The small dog is home from her travels and both she and I were most touched by ‘her’ emails and the messages left by those who had worried that her departure was of a more permanent nature. She had bounded off a day early this time, without so much as a backward glance, for the three mile walk to her friends’ home for the weekend. She returned after yet another three mile walk on the way home… immediately found her ball and began the demands to play, eat and not have her ears done, thank you very much.
Within an hour, she was snuggled in her bed and snoring fit to burst. By this time, the nice, clean floor was spattered with mud, coated in hair and covered in tennis balls. The birds had been evicted from the lawn and the hole through the gale-damaged fence discovered and essayed. It is good to have her home, though she appears to have spent a wonderful weekend with her pals.
I also had a good weekend… although the journey left a lot to be desired. I love driving. I love the feel of the open road, the cocoon of solitude the car wraps around me, the feeling of miles flying by…. This weekend, however, the journey was interesting, in the sense of the old Chinese curse about living ‘in interesting times’…
The shiny ‘new’ car, which had vaguely suggested it might have a bit of a cough, decided that it would wait until the point of no return had been passed to scare the living daylights out of me by screaming. Once over the initial shock, and unable to replicate the noise or locate its source, I found myself with a vehicle that would make a sloth look like a Roadrunner, every time I showed it even the smallest incline.
Let’s just say that, for a confident driver, to be overtaken by a horse-box is bad enough. To have the horse then laugh at you over the tailgate is adding insult to injury. But then again, we were crawling up the hill with all the alacrity of a narcoleptic snail.
Having continued its unearthly moaning every time a reluctant foot attempted to use the accelerator to gather momentum for the next hill, the car must go and introduce itself to a mechanic, while I gnaw my fingernails to the knuckle and/or fortify myself with tranquilisers, awaiting the verdict and the bill.
But, if the car refused to gather momentum, the workshop is gathering it apace. With only six weeks to go, we are again rewriting prior to sending the file for printing. The more we work with the text, the more jewels we uncover within it, linking the ancient Epic to modern thought and the modern world.
On a more practical note, cupboards are spilling props and fabrics when opened, piles of strange objects are forming in odd corners, and it seems that everything is touched with gold paint. This is the time when the worry and the excitement sets in, as we need to ‘get it right’, and the clock is ticking…
So, if it goes a little quiet around here, I am either weeping over garage bills, deep in ancient Sumer… or walking the dog to calm my nerves…
The Silent Eye’s Spring workshop for 2019
The glories above were unamed.
The word for that world beneath, unuttered.
Source and time, unfettered, merged…
From the mingling waves-of-water came mud and slime.
Enshar and Kishar, twin halves of the globe, shone out of them.
THE EPIC OF GILGAMESH
The Oldest written story known to man…
What spiritual treasures lie hidden in this, five thousand-year old, Epic?
What can this ancient civilisation teach us about the questions of existence?
Join us on the quest of a life-time, this April, to find out…
‘Gilgamesh is among the greatest things that can ever happen to a person.’
– Rainer Maria Rilke.
Fully catered weekend package, including room, meals and workshop: £235 – £260
Click here to download the Booking Form