*** It was a luminous dawn, the world blanketed in a thick cocoon of frost against the darkness and silence of a newborn morning. The sun rose, pale and gold,
Author: Sue Vincent
Sue Vincent was a Yorkshire born writer, esoteric teacher and a Director of The Silent Eye. She was immersed in the Mysteries all her life. Sue maintained a popular blog and is co-author of The Mystical Hexagram with Dr G.M.Vasey. Sue lived in Buckinghamshire, having been stranded there due to an accident with a blindfold, a pin and a map. She had a lasting love-affair with the landscape of Albion, the hidden country of the heart. Sue passed into spirit at the end of March 2021.
An Unexpected Encounter…An Unexpected Encounter…
We took to the back roads again, nodding to Drake’s statue as we passed through Tavistock once more, climbing up towards Dartmoor. On our way south, the mists had closed
Heart of stone…Heart of stone…
It didn’t look right, even from a distance. There was a forlorn, forgotten feel to the place, even though it is readily accessible and, to judge by the wearing of
Why is there such grief?…Why is there such grief?…
*** Preparing the temple for the final ritual drama of the weekend is always bittersweet. It is the last stage of a journey that has been years in the making.
The Calling…The Calling…
*** Because we had risen so early and wasted no time getting back on the road, we had several hours left before the ferry was to sail from Tarbert. We
Celebrating the LightCelebrating the Light
“May you be blessed With the spirit of the season, which is peace, The gladness of the season, which is hope, And the heart of the season, which is love.”
Ship of Fools…Ship of Fools…
* “That scroll in your hand, pray tell, what is it,” asked the gentleman standing beside me? We had just completed the final ritual of Jewel in the Claw, a
Sartorial dreamsSartorial dreams
I want to be an emo-goth, or something of that ilk And dress in flowing fripperies of velvet, lace and silk. Or dark Victoriana of the Steampunk kind of thing,
Unexpected gemsUnexpected gems
And day four to finish – *** The final day of my friend’s visit dawned grey and cold. In spite of another late night we were up about dawn and
The ancient land…The ancient land…
May as well do day two, then – *** An evening spent over good food and wine and deep conversation is not conducive to early mornings. Nevertheless, in spite of
Continuity…Continuity…
… And day one – *** I collected my friend from the station about 25 miles from my home, and we took a slight detour via a tiny, ancient village.
Flying kites…Flying kites…
The original post from 22nd March, 2013 in which Sue describes day three of our adventures in what was to become the story of, The Initiate… I woke yesterday to
Aligned with the Raven…Aligned with the Raven…
On the Sunday, after the workshop was over and we had packed the cars, a small group of us headed off on what had the feel of a pilgrimage. The
From serpent to salamanderFrom serpent to salamander
From the serpent stones of Arbor Low, we headed to the village of Youlgreave in search of tea and salamanders. There is a pub that provides the former and a
Snow and serpent stonesSnow and serpent stones
The temperature had dropped by lunchtime. The sun was playing hide and seek and the clouds, already ominous, were becoming heavier as we headed out towards the great stone circle
A day of gifts…A day of gifts…
Tuesday morning, we picked Nick up and went to meet the girls. We took the long way round… just to share the morning and the moors. It was reasonable weather,
Making things happenMaking things happen
We left the girls in Bakewell, arranging to meet the next day. Stuart and I had to reunite Nick with his electric wheelchair so that he could get himself to
A Monday in BakewellA Monday in Bakewell
The Monday after the workshop, we headed for Bakewell. Nick was happily ensconced in a hotel in the centre of the Derbyshire town while Alethea and Deb were tucked away
Fast FoodFast Food
* I see you, waiting on the corner of everywhere For opportunity to jump into your pocket Or come to your call like a servant To the raising of your
The dispossessedThe dispossessed
* Where do they go, the faces of youth? The smiles and laughter, The sparkling eyes And witty conversation? They are lost in the silence Of forgotten solitude; Of endless
Six second memorySix second memory
“You’re in goldfish mode again, aren’t you?” My brain-injured son looks smug. I raise my eyes to the heavens. He’s right, I have completely forgotten half the things he just
Deep watersDeep waters
The fish are watching me watching them. Every so often, one or another will come to the corner of the aquarium and look out into the world around my desk
Caged butterliesCaged butterlies
Berthe Morisot 1875 I love antique fans… there is something about them that has always fascinated me. I remember vividly standing in tears at Harewood House at an exhibition many
Game birds?Game birds?
They’ve been tormenting me for weeks. Every morning as I drive to work, the buzzards line up on fence and hedgerow along a three mile stretch of the A41. It
Coming of ageComing of age
I have had my fair share of love letters in my time. Possibly more than my fair share, not that I would complain. There is something timeless and special about