Tag Archives: photography

Fairy Thorn…

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… 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…

***

THE INITIATE

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…

Now available via Amazon worldwide.

Paperback UK     Kindle UK    Paperback Amazon.com    Kindle Amazon.com

 

Callings…

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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.

*

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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.

Something fishy in Preseli…

‘Pentre-Ifan’

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‘I know we’re not in England but it doesn’t even feel like we’re in Britain!”

We were in Nevern churchyard in Pembrokeshire, Wales, on one of the Silent Eye’s Workshops…

And a familiar feeling was creeping over us…

The church and the ‘Stone Cross’ too seemed vaguely reminiscent of ‘something’ and we began to entertain the notion that we might have inadvertantly stumbled upon one of the treasures we had recently come across in our reading.

We were not destined to get to the mound at the back of the church, unfortunately, but we were near enough.

The garden walls of the houses which huddled around the local church were packed with quartz crystal, huge chunks of the stuff in some cases…

*

‘I made a mental note to look at the relationship between Pentre Ifan, Nevern church and Carningli Peak… The three locations appeared to form an equilateral triangle. .. I revisited each site and retook their co-ordinates. The triangle is astonishingly accurate and places the three sites in a geometrical relationship that cannot be accidental. Students of the Traditional Arts will know that the equilateral triangle is the basis for a vesica pisces. Within the intersecting circles of the vesica are two equilateral triangles arranged back to back in a diamond shape… Is there a second triangle south of the ‘Nevern Triangle’? It did not take long to confirm that there is a standing stone that completes the second equilateral triangle. Waun Mawn is a six feet high single stone… whose location matches perfectly the requirements for the apex of a second triangle. These two triangles, together, form the basis of a vesica pisces.’

Robin Heath – Bluestone Magic

 

Given III…

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“The problem with ‘religious art’ is that whenever you start to enthuse about it people put you down as ‘God Squad’.”

“And then impose their own conception of ‘God’ on you.”

“Which is usually a hideously naive one.”

“I’d be happier with ‘Spirit Squad’.”

“‘The spirit moves where it listeth’.”

“And cannot be tied down by any religious organisation.”

“Saint Michael isn’t a particularly Christain saint, he has his origin in Hebraic magic as an archangel.”

“The notion of sanctifiying an already holy entity is a curious one. Sanctification would normally only be appropriate for a human being.”

“It’s what might be termed an unholy error of hubris, perhaps, and has for it’s champion the ‘Vox populi’.”

“Which in itself is no bad thing.”

“It is not, though, the only mistake people make. They continually objectify when they should subjectify.”

“And they continually subjectify when they should objectify.”

“The depiction of Saint Michael subduing a dragon does not actually refer to any future or past time ‘out there’, but to an inner state which can be achieved by any and all. When it is achieved the ‘out there’ becomes irreversibly changed, for the better.”

“Which might even be described as something of a revelation.”

*

 

 

 

 

The Celebration of Mister Fox…

HM15 318

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I never knew Holmfirth in the days of mill workers and clogs.

I really got to know her in the Post Industrial gloom,

Of swish Cafe Bars,

And cosy restaurants,

All day drinking parties frequented by the nouveau riche…

Who leap from still moving taxis,

Done up to the nines,  dressed to kill,

While up on the hill,

Something feral is stirring…

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HM15 338

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Something ancient and unsought…

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So, as the lazy cars slow crawl,

Through tight-cobbled streets,

Held up by roaming party-goers,

Soft parading their unsteady path from the park…

And boozers sing boldly in the late afternoon heat

With rabid mouths, foaming,

Never quite finding the beat…

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HM15 383

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A beast is preparing,

to be unleashed,

In the dark…

Free Day II…

*

…Left alone in my room for long enough I thought I might discover how they did it, how they worked it.

I thought I was being clever.

Initially, I had suspected the lights, either the lights or the heating, or perhaps both or maybe they sprayed something on the tiles?
But my room was just a room, cold and empty, ordinary, harmless.

The only thing that felt even remotely uncomfortable about it were my memories; the only ghosts in there were created by myself yet those feelings were real enough, too real…

They were more convincing than the six, blue, square edged pillars which ran down either side of the centre of my room, they were more convincing, than the old, piped central heating, and they were more convincing too than the fluorescent light fittings which droned overhead for that was how they worked it… they worked from inside your mind.

They turned the screws and tightened the bolts in there, and everything they did or said, or did not say, and did not do was designed to get in there and there was no way to prove it which suited them because they always needed proof, facts, solid objects, evidence…

And in that room, at that moment then, totally empty and bare and ordinary, there were only ghosts, phantoms which could be driven away, dispersed simply by looking at them and saying their name.

“Samuel!”

“SSS-AAA-M-UUE-EL”

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