Tag Archives: weekend workshop

Almost…

The Silent Eye

Last minute preparations are underway. I’m looking at the pile of props, costumes and workbooks and wondering how I’ll squeeze everything and a wheelchair into the car, even though we have done this so many times before and in much smaller vehicles. Wondering what I’ve forgotten… there is bound to be something… even though I have everything from safety pins and string to gilded plant pots.

On the surface it all looks like panic stations, yet, beyond that is a pool of perfect calm. I know that no matter what we have forgotten, or how things appear to be going… it will be fine. It is a matter of trust…and of experience.

There have been lost and misplaced items, things that should have been to hand at crucial moments but were, inexplicably, not. There was the year when a last minute epidemic hit the group and two of our Companions…

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Mysteries…

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“You’ll know it,” he said, “by the stone stairs and the hawk’s head over the lintel.”

I was expecting a carving, or a painting, or possibly even, an offering, not half a cliff-face…

Nevertheless, it had still been a bugger to find.

The light was fading when I tip-tipped down the stone steps and stood before the crudely imposed entrance.

I stepped inside…

A dim glow lit the interior and the odour of old incense, clung…

He stood and turned, a huge bull of a man.

“What took you so long?”

“I got here as quick as I could.”

“Coffee?”

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La Chapelle Verte…

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All stands hidden

Out-of-sight

At the heart of the cavernous world.

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All lies sequestered

Black but comely

In the cavernous heart of man.

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The unseen green within grey rock

Wielder of Psyche’s Axe

Looser of her Emotional Block.

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Our animal soul crowns the summit

Inanimate intimacies call

‘Drink deep – Drink deep’…

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Don’t merely dip a doltish finger-tip

Like felt for freely-gifted gold

or spawn of devil’s bloodied-blot.

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Not sentiment nor sediment

Can satisfy

Such cavernous yawning.

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Drink deep of Night

And wake

To Day’s Dawning.

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All lies hidden

Out-of-sight

At the heart of a cavernous world.

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Full Circle: Finding the way home?

The Silent Eye

In spite of the rainbow that had greeted our arrival in Cumbria, the skies looked none too promising as we gathered beneath the shelter of the park gate in Penrith. The chill winds of December had brought showers, but at least, for the first afternoon, there would be a little cover. We could only hope that the following day would bring better weather.  Not that rain would stop us. Since the downpour we had encountered in Scotland, we had accepted that rain was a natural benediction… a blessing and a cleansing beyond the gift of Man and, therefore, a perfect way to start a weekend of spiritual exploration.

We had chosen to begin at Penrith Castle, built between 1399 and 1470, probably on the site of a much earlier Roman encampment, as part of the defences against raiders from Scotland. Once thought to have been first built by William Strickland…

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Of Trolls and Sustenance…

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Tomf, the Troll, rises from the river bed after a long, long, sleep.

He is feeling grumpy but only because he is hungry.

Off in search of chocolate, cake, liqourice, orange juice, tobacco and cough sweets he goes…

Oh, and bananas too, I nearly forgot the bananas…

Where grub is concerned he is not  too particular…

Just in case you missed him, here is a close up…

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P.S. He does not look quite so grumpy, since we have been feeding him.

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Way Old Time…

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‘Of circular possibilities’…

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‘Eyeing the Chasm’…

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‘Extending a welcome’…

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‘An Other Time’…

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‘Presence is everything’…

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‘Two O’Clock Shadow’…

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‘There was an Old Woman’…

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‘Who looked out’…

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‘Through a Shoe’…