…Bearer of Time
Gnomon of Eternity
You must have seen a thing or two
During your torturous sojourn…
How best can we understand our predicament?”
“As Death is the Lord of life…
Life must be the Lord of death.”
PC 963 Kraas turned and walked head-long into the sea breeze.
Her hair flicked in the wind like rampant flames.
“You know, I can’t help feeling we’ve missed a trick with this one.”
“It’s mentioned in the book,” replied Jaw-Dark pensively, “and in any case, it’s a pleasant enough spot.” He paused and bent down to look through a large eye-shaped ‘blow-hole’ in the promontory.
“What’s that?” said Kraas.
“Well, that depends…” said Jaw-Dark.
“That depends upon what?”
“…Upon your perspective,” finished Jaw-Dark.
“Nothing is ever straightforward with you is it?”
“The Irish name for this and other similar landscape features is Poll na Seantuinne.”
“‘Hole of the Old Wave’.”
Just then the sea crashed beneath the promontory and the foaming waves, in the mouth of the sea cavern, a hundred feet below could be clearly seen through the ‘chasm-hole’.
“Seems an apt description,” said Kraas, “if a tad unnerving.” Her gaze followed the slow drag of the tide and then lifted to the sky where wisps of grey cloud scudded on the wind, “in the beginning,” she said, “everything was chasm and chaos.”
“There is though another interpretation.”
“Poll na Sean Tiene means ‘Hole of the Old Fire’.”
“Okay, I can see where that might fit in with some of their concerns. Especially with all this baleful eye stuff.”
“Personally though I prefer the third alternative…”
“Ever the storyteller,” smiled Kraas, “Well, I’m waiting!”
“Poll na Seantuine, is the ‘Hole of the Old Woman.”
Kraas’ smile turned to a grimace, “Well, I wouldn’t go shouting that particular preference from the cliff tops if I were you,” she said through the grimace, and then added more seriously, “so which one is it?”
“Unfortunately for us and also quite possibly for them too, it is more than likely that it is all three of them.”
Stuart France & Sue Vincent
The Beeley Stone, ‘liberated’ from the churchyard at Bakewell, stands proudly in the centre of its village green once more. While the locals enjoy the fruits of its restoration, Ben, who had led the daring raid against authority, still languishes in jail.
Don and Wen, arrested and released without explanation in Ireland, now plot an erratic course through the wild places of Wales, while Jaw-Dark and Kraas, seeking the legendary stone of Fergus Mac Roy, have been separated in the most uncanny of circumstances…
As the darkness closes around them, the Black Shade haunts the moors above Beeley and, in the shadowy rooms of the old tower, an ancient and even stranger story begins to unfold…
The Circle is Time
Six of the Nine
Process through time
Three of the Nine
Are outside time:
Yet still impact
And impinge in time
By impelling this processional motion.
The Six of the Nine can be represented by the six faces of a cube:
Enfolded outlooks on the world.
The Three of the Nine can be represented by the three dimensions of a cube:
…Dimension is always an adequate symbol for Divinity.
The Seed at Zero can be represented by the cube itself in miniature:
A little world encapsulated by a larger one…
‘Three of the Nine’.
What is the antithesis of one?
None, two or many…?
It is tempting to answer money… that is, ‘my one’ as opposed to The One, which ‘belongs’ to everybody.
For many years I laboured under the misapprehension that to glean the gist of a thing was to have the mere rudiments of it which is almost the exact opposite of the word’s actual meaning. This can happen because of the context in which words are used and context which has at least two viewpoints if not many more is really just another word for perspective.
The World is predicated on Number.
Mineral, Plant, and Animal growth are all governed by Number.
Music is Number in time.
Geometry is Number in space.
Neither the World, Music nor Geometry initially ‘looks’ very much like Number but that is what they are.
The qualities of Number are the key to understanding this, which really means their properties and their relationships, each one conceived as distinct from all the others yet linked by natural sequence and logical progression.
Strictly speaking there are only seven numbers.
Zero is not a number because it is the negation of Number:
It is rather both Tomb and Womb of number…
One is not a number because it is everything, without which there would be no thing:
Not One Thing…
Nine is not a number because it is a completion and possesses all the qualities of Zero:
And although numbers go on for ever they always repeat from Nine…
But Geometry can help here too because the way we see things affects the way we think about things and vice-versa.
Whenever we come across a reversible we have reflection and the world, it has been claimed, is merely a domain of perceived reflections.
Plato’s Cave is the classic simile for this idea.
In order to affect the shadow-play of the world-screen one has to access the light source.
The outer can only be affected by changing the inner.
This can be ‘seen’ to be the case by experiencing the following ‘optical illusion’.
When the outer cube ‘flips’ the inner cube remains unaffected.
But if the inner cube ‘flips’ the outer cube has to flip too.
Can you see it?
The Eskimo has over fifty words for snow…
Carn les Boel, is marked on the map as a hill-fort but it is very different from the two ‘hill-forts’ we had just encountered on our Workshop…
It is difficult to imagine anyone living here, although, doubtless a presence would, in former times have been maintained.
The stones, predominantly erratic, have been judiciously supplemented, and in case we had arrrived with eyes wide shut the avian populations seemed keen to call our attention to the ‘salient points’…
These days we do not have to be told twice…
Although, ‘The Dragon’s Breath’ was proving restrictive…
Our request for clarity was graciously accepted…
And why is Carn les Boel so special?
It is a place where Dragon Energies meet the sea…
…It was a day of surprises.
For the matter beneath his feet to commence shaking was a surprise because it had shown no prior predilection so to do and hence had come to be regarded as stable.
Given the ‘most stable’s’ new propensity, somewhat less of a surprise but still, unthinkable, his previously stable walls also began to shake.
The third surprise came hot on the heels of the other two.
As the usually reliable roof-tiles cascaded around his head, he realised that a shock-wave could be seen with the naked eye.
It was the last thing he saw.
… Just then there is a flurry of wings, and squawks and screeches overhead and we turn our attention skyward in time to see an enormous buzzard chasing off two ravens from the precincts of Uffington Castle.
“Oh, Don look!”Cries Wen, “the hawk of the morning has chased the shadows of the night away.”
As if on cue a sky lark flies up from the ‘fairy thorn’ with as an incongruous a cacophony of song as you are ever likely to hear in such a setting…
As the ravens fly into black specks and disappear in the mist another buzzard glides into view and we watch the two mighty birds soar on the up-draught for awhile as if spiralling around some unseen cone of power.
It certainly feels like we have been accepted into something although I am not quite sure what.
I make a mental note to look up the origins of the phrase, ‘…the Heart of Albion’…
The acrid smoke hung heavy in the night air.
They would feast tonight.
But for now she plaited the strands of horsehair from the white mane.
A gift from the gods she would treasure…
A blessing as she shared the meat roasting in the pit on the plateau.
The flames cast a dull glow across the faces of the clans.
They were expectant, eager yet solemn.
They were waiting…
Book One of the Triad of Albion
Stuart France & Sue Vincent
The Initiate is the story of a journey beyond the realms of our accustomed normality.
It is a true story told in a fictional manner. In just such a way did the Bards of old hide in the legends and deeds of folk heroes, those deeper truths for those ‘with eyes to see and ears to hear’.
Don and Wen, two founding members of a new Esoteric School, meet to explore an ancient sacred site, as a prelude to the School’s opening event. The new School is to be based upon a nine-fold system and operate under the aegis of the Horus Hawk.
The trip does not unfold as planned.
Instead, Don and Wen, guided by the birds, find themselves embarking upon a journey that will lead them through a maze of spiritual symbolism, to magical mysteries and the shadowy figure of the Ninth Knight.
As the veils thin and waver, time shifts and the present is peopled with shadowy figures of the past, weaving their tales through a quest for understanding and opening wide the doors of perception…
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It is clear that every ‘great philosophy’ is, no more and no less than, the confession of its author.
To explain how a philosophy’s highest flung claims have been derived, therefore,
we need only ask, ‘what really makes its author tick?’
The desire to know, is not, then, the Mother of Philosophy.
For, look, here one desire, and now there, another, has put knowledge
to use as a means to, shamelessly, further its own ends…
The fundamental desires of Man have always been ‘philosophers’.
And each of them is only too happy to present itself
as the be all and end all of existence!
As master of the others.
All Man’s desires are tyrannical.
And for the philosopher, everything is personal.
His ideas, inevitably, bear testimony to the hierarchy of his secret desires.
Friedrich Nietzsche, philosophical and psychological genius of the nineteenth century, in his book, ‘Beyond Good and Evil’, presaged the breakdown of the Western Aristocratic ruling elite and the irresistible forces that led to two catastrophic world wars. This new poetic interpretation of his master work teases out still relevant lines of thought for the reappraisal of our rapidly disintegrating current world order.
The question of value goes to the heart of who we are, what we are and why we think we are here… A tendency to make certain assumptions about our environment appears to be intrinsic to our nature, yet the meaningful existence we crave can only ever be granted by a ‘higher power’ which we now seem loathe to recognise outside of ourselves… We have always looked to those best qualified to answer our most fervent questions but what if they too have fallen foul of the ‘Auction-House of Things’… And what of the Beyond?
They would look a little like this…
And for those still in need of perspective…
‘TAKE A LOOK AT THESE HANDS’…
If these stone structures are produced by ‘nature’s hand’,
it may be salutory to consider ‘modern man’s hand’ in contrast,
which has, by quarrying, made a ‘bit of a mess’ of what was once
a ‘hill-fort’ possessing as much beauty as that of Carn les Boel or Carl Wark.
It is entirely possible that this ‘fella’ once stood in a ‘circle’.
He now guards a lay-by in an unassuming stretch of Dartmoor,
if such a thing can be said to exist.
Nearby, stands a ‘wayside cross’ which may not be a cross at all.
It may be a ‘hammer’ or a ‘thunder-bolt’.
It may even be a sign post…
We posit such querulous notions
only because the landscape
again appeared to be offering us ‘clues’.
And shortly after this impromptu stop,
the Dragon’s Breath completely whited us out…
We may have to go back again.