The Fool. Everything has gone momentarily quiet, laughing and applause most conspicuously. Expectant hush.

Can still hear a few chuckles. Can see, in retrospect I'm completely in the moment. Have no idea what proceeded this immediate on stage moment, but now it's my turn. To go on stage for the first time in my life, playing the role of the mad march hare, in the Community Theatre production of an improvised version of Alice through the Looking Glass. The amplified sound of a clock ticking and then an alarm breaks through my here, not here, place, time, in the moment, reverie and I leap onto the stage and we are, I am ‘The Dancer to the Dance‘. The audience loves me. They laughed so much. I’m so funny. Had always thought of me, been treated as a really serious guy, and here I am, onstage, making people laugh; and then as the play progresses, when I appear the audience applauds, and finally the first night is over and I, we, rush off to the Sir Harry, and then onto the opening night party at Lyndon Liz's house. Never experienced in my life such camaraderie as I did putting together that first play of me and they. Us. Some of them already knew each other, but most didn't. Never came across so many people who were interested in me, and interesting to me, who were interested in what I was interested in. Books, music, rock 'n' roll, dancing, partying and endless conversations and discussions about ‘life, the universe and everything‘. I belonged, blossomed. Exploded. Went to India ten years later, to meditate, live on an ashram, a very modern school, which mixed psychotherapy groups with meditation, music, dancing, working and it was a life changing experience yet again. Had found renewal once more, as I had so many times, but at one level it only gave me what I got from that ‘am ‘dram, experience in my early twenties and set me, this time on the road I still travel. The fool in me was never lost, never have lost being able to jump of cliffs, leap into the unknown, make a fool of myself. Have a life. Thank god. Existence. Goddess. Fate. Good fortune. Foolishness.

Odd mix in this image; which hast to have been painted from a photograph of somebody posing. He looks like one of those American actors who spend hours in the gym. That object he's wearing appears to me an American lodge regalia. ( Makes me crawl). Probably wouldn't feel so strongly if was being worn by an indigenous; and that robe is classic American television magician outfit. Candles so obviously are phallic ;and given they’re black and white must be saying something about the dark and light side of the male principal. Can go along with that. Generally tend to see the pack as leaning towards a feminist point of view; and have come to expect that anything to do with men from that perspective will always be negative, but this image is balanced. No question that maleness functions from one extreme of morbid violence and destructiveness to breathtaking creativity at the other. From men who are completely faithless; regularly let their families down, to men who die and damage their health looking out for kin.(Woman fit that spectrum as well) Not sure I want to get into writing about this, only because its so big; and I’ve only a half a page to go, but I started so I’ll just get on. Never really had to deal with physical male violence, apart from yobs looking for a fight, not since I was a teenager; and indeed the most violence I’ve ever been on the receiving end of has been from a woman; and indeed a woman I had no reason to deserve any violence from, let alone the degree that manifested (the ignored aspect of women.) Since my early twenties, when I came to live in the city; and regularly began to visit London; develop friendships with people there, I realise now, and it's something I've mulled over recently, the men and women I’ve been involved have been pretty evenly matched. The guys in my circles, at the widest are not; and I’ve never been given reason to think otherwise, ever violent, although I can think of one or two women bullies; and the women are not doormats. I hear of, and read of things going on that fit the stereotype, but it’s something I never come across directly, almost the contrary really, but maybe this is just something to do with mixing in largely Guardian reading postgraduate circles.

High Priestess . practical. A school. Surprising how once I begin getting things down. and then literally hosed down. Limavady cattle market. during the holidays would often go hang out there for hours. First internal pictorial response was of Pocahontas. . So many images of that time and place. Not done one for when I lived in Ireland and may possibly consider doing so. Never attempted to stop us going to the market. and for some reason. (Waite Smith). My brother. which I keep regularly. from the poem Hiawatha. in a flat over a pub. always up for a laugh. (and why not?) She seems to me diametrically opposite to the long established image. apart from an overview. Thanks Peg. Its the replacement of an archetypal representation with a comic book stereotype. She was so down to earth. Recall standing in the backyard being carefully undressed by my dear mum. Can possibly manage a second line. the a rush of memory that happens. Limavady. No. A picture of a girl in fancy dress. and more particularly mind maps which tie in with the Intensive Journal. at which I recall we had to memorise poetry. of school in Ireland. younger brother and I. although I can barely recall details of it. not returning till one or two. because we were so smelly and dirty. not infrequently leaving the house as early as seven o'clock in the morning. but only particular remember it occurring in Ireland. This image is so removed from what I've come to see as traditional High Priestess. I sometimes make mind maps. ( I wandered lonely as a cloud . Wont bother.) Sure I had to memorise at other schools. I attended between the ages of nine and ten. the entrance to which was just across the road from where we lived. which then leads me to pictures of schooldays. Just took cleaning us in her stride. That’s the lot.

. by which time my mother's large family had dispersed into various places. because I'm older. She died when I was about five and not long after that my paternal grandmother committed suicide. Straightforward. with awareness or not. Eros being life when we look back at being born. Do actually ponder about my maternal grandmother regularly. including we. but realise there's a lot of uncertainty around it now. but I do have information about the maternal gran and strong memories of where she lived at the time of her demise. Regularly these images trigger me into looking at things in a new way. and this archetype plainly talks about the grandmother from that place and then Thanatos. Have actually got a very strong sense of this archetype. or more deeply. This one says grandmother. along with other stuff from that time. Grandfather. Although talking about a grandmother from a similar age vantage is rather different to the notion of same from the point of view of a child. Don't even know if we ever met. Of the latter I remember nothing. A very different proposition from inside. embraced or not. up until the age of seven.The Empress. the growing awareness of the fact that we will die. Jung talks about Eros and Thanatos. but picking up the card has led me to see that I have no actual memory of her. We change roles do we not? We cease to play the part of the younger generation and start to fulfil the function. for reasons to do with things that are going on in my life. the role of old people. because it seems to me its an archetype that would have developed from the point of view of a child . grandmother.

but in a playful didn't know when to stop adolescent sort of way. Would I ever have seen men in this way. Can't say I've ever had any dealings with a man like this.’ He was very mischievous. Would always expect his own way. in the sense that they aren’t public figures. who may have grown into this. Young man's face. (My father didn't cry when challenged. Know a lesbian in a relationship who reminds me of my father. Not kind Maybe putting it mildly. controlling. much as he wants that. My experience of men and women since the early Seventies has been of them fitting broadly within a similar framework. (A guy I used to know who I vaguely see in this image. Priapic. Very domineering. a pond which it's easy for other fish to leave.The Emperor. with a heavy beard. (Although I would say I've met men and women who would be like this if they lived in a different society and could get away with it.) Can recall some from when younger. Basically completely amoral. King of Pentacles from the Waite Smith pack. As far as I know none of the blokes are physically violent or despotic. because he isn't in a position to be a law unto himself.) . like the father. Then the three of them didn’t became Emperor's. Old man's head. but not in the way he might be. Dionysius.) Sense of mischief about this one. and none of the women for that matter. and he once said of himself 'I always looked old. Don Ward. but she's swimming in a small pond. She. A would be Emperor in fact. doesn't seem to have even the most basic understanding of a viewpoint apart from her own. immoral. sulks or starts crying. She's in her fifties and if challenged either gets aggressive. A good friend in his own fashion. He was in his twenties. and believes he should be). King Lears Fool. He just got more aggressive. (My younger brothers pretty despotic. A centaur. Bacchus. Henry VIII. Young men. Young man's body. so her despotic behaviour has just led to her alienating people she knows. Met a woman as amoral. Not sure. So definitely not this Emperor. The women have got balls and the men some sensitivity.

) I became conscious that those ideas of punishment and damnation for everything were still swirling around. it would have been impossible for me not to have taken on board the values of those people.The Hierophant. ‘but I looked a little cherub Miss. The Pope made an anti-gay pronouncement at Christmas. . and then I came to understand that being anti-Christian wasn't so different to being a Christian. which then made me aware how far away.. torn between being a Christian and an anti-Christian. I rode to horses. (I’d answered back. and as much tied up and reinforced by fear as those religions were. apparently went round telling people off if they said they loved mum and dad more than they loved Jesus .and I have a very strong memory. That was the prevailing background ideology of the day . although still interested in 'religion’. God Knows. how could you have been afraid? Then got religion around that time and became an altar boy. Its still dancing around the same stone. Thank god to be free of it. but after I began to meditate ( meditation heightened my awareness of my inner world. Picked up on it only because the media I use carried the story. It’s interesting to me now to see that she would have been frightened of me). parents. Do literally mean 'tribe'. when a hysterical. nothing to do with me he and his tribe are these days. Realised that when I hear about things they're getting up to its a little bit like hearing about the goings on of an Amazonian clan. In the years leading up to starting to meditate became increasingly anti-Christian. from around the age of seven. In the early Eighties I read a book by Joseph Heller. the ideas about going to hell for every small infraction of the encyclopaedic set of rules that is Christianity was still affecting my life. who were all Christians in one way or other. Given my age. red faced teacher. and as it were. teachers. adults. Buddhism specifically. screamed at me that I was a devil child and I was going to hell. which I have only just understood. when I was growing up.’ and had one of those blinding moments of understanding that virtually everything that is known as Christianity is as much mythology as the mythology of the Greeks and Romans.

or not. . The 'I've got standards’ thing. expectations of what should happen within the relationship. any society. so it seems to me that unfullfillable expectation really play a huge part in messing up relationship. and of course. same race. is aware of what the hierarchy of an acceptable mate will be. Is there anything in life plays more of a part in turning us from happy go lucky optimists into miserable bitter pessimists. Is there anything more loaded than the whole notion of relationship? Suppose everything revolves around people getting into couples in our society. everybody crudely speaking. I'm somewhat taken aback. Big lesson for me about relationships. Most people always blame the other. wish them well and hope things work out all right. always get a buzz when people get together. Had my share of involvement with the other and share of joy and abject misery. First a collective ideal about who should get together.The Lovers. of any kind. Never took trouble to consider this so clearly before. same class. Bloody hell. Done the 'I'm not compromising’ thing. People should be of similar age. )and I can't see I'm that special. Mind you he added thoughtfully. this is a lesson that can only be learned the hard way say. So much can be said about 'Lovers' that its really difficult to know where to begin. Would like to add I’m not cynical about relationships. no matter how many times I see things crack. the planet. and its so encumbered with ideals and expectations. So many people become pessimistic about relationship. the world. and that after reconnoitring the already mentioned minefield of actually getting together with someone socially acceptable. but a lot. and I'm fairly convinced my ideas aren't particularly jaundiced. male and female. cast themselves in the victim role. Trouble is that so much of the stuff which I wouldn't compromise over looks a right old load of ballocks years later (not all actually. has been that expectations screw everything. Then as individuals we come to relationships with many personal ideals.

Such a long time ago that I was into all that. in the early days of drug culture and that overlaps with the tag end of working in the commercial. and nowadays increasingly girl. Can that possibly have been me. although it was short lived because I left and within three years had dropped out completely and never owned a car since. has stopped me in my tracks. Thrown myself here. A mini Cooper. which got increasingly capable of greater and greater speeds and more and more expensive. started to spontaneously be on the side of the staff against the management. reflect the range of one's life. I was a manager of a store and began to feel bad that my 60 year old cashier. but slowly reclaimed it. develop. hierarchical world. standing in front of his/her car. It's like looking at someone else. have seen it. Picturing myself dressed in suits . has really fleshed it out. made it more dimensional. with my cars. earned less than twenty four year old me. Have reflected on that part of life many times. began to remember the good times and get a sense of perspective about the things that put me out. which began a year or so after I left school . A Cortina GTE. The charioteer is the young guy.The Chariot Because of my interest in Jung. behaving the way I did with those conservative values. it's very easy to get into the habit of looking at these cards expecting that which reflects in some ways such matters. meditation etc. who I couldn't have managed without. Been there. Worked in management in my early twenties. a party crowd.. . but to remember the four cars I owned and obsessed about during that time (Austin 838. but it's been a bit stuck. liberal left-wing values. saw it for years very negatively. Then I dropped out and started to get involved with an arty crowd. Wore suits. psychology. a souped up Ford Anglia). with his or her wheels. drove cars. from that which some would call the mundane to the more psychological and spiritual. and not see how the image's show a spectrum. more and more of a drain on my bank account. Was in a position of authority. completely spontaneously. Round about the time the UK went metric I started to go off the rails.

invoking higher authority. and it's not easy to step back. ( bit like all men are bastards feminists nowadays. me included like dirt. Also recall that if their bullying backfired. and as I recall. see the movement. All the best to you if you read this and as to the others. In the first and second year at Grammar School the dominant figures in the class were girls. although even in my teens I can recall lots of girls who didn't fit the stereotype of meek. Female principal taming the male. ‘Went' with Maltese men in their twenties and claimed to have had two abortions. looked much older. Brenda made it worse by not caring. Wonder what Arthur Waite would have come up with if he was authoring the cards now. Then there were the officers daughters. .) Brenda. obviously in the early teens.Strength. Bet you went on being a good egg Brenda. It's happened so gradually. Equally knew lads who didn't fit the aggressive bullying male stereotype. boys and girls. They detested Brenda ( Her father wasn't an officer and she didn't know her place. mild sugar and spice. boy or girl stood up to them they had no hesitation in running to teachers. in light of how women and men's behaviour has changed. Fuck off. and one petty officers daughter hanger on. if anyone. Brenda was a big strapping lass of thirteen. She was completely down to earth with the other kids who were at ease with her. and we. the forerunner of humanist feminism and the offices daughters the forerunners of all men are bastards feminists. hero worshipped her in return.) and treated her followers.

Can be alone and get on with it. Considered. and he can be in company. Doesn't need to dominate. Maybe they see the introvert as superior because he she can be. recognisable archetype. The wise hermit ( Loved that book as a kid. How interesting! . but not violent. For years and years I searched for Mole end. Good natured. coupled with Magician. Maybe its an archetype in the eyes of the extrovert. but it doesn't matter. unseen. Courageous. Terrific fun. Most of what the extrovert does happens in public and most of what goes on in the life of an introvert. (I mean Merlin is the quintessential Hermit. Just someone who’s comfortable being alone. although most representations I've seen don’t put him in a social situation. (Wind in the Willows) when he opens the door for ratty and mole who are lost in the wild wood.) that he is actually playing the 'Fool' archetype. and kind when necessary. So inverse anachronistic. Such an evocative image.The Hermit. My ideal home) Been watching 'Merlin' on the BBC for the last 10 weeks. In this image he looks as though he’s holding the lamp up to examine something and in my imagination I make a jump and see Badger. Male. In fact badgers are social creatures. is of course. doesn't need or want to socialise in the way extroverts do. At one end of a spectrum he personifies introvert. He turns up so often. most of whom can’t bear to be alone. Merlin is a young guy about twenty and so far removed from the hermit. but in Wind in the Willows he fits this archetype so well. rule the roost.

again. but also because of that sense that the whole Christmas and New Year thing is over. being everywhere. and since then been self-employed. all shades in between 'here there and everywhere'. Had forty seven addresses since I was born. Finished a PhD. Card says it all. working from home. and its build up. shifting. and it was still with me. Wheel of Fortune.m.Wheel of Fortune. I know not! Have such a strong sense of the flowing ebb and movement of my life. and it’s a change. the last as it happens. the end of a ten year series of courses. A most propitious morning for chance to show 'Wheel of Fortune'. Not hugely given to making much of portent. more art. Was in bed at 6 p. and New Year after New Year after New Year. all day today. Had developed the first serious illness of my life at the start of November. and it's always been a time when in a completely and involuntary way I reflect back on the year. The point of all this is that for me to be inhabit this place for so long is a change. Life is highs and lows although maybe it's just because of ideas. and of course pondering on that 'nothing like it feeling' of early morning on New Year's Day. Movement. tumbling. Happening right now. and up until I came had only stayed in a place more than three. and the weather has turned. put certain values on certain scenarios. Friendships that run down. at this address. Coloured pictorial memory. not just for the day. Used to enjoy New Year so much. The city changes and so on and so on. Now more writing. Wheel of Change. . and I apologise for the cliche. incredibly beautiful. but it work’s does it not? Ebb and flow. now less. Like the wind. which gives life to that sense of low and high which the mystics say is just a beautiful flow. We label things in certain ways. 2009. and at the end of '98 I came to a major turning point. barely perceptible here and a tornado in another place. Missed New Year '08. this latest. and getting into gear. and still the change goes on. still somewhat sleepy. The most stable of my life. but am intrigued that it should surface on the morning of January 1st. when I’m alone. new ones that begin. all the time. trees are covered now with rime. and clock time. Lived here for eleven years. less art. right through that whole time.

opportunities. this is not an art review. Start from the moment. for perspective. It's just I didn't feel particularly responsive to the image. She would always do the right thing.) My personal sense of justice is also most engaged over notions of distribution of resources.) Get a good feeling. although I would say it's always been important to me to act justly. as well as she could. but it works with the Justice image. which provides a sense of balance. Such a strong emphasis on pretty colours. Its portrayed as a woman on buildings erected in London in the 18th and 19th century. Has to be a story behind it. between masculine and feminine in a way that’s right for justice. the defining characteristic of Artisan's is to do what works. It's a longstanding archetype. so to get myself writing I opted for being as immediate as I could. (David Keirsey says that one of the defining characteristics of the idealist temperament is a desire to do what's right and. Might have to do some research. That strong featured woman is slightly softened because of the way the card is worked. or demons (apparently) interesting that this should happen.? Are they the same thing? . Still appals me that people starve in a world when so many have so much more than they can make use of. goes back years. Generally find these cards slightly twee.. How interesting! Justice.Justice. Is that Justice or a sense of fairness. so maybe it's a connection to the archetype of woman as Justice. a good sense of trust. and I definitely tend to get one on me when I feel I’ve been unjustly treated or I observe what seems to me injustice. It's interesting how Justice is portrayed as a woman. It works really well. so at a time when they were seen as fluffy bunnies. Idealists are also seen to have 'female' characteristics. A woman must have done something to earn the respect of men. (No. Can't say it's a concept I ever spent a lot of time pondering upon.

a vast space at that. It was delivered and all us kids helped Mrs Brooks unpack and set it up in the playground. although I can't imagine I saw it as such. . Get the impression that many people nowadays expect kids to live completely risk free. At that age. She was a 'hell fire and brimstone' type. She got hysterical and then Mrs Brooks got involved. up to eleven plus age group. A tall. (Went back to that school to take a look 20 years later and it was still there. I fell out with her because I saw Miss Rood smack my little brother across the face and went and told her off. School was part of the pretty village of Yeovilton. over the tarmac playground.The Hanged Man. that’s my picture of her. Right next door to a naval land ship. Mrs Brooks taught the rest of us. Only about 30 of us as I recall. gaunt woman. mission bound. Yeovilton in Somerset. lean. School number two. Recall so clearly swinging on that frame. covered in rust) That’s the connection to the hanged Man. in the early fifties. She decided we must have a climbing frame and I helped to pick it from a catalogue. She educated all ages post infant.. mostly practice I suppose. Risky. with a large iron and brick coal fire for heat in the winter. Hanging upside down with such ease. and we haven't got to the point of meta labelling. about six. Rejection. Finish. whilst being skewered with the pitchfork held by Beelzebub. Miss Rood taught the infants. Yes! I am getting to the point. Only two teachers at that school. Important lesson. Any little thing that stepped out of line was quickly told he or she was absolutely certainly going to spend eternity burning in the flames of hell. (can't recall the name) It had a runway and Venom jets flew from there. she is in my imagination. Mrs Brooks never forgave me. Completely fearless. Well. in one room. Put a foot wrong and you’ve had it. one is in a permanent state of awe about everything as I recall. I told her off as well and took little brother out of class and stood at the school gate for an hour and half waiting for the bus to take us home. Get the impression that wouldn't be allowed now. Mrs Brooks was my friend. Near Yeovil.

at that time. (Actually that's not true. and the commencement of a completely new situation. On a very fresh day. For many people. The beginning of a life of trial and error. and mostly order prevailed. ( Meditation is often called psychological suicide.This morning the Death card came up. about being in town after an apocalyptic event. Death is not just about endings. The writer suggested they were like mass dream manifestations. It draws us back from a reality pursuing what we want. that nobody has any obvious experience of. at a distance. Well I've been watching a new BBC series 'Survivors'. its also early stages. leaving space for something new to get going. Some unusual activity going on. but somehow that was in the background. The sense of satisfaction followed by the recognition that the book will never ever be read again for the first time. to a life built around and appreciation of what we need and have. Death. loss of what they know. ‘Survivors’ is concerning the end of the world as we know it. of programmes. a post apocalyptic event would change nothing. in many parts of the world. It's only we here in so called civilisation that would feel it. Was extremely busy.) Read an article years ago about the proliferation. said that they showed people not only fear death. Anyone who really enjoys books knows that sense of regret when a fantastic book ends. getting away from an existence which revolves around so much they say no to. but also are drawn towards the renewal. and so the connection is pretty obvious . the opportunity to make a fresh start. Life is an endless series of endings. relish the idea of regeneration of life. Who doesn't know the pain of break up and that eventually we did get through it. That's the second night running I've had such a dream . book's and films showing a post apocalyptic world. They have always lived like that. Had an incredibly intense dream last night. really.) To a greater or lesser degree we all know endings and renewal. where survival is the immediate prize.

which haven’t had in any form for ages. Am connecting it to my sense of having the feet more on the ground. from Poona to Bombay. that process of being forced to make choices about what really matters. . because of the illness and feeling I’ve inadvertently touched on the formal meaning of the card. Picture myself soaring over and above. but not since the illness last year. Mum and dad were so grateful. (Short sharp and breathtaking) To India. the more it becomes just like dust which has gathered on a mirror. once the three months was over. Gave me a sense of security. but different. Sure as a kid I had loads of fantasies about it. Difficult. Imagine flying. on the way back from India. or something like that. to how I was in my twenties. rebuild the life. On the way to India I sat in a row of seats next to a family with five children. being more accepting. structure. and the children. Good to engage in those down to earth ways. and of course. had to start again. Got a yes now.Temperance. It was completely spontaneous. ( Something about that first time experience of protracted illness feels like it made me even more down to earth. A physical sensation. in a way I didn't and wouldn't have about such things in those days and that is new territory.) Been in a plane. And how can a The burdened mind know? The more ideas are there. strength. Just become aware that a something that is going on with a member of my family. drew me into the world and I ended up looking after two of them. where we lived for a couple of years. Would just fly. as they do. freedom. Said the journey had been ten times easier than on the way to the UK. an acceptance of it. and now recall an ongoing dream. Relatively recently. with power. Can feel the power of it. or them looking after me. picture those arms going. the more the mind is burdened. (I've been aware of it for a long time) is showing me something. Roots and wings Ideas create stupidity because the more the ideas are there. and then as a child to and from Malta. almost from the ground upwards and that in itself is very grounding. Feel myself to be in a place which is the same. hauling me into the air.

They are not grounded in the earth and they are not free to fly into the sky. They are burdened too much. They know too much to know at all. and everyone who is opinionated is bound to be stupid and dull. Osho. A Bird on the Wing Chapter #1 Chapter title: Empty Your Cup . the dust. That's why professors of philosophy are almost always stupid. they can't mind. have wings. They cannot fly in the sky. they can't have roots in the earth.How can the mirror mirror? How can the mirror reflect? Your intelligence is just covered by opinions. And they are so much in the mind.

have only heard. Two different things. unwittingly of course. . Started to see it as a ladder. the judgement of ego started to melt. What I know from experience. Suffice to say the pettiest of things by any measurable standards. which is too heavy for us to drag towards the light. but in fact we can. and eventually came to understand I saw it as the act of presuming to say anything positive about myself. Can now see I had in ego about having an ego. Important distinction. enormous self importance. (Not going to go into all my ridiculous ideas about what constitutes being bad. With your huge.) So that was a massive step forward in understanding what ego actually was. not being able to let go and move on. miracle of miracles. It sets limits. most of them gone. As I write I became aware that I no longer condemn ego in the way I once did. Wonder if you really knew what you were saying or if it's a happy accident author.The Devil. (don't know) we are ready to transcend it altogether. Ego is the Devil. Had so many notions surface since I turned this up and scanned it into file. to more refined places. (another senseless remark because of course I don't know. Yes. in a sea of folk who were egocentric. holding me back from the light I’ve heard about. Real ego problem is getting stuck in one place. until eventually. you Coyne. First got the idea that ego was a terrible thing as a teenager. which is not treasure at all. develop a colossal ego about what an especially bad guy I was. Say this with humility. You’re not special above all others.) It's a treasure chest. both useful and not useful. Such a deep image. to which we are attached. Pretty funny now. that remark is probably senseless)it's still inside. although it's not as overbearing as it was. Then. (given I don't have the perspective of not having one. presumption. Still got one. but have come to see it as an anchor. which we use growing up. We move through ego states. and I did. What I've heard about. Everyone else in the world but you doesn't have an ego. Can see one woman I know becoming insecure if she's reading this. about not having egos. unwittingly.

. Nothing unusual about that. the same place I experienced the only time I’ve been through an unexpected death. However. the Towers and the moment of impact and it just did not register it was real. almost certainly from downstairs. very left wing and he needed no excuse to rant about America. A picture appeared of the planes. in tarot terms. (noise from downstairs) so I clicked on the next channel and through the channels and it was the same on all. He was as shocked as everybody else and didn't go into his usual pitch and so it went on for weeks. Everybody in the shop seemed palpably withdrawn and then I met a guy who was very political. Would be hard to look at this and not recall 9/11. suffering from senile dementia. played very quietly. Everything seemed far away. overwhelmingly so. a Tower event. Went to the supermarket a bit later and the atmosphere was so strange. The Muzak was now classical. which I normally wouldn't have at that time of day.) had been murdered and this was the same. Even writing the numbers reveals. some say.The Tower. Realise now I went into shock. angry reactiveness was even less of an option than usual. So much as the noise levels pissed me off. in the afternoon. Came home on that day. The people in the flat below were a couple in their nineties. for real. because I inscribe them knowing almost certainly that everyone will understand. echoing. a cold grey day. which was unusual. The beginning of the 21st century. subdued. Most folk of a certain age know exactly where they were when they heard Kennedy (The murder was. partly because I couldn't hear the sound. without giving it much thought I did go and put the television on. and I didn't know at the time I was in shock. The first thing I noticed when I came through the door was that the flat was filled with the sound of someone's television. at which point I knew something was happening and rang a friend. of a much loved friend.

taking note of it. because you’ve never been endangered in your life. but I won't bother with that. and as the physical strengths have become more limited. writing it down like this. All is flux. Implicit also in the image is a statement about fearlessness and security. Two notions surface. young thing. that it isn’t permanent. nothing.The Star . both positive and negative. and. Picture says something to me of ordinary things really. A Garden of Eden as was. freeing me from so much that no longer has value. yet through it all the glue that holds everything together is the basic stuff. and if I’d not been so physically strong. if I’d not had such enormous stamina. and even then. and now a third. attention. thrill. Nothing’s permanent in this life. being physically healthy. or you’re naive and lucky. You are either fearless. the ego and identity that went with them have shrunk. How can anyone know at that age. flexibility. There’s no possibility of threat. Night time’s generally cooler. even more clearly to me. to be walking around naked and alone at night. that stamina. like living in a safe environment. so to be wandering around naked is indicative of health. or you’re living somewhere where you’re absolutely secure. that kind of energy that bursts its banks. floods and crashes everywhere. People pursue novelty. as has happened in the past. not everybody has that physical health. brings this home. and let's face it. even on a hot night. like people do in their twenties. I. which couldn’t have developed fifty years earlier. put together a sense of identity. by some degree than the day. stuff that maybe we take for granted. resistance to cold. . sensation excitement. Never occurred to me that it was the basis of so much I thought I was. probably something anyone under thirty five could do and get away with it.

and to some I suppose that means danger. take it to be a reference to behaviour passed on unconsciously. especially when it was dark. The phrase from the Bible 'the sins of a mother' comes to mind. which are in the city and not of it. my crowd. a moonlit night. acting in small town ways but also the added layer of the 'bohemian immigrants'. although I know certain places I would rather not be at specific times. Dhu! The Moon is seen as a symbol of romance. there’s still something mysterious. Small towns don't attract large numbers of new people with new ideas either. but me. generation after generation. but we always. The thugs would probably have been warriors defending the town against intruders. Don't experience the night as dangerous. Take it to mean. exercise enormous influence over what goes on.The Moon. Cities have other layers. They’re made up of small towns with small town people. so theirs never a build up of enough influence to break the cycle. and to me that its most obvious association. going back centuries. no matter how old I get. always wary because of the local thugs out looking for someone to assault. and that behaviour goes on and on and on and now the role of defender of the town has been taken from them and so they beat people up instead. . The hours of darkness always seemed more dangerous when I was younger. The Moon itself is a mystery. which might be because I live here in this city. were so wary. and of course 'bohemian communities' in cities. Can imagine the actions of hoodlums in small towns connects to medieval times and before. I get mystery. Should be called the night. who pour into big cities and form communities. as a teenager living in South Wales. Bohemians have as many ego problems as small town thugs but generally speaking resort to physical violence to deal with the problems on a much lesser scale than small townees. a mystery about the night. and somehow. being out and about in the night. It's odd to look back. never feel unsafe. It's almost as if everything’s somehow more primitive.

Winter’s here. just sitting and sitting. and whoever comes by. Enjoy being wrapped up. still. but the sun blazing.The Sun . Enjoy getting back to a warm flat. and sound and silence have a different quality. no wind. and said white horse. and I have the Park to myself and then a coffee in the arts Centre. five years running. Haven't come across a lot of happy chubby babies riding around on white horses. got to sit around in wet clothes. Can't be an archetype. not moving on that dry stone wall under the Oak. T-shirt and shorts. Cannon Hill Park on a cold wet day with no wind. Days which are most difficult are cold and rainy. on said baby. No wind. I like the cold. enjoy that fresh feeling. with a mate. carrying an umbrella. out in the open. with the sun blazing. speaks. Babies just are as they are.) Enjoy British weather really. sitting. and the leaves make that amazing rustling sound when kicked. hot day. and walking through dry leaves. like no other time. no matter how old they are. Park Road. or the international Convention Centre down in Centenary square. happy chubby baby. Dusk in summer. An overhanging branch catches my body and suddenly I’m showered with pink cherry blossom. . windy and I'm going to meet someone. a tune(Carrick Fergus by Bryan Ferry at the moment. settling with a coffee. and mostly we have had day after day of clear blue skies. Speaks some small amiable phrase. Great looking. and then when I say that I recall walking under the spring Cherry tree in Moseley. It's still very warm. and a backdrop of fantastic sunflowers. although it's not that cold. now that's another issue. Autumns probably favourite. especially in the dark.

which had become home to me. but round about the time I returned. expands and renews. it appears to me to be so discredited. Got myself to the Metropolis and I've never looked back. not realising that was my direction at that time. re-explore a part. and it's been such a pleasure. 'Cookham Resurrection' when at Art school. Came to live here in Birmingham. to be finding my own personal revitalization. was about twenty three. and spent a splendidly glorious nine years charging here. because as it manifests generally. getting into that. and has manifested for so long. but I know . spent three years opening doors. Resurrection. and at the end of the decade that life began to pall. Wrote an essay about the Stanley Spencer painting. because sensible me knew by then that we take ourselves with us. in a way that nowhere else I’d ever lived had been. Yeah! Ongoing renewal. in the UK. be a part of. trying to find direction. the city has gone through a concurrent renewal . but to the notion of it.) Gave in. the great and good of city state Birmingham set in motion a project for renewal. that I haven't been to for a long time and revel in it all. while all round me the city grows.Judgement. Have found renewal in this city so many times. rejuvenation of our environment. so there you go! Resurrection. Obviously that's to do with a quality of mine. Constantly find my interests. Renewal. getting into the other. such a terrific experience to observe. . Got a bee in the bonnet about going to London ( which I resisted. and what’s available coincide. Phoenix rising from the ashes. Lived and worked there about two years and eventually gave into my heart and came back to Birmingham. look at my inner overview of the city. have encountered folk who call themselves Christians who I admire enormously. although I've had a no for years. in the early Seventies. and so as I found new things to explore. The day rarely passes I don't emerge from my inner reverie and notice. step back. not to paintings connected to Christianity. ‘The grass isn't greener on the other side of the fence. Went to India then came back a year are so later.

clubbing. ( At a small social gathering years later a guy turned up wearing that leather jacket. Wasn't hundred % certain initially and then he recognised me and went purple.The World. Went ballistic. and enormous success. go close. Huge gathering. Just didn’t happen and didn’t realise. Then about four o'clock in the morning I went into my bedroom. Lived the familiar life and meditation side by side for a year as I slowly moved towards a life which was much much less to do with pleasure. but continued to be pulled back and feel aversion to the old. laid out like a mind map in my imagination. Spent a good year or so partying. It did. A magnificent affair. ( Being intellectual. working at the latest job and then at the end of the seventies the party life began to pall.) What I’ve just realised is that I never ever threw a party again. Not deliberately. bohemian. withdraw. see the people. not in a self disciplined way. lose. completely spontaneously. the particular flavour of my own parties and then an odd realisation. open a door. Very cold. my role or roles. Hey ho. Suppose I could never have imagined party clubbing would pall. deep. Was so identified with that way of life. where I’d stacked everything. and I was bored to death and drawn to the new. and I got into meditation. Early in January. He’d been at the party. . drinking. to a flat that holds a particular and loaded set of memories (It has its own file in my intensive Journal). For some it never seems to. No gate crashers. and then move on to the next. Moved sometime later that year. Am looking here. Didn’t realise who I was. 30th birthday. and indeed a month or so later discovered a favourite and very expensive jacket had been stolen. Everybody turned up. sexually active. myself. the people I was involved with. and found something badly damaged. drugs. Have such strong visual memories of various parties. but I let it go for the sake of my hosts. scholarly).

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