Some ideas simply arrive fully formulated, coming out of nowhere, with no clues, no warning, and the first thing you know about them is when they come out of your mouth. Such was the whole stepping stones scenario.
Inside I am shaking my head at the ridiculousness of the idea. It is idiotic, dangerous… foolhardy as one of my companions put it… but then, the spiritual journey has always been that of the Fool.
We had been there before of course, the day we three had spent up on the moors, working together as three. That time I had simply shown the river crossing to my companions and they, being male, had waltzed off blithely across them. I myself haven’t crossed them in years. They are not so very bad, of course, but I do have little short legs and the gaps are wide; the stones can be slippery and many are worn and uneven in height and breadth, in places uncomfortably so. The river runs fast here too. The child had no qualms, the woman saw potential danger and avoided it.
The evening had been spent largely in the garden of the hotel watching the clouded skies; someone had told the staff the Northern Lights might be visible and that was simply too good a chance to pass up. We had spoken of fear and the way it rules so many aspects of our lives, and of trust… that greater trust we can find that the Universe knows what it is about and how, even from the darker times, great lessons can be learned. That, I suppose, is where the idea emerged from, bubbling out of my lips as if I had no control over them. This too is a matter of trust… sometimes you just ‘know’ and have to go with that, without necessarily understanding all the details.
“I thought you were joking.”
I wish! No, I was deadly serious. Granted, there is no way I would subject anyone else to this kind of apparent lunacy, but some things are ‘given’ and have a purpose that may be beyond vision… which seemed an entirely appropriate thought as I closed my eyes and tied the scarf tightly around them, ready for my companions to lead me across the stepping stones. At that moment fear had me by the proverbials, but that is no reason to turn away. I trust these two men with whom I Work absolutely… I would trust them with anything and do. We have launched into what is, undeniably, a life changing venture that fills every waking moment on one level or another, taking time and anything else it requires. And since the inception of the School this is how we have worked… in trust.
None of us, I think, had analysed in advance what we were doing. It is only afterwards that the whole picture begins to form and there are some complex psychological and spiritual nuances at play. For myself I simply expected to be scared, but the moment the blindfold was on I was utterly calm… an almost meditative state descended where all I needed to do was surrender to the guidance of hand and voice and feel the balance of the world through my feet. There simply was no fear, only the moment. There was no consciousness of any sound except the rushing of swift water and the guiding voice, but the knowledge of presence was absolute. In surrendering my will to trust, the responsibility for movement across the river was no longer mine, my own responsibility lay in obedience to another voice than that of my own inner chatter in order to ensure the safety of all of us.
Stuart came behind, though I was not aware that he would, I could feel him there… not through touch or sound or any other physical indication, I just felt his strength behind me. That another of our companions had joined us I had no idea. Steve took the brunt of the burden, guiding my steps with his voice and was magnificent. His initial concern was based on my obvious reactions; he wanted me to be able to succeed and lent his strength as a gift; yet by this time I knew that little of this was about me, or indeed any one of us, and there was no fear. We three are a team and together we can do things none of us could, or perhaps would do alone. Our individual strengths and weaknesses complement each other, and each of us brings a unique perspective to the work.
This crossing of the river was symbolic in many ways, while on one side the waters ran calm and seemingly still, the other swirled and bubbled, running swift and deep. Together we crossed, trusting each other, we ourselves the bridge, it seemed, that gave us passage.
Fear was addressed in many ways over the course of the weekend, with one of our number conquering her own deep fear of heights and her doubts of her own capabilities, facing them with courage and determination, trusting herself. No-one had forced anything upon her; she had chosen to face fear and emerged triumphant. Trust, too was addressed, gently and naturally, as each learned to trust the others with their inner thoughts and found friendship, shared laughter and tears, opening to the gifts the moment brought to each.
As we brought in the harvest of being the seeds of future harvests were planted. Of such things is magic made.
It was with no small sense of achievement that I had pressed ‘publish’ on the sixth of the newly revamped, redesigned and re-edited books.
Originally published in colour, these books have now been reissued in black and white at a much more sensible price which, we hope, will allow more people to join us as we travel through the magical and ancient landscape of Albion and its myths.
Especially at this stage… where it becomes ever more difficult to distinguish between fact and fiction.
There are events that we will instantly dismiss as impossible… others we might accept through the willing suspension of disbelief we employ when reading fiction… and some that will simply leave us wondering if the impossible is truly impossible at all…
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Don and Wen, following the breadcrumb trail of arcane lore and ancient knowledge, scattered across the landscape of time, turn their attention to the myths and legends of Old Albion. They delve into the tales of King Arthur, asking some very strange questions about biblical family trees and exploring the many stories that abound in the very landscape of Avalon. Meanwhile, in Derbyshire, the voices of the past still whisper from the stones, opening a passage through time, place and memory to another world…
Doomsday: The Ætheling Thing
How is it possible to hide such a story… the hidden history of Christianity in Britain? Oh, there are legends of course… old tales… Yet what if there was truth in them? What was it that gave these blessed isles such a special place in the minds of our forefathers? There are some things you are not taught in Sunday School. From the stone circles of the north to the Isle of Avalon, Don and Wen follow the breadcrumbs of history and forgotten lore to uncover a secret veiled in plain sight.
Doomsday: Dark Sage
…. something was spawned up on the moor… something black that flew on dark wings. It heeds not time or place… but it seems to have developed a penchant for the travels of Don and Wen….
“Are those two still at it?”
Doomsday: Scions of Albion
Things are getting serious…
Exactly what is Wen doing with that crowbar and why is she wearing a balaclava?
All will be revealed…or will it?
Follow the story begun in The Initiate and the Triad of Albion,
as Don and Wen explore the ancient land…