Jonathan ~ Jen Goldie #writephoto

She carefully let her fingers slip through the precious pages of her grandmother’s journal. Here it is! June 8th 1918.

My dearest diary,

Jonathan was taken from me today. My only true love. I think I shall fall into a million pieces without him. My very existence is in question. I’m not sure I want to go on living. I need his arms around me. To console me. To hold me. To keep me sane.

Her grandmother had told her the story of their first meeting, but reading this, was distressing. She’d said, they’d fallen madly in love, during a perilous rock climb and how Johnathan had conquered both her, and the mountain. At the peak of the day, at the peak of the challenge, they’d come together so quickly, yet it felt like a lifetime. But were they really meant for each other?

Continue reading at Jen Goldie

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Riddles of the Night: Unconventional methods…

Continuing the story of a Silent Eye workshop in Derbyshire, in December 2017. Parts One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight and Nine can be found by clicking the highlighted links.

A labyrinthine path leads to a summit that ends abruptly in a sheer and unforgiving cliff. From this side, the settlement on Cratcliffe Tor would have been impregnable. Yet, there seems little space or evidence for a group of homes in this place. There are other sites nearby where ancient settlements have been found and, although Cratcliffe, Robin Hood’s Stride and the stone circle below them may have been at the heart of a community, we do not think it was here that they lived. They were important for another reason. The rocks, the confusing pathway and uneven landscape seem rather to lend themselves to a minimal population and reminds me of other sites that we suspect may have been ritual landscapes, places where the births and deaths of a clan would have been marked. Certainly the summit, with its great beds of stone, would have been a perfect place for air burial.

One stone bed in particular seems designed for this purpose. A low, pillowed couch that slopes down to a trough… that got me into trouble when I suggested it could have been ‘for the juices’. For some reason, the phrase did not go down well with my companions.

This is not pure speculation. We know that air burial was an efficient way to clean the bones of the dead and it would seem that our forefathers held a belief that the process of dying was not complete until the bones were clean. We know, from archaeological evidence, that many different methods were used to hasten this process. Perhaps the dead could not become ancestors, guarding and promoting the wellbeing of the clan in the otherworld, until their bones were properly prepared.

The presence of a stone circle and other ritual sites close by would suggest that this was a place where the human journey, from birth into death, and from death into the otherworld was ritually marked. One of our companions felt strongly that a tranquil glade had been a place where the healers worked. At another spot, where a stark cut in the high cliffs drops to the valley below, has a ‘feel’ of a place of judgment, where one guilty of the most heinous crimes against his people would be cast down the sheer drop to his death. Dowsing seemed to confirm this.

Much of what we suspect about the way in which these sites were used in prehistoric times cannot be substantiated by any means that the scientific mind would accept, but in many ways, this does not matter. It is alternative archaeology. When the land whispers stories to the inner ear, there is no way of knowing whether what we hear is fact or fiction. What we do know is that such promptings make sense of the landscape, bring it to life for us, and allow us to see it with a new understanding, possibly one that brings us closer to the vision of our most distant ancestors.

On the plain below, forming a triangle with the Tor and the Stride, is a stone circle known as Nine Stones Close. Only four of these stones now remain… ‘squaring the circle’… though at least one other remains close by, reused in a stone wall. The circle used to be called the Grey Ladies and legends told of maidens who danced on the sabbath and were turned to stone for their impiety. I wonder if the story originated with the hermit of the crag, for certainly it is a Christian gloss on the story of the stones.

Another story tells of a farmhand who, resting from his labours against one of the stones, found a pipe. Lighting the pipe, he watched as the stones became transparent and through their surface he could see into the fairy realms. This tale may have its origins in an older memory, perhaps, of a time when sacred herbs were used to enhance vision and allow the priesthood of the stones a glimpse into the otherworld.

The Bronze Age circle would have been over forty feet in diameter, with the stones standing over seven feet tall. It is from the centre of this circle that the major southern moon can be observed between the pinnacles of the Stride. The stones are the tallest standing stones of any circle in Derbyshire… but our next visit would take us to a place where these stones would be dwarfed. As the light faded, we left the fields and headed for the warmth of an old inn to await the coming of darkness…

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You Rock ~ Daisybala #writephoto

Stones and boulders aren’t hindrances

They’re awesomeness solidified

Otherwise why would they say

You rock!!

Continue reading at freshdaisiesdotme

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Primacy of Things: War-Dead…

*

… Before I have time to feel pleased with myself

the air stewardess returns, “Mister Em will see you now,” she smiles.

Had she been waiting until I found the camera?

Would things have been different if it had taken longer?

*

We engage in pleasantries as we walk the long

corridors of Mister Em’s power but I do not afford them my full attention,

for my mind is still whirring from that discovery in the waiting room.

What can it mean?

*

Continue reading at France & Vincent

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Otherworldly ~ Kim Blades #writephoto

My response to Sue Vincents photo prompt this week. It is an extract from the fantasy story I am working on. Earlier posts – Memory and Crown – are from the same story.

The border between the Fertilands and Doomlands was marked by a high wall of carefully balanced boulders. Over the decades, some boulders had become dislodged, leaving gaping holes through which the good folk of the Fertilands, caught glimpses of the mist strewn Doomlands. Lands where evil bred evil.

Scorabs and Stupors bred in the dark, filthy swamp areas, while the featureless deserts were patrolled by Trolls and Devels. Even some of the less intelligent humans, driven by greed and ignorance of wrong, sought refuge in the Doomlands. Here they joined the marauding Misfits in their ventures into the Fertilands, to plunder the homes, businesses and mines of the good folk.

Continue reading at Kim Blades

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Listen…

*
Who
Listens
In silence
Who will answer
Whispers on the wind
Ripples on still water
Encircling a fallen tear
Offering wishes and daydreams
Carried as butterflies on the breeze
Questions like daisies scattered on the grass
The long-forgotten voices of the trees
Echo through a verdant temple grove
Sibilant sighing of the leaves
Answering the secret heart
Open to the earth’s song
Soul to soul in peace
Harmonious
Answering
A heart’s
Call
*

For Colleen’s poetry challenge. Image, credit unknown, chosen by Jude of Tales Told Different

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After Hibernation ~ Susan Zutautas #writephoto

Waking up after a long winter’s nap

I stretch, open my eyes and hear something snap

Looking around inside my cave

My stomach growls …

Berries I do crave

I peer outside beyond the rocks

Baby bear is talking to a hawk

Continue reading at Susan’s Place

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Elements #midnighthaiku

Elements of earth

Life and light grow hand in hand

Indivisible

*

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Jane Sturgeon interviews and reviews: Sally Cronin and Life’s Rich Tapestry Woven in Words

Reblogged from Jane Sturgeon:

Sally’s Smorgasbord Blog Magazine is a lovingly generous mix of her writing, the writings and books of her fellow authors, collaborations, poetry, book reviews, laughter and a series of articles, such as the current one on Relationships with Debby Gies.

She is a prolific writer and her books are a delight and full of life experience, warmth and imagination; What’s in a Name (Vol. 2), Life’s Rich Tapestry; Woven in Words, Just an Odd Job Girl, Media Training, What’s in a Name, Tales from the Irish Garden, Cuentos del Jardin, Size Matters, Tales from the Garden, Just Food for Health, Flights of Fancy, Turning Back the Clock, Sam; A Shaggy Dog Story and Forget the Viagra, Pass me a Carrot.

Sally has a huge heart and her intuition hears and feels the world and people in a unique way. She has the gift of sharing her perspectives and insights through writing and there are many blessings in being connected to Sally.  Her indefatigable support for others is much appreciated, as many can attest too.

Continue reading at Jane Sturgeon Creative

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An otherworldly encounter ~ Suzanne #writephoto

In her dreams she went through a portal. It was that kind of night. Like many others isolated at home because of Covid-19 she frequently experienced weird dreams. That particular night, for what seemed like hours, she dreamed she was a kind of human slug crawling around in a dense and dark primeval soup. It hadn’t been so much scary as just plain odd.

Eventually she woken up from that muck, stumbled to the bathrooom and then back to bed. Snuggling down under the covers she hoped fervently she would escape all psychic soup for the rest of the night.

Continue reading at Mapping Uncertainty

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