John Dunn

The Logos can only be the living thought itself, Creation always, the Beginning always

Thursday, 22 September 2022 at 21:53

Daniel Gran's Glory of the Newborn Christ in Presence of God the Father and the Holy Spirit. Note how Adam and Eve are portrayed below, in chains.

The Logos can only be the living thought itself, Creation always, the Beginning always

In the Beginning is the Word, the Word being the Logos, or God, or Love.

Immanence with the Logos is Love

I write the notes as a further development of the archived blog Where the immanence? (Scroll down the Archive to read.)

It deals with a question: if there is an imminence possible with the Logos, and I have stated repeatedly that it is possible in the realm of living, active and non-objectifying thought, then where will the Logos be found.

A Logos that finds me, or to which I return, is out of the question, as that would involve a presupposed existence that is tantamount to idolatry; it would objectify the the idea of the Logos, making of it an abstraction, a non-entity.

The Logos can only be the living thought itself, Creation always, the Beginning always.

The mistranslation in the Bible must be amended to make this clear.

In the beginning was the Word should read In the Beginning is the Word, the Word being the Logos, or God, or Love.

To understand the Beginning as a Big Bang, one-off, event is to objectify the Logos making of it an abstraction, a non-entity.

Where is the Beginning, and how can it be discovered without objectifying it and thereby idolising an abstraction.

Here we come to the Originatory Principle for which there is no explanation. Here we come to the mystery.

That which will not be objectified or rationalised into abstraction is Love.

God is love; and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in him. (1 John 4:16)

Immanence with the Logos is Love.

To be read with the archived blog Where the immanence? (Scroll down the Archive to read.)

© John Dunn.

Unattainable transcendence

Wednesday, 21 September 2022 at 19:02

Connectivity with the Logos, understood by St Maximus to be the path of ‘divine intention’

The Fall, fallen thought and fallen angels

My earlier archived blog Unattainable transcendence (Scroll down through Archive to read) was concerned to pick at St Maximus’s metaphor of ‘divine intention’.

Johann Angelus Silesius

The path of divine intention is lost at the moment of thought’s inception

The original connectivity with the Logos, the essential reality, is lost.

This essential reality, the departure from the divine intention as St Maximus framed it, is that which is expressed through the metaphor of the Fall.

Loss of connectivity to the Logos, i.e. loss of God, loss of Love, is the Fall.

Thought relates to objects or phenomena outside itself, and not to its own shaping power.

Thought which is one with the Logos falls away from the Logos, as a falling angel.

Thought the Creator becomes thought the objectiviser.

Connectivity,or immanence with the Logos is an attempted expression of active thought. This is what I understanding of what St Maximus meant by the path of ‘divine intention’.

Active thought falls away to become dead thought, i.e. thought that is reflected back to the thinking subject as objects or phenomena outside itself.

Active thought is the Logos.

Silesius knew this and attempted to express as follows:

“I know that without me no God can live; were I brought to naught, he would of necessity have to give up the ghost.”

In another context, but fully centred upon Love, so the words cannot but help ring true, Emily Brontë wrote:

Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.

© John Dunn.

The above to be read in conjunction with my earlier archived blog Unattainable transcendence (Scroll down through Archive to read).

The Roman Portway

Tuesday, 20 September 2022 at 18:59

Kirtlington

The Roman Portway (not to be confused with the southern Roman Portway which runs from Silchester to Old Sarum) makes even more sense when the equilateral triangle argument is made.

It is the triangular argument made in the blog Could the Portway be Roman in origin? writ even larger.

The Pangbourne / Whitchurch crossing of the Thames makes more sense and is a more direct route north from Sichester to Dorchester on Thames and beyond. It has long been a favoured ferry crossing because of the islets that exist in the Thames here.

The most direct route is the hallmark of a Roman road.

There are two essential straight lines to the Portway.

Silchester - Dorchester on Thames - Kirtlington

Kirtlington - Farthinghoe - Norton (Bannaventa)

The variations from the two lines are accounted for by conditions of geography and roads existing prior to the Roman conquest.

It is generally said that the Romans came to Britain and laid out an elaborate road system. This is probably only partly true, in that they most likely improved many roads and added a number of others.

It is highly possible that the route existed for thousands of years before the Romans came, notably crossing the Icknield Way between Icknield Farm and Ipsden. Roman coins have been found at this crossroad.

The Roman route will also have been modified to take account of medieval trading priorities, most notably the wool trade. The Port Way as it it is known now in places was most likely a significant medieval trading route.

In addition there will have been further modifications made in the turnpike era.

Back to the equilateral triangle. Silchester is on the middle of the base side. The best route northwards is to splice the triangle in twain and go straight to the top, rather than around the Thames to the west via Dorchester on Thames, or even further west and up the western side of the triangle which is the Fosse Way. To go east and follow the eastern side of the triangle, Watling Street, would be ridiculous, given the direct route to the northern tip as an alternative.

The best theory is that the route was established in Roman times, having being made from a mixture of pre-Roman and Roman-built roads.

It retained its integrity as a route into the Middle Ages, being adopted and modified for use as a medieval trading route, especially for the transport of wool.

Southampton, conveniently situated directly south of Silchester, was one of only eight ports from which the export of wool was allowed in the Middle Ages.

The route fell into obscurity as the wool export trade diminished in importance, and turnpikes and stage coaches later kept to the contours rather than the steep gradients of direct and straight roads.

© John Dunn.

What about the case for a Roman Portway to the south of Dorchester on Thames?

Monday, 19 September 2022 at 20:01

Benson High Street

What about the case for a Roman Portway to the south of Dorchester on Thames?

(To be read in conjunction with previous blogs Portway, Portway 2 and Could the Portway be Roman in origin?)

There is evidence to suggest that a Roman Road connected Benson (near Dorchester on Thames) with Pangbourne via Goring Heath, Broad Street Farm, Woodcote and Cold Harbour.* See J. Sharpe and P. Carter, ‘A “New” Roman Road East of the Thames from Benson to Pangbourne’,
SOAG Bulletin 62 (2008), 7–12. http://www.soagarch.org.uk/docs/bulletinspublic/bulletinissue62.pdf

Whatever the exact accuracy of the route, the implication is that a Roman Road ran northwards from Silchester to Pangbourne, where it crossed the river and ran north to Benson, there to join the road to Henley that led on towards Dorchester, thence along a Roman Portway northwards to Bannaventa, a fortified Roman town on Watling Street, near what is now the village of Norton.

A Portway route connecting the Roman towns of Sichester and Dorchester, is much more direct than the conventionally understood one west of the Thames via Streatley, and it keeps the road away from the Thames Valley, which is a policy that the
Roman surveyors adopted elsewhere.

It is likely that this section south of Dorchester on Thames is a continuation of a Roman Portway running from Bannaventa at Watling Street in Northamptonshire.

*See J. Sharpe and P. Carter, ‘A “New” Roman Road East of the Thames from Benson to Pangbourne’,
SOAG Bulletin 62 (2008), 7–12. http://www.soagarch.org.uk/docs/bulletinspublic/bulletinissue62.pdf

© John Dunn.

Could the Portway be Roman in origin?

Sunday, 18 September 2022 at 22:41

Beckley village

Could the Portway be Roman in origin? (Not to be confused with the southern Roman Portway which runs from London to Dorchester)

Further investigations into an ancient road. (See previous notes Portway and Portway 2 in Blogs)

On the superficial face of it - an emphatic no. The roads on my suggested itinerary up to Beckley are certainly not straight.

There is an identified Roman Road from the Roman town of Dorchester on Thames to Beckley (which continues on to Alchester, near Bicester). This might well form the southern portion of the Portway, as an alternative to my itinerary.

After Beckley, the Roman road to Alchester and Portway diverge or cross, depending on which southern portion of Port Way is the right one.

From Beckley, there is a case to be made for the route of the Portway being reasonably straight, certainly in sections.

Where was the Portway heading?

Well from south to north it terminated at Bannaventa, a fortified Roman town on Watling Street, near what is now the village of Norton (very near to the hill fort of Borough Hill as mentioned in the essay (Road, history,nature and a motorcycle).

Dorchester to Norton is on a south-north trajectory.

Dorchester is situated at the middle of the base to an equilateral triangle, the two other sides of which are Fosse Way, running south-west to north-east, and Watling Street, running south-east to north-west.

A road from the Thames at Dorchester to Norton runs to near the top of the triangle, spicing the triangle in twain.

The Portway would have thus connected Dorchester on Thames and the Thames Valley with the road systems running to the north-west and north-east ofEngland.

There is a case to be made for a Roman Portway.

© John Dunn.

Portway 2

Saturday, 17 September 2022 at 21:18

The former drovers' inn, once Magpie Inn, now Magpie Farm

Portway 2

Following my comments in the essay below, Road, history, nature and a motorcycle, about an ancient route called the Portway, I thought that I would take time out to plan an itinerary for the ancient route.

The Portway runs northwards, out of the Thames valley.

A good starting point might be where it crosses the Icknield Way as the A4074, just north of Icknield Farm and west of Ipsden. The road is named on the Ordnance Survey Map as Port Way at this point.

After Benson, the route avoids wetlands by either the eastern route through the Berricks, or the western route through Warborough.

After Newington and Stadhampton, the route crosses the Thames at Chislehampton, before striking northwards to Garsington.

It keeps to the higher ground of Wheatley, Forest Hill and Woodeaton, with the wetlands of Otmoor to the east and the Cherwell flood plain to the west.

Islip is the obvious crossing point of the River Ray, leaving the route to thread its way around streams, brooks and springs, as higher ground begins to be met at Bletchington and more consistently after Kirtlinton.

Crossing the Roman Ackerman Street north of Kirtlington, the route keeps to the higher ground east of the Cherwell and west of Gallos Brook.

The road is named once more on the Ordnance Survey Map as Port Way at this point.

It is severed in twain by the old RAF airfield and subsequent developments at Upper Heyford, but the route clearly picks up again as a bridleway at Village Farm, actually passing a Portway Farm, before being severed again by the M40.

The route is picked up again as a bridleway, before a metalled road continues the route at Souldern, taking us to Aynhoe.

From Aynhoe, it continues as bridleway to Charlton, passing the Ancient British hill fort of Rainsborough Camp.

From Charlton it continues as a metalled road to Farthinghoe and Marston St Lawrence, passing between Thorpe Mandeville and Sulgrave at the crossroads by the former drovers’ inn now called Magpie Farm.

Passing east of Culworth, the metalled roadway is broken briefly at Crockwell Farm, continuing again as a metalled lane to Preston Capes where it converges with Oxford Lane.

Though the original trackway is lost on this last section, the modern road from Preston Capes through Newnham still shows signs of its age. Crossing over the ridge towards the Ancient British hill fort of Borough Hill, there are thick ancient hedgerows, and occasional holloways on the hill-climbs.

© John Dunn.

Portway

Saturday, 17 September 2022 at 21:12

Akeman Street near Chesterton*


Appendix to the essay posted below "Road, history, nature and a motorcycle"

You know... you often get a feeling about a road’s history, and this stretch of quiet lane, just after I had left Akeman Street, that kept to the high ground east of the Cherwell, did prompt me to think it was an ancient way of some sort. Whilst not a sharply defined ridgeway by any means, it did neverthless keep to the high ground between river valleys, which is the hallmark of many an ancient road.

Whilst writing this up, my curiosity took me to Google Maps, where I discovered the lane at this point is called Port Way. One website leads to another, and I read that Portway was a trading route, possibly Dark Age or Early Medieval in origin, running from the crossing of the Thames at Wallingford, past Oxford, north on the east bank of the Cherwell into Northamptonshire. I was on one of the more distinct sections of the ancient route.

This only added retrospectively to the romance of the road that I had travelled, quite apart from giving me the idea that Imight seek out sections of the Port Way that could be motorcycled in the future.


Road, history, nature and a motorcycle

Sometimes it is the smallest stretches of road, in unexpected places, that can make for the most pleasurable motorcycling, and I had to share this.

I had to get out of the chaos of Bicester’s ring road system, if for no other reason than to identify where I had been spat out of it geographically.

I was on the A41 heading for Oxford, whereas I had intended to be on the A41 towards Aylesbury.

I pulled off the main road to follow the old, pre-war route, to Oxford via Wendlebury.

There’s a bend in the road before Wendlebury, and a lane leads of from this, blocked by bollards to cars, but open enough for a motorcycle to slip through. Once through, I stopped , pulled the flask from the pannier, and enjoyed a coffee.

I had been on this spot before on a couple of occasions, and knew its history. The now defunct lane was blocked off when Graven Hill became an ammunition depot during the Second World War.

But there was more history. Through the gate in the field, before which I now stood, there was once a Roman town known as Alchester; completely invisible now to all but the archaeologist and his trowel.

Pondering the map, as I am wont to do on such occasions,my eye caught the name of Chesterton and Akeman Street; the former a village (a few hundred yards from being swallowed up by the the voracious field eater which is Bicester these days), and the latter, which is a famous Roman road.

All these ‘chesters’ and ‘cesters’ smack of the Roman activity that existed two thousand years ago round here, and I was drawn towards them.

I would take my leave of Alchester, ride over to Chesterton (crossing the busy A34 on the way), and follow Akeman Street on the short metalled stretch westwards towards Kirtlington.

That was my plan, and once on the Akeman Street I knew it was a plan that was meant to be.

We men of the wheel, we travel hundreds of miles with historic places of interest to see, race tracks to enjoy and ‘meets’ of various kinds to compare machinery, forgetting often that the most interesting place is most often under our wheels wherever we travel.

Akeman Street, so close to the chaos I had left behind, was empty of traffic. I could choose my speed, neither held up in front or harassed from behind, whilst savouring the history of the ancient route; the Roman soldiers that constructed the route, the legions that marched up and down it, and the countless thousands of generations that have used the road since the Romans departed these isles. And beyond the road there was the gently rolling Oxfordshire countryside to refresh the spirit as I rode along.

Yes, a short stretch, a departure from my intended way, but a happy one, an uplifting one, when the road, history and nature came together to offer sheer motorcycling pleasure.

There was a bonus. Just before Kirtlington, I turned off Akerman Street (out of necessity, the metalled section finished at this point) and turned northwards to follow the Cherwell Valley, which I kept to my left. The lane followed a low ridgeway with the Cherwell to my left and the Gallos Brook a mile or so to my right. This is hardly a dramatic landscape, and yet the lowish elevation was sufficient to give views over the Cherwell that gladdened the heart.

I rode on to the former RAF airfield at Heyford. Wow hadn’t things changed around here since last I passed by, not all for the better. And yet I was buoyed through all the developments by the joy of the ride up to that point. I knew that beyond was the ‘Larkrise to Candleford’ country, made famous by Flora Thompson's pen, and it was there that I re-settled into the rhythm of country lane pottering that I relish.

No grandiose landscapes, no famous landmarks, no bikers’ cafs, just sunshine and a few thousand years’ worth of history under my very wheels at every turn, to make an ordinary ride special.

© John Dunn.

*© Nigel Cox and licensed for reuse.