The scribe-s house was deep in the high moorland country which dominates the very tip of Britain-s most westerly shyre - The lane which led to it twisted its way between high Cornish hedges - some of which contained massive block-work redolent of the mystic Bronze Age - The scribe walked this lane one moonlightful night alone in the bright radiance that glazed the countryside all about -
The lane snaked along the side of a valley - its high hedges following the natural contours as if it was originally built to defend the valley - After some time and a brief glimpse of a fox out hunting he finally caught sight of his house bathed and dappled in moonlight -
It was a large - rather Gothic and curiously ancient house - set alone and aloof in its isolated enys - its patch of rugged and empty moorland - He had bought it for its solitude - its considerable distance from any other habitation - For a writer needs a certain amount of solitude and here he could truly write - What-s more the conditions on that particular night were perfect as there was nothing that stirred his imagination more than a full moon - like the one that at that moment was shining in through the many windows off his ancient abode - After taking a moment to brew tea he proceeded to the centre of his kingdom - the large mahogany table in front of the window through which he could view the spacious lawns and topiaries of the rather formal but deeply enchanting garden -
A slight mist shrouded the shrubs and anointed them in glistening jewels of moisture - Whisps of atmospheric fog drifted over the lawns looking sometimes like clouds - sometimes like figures or fauns - He picked up his pen to write - moved by the scene in front of him and its haunting atmosphere but even as he did so he seemed to swoon and spin into a blissful trance - a reverie or species of dream-vision or seeing -
The crystal-glass paper-weight before him gleamed with untold and unusual clarity and it seemed the glare and glister was enmeshed somehow with his own mind and self and he himself was becoming crystalline and clear in feel and mind - as if the clarity of the crystal in the moonlight was transferred to his own perception thereby clarifying it and making it pure as clean water -
He stopped - drew breath - stared in wonder - the pen dropping from his hand and clattering quietly to the table - He let go and felt no need to fathom the cause of the feeling or seek explanation but rather merely he kept to a quiet stillness and rapturous flowed the time around him -
The moments as mere pebbles in a stream or fluttering birds of the air - glazed and joyous he sat rapt and rapturous in a symphony of curious happiness - And if such was so strong and real and true he mused it must have been there all along - This he did not so much think as wordlessly intuit and know in his heart -
A cathedral of moonbeams illuminated the room and bounced and glittered from a thousand and one shiny glints hither and thither - The still beauty of the moon had crept stealthily into his domain and wafted him into a deep samadhi state - Joy and wonder are one really - They brimmed over in him and he gazed before him as the seer of a new world --
Knowing this to be the nature of beings he was content -
The lane snaked along the side of a valley - its high hedges following the natural contours as if it was originally built to defend the valley - After some time and a brief glimpse of a fox out hunting he finally caught sight of his house bathed and dappled in moonlight -
It was a large - rather Gothic and curiously ancient house - set alone and aloof in its isolated enys - its patch of rugged and empty moorland - He had bought it for its solitude - its considerable distance from any other habitation - For a writer needs a certain amount of solitude and here he could truly write - What-s more the conditions on that particular night were perfect as there was nothing that stirred his imagination more than a full moon - like the one that at that moment was shining in through the many windows off his ancient abode - After taking a moment to brew tea he proceeded to the centre of his kingdom - the large mahogany table in front of the window through which he could view the spacious lawns and topiaries of the rather formal but deeply enchanting garden -
A slight mist shrouded the shrubs and anointed them in glistening jewels of moisture - Whisps of atmospheric fog drifted over the lawns looking sometimes like clouds - sometimes like figures or fauns - He picked up his pen to write - moved by the scene in front of him and its haunting atmosphere but even as he did so he seemed to swoon and spin into a blissful trance - a reverie or species of dream-vision or seeing -
The crystal-glass paper-weight before him gleamed with untold and unusual clarity and it seemed the glare and glister was enmeshed somehow with his own mind and self and he himself was becoming crystalline and clear in feel and mind - as if the clarity of the crystal in the moonlight was transferred to his own perception thereby clarifying it and making it pure as clean water -
He stopped - drew breath - stared in wonder - the pen dropping from his hand and clattering quietly to the table - He let go and felt no need to fathom the cause of the feeling or seek explanation but rather merely he kept to a quiet stillness and rapturous flowed the time around him -
The moments as mere pebbles in a stream or fluttering birds of the air - glazed and joyous he sat rapt and rapturous in a symphony of curious happiness - And if such was so strong and real and true he mused it must have been there all along - This he did not so much think as wordlessly intuit and know in his heart -
A cathedral of moonbeams illuminated the room and bounced and glittered from a thousand and one shiny glints hither and thither - The still beauty of the moon had crept stealthily into his domain and wafted him into a deep samadhi state - Joy and wonder are one really - They brimmed over in him and he gazed before him as the seer of a new world --
Knowing this to be the nature of beings he was content -
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