Willow continues sharing her experiences at the Lord of the Deep weekend…
Urshanabi leads Gilgamesh to the Deep Underworld. And so for nine hours Gilgamesh has to out run the sun.
And he does out run the sun, though how I do not know.
After nine exhausting hours with the sun hot on his heels Gilgamesh emerges from the underworld into the garden of the Gods.
The garden is a place that even, the mighty King of Uruk has never seen the like of. He was dazzled by trees and plants that have flowers and blossom of precious and semi precious stones and gems. It was quite amazing.
Then Gilgamesh is confronted by an ordinary man, Utanpishtim. The king of Uruk is surprised he was expecting a God that he would have to fight.
Weaponless Gilgamesh has to talk to Utanpishtim who asks him why he looks so tired and wan. Gilgamesh tells him how he has spent his last nine hours outrunning the sun. He also tells of the loss of his dear brother Enkidu and how he King of Girt – Walled – Uruk wants Immortality for himself and his people .
Utanpishtim says he has wasted his time venturing to these shores and all he has done is bring himself one day closer to death.
Willow continues sharing her journey with the recent Lord of the Deep weekend:
After we had returned from ancient Sumeria that Saturday night we all, everyone of us, got changed and fought the biblical weather the thankfully short distance up the hill to the local pub.
We all deserved a break, I was there, just behind the lense. The cosy warmth in the bar was matched by the warmth of these beautiful people who had been traveling along the same path with me. This was every bit as important as a learning curve as the entire workshop itself. Different but just as important.
Willow continues her journey with the Lord of the Deep:
After breakfast we met in the the temple to first to discuss and then to perform Ritual Drama Two. A second self.
“Aruru moistened her hands She pinched off clay She kneaded it… She shaped her idea into it Then she threw it into the wilderness…”
Does that remind you of anything, it does me. Yes it truly reminds me of how “God” made Adam. ..
Steve read the above verse to us before we entered the temple. It was only the second time I had entered the temple as Limma but somehow I didn’t need the script I was guided in. First in line with Fate Ia to my left with the other four fates behind us, we followed Gilgamesh in, bowing to the temple guardian on entering. We walk towards the throne bow, to the king of Urk and the East and peel off to our spheres.
Reblogged from Jan Malique at Strange Goings On in the Shed. Jan shares her account of the workshop weekend:
“The two halves of my spirit met and engaged in a dance almost forgotten,
a dance traced in the dust and dirt of ancient places.”
The Scene is Set
My journey from North Wales ended at a station called Hope in Derbyshire. How apt! This priest to be (me) was responding to an invitation to participate in a drama within a drama, Great Hucklow being the destination for this year’s Silent Eye workshop, entitled “The Jewel in the Claw.” The theme of the workshop was a fictitious Elizabethan play set in the year of 1590. This play was the last work of William Shakespeare (of course no such work exists but this is a melding of reality and fantasy).
The dying playwright offered a glimpse into events that shaped the history of a nation on the brink of immense transformation. It involved Elizabeth I gathering a special group of people in the palace of Nonsuch in Surrey for a specific purpose. To prepare the nation and her people for an expansion of knowledge and emergence of a new era. Magic and politics melded to prepare the Group Soul and Mind for the coming age of enlightenment. Friend and foe met within a very special space, one might call them chess pieces moving across a giant chessboard. The black and white of the board representing many things on an esoteric level, duality of human nature, dark and light, polarity, balance.
There are three of us who work together to run the Silent Eye. It started with one when Steve took the decision to build the School. I was drafted in soon afterwards and Stuart, who had been working with us from the start, was eventually persuaded to make the position official. Working as we do with the triangle at the heart of the symbol of the enneagram, three was a perfect number. It ensures that there is a constant cross-fertilisation of ideas, as well as echoing the spirit and the form of the equilateral triangle.
One of the things about which we have always been adamant is that we did not want to build a school built around a single personage… the cult of personality is too prevalent in our society and seldom has a happy outcome. On the other hand, the people who run a school such as ours should, we believe, be both approachable and visible. No student should be asked to entrust themselves to a nebulous shadow. Nor should we ask students to look at their own personalities if we are not prepared to share our own.
We all three have our own, personal blogs, where we share and explore our own ideas and beliefs. The Silent Eye subscribes to no single or political viewpoint and both we and our students are free to follow the dictates of heart and conscience. We also share some of our personal perspecives here on the Silent Eye’s blog, in that same spirit of openness.
So, some time ago, I thought it would be a good idea for each of us to tell our stories… and after a little prodding, the gentlemen sent me their tales to which I added mine. Our journeys have been very different, yet our paths have come close to crossing so many times over the years that there is a strange feeling of inevitability about where we now find ourselves. I have a feeling we are exactly where we are supposed to be… The stories were duly filed on the website, somewhere behind the Menu button, and barely saw the light of day again. I thought it might be of interest to share them here…
I was born in May 1954. I came into the world (with the help of my mother and a good midwife), in a terraced house belonging to my grandparents in a working-class district of Bolton. I had the good fortune to be born into a Rosicrucian family. My father had come across an advert for AMORC (one of the best-known Rosicrucian Schools) in a magazine he was reading while waiting at a railway station. He was on his way to carry out his basic training at an army camp. Later, he became the spiritual beacon of our family, and my mother married him, largely, she claims, because he was “different” from other men in this respect…
I grew up in a religiously tolerant family which knew a thing or two about love and faith. Nan left the Catholic Church to marry Gramps and their eldest son, Uncle Geoff, my mum’s little brother eventually rejoined the Catholic Church in order to marry Aunty Cath which meant that when we went to spend holidays with Little Geoff and Janet and Mandy we went to their Church with them which was Catholic and when Little Geoff, Janet and Mandy came to spend the holidays with us they came to our church which was Church of England. It didn’t seem odd to do this and it came as something of a shock to realise that in olden times people had lost their lives for less.
My grandfather gave me his annotated copy of the Mystical Qabalah by Dion Fortune when I was 15. “This is the only magical book that you will ever need,” he told me. “But you’ll fill a good many bookshelves before you get there.” He was right. It was all in that first book; but learning is a spiral and you have to come back to the same point over and over again, bringing new knowledge and understanding each time before you can really see what lies in your hand.
The Feathered Seer: Alienora and Dean were our Lore Keepers, spinning the tales, warp and weft …
Since early childhood, I have been a spinner of lore, working, oft-times, in tandem with my opposite, my all-but-twin, Sun to my Moon, Weaver of that which I spun from moonshine and memory, tale and tradition.
But it is a lonely existence in many respects. The spinning calls upon tides and times unseen by the melting-pot of mankind. My rhythms, slightly askew, jerk and judder when social meets and frenzied fraternising is called for. Hermit by nature, I do not venture out of the Cave of Seers with ease. I stand, in sun too bright, blinking and bleary from the soothing uterine darkness of the Mother Cavern, wordless and shy amongst the silver- tongued ones.
Oh! At necessary moments, and clad in convincing costume, the rules of society rote-learned and word-perfect, I emerge and walk amongst the Land-Dwellers, selling my stories for a monetary pittance or exchanging them for the sweet and heavy round of fresh orange, the feathered warmth of recently-laid egg, a hunk of spelt bread.
Lore-Keepers are Seers, for their psychic eyes rove back and forth at will and penetrate the secrets of timelessness, symbol, metaphor and mystery. They bring back the raw material of story, from times ancient even when cavemen strode the land, and spin or weave it into the language and beat of the century in which they exist, though the silk from which it comes is timeless and infinitely pliable.
In April we will be holding our fourth annual workshop, marking three full years since the Silent Eye officially came to birth, though there had been a full year of preparation before that, behind the scenes, and a far longer vision from which it had grown. As one of a triad of directors of the Silent Eye, it is my privilege to work with two extraordinary men. It was Steve who had the vision to found the school, basing the teachings around the enneagram, a nine pointed figure within a circle, better known for its applications in psychology than spirituality. Yet it was from the spiritual perspective that Steve saw the symbol, and the ‘psyche’ in psychology is, after all, the soul. Within the symbol is a triangle, three equal points equidistant from the centre; a perfect glyph for the way in which we have learned to work together.
We all came to this point from different directions, all of us immersed in the spiritual and magical teachings of different schools and systems, finally meeting at a single point within the Servants of the Light. Events drew us together with a strange certainty until we were where we have come to believe we need to be. Here and Now.
Steve has a lifetime of esoteric knowledge behind him and a real gift for sharing it, being able to explain a system with simplicity and clarity, without over-simplifying the concepts he is presenting. He is also a storyteller and uses this to craft the core of the monthly lessons of our correspondence course, which incorporate a strong element of imaginative journeying using characters designed to personify aspects of human being at various levels of operation. The first three workshops under the Silent Eye were largely his work. The themes have taken us, within the confines of a ritual drama that is, in fact, an exploration of the soul, back to ancient Egypt, into space and into a mountain sanctuary with a pair of troubadours…one of whom was not at all confident about singing in public! Not all of them are scenarios you would expect to find in a spiritual workshop, but they engage the imagination and illustrate the very serious point that spirituality doesn’t only belong in the serenity of a traditional Temple.
Spirituality isn’t for a specific time.. nor is it confined to a single space…it is an integral part of life, whether or not we choose to focus upon it. And although turning to look at the inner and greater life of the soul the most serious step we can take, it can be fun too. There should be laughter and lightness. If happiness is a state of mind, then joy is a state of being… and a state of grace.
This year, it is Stuart and I who are shaping the workshop, following an idea Stuart had been mulling over for a long time. This time we go back to the court of King Arthur, and myths that were old before the Round Table came into being. Stuart has a rare gift for ‘joining the dots’, seeing through the outer form of symbolism to its essence, allowing him to draw together strands from many mythologies and traditions into a single pool of understanding… and then condensing them into a single phrase that somehow and suddenly makes absolute sense.
Together the three of us work to serve the school… and that which lies both behind it and at the heart of it. As April approaches and we move into the final phase of preparation for this year’s workshop, I realise that it will be the third year for the three of us… and three times three has always been a magical number.