# The Rotating Blade of Meaning (5)

So far, we have examined how Arthur M. Young, inventor of the Bell helicopter, engineer and astrologer/philosopher, used his skills and insight into how our minds determine meaning. Within this, he began to discover that there was a graphical symmetry to this process; a set of shapes that explained many of the ancient symbols that mankind has come to view as sacred. These will shortly be unveiled in more detail, but, first, we need to complete our tour of the foundations of how he approached it, for the symmetry emerges from those foundations and how we represent them.

In the last post, we looked at how Isaac Newton investigated the motion of things that move, discovering that – for example in the motion of a cannon ball – there were different aspects, faces, of that motion; and that although they were often hidden, they were tightly related to each other. Arthur Young used the equations that Newton produced for this. Unfortunately, this led us into numbers, squared numbers and, and horrors, cubed numbers! Several brave readers made it to the end of last week’s post, but not without difficulty. So, for this week, I decided to take a small detour to illustrate how these types of numbers can be see as pictures instead of fear-inducing maths.

As a child, I had a terror of maths, assisted by an ex military ‘Desert Rat’ of a headmaster who believed that beating boys and throwing board-dusters at girls would help their education. That was the 1960s, not Victorian England; and the dubious joys of a Church of England country primary school. Times have changed, but the horror of seeing something squared or cubed has not. So, by way a small gift, let me share with you one of the most beautiful insights I ever learned – though, sadly, beyond my school days.

It was the ancient Greeks who developed the idea of squares and cubes and the numbers that represented them. They ‘saw’ numbers as representing both qualities and quantities including what they thought of as other things, like distance from a point of origin.

In the diagram above, a unit of distance, marked ‘1’, (inches, metres, feet, etc) is added to others, in the form: 1+1+1=3. Nothing too complicated about that; it’s simply addition, the sort of thing we use every day.

Now, imagine that these numbers are a child’s counting blocks, as above. We arrange them in a line to produce the three, again. But this time, we begin another line of them with the last block of the first line. In doing this, we have changed the nature of what lies before us – what we are creating. As an example we might say we have begun to make a picture frame to contain our favourite photograph. In the process (and intuitively to our minds) we have turned a ‘perfect’ corner to begin the second row of blocks. This perfect corner is what we all know as a ‘right angle’, so named because of its special – and ancient – properties of ‘rightness’.

We can fill in our photograph frame with other blocks. Because of the right angle – which we know to be ninety degrees – the block will all fit together to form something dramatically new. What started off as line has now become an area…. Our simple maths formula was just 1+1+1=3. But now, we have an area whose properties can be derived from the counting blocks that make each side. We have a choice: we can simply count all the ‘one’ blocks, or we can ask our Greek teachers if there is a quicker way. They will tell us that we can multiple or ‘times’ the length of one side by another. This would result in 3 x 3 = 9. Again that’s not too frightening. Our picture frame could have been a 3 x 4 rectangle, which would have given us an area of 3 x 4 = 12.

The first one above (3 x 3) has a special symmetry in that each side is the same length.  Because of this identical symmetry, our line of three has become not just an area of nine but a SQUARE. This is the origin of square numbers: they are the same number multiplied by itself. And they produce a very magical figure – the square. To the ancient Greeks, this was very special. They envisaged that the square reflected a manifestation of divinity. From an origin – which had no quantity, but it had a location – it led to a line, which did have a dimension, then to another line at the ‘right’ angle to produce a square.

You can’t square a number to get a rectangle; you can only get a square. Anything ‘squared’ therefore is based upon the union of two identical things, but arranged in a certain way, so that they have a relationship to each other. In this case that relationship is ‘times’ or multiplication. We shall see later in this series of blogs how Arthur M. Young expanded these relationships to provide us with a full diagram of human meaning – and reconciled much of the diverse ancient wisdom in the process.

Back to our squares and rectangles. A rectangle is useful, of course – most pictures are rectangles – but a square is ‘perfect’ and quite capable of being used as a sacred symbol, as, for example. Masonic teaching shows. Within the Masonic teachings (I am not a Mason, but have great respect for what masonry sets out to do) someone of right character is described as ‘being on the square’.

Let’s  summarise to far:

We have an invisible point of origin (where we begin our construction or drawing);

As soon as we start to draw our line, we have a point, which has no length, but exists;

When we have an extension to that point in a certain direction, we have a line: in this case of length three units – but this could be any number.

When our length (or extension) is done, we turn our construction through 90 degrees – a right angle – and begin another line (effectively from another origin, but at a different point and connected with the first).

We could have continued this process, just doing the edge of our picture frame, and we would have arrived back at our start point – having created only the edge of our square. But along the way, we learned that to ‘square’ the length gave us the area contained by the whole figure: a surface or ‘plane’ of a higher order.

Can we continue this, or is the process finished with the area of our picture frame? We learned that the mystical key to the creation of a higher order was the Right Angle – 90 degrees. This whole process has been about the generation of space in which life (and motion) can happen. Can we take our figure and extend it through another 90 degrees, without repeating what we have done? And, if we get there, what will it teach us about a number cubed?

The picture below contains the answer. Enough for one post, I think. We will elaborate on this next Thurday…

To be continued…

{Note to the reader: These posts are not about maths or physics; they are about a unique perspective on universal meaning created by Arthur M. Young. If you can grasp the concepts in this blog, your understanding of what follows will be deeper.}

Previous posts in this series:

Stephen Tanham is a director of the Silent Eye School of Consciousness, a not-for-profit organisation that helps people find a personal path to a deeper place within their internal and external lives.

The Silent Eye provides home-based, practical courses which are low-cost and personally supervised. The course materials and corresponding supervision are provided month by month without further commitment.

Steve’s personal blog, Sun in Gemini, is at stevetanham.wordpress.com.

You’ll find friends, poetry, literature and photography there…and some great guest posts on related topics.

# The Rotating Blade of Meaning (4)

Everything is in motion… Arthur M. Young and Isaac Newton both knew that, but in different ages and different ways. Let’s take a slight detour into some basic ways of looking at one of our fundamentals – the way things move. Our search for Arthur M. Young’s ‘geometry of meaning’ will be enhanced if we can enrich our vocabulary…

Someone in the age of Newton would have said. “This chair upon which I sit is plainly still.”

We can be cleverer than that, now. We all know that our planet is rotating once per day. We may remember that the Earth orbits around its sun once per year. We can even know that the atoms from which the chair is made are themselves in constant motion, albeit within a quantum envelope which renders them solid only when they are observed. The chair is therefore in constant motion, but most of that motion is irrelevant to the scale of human life. The rotation of the Earth is not likely to upset the stability of the chair, but it would be theoretically possible to create a hyper-sensitive chair that was…

Newton did not know of atoms, though the ancient Greeks discussed their necessity. But he knew that there had to be a limit to how many times you could divide something. At that limit you would find the essence of matter. He was very adept at envisioning the practical consequences of pursuing things to their limit…

He knew that things moved differently; not just in how one thing could overtake another, but that – within how they moved – there were differences of what we now call ‘rates’. To grasp this, we need to revisit the idea of a rate. If I have a dripping tap, and it results in one gallon of wasted water, measured over an hour, then I have loss of one gallon of water per hour. That is a rate: it is one relevant number divided by another – something per something else. It is a measure of how something that changes (dynamic) behaves with respect to something else. But our dripping tap may not waste water in a uniform way. Within that hour there may be peaks and troughs in leakage due to aspects or factors not known about in our ‘averaged’ one hour period. This is important to hold in mind when thinking about ‘motion’, too.

In Newton’s time, it was known that the ‘motion’ of things had different aspects. Imagine Isaac Newton as a child playing a game whereby he used a fallen branch of a tree, suitably trimmed with his penknife, to strike stones in his garden to see how far they would fly. He would notice that such stones went from being stationary (at rest) to suddenly going as fast as they might (a maximum) before travelling through the air in an arc and falling to earth again. The motion of the stone would therefore vary from nothing (taking out the Earth’s motion) to maximum speed – as it climbed into the air; to a point where what we now call gravity caused its upward motion to cease and its downward motion to increase, even though it was still moving away in terms of distance from the child Newton in the garden. Thereafter, the grass and earth would tangle its motion and it would come to rest again.

If we measure the whole of this motion, we might simply conclude that the stone was whacked by the strong child wielding a stick and shot down the garden for a length (distance) of, say, 10 metres. If a modern time instrument had been available, we might also discover that it took five seconds to come to rest. This would be accurate as an ‘average’ of what had happened, but would tell us little of the stages of the lifecycle of that overall motion – the interesting bits!

The above motion of the stone (with the help of a modern timer) would yield a measure called the speed or velocity of the stone of as: 10/5 = 2 metres per second: distance divided by time. But that’s not what happened, except seen as a historical thing. What really happened is that when child Newton whacked the stone, it didn’t just have a constant speed; its speed changed from nothing to its maximum value, sufficient to propel it (with the correct angle of strike) into the air in its graceful, if short, arc. Thereafter it slowed and sank through the air while still travelling along the line of its trajectory – the direction in which it was whacked. After this, it landed, bounced and came to rest in a scruffy (but real) way in the tangle of grass and mud.

Aside from my borrowing of his childhood, the real Newton had the genius to realise that the first part of the motion, (from rest to its maximum) was not just speed, but an increase of speed (from nothing to its maximum) that had a different rate. This was caused by the whacking of the stout stick, which transferred its energy to the stone, slowing the stick and thrusting the stone into space. This change of speed or velocity was named acceleration, and it was seen by Newton as something different to velocity, itself. This was a breakthrough in thought and measurement, and marked Newton as a true genius. It would take hundreds of years for Newton’s discoveries to filter into the mindset of the age. Many people today have little idea what he achieved, and yet our age of powered motion is built on his discoveries and the accompanying mathematics of calculus. The “Newtonian” world is the world of classical physics, and this view of how the world operated persisted until the advent of Quantum Theory in the early years of the last century.

Returning to Arthur Young’s discoveries. Young examined the symmetry of what Newton had discovered in the following way.:

Motion begins with distance from a start-point. In our example above the stone travelled ten metres. This is simply a length, which we can call ‘L’. A length ‘L’ applied to a start point (or Origin), without consideration of its motion, simply gives us a new position.

If we want to go further and investigate the real motion of our stone, we consider the time it took to travel the distance. We can call this ‘T’. The length (L) per time (T), written L/T (length divided by time) gives us a rate called speed or velocity – example miles per hour. This ratio of L/T is a basis for all motion and reduces things to their simplest expression.

So, what about acceleration? Remember that this is an increase of velocity not distance. If my car accelerates, it is now travelling at, say, sixty miles per hour rather than fifty. The acceleration has been ten miles per hour, per hour. In other words the rate of change of the velocity.

Summarising this:

Position = L

Velocity (speed) = is the rate of change of position or distance = L/T

Acceleration is the rate of change of velocity, which is L divided by T times T. This new expression, T times T is written T squared, T with a little ‘2’ to the right of it like this: T²

Arthur Young was pursuing the fit of the science of motion to the Fourfold model of meaning we discussed in the first three of these blogs. He needed a fourth term to follow the sequence:

Length (L),

Rate of change of Length, (L/T or velocity)

Rate of change of rate of change of Length, (L/T² or acceleration)

The missing term (L/T³) would be the next in the series and would complete the integration of the human world of motion with Young’s fourfold map of universal meaning…

But there was no recognition of a fourth term (L/T³) of Length and Time in physics… Yet Arthur M. Young, creator of the modern helicopter, knew there was a commonly understood concept that matched this – he had used it to make his helicopters safe…

To be continued…

{Note to the reader: These posts are not about maths or physics; they are about a unique perspective on universal meaning created by Arthur M. Young. If you can grasp the concepts in this blog, your understanding of what follows will be deeper.}

Previous posts in this series:

Stephen Tanham is a director of the Silent Eye School of Consciousness, a not-for-profit organisation that helps people find a personal path to a deeper place within their internal and external lives.

The Silent Eye provides home-based, practical courses which are low-cost and personally supervised. The course materials and corresponding supervision are provided month by month without further commitment.

Steve’s personal blog, Sun in Gemini, is at stevetanham.wordpress.com.

You’ll find friends, poetry, literature and photography there…and some great guest posts on related topics.

# The Rotating Blade of Meaning (3)

For this series of posts to make sense – and be spiritually useful in our lives – it must challenge the way we see and therefore ascribe meaning to situations. That challenge must also apply to what we are, as well, since how we used to see, in innocence and wonder, lies, now, below the surface of our active adult consciousness, yet comprises its foundations. Everything we perceive has a human process of perception to it, shared by us all, but differently configured within our individual psychologies. This happens so fast and so automatically that we are not aware of it, but the child is still within us.

There were four of us in the small conference room, high in the executive suite of one of the corporate buildings belonging to the giant telecommunications (telco) company. We were a small but important supplier of complex management software to the giant company.

The four people around the table were present to discuss the legal case that was brought by ourselves and due to enter its court stages in a few days’ time. We were not bluffing. We never had been. As the principle of the business, I was there to demonstrate this stance; and that we were not being intimidated by their size. My opposite number was a senior sector head and a very decent man. The legal crisis had been passed to him to resolve. As always, it was sad that the proceedings had taken so long to get to the attention of a reasonable person, but that’s often how it goes. We knew we were burning our bridges and we knew that we would never work with that Telco, again. It was, potentially, as confrontational as it gets…

The two people with us were lawyers. One of our own and the other acting for the Telco. Our lawyer sat to my right around the small table. The Telco lawyer was at the side of the corporate exec. Together, we formed a cross, just like in our previous post.

If we grow up in a commercial world, we come to expect that our ‘betters’ will sit across that desk or table when they are ‘dealing’ with us. The face to face, 180 degrees position is one we learn very early in our lives. We do it because it is only face to face that we get the full range of signals that tell us what we need to survive, to communicate and to love… It has always been said that love is close to its opposite…

The lawyers were there to advise, they were not able to affect the primary axis between me and the Telco manager, but they could suggest mediation.

If we consider another, and familiar example of a ‘four’ diagram, we can immediately relate to another aspect of this fourness. In the above diagram, we recognise the compass directions from typical map, or even – these days – a smart phone. We know from our reading of maps that we can move along the north-south axis without changing where we are in the East-West direction. The one does not affect the other, yet has great potential to mediate. If it is late and we are hiking to our safe destination, the other axis will play a crucial role.

One of the finest examples – given by Arthur Young, himself, is that of the story of the wise King Solomon mediating between the two wives over the ownership of a baby. We all know the story of how the king asked whose baby it was; and both women replied it was theirs. This is represented by the vertical axis of ‘Possession’ – they were each pulling to get the child. One of them was lying but Solomon could not know which without invoking the other axis, which, in this case, was Love. So, he did so, and deliberately suggested that he cut the infant in two, so that each wife could have half. The real mother was horrified at the proposed loss of life of her son and offered to let the other woman have the child rather than see it killed. The movement along the other axis, Love, resolved the situation, and the cleverness of the solution has come down to us through legend.

Or did the story always contain a pointer to the architecture of real meaning?

Arthur Young’s passion was to unite the worlds of science and mysticism. In this research, he was beginning to see way to do it. In the next part, we will consider how he invoked the different aspects of space and time to assist him.

Part One,

Part Two

To be continued…

Stephen Tanham is a director of the Silent Eye School of Consciousness, a not-for-profit organisation that helps people find a personal path to a deeper place within their internal and external lives.

The Silent Eye provides home-based, practical courses which are low-cost and personally supervised. The course materials and corresponding supervision are provided month by month without further commitment.

Steve’s personal blog, Sun in Gemini, is at stevetanham.wordpress.com.

You’ll find friends, poetry, literature and photography there…and some great guest posts on related topics.

# The Rotating Blade of Meaning (2)

In Part One, we looked at how Arthur M. Young, a brilliant engineer and inventor, was fascinated by the ‘act of knowing’, and determined that there were four stages to this central part of our consciousness. This can be illustrated by the following search for what might be termed a ‘geometry of meaning’ in the act of seeing something:

1. There is a rectangular-shaped object across the room on the wooden floor. That means it belongs to the family (set) of things that share rectangular shapes, even if they turn out to be three-dimensional. This is an objective observation – it can be scientifically proven. Young termed it ‘objective general’ – many things are rectangular…
2.  The surface of it is not a plain texture. It appears to be a heavy canvas material. Again this can be proved, but this facet of the object is specific. Only one of these actually exists – in this form. Other examples will be slightly different. My powers of knowing allow for this. They scan, rapidly, from the general to the specific. So far, I have a rectangular object made of heavy canvas. It’s an objective, specific thing; or, in Young’s accurate terminology, an objective, particular thing.
3. Now, our perception of knowing takes a leap across the observer-observed divide. In reality, our act of partial knowing (so far) has really been observer-based, but the qualities of the observed object are sufficiently studied to allow us to attribute these objective qualities to it. But now we move into a different state of perception: one in which the observer projects qualities of their own onto the object. The object is a faded shade of green. The experience of ‘green’ is entirely subjective, that is, it is projected onto the object by me. Whatever objective qualities it has, they do not include my experience of faded green. This aspect of my object is therefore subjective and particular. Young called this type of subjective ‘projective’.
4. Finally, humans like their objects to have a purpose. I can combine the knowledge I now have of this object and know it to be my laptop shoulder bag. In doing this, I have completed the fourfold cycle of knowing this object, whether seeing it for the first time or when I have been trying to locate it.

The table from the last post is included for clarity. These concepts need to be understood before we can move onto the revelations of what Arthur M. Young discovered next.

The above fourfold process is completely inclusive for any act of human knowing. As was said last time, science is only concerned with the first aspect: the objective general, the other three aspects it leaves to the philosophers… But the whole is what happens.

Arthur M. Young was fond of diagrams. In his work, he tried to explain using diagrams, and even actual examples of objects, such as pendulums, whenever he could. He wondered whether the above fourfold ‘map of knowing’ could be more usefully represented as a diagram… and the idea of a simple cross sprang to mind.

The value of such a diagram would be to show more information than was available from the table. For example, it might show what relationship each of the four aspects had to each other – opposite on the cross-diagram could mean that they were opposite in nature…

We have assigned the attributes of general vs specific and projective (subjective) vs objective. Each aspect of our analysis has a unique combination of two of these – and they are all different permutations. We can see, for example, that the formal description of the object (objective, general) is the opposite of the function of the object (projective, particular). In like fashion, the Sense Data are the opposite of the Projected Values. Putting these into the cross diagram begins to show us the hidden relationships in our perception and knowing.

Because the diagram is logically true, we can deduce certain results from it. The first is that the above opposites are true; the second is that those values that are not opposite have a different relationship with each other. Since we are searching, ultimately, for a geometry of meaning, the angles are important to what follows: 180 degrees conveys opposition, whereas 90 degrees means that the aspects do not affect each other.

The deeper implications of this will be discussed in the next post.

Other posts in this series:

Part One,

To be continued…

Stephen Tanham is a director of the Silent Eye School of Consciousness, a not-for-profit organisation that helps people find a personal path to a deeper place within their internal and external lives.

The Silent Eye provides home-based, practical courses which are low-cost and personally supervised. The course materials and corresponding supervision are provided month by month without further commitment.

Steve’s personal blog, Sun in Gemini, is at stevetanham.wordpress.com.

You’ll find friends, poetry, literature and photography there…and some great guest posts on related topics.

# The Rotating Blade of Meaning

You have probably never heard of him. He was an engineer by training. He was the primary inventor and developer of the Bell helicopter, which made the promise of point to point flight a reality – though it had been discussed for centuries beforehand. This inventor, engineer and scientist was from an age when a few scientists could still challenge the overall approach of modern science – with its focus on the smaller and smaller, and lack of vision of the ‘whole’. They are almost gone as a species, so, in this series of posts, I’d like to pay tribute to Arthur M. Young and explain in non-technical language how important his work was… and is.

He was also, and unusually for a scientist, a master astrologer…

Despite being skilled in engineering and mathematics, Arthur Young returned to university as an adult to study Quantum Physics, recognising that here was something that completely altered the way we should visualise the world. He was fascinated by the consciousness potential of the relationship between the ‘observer’ and the ‘observed’, something that science had tried to ignore for centuries. This dismissal was brought up, sharply, by Quantum Theory, which proved that only the presence of the observer allowed the presence of the object to be ‘measured’. In other words, proved it was there… but not alone.

Helicopters make people nervous. They are  heavy objects, oddly shaped and dangerous looking. When flying, they would plunge to the ground if the massive rotor, above, stopped working or broke. We can think of a plane as being safer because it has fixed wings that give it the theoretical capability of gliding back to Earth. Most of them don’t. For both planes and helicopters, the focus is on making sure that they are reliable and controllable in a failsafe way, and, for helicopters, that controllability is a very complex thing…

Given Arthur Young’s involvement in the development of the small, commercial helicopter, it’s not surprising that he was focussed on this central aspect of control. We will see, later, how this led to startling revelations that bridged physics and philosophy.

Consider the opening photograph. It shows an Art Deco style wall lamp, caught in a beautiful moment of rainbow colour coming into the living room from a clear winter’s day, outside. It has its own beauty, and that is what draws us to it. It has a complex shape that can be considered at differing levels of detail. Some of these details (properties) are objective – they can be measured by science and classified into such properties as material and shape.

Some of the properties are subjective – they only mean something to us – the observer. If I wanted to break down the ‘stages’ of knowing the wall-light lit by the rainbow, I might deliberately ignore the feeling of beauty and its minutely shifting colour, and examine only the overall form of the object. Its fundamental shape is an inverted triangle. I know enough about the delicate glass from which the ‘saucer-shaped’ leaves are made to be concerned that they are easily broken. With that small set of information, I feel I know the material content of the object; I could describe it to someone else and they would get a good picture in their minds.

The world of science is concerned only with this latter description: the inverted triangle – the form of the object, and the chemical material from which it is made. Arthur Young called this the formal description. Science is focussed on this level of knowing because is the only one that is objective: that is, not dependent on how we see something (bad mood, poor eyesight, colour-blindness, etc.) Using this formal description, science can categorise the object, and make it part of a common set of things – a very important process.

But the human, awakened to the form and beauty (or not) of the world around them, has a much richer experience. I understand the objective nature of the inverted triangle and the delicate chemical composition of the fragile leaves, but I’m staring in wonder at the texture of the glass and how it is reflecting the rainbow. I lean closer and find that the glass has a faint but definite smell to it. It’s clinical but not unpleasant.

These are subjective impressions. Science could never reproduce them because they belong to me, to you, to anyone with sense organs. We all experience these things differently, but we can try, with language, with photography,  writing, art or poetry to convey that this is not simply an inverted triangle made of fine glass; it is a rich experience and unique in the entire history of the universe… You could experience something similar, but the fine details would belong only to each of us, differently–and they would change the event. We seldom consider this power we have – be a unique observer of the universal beauty all around us. We, whose bodies are made from the atoms created by ancient exploding stars, must come close to our zenith when we find such beauty and stop our everyday consciousness to ‘be’ with it.

Science is not deficient in its lack of concern for this; it’s simply that the full experience of the observer cannot be reduced to numbers… The collective mind that created numbers can never be subservient to them.

So far we have encountered the formal description of the object: the inverted triangle and the chemical properties of fine glass. We have also used our sense organs to experience the way the rainbow light shimmers on the petals of the lamp, and we have even smelled the glass. These sense impressions come from the object. They may be slightly different to each of us, but the properties from which they issue belong, also, to the object. Our object therefore possesses a formal description and specific sense impressions. The formal description could be shared, using shared language or mathematics, with anyone. The sense impressions could not, but could be likened to something else in our experience.

Step back and the experience of being an observer has two main aspects. There is a ‘me’ and an ‘it’. The experience of the wall lamp is deemed to be ‘out-there’, but the knowing resides ‘in-here’. I am helped, by the formal description, to recognise or locate the object, even if I’ve never been in that room.

Young said that, to realise the process and the power of knowing it is vital to (initially) separate our aspects of experience in this way. When we consider the received information and the sense data from the object, two more things happen in our perceptive mind. The first is that we place a value judgement on the experience – perhaps I am in awe of the beauty of the rainbow on the lamp. Without rationally considering it, I feel moved by an emotion, a kind of joy that this rare impression of living perfection is present.

The second ‘in-here’ aspect is the purpose of the object. In this case it’s not to show off rainbows, but to give light when evening comes. In other circumstances, my knowing of the lamp would have been part of the inventory of the capabilities of the room. Arthur Young named this the function. These two ‘in-here’ aspects belong to the observer, not to the object. We project them onto the experience based on our learning. Young called this kind of aspect projective, and the aspects belonging to the object, alone, he called objective. Where something in an aspect was specific, he used the term particular; where it had a shared nature, he named it general.

If we unravel the above example, there emerges a process of incremental perception which, conceptually, looks a lot like the opening of the famous Russian dolls:

• Aspect one, which is an inverted triangle shape, made of a chemical structure of fragile glass.
• Aspect two is the contents of the above plus the sense impressions belonging only to the objective nature of the inverted triangular shape (its colours, shades and smells)
• Aspect three is the subjective experience of all the above plus the feeling of beauty and awe I have when my attention and perception is captured by the occasion.
• Aspect four would be all the above plus the function of the wall-lamp, which, in this case, has been subverted by the unexpected rainbow… exactly what happens when we open ourselves to the possible in real life!

These four aspects therefore comprise: formal description, sense data, value and function. The first two are objective (‘out-there’), the second two (‘in-here’) are projective (subjective).

We can put these into a table for easier reference:

The creation of this was not a casual work. Arthur Young tested it against all the situations he knew of, in both a scientific and philosophical sense. He determined that it was a universal description, an ‘anatomy’ of how we perceive and how we ‘know’. These four stages – aspects – of knowing were at the heart of being human, they were not only the containers of what we learned, they were how we learned.

Four was an interesting number and features predominantly in the ancient mysteries. ‘Fourness’ is a key part of how mankind has conceived of the universal divisions of experience. Fourness is one of the keys to Astrology, in the form of the ‘Elements’ of Earth, Air, Fire and Water. For Arthur M. Young, an astrologer as well as a scientist, the notion of fourness at the centre of human experience was about to take him on a mind-expanding journey…

To be continued…

Stephen Tanham is a director of the Silent Eye School of Consciousness, a not-for-profit organisation that helps people find a personal path to a deeper place within their internal and external lives.

The Silent Eye provides home-based, practical courses which are low-cost and personally supervised. The course materials and corresponding supervision are provided month by month without further commitment.

Steve’s personal blog, Sun in Gemini, is at stevetanham.wordpress.com.

You’ll find friends, poetry, literature and photography there…and some great guest posts on related topics.

# Why not?

One of the joys of working with the Silent Eye is the people you get to meet. Not all of them are part of the School; most follow their own Paths, which, though they may run in the same general direction, can take vastly different routes on the journey. None is inherently ‘better’ than another; it is always the Path that speaks to the heart that is right for any seeker. Being able to share and learn from our individual experiences on that Path makes the journey richer and fosters a spirit of understanding and cooperation.

Every year, the Silent Eye runs four workshop weekends. While the correspondence course and the personal journeys of our students are at the heart of the way the Silent Eye works, the workshops allow us to take a different approach and explore new ideas in new ways. They also allow us meet face to face with people… not just students and Companions of the School, but with those who share our interests, from widely different angles, but who may have no intention at all of joining the School.

Three of our workshops are run in the landscape, exploring ancient, sacred and interesting sites. These can be anything from stone circles to castles, beaches to churches, modern landscapes to ancient henges. These are informal weekends and generally fun. We currently charge a minimal fee for the whole weekend workshop.

But why should anyone come along, just to do ‘tourist stuff’?

We do the groundwork before the event. We travel to the sites to investigate access, parking, places to eat and, most importantly, routes to obscure places you might not even know exist… and that allows us to cover a lot of local ground during a single weekend.

There is always a unifying theme; while we explore the sites, we explore too the ideas, psychological and spiritual concepts they suggest and illustrate, inviting discussion.

We not only have a love of the ancient sites, but we have amassed a store of knowledge about them too, having explored around five hundred prehistoric sites and medieval churches in the past five years alone.

We do the research… so you will not only visit an ancient site, and get a little of its history, but will learn the folklore and legends attached to it too.

We do not simply visit the sites, we work with them too. You may experience a guided meditation on a beach, a divination in a wood, a spiritual exercise in a churchyard or a simple ritual in a stone circle. None of these are tied to any particular spiritual Path or discipline… just to the human journey.

And, perhaps most importantly, these weekends also, as one of our attendees put it, provide “a safe space in which to talk” about things that, for many people, cannot be discussed anywhere else. Those who come along may have different views, but all share an open mind and heart.

The annual April workshop is a little different.

The residential weekend takes place in the Derbyshire Peak District, at the Nightingale Centre, which provides full board and accommodation. The gardens, local countryside and the old inn next door provide a place to relax too.

Each year we choose a theme that encapsulates a spiritual idea… then spend months writing the workbook for the workshop. The workbook sets out a story, presented as ritual drama in the tradition of the ancient Mystery Schools, and written as a script. Each attendee takes a part… no-one needs to be able to act or learn lines, as it is not designed as a play and there is no audience; only the other attendees.

These scripts are either based upon an ancient text, or are written especially for the workshop. The Leaf and Flame workshop, for example, took us back to Arthur’s Court and the tale of the Green Knight, while The Feathered Seer brought in the stories of local stone circles. River of the Sun took us to ancient Egypt to see a priest made and a Pharaoh take power.

There are presentations from experienced speakers, guided meditations, an optional dawn ritual on the hillside and a chance to see the inner workings of a modern Mystery School…as well as having fun and meeting like-minded people from across the UK and as far away as the US. We do not insist upon costumes, but most people seem to enjoy bringing the period to life, and we have had some colourful workshops, in everything from Egyptian robes to Elizabethan dress.

To give people a good idea of what we do, we have not only published some of the workbooks, but we invite attendees to add their own comments and publish their personal experiences on the Silent Eye’s website. You can find you exactly what happens when you attend your first workshop by clicking here or read an account by Running Elk of the first time he came to a Silent Eye event.  You can also visit the gallery to see pictures of a few of our events.

This year we will ‘go back’ five thousand years to Sumeria and the time of Gilgamesh, King of Uruk, basing the story upon the oldest epic poem in the world. The tale explores spiritual and psychological principles that we meet in our everyday lives and , like all our workshops, leaves us with a greater understanding of who we are and how we can live our lives to the fullest.

There are still places available for April… and always places for the landscape workshops. Why not come along and join us for the weekend?

Lord of the Deep
26-28 April, 2019

Great Hucklow, Derbyshire

The Silent Eye’s Spring workshop for 2019

# Full Circle: Long Meg

Our final site of the day was to be one of the most astonishing circles we have visited. It is not the biggest, nor are the stones themselves the largest, but it has a ‘feel’ unlike any other. Castlerigg, which we would visit on our final day of the workshop, may rightly be accounted one of the most beautiful of circles, but what Long Meg and her Daughters lack in aesthetics, they more than make up for in sheer presence.

On our very first visit, the light had been going and the winter dusk had been bitterly cold. We thought we knew what to expect…after all, we had seen enough photographs of the place. I had even a vague memory of having been taken there as a child. Yet, we had rounded the corner and been ambushed by the stones. Getting out of the car, we had literally bounced with excitement, like children at Christmas. The site was more, far more, than we had expected.

For a start, the narrow farm track that is signposted for the ‘Druid Circle’ gives no warning when you are about to arrive. It does not stop at the edge of an enclosure or parking space… it carries on, straight through the circle, skirting stones that divide the track at one point. When we arrived with our party for the workshop, our passenger too felt that ‘psychic shock’ and was, moments later, out of the car and bouncing up and down like an excited child.

The short winter’s day was drawing to a close and we would be in the circle at sundown. Unlike our last visit, equipped with cameras, the fading light would not linger and we lost no time in sending our party out to explore and attune with the stones.

The circle is huge, the sixth largest in Northern Europe, and not really a circle at all. It is an oval, formed from the geometric form of the vesica, and some three hundred and forty feet across its longest axis. Although legends say that it is bad luck to try and count the stones, the usual count puts them at fifty nine stones still in situ out of the seventy original stones. The whole thing was once surrounded by a low embankment, which may have been white-faced with gypsum, allowing it to glow.

Long Meg herself is the solitary standing stone who watches over her ‘daughters’, which are the stones of this Bronze Age circle. Legend says a coven of witches were put to sleep and petrified by a Scottish wizard named Michael Scot. His surname may indicate his origin north of the border, but Michael harks back to the Saint of that name who is so often shown with the dragon held quiescent on the point of his lance. The dragon power of old Albion, associated with the leys, was seen as pagan and therefore ‘evil’ by nascent Christianity and knowledge of its ways driven underground. Perhaps the dragons, like the stones, merely sleep…

The circle was built as part of the megalithic tradition which began around five and a half thousand years ago. The exact date of the circle and the surrounding enclosures and embankments is uncertain and its precise purpose is unknown, though much can be deduced. For a people who, like our ancestors, constructed interrelated sites across vast swathes of the landscape, it is probable that there is a relationship between this site and others in the area, including Little Meg, two fields away, and the henges we had visited. Not far away is the sacred landscape and Avenue at Shap… and you have to wonder if, as at Avebury and Stonehenge, these features formed part of a greater plan…and if so, did it echo the map of the heavens as our ancestors once saw it?

There are larger stones in circles across the country, but the stones are far from small. The four quarter-stones are not local and are quartz-bearing. Most circles are built from a single type of stone, perhaps with a quartz-bearing stone, or even an entire boulder of quartz, such as we had seen at Boscawen-Un. Here, however, Long Meg herself is a column of red sandstone that sparkles in the sunlight and which, with the quartz-rocks, differs from the rest of the circle. The technology of stone as it was known to our ancestors may be lost to us, but we have echoes in the use of crystal for both healing and communications technologies. Their choices of stone were not only deliberate but significant.

The arrangement of the stones suggests a calendrical function that would work by standing outside the circle and sighting across to the quartz stones. Long Meg herself, standing outside the circle, is part of a Samhain alignment with a portal stone and one of the quartz rocks.

Long Meg is a magnificent presence. Standing twelve feet tall, she is ‘tattooed’ with concentric circles and her uppermost surface is notched in the manner we have so often seen. This may be simple erosion, as is often averred, or the weather may have exaggerated an existing feature, but whenever we see this kind of notch we are struck by its similarity to the sight on an old-fashioned firearm. And this, we believe, was its function.

Between anecdotal observations and the mathematical precision survey work such as that conducted by Professor Thom’s, a good many astronomical alignments have been proposed and observed, indicating alignments at solstice and equinox and particularly with Deneb, the brightest star in the constellation Cygnus. Deneb heads the Northern Cross in the heavens and, along with Vega and Altair, is one of the three stars known as the Summer Triangle that was used for navigation right up until the twentieth century, helping pilots find their way home. There are physical alignments within the landscape too and while the entrance to the circle frames the hills, their form is shadowed in he contours of the stones.

As the day drew to its end, we gathered around Long Meg, focussing our minds and breathing. Closing our eyes, we once more sounded our ‘words of truth’, this time giving voice to the vowels which are the flowing seeds of sound. It is odd, but the voice changes when you work in this way; sound emerges unrecognisable from your throat as if illuminating hidden corners of your being. The words ‘breath of Creation’ passed through my mind, listening to the anonymous voices joined in unplanned harmony.

As we ended our day, the light failed and the clouds broke, allowing a final glimpse of the sun setting behind Long Meg. Wishing I had not left the camera in the car, I reached for my phone, just to mark the moment. The stones were alive, glad, I felt, for our presence and glowing faintly in the twilight as the sky itself offered us a final gift.

# Full Circle: A Seat at the Round Table?

Three weeks before the workshop, Stuart and I had headed north to walk the ground. Most of the sites we already knew, but there were a couple we had not visited in person and, if at all possible, we will check each site before taking others there. Small details like where to park, warning of muddy paths, unadvertised entrance charges and the proximity of coffee and conveniences can make the difference between a successful weekend and an uncomfortable disaster.

These reconnoitring trips serve a dual purpose though. They are not only practical, but they allow us to get a feel for the landscape too and will, fairly often, see us change an itinerary we thought was set in stone. This trip did just that, although it waited until the very last minute to tell us so.

We had finished for the weekend, seen all the places we needed to see, except one of the sites which had been going to play a central part in the workshop. We thought we had found a perfect place, sheltered from the wind and any foul weather, but every way we attempted to reach it seemed intent upon putting barriers in our path. Impassable mud and fallen riverbanks meant that we had to reconsider taking the party to Lacy’s Caves, a folly built by the man who had wanted to blow up the local stone circle. The story goes that the attempt ended in disaster and Lacy had a change of heart. The caves were later built for some unknown purpose, and although they may simply have been a folly, there has been suggestions of ritual activity on the site. Subsequent investigations made us feel we had not been meant to go there. Some types of ritual activity can leave behind an unpleasant psychic atmosphere… and these caves reminded us of the Hellfire caves infamously used by Sir Francis Dashwood.

So, by the end of our ‘recce’, we were a site down, but had replaced it with another small visit. We would have enough…but it felt as if something were missing as we began the long trek south and east. Before we left, though, we would try and find another place we had heard of that tied in loosely with our theme…

“What’s that?”

“What the…?”

Our simultaneous exclamation would have left a casual observer wondering what on earth we were talking about. Driving down the road in search of the site, we had both seen a field bounded by walls and traffic…and both been hit by that phenomenon of recognition that we are calling ‘psychic shock’. Thinking back, there was little to actually see from within the low car. We should barely have registered the site… and yet it had hit us like a ton of bricks. Parking the car, we went to investigate… and within a very few minutes, had added two more sites to our list for the weekend as well as expanding the theme quite considerably. So, on the second day of the workshop, we gathered close to the site and walked our companions to King Arthur’s Round Table.

King Arthur’s Round Table is a late Neolithic henge, around four thousand years old. The circular ditches and embankments are what constitutes a henge, enclosing a central flat platform which was used by the community. These sites are feats of engineering and would have needed a substantial community to come together, united by leaders, belief and a shared vision of what was really important to the life of the community. While some speculate that these are purely practical affairs, designed to be used as marketplaces, arenas for entertainment and gatherings, it seems unlikely that such a space would be constructed, with so much human effort and then hallowed by burials, for a purely pragmatic use.

It is far more likely that these monuments, especially when they invariably form part of a much wider sacred landscape, were designed primarily for ceremonial use. Exactly what those rituals and ceremonies might be we cannot know for certain, but we can make a few deductions given the archaeological evidence, a knowledge of so-called ‘primitive’ civilisations worldwide and the sites’ alignments with astronomical events.

It is likely that the turning of the year…the solstices and equinoxes… were observed, measured and predicted at many of these ancient sites. Stellar, solar and lunar alignments are common, as are alignments with other sites in the area and there are many close to the Round Table.

There may be burials or inhumed cremations, placing these sites in the realms of the ancestors, where the elders of the clan might mediate between this world and the Otherworld. One companion suggested that this might be a place where the clan Elders were ‘made’… a ceremonial installing of one who has reached venerable status.

King Arthur’s Round Table has been much damaged in the modern era and is sliced through by modern roads. There used to be two entrances, marked by standing stones. Excavations revealed a central trench had once existed where burial or cremation ceremonies may have taken place. The banks would have been higher than they now stand, the ditches lower, and the whole part of the wider ritual landscape which includes the many sites around Shap. There was once another  and much smaller henge, the Little Table, now almost entirely destroyed by roads and building, just a couple of hundred yards away.

The modern A6 that runs alongside the Table was once, in part, a Roman road. Many of these Roman roads, characterised, as we are taught in school, by the way they run straight across the landscape, may themselves be part of a much more ancient network of ‘old straight tracks’ that link many of the ancient sites. Kemp Howe stone circle now lays largely beneath another ‘straight track’ just ten miles away… mostly obliterated by the modern railway line. It is one of many circles and monuments in the remarkable Shap complex that we would have loved time to explore.

For now, though, we encouraged our companions to explore the Round Table, where legends say Arthur’s knights once jousted. The site is thousands of years older than the legends of Arthur and Merlin, but perhaps not older than the archetypes they may represent… the warrior-king whose fitness to rule depends upon his ability to bridge the worlds, and the mage-priest who was his bridge, his messenger and the gateway to the Otherworld.

We gathered for a meditation before leaving the site. We were impressed… only confirmed megalithomaniacs, we thought, would find this site interesting for more than a few minutes, but they had chosen to spend almost an hour there. What, we wondered, would they make of the next site… and what we wanted them to do there…

# Being Beyond Seeing…

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One of the ‘hardy perennials’ on many of our workshops is the thorny problem of intent.

Thorny because much of what we now see may not have been originally intended by the erstwhile perpetrator or perpetrators, yet some of what remains most definitely was!

On our recent sojourn around Cornwall, having been cruelly divested of our guide book, we still managed to find one particular unsought spot ‘blind’, as it were, and this is pretty much the task we had now set our Companions…

The telluric current we were ‘following’ passed through the remains of Penrith Castle and on through the site of the Old Church.

The legends that attach themselves to these sites in many cases assume the outward appearance of unbelievable ‘gibberish’ and most certainly do not follow the reasonably delineated form of history, official or otherwise…

And yet, the wry smile which they inievitably engender, the moments reflection which they sometimes inspire, if held onto, and wondered about, and returned to, and nurtured, may well turn into a personal revelation carrying more truth than any spuriously contrived history.

Did Arthur’s Knights ever fight Dragons was the unspoken question gnawing away at the fringes of consciousness? There were none which immediately sprang to mind. And if not, then why not? Given their raison d’etre it would, at first sight, be an obvious way for them to spend their time.

The telluric current we were ‘following’ specifically passed through the body of Penrith Parish Church and was marked on either side by a Sun Dial and a conglomeration of stones which now goes by the moniker of the Giant’s Grave.

The plinth on which the Sun Dial now stands is undeniably late, but has it recently replaced a much earlier one? The conglomeration of stones are much, much, earlier but how long have they been associated with a Giant?

Perhaps, at least as long as the story of Yvain and his friendly lion…

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