Soulscape #midnighthaiku

Turn out or within

The soul’s eternal landscape

Being remembered

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Houska Castle and the Gate to Hell? ~ G. Michael Vasey

Reblogged from The Magical World of G. Michael Vasey:

Most people love a creepy story especially if it comes wrapped in mystery and features castles, strange creatures and strange stories. Houska Castle in the Czech Republic has been quite the creepy story making appearances on all sorts of paranormal podcasts and even an entire episode of Ghost Hunters International.

It is a story that I too utilized in my Czech ghost stories book wrapped in sensationalism, mystery and horror.

Houska Castle is known as the Gateway to Hell. A reputation it has built up over the years around a story that appears to have been repeated and embellished with each telling and retelling.

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MarySmith’sPlace – Cancer diary #07

Mary Smith's avatarMary Smith's Place

Cancer diary #07

Monday, October 19: The beginning of this week was horrible; horrible enough for me to absolutely dread the next round of chemotherapy. Apart from the heartburn (and thank you everyone for your suggestions – it has gone – for now) I had a cough, my stomach hurt, my scalp hurt, my mouth was sore (the poor cat has been quite distraught because she enjoys sharing my usual bedtime snack of baked cheese and onion crisps and I couldn’t bear to eat them), and I had diarrhoea (a change, though not a particularly welcome one, from constipation). On top of those side effects was the dreadful tiredness which dragged me down into a trough of despondency and apathy. And temper. Oh, good grief was I bad tempered!

I couldn’t see any point in going through this, for what might only be an extra year – not least because…

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Circles Beyond Time ~ Inner Circle

snake-adder-barbrook-merin-stone-beeley-derbyshire-ani-115We walked through the cairns, seeing their contours in the rise and fall of the heather, knowing many more were now hidden by the late summer bracken. We were heading for the prosaically named Barbrook II. We know it better by another name, but that is a different story.

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“…We reach the house-place. My eyes see only the encircling wall of stones, a few courses high… standing stones in the walls… even here she did not escape the Seeing… Her eyes join mine and I see the angled roof of thatch… the low opening covered with hide.

A fire burns within and I enter.

By the door a rough cot covered with fur… On the far side an alcove, draped in hides to keep out the draught, piled with furs… a necklace of seashells, incongruous on the moor, lies beside the bed. Beneath it, I know, is the stone cyst where she placed their ashes. The last of the embers glow softly on the hearth.

The remains of a meal discarded.

It is warm, homely.

They were here not so long ago…”

From Doomsday: Dark Sage, Stuart France & Sue Vincent

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It is a curious place, unlike any other stone circle I have ever seen. At first glance it seems no more than a hut circle, the remains of a dry stone wall that might once have supported a conical roof, thatched with reeds. That was my first impression, though I have never found any recorded evidence of this. Closer inspection, though, reveals something extraordinary… a small stone circle of nine stones is built into the internal face of the walls. The site is recorded as a ringcairn with a revetment of dry-stone walls and an earthen embankment, but that is only a technical description.

Continue reading at France & Vincent

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Clews…

*

…Kierkegaard knows only too well what is at stake here.

How the mask can simultaneously both hide and reveal.

Especially for those who know how to look…

He chooses his psuedonyms very carefully, almost, too perfectly!

Johannes-de-Silentio.

‘Silent John’.

*

Continue reading at France and Vincent

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The small dog’s revenge…

I must do the floor, I thought, in some despair,
The small dog is moulting,and shedding her hair.
She’s out in the garden, so if I am quick,
And just whip the vac out, that should do the trick.

She’s already cross because out in the garden
I got out the lawnmower, let my heart harden,
So into the hallway she wandered off sighing,
(This dog is a drama queen) huffing and crying.

As soon as I’d finished she came out exploring
(And showed me my place with some pointed ignoring),
It is quite ironic, her coming on strong,
‘Cause she hates walking on the wet grass when it’s long.

Continue reading at The Small Dog’s Blog

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Presence #midnighthaiku

Our touch on the earth

Insubstantial as shadows

Memory remains

*

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Vashti Quiroz-Vega hosts “Magical Whispers” by Balroop Singh

Reblogged from The Writer Next Door:

Hi, everyone! I’d like you to help me welcome the lovely and talented poet, Balroop Singh . She has released a new poetry book, ‘Magical Whispers.’ I’m excited to read all about it, because I’m a fan of her work. The floor is yours, Balroop.

Thank you for hosting me, Vashti.

Continue reading at The Writer Next Door

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Circles Beyond Time – Cairnfields

circles-time-higger-gardom-arbor-carl-wark-barbrook-rowtor-dawn-009

There are some places that seem to have a timeless quality. As if, when you step within their atmosphere, you step beyond the constraints of place and time; you could be anywhere…and anywhen. This little stretch of moor is such a place. Patches of heather were still in full bloom, stones lie hidden in the bracken and reeds, quite appropriately, mark the path of underground streams.

circles-time-higger-gardom-arbor-carl-wark-barbrook-rowtor-dawn-002

We had gathered for lunch on Baslow, just a few minutes’ drive away and taken a little time out to settle after the morning at Gardom’s. The afternoon would be spent amongst the cairns and circles of Barbrook. It is a strange place. At first glance… and if you stick to the wide track across the moor… there seems to be little to see. Yet this small area is rich in archaeology. Like most of the Derbyshire sites, the stones are small and little shows above the summer vegetation, unless you know where to look. But almost as soon as you step onto the moor, you begin to feel it.

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We left the main track immediately; that had been put in place for modern access. We headed west, following a path we had found when the vegetation was lower by following the stones into the moor. Going that way also means that you complete the circle widdershins, rather than deosil… anti-clockwise, against the movement of the sun, rather than clockwise. To those of us who have studied and worked in the Western Mysteries or magical traditions, this really did ‘go against the grain’ at first, but we have found that at many of the older sites, this seems to be the natural way to move around them. As Helen said when this subject had been raised, perhaps the coming of Christianity and the subsequent demonisation of earlier pagan practices accounts for why moving widdershins has been associated with darker paths and bad luck. Another factor may be that the majority of the ancient sites we visit were built either for ritual or as part of the realm of the dead. Both would have been seen as gateways to the Otherworld that runs ‘at a tangent’ to our own… and perhaps that is why they require the opposite approach from sites pertaining to the lands of the living. Oddly enough, we still walk instinctively clockwise when we visit a church. It as if the site itself dictates the ritual of movement, if you listen.

Continue reading at France & Vincent

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Field of Sheaves: Wood-Stone…

*

…He leads her away almost carrying her.

They disappear into the blackness beyond the ring of flames.

They choke on the oily smoke, blind with tears.

*

Within the flames

A voice sings, farewell, to the stars…

*

The fires glow against the horizon behind them.

Far…far…away.

She cannot see them with her eyes but she feels them still.

She will always feel them.

Red… Like the Rowan.

Red… Like blood.

*

Continue reading at France and Vincent

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