Through the window

There were hugs. Lots of them, as people began to arrive in the ‘Land of the Exiles’ for the Silent Eye weekend workshop. There was a moment when I had armfuls of people it seemed… several at once… then singly… then together. It is good to greet old friends and the work we do builds a sympathetic bond… A few are students of the School, but most had simply come from across the world to join us for the weekend… the workshops are open to all, a place and time to share views, thoughts, insight and ideas. It was wonderful to greet old friends from SOL (the Servants of the Light) with whom we three had shared a path through the Western Mystery Tradition, but this was not the only tradition by any manner of means… Christian and Shaman, energy-worker and Daoist, Wiccan and Qabalist… to name but a few… come together to explore the concepts raised in the shape of a rather odd ritual drama.

It’s not all serious stuff…

Except, of course, by definition drama can be as apparently odd as it likes.. it doesn’t have to be ‘real’ in terms of historical fact. It is a story… a symbolic journey… sometimes an analogy, sometimes an illustration of another level of understanding. The concept worked and allowed us to meld the ancient and the futuristic to create a frame for the spiritual journey we were about to share. These things affect each participant differently but they are always an intense and emotional experience.

basic layout

By four o’clock Friday my little room at the Nightingale Centre was strewn with robes and costumes. The Temple space had been constructed, the candles placed. A backdrop had begun to take shape… a spontaneous using of things to hand to create the physical illusion of sacred space, in the same way that the costumes create an open doorway into imagination. We keep it simple. Outside the pages of occult fiction these things of themselves hold no meaning. In a hallowed space where people work together from the heart and with intent, they take on a different feel, touching the emotions and circumventing the need for intellectualised explanations. Like a child with a picture book, these things simply speak to the imagination and the heart. Yet there is more to it. Photographs cannot, do not, capture sacred intent, the hushed atmosphere, the reverence and respect for the Life behind life.

No-not in costume…

The first evening is fairly gentle, setting the scene and allowing everyone to find their feet. There was a welcome, an explanation of what we were going to share… time to settle in and meet each other, as old friends or new. The Temple was consecrated with Light, then the first drama began as white robed sleepers were woken on the deck of a space ship. The captain was missing and in his place a robot… a cyborg who worked with logic alone and who had chosen to explore the difference between his own mechanical life and that of humanity. The flashing green diodes reinforced the gap between the two modes of being… the laser that controlled and coerced was a direct contrast to the gentle illumination of the central flame. Setaxa chose his victim… holding her hostage against our compliance as he imposed his will and cast the crew as ancient gods, to play out their story that he might understand his own….

Real beer

After which, it seemed a little light refreshment was in order and most of us repaired to the Queen Anne next door where I managed to get a few of what may be the photos of the weekend… Outside the moon approached the full and glancing up we saw a very odd phenomenon… a clear ring around the bright face… like a giant eye in the heavens, ever widening. I hope someone got a better shot of it than I did… but we took it as a hopeful sign that the coming day would hold something special. We were right…

Ring around the moon…