Choosing the future

A few months ago, with what now appears to be an uncanny and uncomfortable prescience, we began a workshop in the Derbyshire village of Eyam. The village is one of those pretty places of old stone and cottage gardens… but it is best known for its response to the outbreak of bubonic plague in 1665.

The plague arrived in the village from London in a bale of flea-infested cloth and swiftly infected the tailor who had ordered it and his assistant, killing them both. This was at the time of the Great Plague of London… the last time bubonic plague reached epidemic proportions in England and during what is now known as the Second Pandemic. The pandemic had begun in China in 1331, with devastating global effects in the days before modern medicine, killing hundreds of millions over the centuries of its periodic resurgences. The Great Plague of London killed at least a hundred thousand people in the city during the eighteen months between its onset in 1665 to its end around the time of the Great Fire of London in 1666.

The little village of Eyam, knowing the devastation that the disease would wreak should it spread throughout the north, chose to place itself in strict quarantine, cutting itself off from neighbouring villages completely and holding their socially distanced prayers in a field until the disease had run its course, killing a tragic proportion of the villagers.

Their sacrifice… a true sacrifice that was chosen, not imposed… saved uncountable lives at the cost of their own. Mothers buried their children, whole families were wiped out and plaques around the village today commemorate both their lives and their deaths.

We had called the workshop weekend ‘Rites of Passage: Seeing beyond Fear’ and our aim was to show that fear can be both destructive and positive… and can, when faced, lead us to places and experiences of which we may not have thought ourselves capable. The village of Eyam was a perfect place to start.

Today, the village derives much of its income from tourism based upon its role and sacrifice during that dark time. The tragedy has not been allowed to sink into the memory of the land, but is kept raw and alive in all its shocking detail. It is an unsettling place, especially with its chocolate-box appearance contrasting against its history. Almost all of our companions on that weekend felt the deep and long-held pain and darkness that hangs over the village like a sticky pall.

Helen Jones was with us and shared an account of the weekend on her blog. Of her experience at Eyam she wrote:

“As we neared the old church I was finding it difficult to breathe, a weight on my chest. Another member of the group felt the same way – there seemed to be no explanation for it. I was struggling against surging emotion, like being at the centre of a storm, despite the bright sunshine.”

Continue reading at The Silent Eye

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Rocky Terrain ~ Balroop Singh #writephoto

Rocks don’t inspire me
But hostile terrain beckons
I’ve no choice
I can’t give up my chase
If the cure lies beyond.

Continue reading at  Emotional Shadows

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Reflect #midnighthaiku

Multifaceted

Earthly tears may hold a key

Beyond reflection

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Q & A with D.G. Kaye with Guest Author Richard Dee

Welcome to this edition of Q & A with D.G. Kaye. Today I’m featuring Sci-Fi and Steampunk author Richard Dockett, who writes under the pen name Richard Dee. Today Richard is going to treat us to some insights on his writing and introduce to his latest book The Sensaurum and the Lexis.

Richard Dee

About Richard:

Richard Dee is from Brixham in Devon. Leaving school at 16 he briefly worked in a
supermarket, then he went to sea and travelled the world in the Merchant Navy, qualifying as a Master Mariner in 1986.

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Otherworldly ~ Lee Ann #writephoto

I spied in my dreams
another world through the rocks.
A beautiful scene.

I seek to escape
via the tiny portal.
I find I cannot.

Continue reading at The Unfocused Life

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Riddles of the Night: The Temple of Hewn Stone

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

Just behind the Druid Inn and across the narrow lane from Thomas Eyre’s church of St Michael, is the strange landscape of Rowtor Rocks. We have visited the place on many occasions, but it needed only one visit to realise that there was more going on here than meets the eye. That the natural, rocky outcrop was a sacred place to our ancestors, five thousand years and more ago, is evidenced by the number of prehistoric rock carvings that have survived. That it was used as a hidden temple by our far more recent ancestors is mere speculation… until you start looking at the evidence.

The Rocks were substantially meddled with by Reverend Thomas Eyre in the 1700s. Odd flights of steps were put in, shelves and seats carved, fonts cut into rocks and a Broken Column erected at the highest point. There are natural caves amid the tumble of boulders and new ones were cut. We do not know if these were completely new, or whether they enlarged natural features.

What was the good vicar up to? You could simply accept the whole thing as a rather elaborate garden feature and think no more about it. There are tales that Eyre sat on the carved seats to write his sermons. There are also reports that he entertained guests on the rocks… but in what manner, no report survives. Tales of hauntings would certainly keep the idly curious away once darkness fell and the pale glow of candles from dark caverns would reinforce the fear.

One could make a case for his masons having created a three-dimensional ‘Stations of the Cross’…and certainly, there are sockets that could have held crosses, either side of the Broken Column on the summit. Had the Bishop questioned the works, that would have been a perfectly good explanation. You could even argue that he was Christianising an erstwhile pagan site. The Broken Column is often used as a grave marker to symbolise a life cut short. In Christian symbolism, it represents the Christ. It does have other meanings though, and particularly within the Masonic tradition.

While a number of Papal edicts have threatened excommunication to Catholics who become Freemasons, the Anglican Church has a more lenient history. Many churchmen have been Freemasons and many others have been members of satellite associations, not officially Masons, but Masonic in origin. Like the landscape of Rowtor itself, it is all rather ambivalent.

One of our early impressions was that it reminded us of the landscape created by Sir Francis Dashwood and the notorious Hellfire Club at around the same time. We were gratified to find that there was at least a tenuous a connection, via John Wilkes, a journalist, politician, member of the Oddfellows and one of the early members of the Hellfire Club. But perhaps it was no more than a folly… though anything to do with The Fool may also point to initiation and the result certainly appears to be an initiatory landscape. We resolved to put it to the test…

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Otherworldly ~ Lisa Coleman #writephoto

Flying in seemed easy
Headwinds caught the ship
Flat rocks to land upon
The controls, oops, I slipped.

Spiralling fast towards the river
Life flashed before my eyes

Continue reading at  Open Your Eyes Too

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Night’s Otherworldly Kingdom ~ Goff James #writephoto

Reblogged from Goff James at Art, Photography and Poetry

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It was bound to happen eventually… The Small Dog becomes a guinea pig

“You can have your very own blog, girlie,” she says. “That’ll be good.” Well, yeah… as long as I get my own ‘puter and don’t have to wait for her to get off the thing…

You’ve got to understand the set-up here. Me, I’m just a four-legs. I live with my two-legs and the fish… who don’t have any. There are pigeons and other feathered fiends in the garden, a cat in the flat upstairs and cows over the back fence. It keeps me busy looking after her and keeping her safe from them all. And that’s without defending her from the postman.

She, being a two-legs with those weird paws and fingery things, gets a ‘puter all to herself. I, being a four-legs, have to wait till she’s not using it before I can write. Is this fair, I ask you?

But two-legses have some weird ideas…

Continue reading at The Small Dog’s Blog

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The Wall ~ Pamela #writephoto

“Jimmy come here! Look! It’s just like I said! You can see them!”

The excited young boy gestured wildly to his older brother. The two were out on an early-morning trek to explore The Wall. Jason had never known life before it had been erected but Jimmy had. It was a different world back then.

“Jimmy look! Look through this hole! Is that them?” Eyes wide with wonder and excitement he could only look through the small void in The Wall and ask his brother.

The boy to whom all the questions were directed was a little less excited.

“I told you we shouldn’t be here. We could get in trouble.”

Continue reading at Butterfly Sand

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