A Cracker - My First Guest Post!!

With great thanks to Eleanor O'Rourke for this guest blog on my favourite subject! 

Why Christmas is for crack addicts

It happened every year. The first signs appeared on his commute to work. Shy reindeer and slightly embarrassed baubles edged their way into the shop windows. "Jesus Christ it's only the first of November" Joe Turner would rage as he stormed into the office of Fabulous Brands Inc.

Joe's staff were familiar with his contempt for 'the whole Christmas malarkey'. Some of them shared his disdain and watched with horror as the nation descended once again into a frenzy of present buying and binge drinking accompanied by the hypnotic mantra of dreadful Christmas music.

Joe's family teased him for being a Grinch. Then, without a trace of cynicism, he would argue the facts: Christmas was supposed to be a celebration for the Baby Jesus, not a ritual for the Retail Sector – who were only concerned by the announcement of their own year end Profit. It was over-hyped. It made no sense.

During the third week of December he usually cracked. It happened so quickly – a triple whammy of twinkling fairy lights, the smell of mulled wine and the the opening bars of "chestnuts roasting on an open fire." The assault on his senses, tugged on his heartstrings, rendering him senseless.

But what's really going on?!

We have inside us a blueprint for the next stage of evolution. Our future selves are calling us towards higher ground (remember time is just something we made up so this is not as wacky as it sounds). Some artists, mystics and visionaries have glimpses of this through a crack in the fabric of our current dimension. They can gain access to genius levels of consciousness - if only for brief moments.

Leonard Cohen famously wrote "There's a crack, a crack in everything, that's where the light gets in". Our senses lead us to this place – a fact that the Catholics used, to much effect. The smell of incense, the visual feast of stunning architecture, the haunting beauty of Gregorian chants. Guaranteed to produce a hyperlink to the edge… But instead of using these senses to scaffold to higher ground, many got seduced by the senses, becoming indulgent, manipulative and power crazy. (Have you seen the Vatican?)

Like many people of his generation, Joe Turner rejected religion in the sixties. He found other means to travel to the edge of consciousness – LSD, peyote, magic mushrooms. But when the music died, he ditched the patchouli oil, cut his hair and became a copywriter. That was all behind him now. Or was it just another indicator of his longing to glimpse through the veil?

Like curious children, we are drawn to the crack in the curtain – particularly at Christmas. But we get hijacked by our senses. The sight of gifts piled high, the taste of rich food, the smell of fir trees, the poignancy of carols, the anticipation of hugs on the exchange of presents (I'm so touched!). We become enchanted.

Then we wake in January with monumental hangovers, having maxed out our credit cards. Just like Joe we rail "it was that damned spell… it got me again!"  

We can't really blame the Magic of Christmas. Something inside us longs for a transcendental experience, we just forgot how to get there. Our senses were supposed to signal the way. But in our crazy wisdom, we made an altar out of the signpost, pitched tents and stayed put, making sacrifices to the Gods of Consumerism who bring us such lovely things that delight our senses.

We gather, transfixed around the crack of light, because we lack the discipline to go beyond our five sensory world.  

We need to come to our senses – all of them, including the sixth and possibly a seventh, eighth and ninth! This requires our spiritual expansion (not the literal expansion of our waistlines!). It requires the mental clarity that we are the saviour we've been waiting for.  And it requires the stretching of our childish heart, to gain access to the mystical heart - one that isn't indulgent, sentimental or manipulative.  In short, the heart that can love for no reason. 

Because we are now going beyond the Age of Reason.

It's a tough gig, and it will require our courage.

But anything less is just crack addiction.

See a bunch more at http://geometryofbehaviour.posterous.com/

Posted via email from Just Thinking!

Predictive Sex - Loft In Transition

And that m'lord was when it all kicked off. 

The Plot -

Only as the myriad microbiotic dust settled on the dystopian tea bag of time did we get to properly stir the sea of knowledge – and in so doing sleep deservedly on the bare floor of the outlawed saloon of majesty. 

Not that I would write such a thing as a text message (or at all) but imagine the fun you could have tapping that into your smart slab of iMystery – just to see how it comes out! How many people would it confuse? Well almost everybody – apparently.

Losing The Plot - 

Sorry people but something inside me loved it when Jeremy Clarkson pumped obvious and much needed humour into the otherwise ludicrous Public Workers strike. These folk voting to strike to retain their gilt-edged pensions while we pay them and the fucking bankers? It utterly appalled me. 

JC (great initials by the way) said so profoundly - "The Public Workers should be taken out and shot in front of their families." - Irate media frenzy guaranteed. People! It was a joke. He didn't mean it literally!

(Here comes the serious bit) 

Gross and cynically deliberate misinterpretation is becoming the biggest barrier to civilised humanity. It seems that people are becoming extremists – either totally literal - they only give a damn because it suits the facts they want to hear (and the fact that they don't get out much) - or - completely illiterate - because they don't give a shit anyway (and also don't get out much).

Anyway! It all reminded me of this - 

There Is No Plot -

Mark Twain once wrote that Jane Austen’s books - “madden me so that I can’t conceal my frenzy. Every time I read Pride and Prejudice I want to dig her up and hit her over the skull with her own shin-bone.”

And no my loft isn't having any work done on it at the moment.

I love the fact that predictive text brightens up the day with the wrong words. I wonder how the great writers of the world would have fared with misinterpretation and fat fingers if they had had the smart/dumb phone. I will pause now and let the great writers vent about their interpretation of others.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Truman Capote on Jack Kerouac:

“That’s not writing, that’s typing.”

Oscar Wilde on Charles Dickens:

“One must have a heart of stone to read the death of Little Nell without laughing.”

Joseph Conrad on Herman Melville:

“He knows nothing of the sea. Fantastic — ridiculous.”

Henry James on Edgar Allan Poe:

“An enthusiasm for Poe is the mark of a decidedly primitive stage of reflection.”

H.G. Wells on George Bernard Shaw:

“An idiot child screaming in a hospital.”

Gustave Flaubert on George Sand:

“A great cow full of ink.”

Just off to plant a few vegetables down at The Plot - 

Posted via email from Just Thinking!

Premature Projection - The 21st Century Plague That Kills.

I'm going to fall. Run!

Vertigo is one of the most powerful projections of the mind. Well it bloody well works. I am so bad that I get vertigo just by spelling the word – especially if the font is large. Projection can mean serious failure – vertigo proves it, but from great heights. 

Unfortunately there are far worse projections of the mind than vertigo. 

The world is dying because of it. Everywhere I go, every issue I hear on the news, I feel plagued by seemingly bright people suffering from premature projection. So embedded in their judgement, their inbuilt prejudice – they are incapable of actually listening. Projection has become so powerful that it has rendered its victim incapable of reason. 

Global wars and disasters involving us all. Immense wastelands of energy, time, resource and space – all brought about through incalculable stupidity borne out of unhelpful projection of their perspective onto everything they survey. These walking sick are lurking everywhere, just waiting for a moment to argue on behalf of their bloody projection - their corner until death. 

In my small corner of the world I try and avoid it because it is the kiss of death for creativity. I fail (all too often) to free myself completely from its grip but it has spread like the red weed in the War Of The Worlds. Creativity requires unconstrained freedom of thought. A place without fixed intention and demanding unconscious luck. I set out to deal with bastard child of creativity every day. I find myself flailing under the weight of concrete projections falling from great heights. 

It is a mischievous thing projection. You can't stop it. It messes with the head all dressed up as an alien transvestite from another galaxy (c'mon you know what that looks like) and calls itself 'informed opinion'. 

Premature Projection (PP) is officially an illness – ill formed, ill informed and ill judged – oh and it makes me ill. 

It jumps around in front of the mind's eye to avoid detection – the infected will defend their projection until put to the sword. Any attack on PP whistles past it – it is ungraspable and therefore incurable because the mind inflicted with it doesn't realise it is infected. It spreads into all the cells and rattles around inside the body - you can smell it on the diseased skin. 

It is always waiting to jump to new flesh. Thankfully you can avoid it if you can spot the symptoms. This is because you can see projection written in peoples faces – there's the tell-tale signs. A look of sprung steel  - of indignant self–righteous judgement set deep into the eyes. Once alarmed into action the mouth and lips form into a translucent ghastly trap door already half closed to opportunity - set to strike before the free thought or fresh idea is out of your mouth.  

Take a fucking day off!

I know it well because like vertigo I suffer from it myself. And like vertigo I don't know how to cure it. As with projection your idiot brain is convinced that something is certain (and most likely wrong) and you also know (from experiences - time after time) that it is likely to be busted by facts.

C'mon bacteria, get stuck into this one!!! Save us all from ourselves!

Posted via email from Just Thinking!