

It was there that Cope stood in the Moon.

Ah, Callanish…

Are you real, or a phantom, as delusional as Macbeth’s dagger,

which floats before the eyes?


“Could we get there?”


View original post 18 more words

Isle of Emain…


A far distant isle

lies in leagues fifty-thrice

over the ocean to the west

larger than Erin, twice.


Many faceted Emain

encircled by sea

rising from tide into sky

an ever wondrous beauty.


On the fair isle of Emain

a hoary tree grows

its silver-laced branches

blossom like no-one yet knows.


Multi-hued birds

sing within the tree tops

on a white-silver plain

do dragon-stones drop.


Unheard is wailing

as sweet-music strikes ear

it issues through Emain

banishing all fear.


A band of nine women

come down from a height

over variegate plains

to the seaside, pure-white.


 Onward they run

to a stone shining-bright

for about it to dance

raising songs in the night.


The pure man arrives there

 rowing in on the flood

stirring the ocean

as sun turns to blood.


At dawn he arises

a delight to sore eyes

his coracle of bronze

illumining blue skies.


 A splendour of colour

glistens in the land

spreads its glorious range

over sea-washed sand.


The host he brings with him

for long ages stay

their beauty in freshness

knows not death nor decay.


In happiness and health now

their laughter peals loud

on Emain in each season

reigns joyousness proud.


My song to you all then

still in strife and in pain

you must voyage on the ocean

to the fair isle of Emain.



Egg of the Id…

When Fionn was a boy he was fostered on the hermit, Finaghast, who was to be his instructor.
The old hermit had been living by the river Boyne with the aim of catching the Salmon of Knowledge.
Tradition had it that the first person to taste the flesh of that salmon would receive
the gift of past and future sight and would become the wisest man in all Erin.
Finaghast had spent many years fishing in the river, hoping that
one day the Salmon of Knowledge would swim by.
One day, as Finaghast was pitching Fionn his, Auraicept, by the river, there were unusual stirrings in the water of the Boyne.
Old man and boy peered into the river and saw a beautiful, speckled salmon swimming swiftly towards them.
“The Salmon of Knowledge!” cried Finaghast running for his fish-net.
As he returned to the river-bank with the fish-net to hand, the Salmon of Knowledge leapt out of the water and gazed into his eyes.
Finaghast-the-Hermit, immediately collapsed to the ground in a deep sleep, for it was an ability of the Salmon that whosoever its gaze first fell upon when breaching the water course would always be put into such a condition.
Fionn ran to Finaghast and attempted to shake him awake, but to no avail.
With his instructor lost to the world it was left to the pupil to land the fish, which Fionn did, eventually, after an almighty tussle.
Still unable to wake his instructor, Fionn, set about cooking the salmon in the hope that the aroma of the broiling fish would bring old Finaghast round.
It nearly worked too, but just as the fish was softening nicely, and Finaghast began to stir, a drop from the boiling pot fizzed out and caught Fionn plumb on his thumb, so scalding him.
Fionn instinctively stuck his thumb into his mouth to cool it.
When Finaghast woke from his sleep he noticed a great change in his young pupil.
There was a light behind his eyes, like that of a flame, and his cheeks were glowing brightly.
“Fionn, did you eat of the salmon?” asked Finaghast.
“I did not eat of the salmon,” said Fionn.
“Fionn did you taste any of the salmon at all?” asked Finaghast.
Fionn then explained all that had happened and the old hermit realised that the grace of wisdom had been granted, not to him, but to his foster son…

‘Aye’ of the Unicorn…

Image result for Alchemical unicorn


With almost prescient clarity

we commenced our summer workshop in a graveyard!


Except, not quite, for before we entered the graveyard,

we stood by the swiftly flowing waters of the river Spey

and entered into a guided meditation.


The Unicorn of Spirit

sailed down the Spey

disembarked from its boat,

and invited us all astride its back

for a tour of the elements…


Somewhat unsurprisingly then,

our first pentagram was that of Spirit,

which could be called the ‘parent’ of the elements.


Have the bodies buried in the earth,

hereabouts, had their constituent parts

returned to spirit?


One might well hope so!


In Macbeth, the Bard uses the three witches

to represent the spiritual realm.


As with a lot of things he wrote

this is simultaneously;

a joke,

a reflection of characterised psychology,

and can also allude to something far deeper…


We all enjoyed ‘hamming up’ the witches as we are meant to.


Does the feminine aspect of the spirit appear

‘bearded’ to those with purely political ambition?


Whatever our perceptions,

this realm moves and motivates all…



Craft of the White-Crow…


Whiter than the swan on a lake

Whiter than the gull of the stream

Whiter than snow on the high-peak.


Like a wave of the sea from ebb to flood

Slender as the tall-birch, blowing…

Of a shape-sweet as full bodied clover, bobbing…

Of a colour-fair as summer’s bright morn, glowing…

Your presence, the dawning glory of the land.


Lovely the sun’s smile, rising…

Lovely the moon’s sheen, climbing…

 Lovely the stars gleam, shining…

 More lovely, the blush of your cheek.