Month: August 2024

Remote on Mars I sucked my thumb

I wandered lonely as a crowd

That shredded sex, that sieved the ales

Then all at once I owned a cloud

It soaked the coast with daffodils

Around the cake beneath the fleas

Spluttering  and groping.all our knees

Continuous as a face of  lines

That wrinkles as it come to mind

Chewing upon a Milky Way

God  creates  never-ending light

To help the rabbits have their play.

Ten Saracens saw I at the dance

Shivering and shaking with nuance.

The trauma of no food or vocation

Is not being poor a trauma not so different from  long drawn out war

Where the mother wonders how she will feed her baby

When she herself can’t have the food she needs or wants.

where doctors communicate by text

And when you phone you are told to go online and fill in an e- consult form

How can the in larticulate do this and is it why they become abusive something I don’t recommend in any case.

I suppose everything is relative as they used to say.

Can your children do their homework somewhere quiet in winter; can you heat another room?

Where do we draw the line between war torture and everyday life for the poor the mentally ill the inarticulate the frightened the ashamed?

If even a mother with a partner and the safe job and money can fail to be good enough as Dr winnicott taught necessary

How much work is it for the mother who is alone, who hasn’t got enough to eat and is then supposed to be good enough for a weeping sobbing baby

I think people will say well she shouldn’t have a baby if  she can’t afford to bring it up.

I don’t go along with that statement

There’s a strong urge to procreate and it’s not happening enough now in modern society anyway

The education woman doesn’t want to lose her job or suffer too much boredom.

The teenager who’s not got qualifications may see motherhood as a career of a sort but she doesn’t know until the various board what the devans are like.

Why is it the responsibility of an individual like that to be 100% the care of this new baby when she’s never had any gift from society except schooling that she can’t learn frox.

In any case as soon as you are old or ill and can’t lead what is called a normal life society will seem grab you and put you into some institutions probably even worse than being in a real prison.

Yes there’s a lot of old people who are essentially imprisoned with no visitors and people say that they’ve got dementia so they weren’t no but I tell you they do know.

She said to me each day is like a year what do you do to past the time?

Hunt anywhere old people should not all be together similarly babies she’s not really reiness eight hours a day

Its a trauma not to live in a mixture of people. But why should a woman spend a whole life loosing after one baby when it could be it a nursery with 40 others and she could be travelling on the train into London to be a civil servant in the ministry of pensions

Oh maybe she could work in a factory where chickens come round on it and t on a conveyor belt and she has to put her hand in and pull that inners out as they go by on their way to be turned into chicken korma even with rice

It seems to me that there’s not much life it is not traumatic for many people and I wonder why that is

Grandad works in a coal mine for 50 years but he didn’t seem to be traumatized by that he was proud because in two world wars he was working under the ground and it was valued highly by the government and everybody else except those who paid the wages.

I suppose he didn’t expect much but he was married and had six children. Unfortunately my grandmother died young I never heard him complain although he did like to watch women dancing on the television I mean inside the television you understand what I mean

I saw his eyes gleam only once but I was interested by that

So how does something become a trauma like being left with six we never had enough to eatchildren of school age and their mother to bring them up?

Trauma used to be the physical injury and then gradually it became psychological or emotional.

It’s something that happens that your mind and body cannot take in and process so that it becomes a memory it’s too much so you choke on it and somehow it’s dissociated and cut off.

So you are split into parts which can’t seem to communicate with each other except through physical or mental symptoms.

Will it help to go to Walsingham and see a reluc from the heart of a boy is just been declaree to be a Saint by the Pope? If it helps why not?

Don’t talk about it these things mean something to the faithful and we all need faith at times.

Sometimes I think that heaven ans hell are in the unconscious mind

God maybe in our unconscious mind and that’s why we should respect it and be humble enough to know that there are parts of us which may be touching the sacred and therefore we need to be humble sometimes. But not humble before the government or the crazy people the populists and their hangers on

Well was it trauma when you couldn’t have those trainers that your friends had all the phone

Sometimes your mind and body can process it but it’s a big effort it may lead you to develop new skills but leave you rather shaking 9n your foundation maybe it is the lack of faith which is the trauma

Then we look for somewhere else to find the face and it could be following your bliss if you know what bliss really means which does not mean permanent joy and excitement all day long it means finding your vocation and that used to come from God and it may still come from God if we see God in a different way.

Intuition dreams interesting new thoughts finding the path was never easy

Dissociation

She left her body sitting by the bar

She observed the people from afar

She saw herself drink coffee eat a cake

She felt unreal, how should she navigate?

How courageous was this sister struggling on

Well  aided by her husband and her son

She even went to art class drawing flowers

She bought some paint and thus had happy hours

For some months the chemo drugs did work

But in the end there was not much good luck

She could not breathe she could not stop her cough

After that I never heard her laugh.

Through the glass so darkly we now see.

Face to face with God I hope she’ll be

No more dissociation,no more fear.

The world is worthy of our love and tears

Counting and measuring again

The difference between counting and measuring is that counting is in whole units like one two three four five..

Measurement is a continuous thing so your waist can be 24 inches 24 and a bit more a bit more and a bit more and you can measure all that but the numbers you’re getting are not all whole numbers or even fractions like the square root of 2 is an infinite non-recurring decimal

So you have the concept of continuity which is a very difficult concept in some ways.

But with the digital age we have gone back to counting and you only need two numbers to count zero and one.

It’s rather like the digital radio stations as opposed to the FM radio stations which do you prefer?

I prefer FM.

But I think if we taught mathematics in schools starting when the children are old enough to talk about how numbers happened and these two ways that they happen and then it’s much easier for children or students to learn the technical side of it because they will see some kind of context and some kind of meaning to it

I have yet  to find any reasonable way of telling people the ought to learn how to do quadratic equations using a formula that they’re going to understand.

We spend too much time in school learning things we are told when we’re useful later on but it’s very hard for some children to believe it’s going to be useful later on.

Yet if people like to gamble on the horses they soon learn what odds mean even when they can’t do arithmetic at school

Take a risk

The west side of the Pennines is more stark

We drove from Leeds to Shropshire by the Peak

Although the snow was whitethe night was dark

From Buxton into Cheshire it was bleak

In the darkest season days are short

The sun had sunk before we reached a town

I preferred old Kent in summer caught

The burning stubble where old cliffs went down

The  brightest day the burning fire the light

The darkest afternoon on spiteful hills

Turning into blackness in the night

What is the puzzling is the human will.

We lead  our cozy lives in timid towns

Danger is enticing, risk the crown

Disagree agreeably

2012-05-12-10-31-13-1

http://bigthink.com/influence-power-politics/disagreeing-without-being-disagreeable

“Skilful communicators know that words are weak vehicles of meaning. They realize and remember that many people choose among them quickly and that what is meant is often not what is said.

This mindset is difficult to acquire. Most of us proceed each day to operate on unchecked inferences and judgements. We assume far more than we check, thereby trusting observations that are inaccurate. Arguments often result.

I’ve devised a shorthand method for avoiding such communication pitfalls. It’s a mind-exercise routine to expand powers of observation. It bypasses the tendency to react impulsively. Over time, it becomes a way of disagreeing without being disagreeable.

The acronym for this is PURRR. It’s useful in helping to remember the steps involved and evokes the image of a cat calmly responding to its environment. Here are the steps involved:

— PAUSE the next time you’re about to formulate a judgment about a person based on something he or she has said or done.

— Make sure you UNDERSTAND what the person meant, which may involve inquiring rather than assuming.

— REFLECT briefly on whether the intention was to insult you. In any case, try to place your focus on the issue at hand.

— REINTERPRET what was said in a way that allows for a considered response rather than an impulsive reaction. Share that reinterpretation (e.g., “We actually agree more than meets the eye,” or “I believe there is only one rather small issue on which we still have some disagreement”).

— REDIRECT the conversation onto a path that best serves your own or mutual goals (“If we resolve this one aspect, or agree to disagree, we’re on a good track”).

Let’s suppose your usually easygoing boss is in a foul mood. He approaches you and angrily says, “I need that report tomorrow. No excuses.” You weren’t going to be late with the report. In fact, your work is never late. You are at a choice point. Do you react defensively? You could ask, “What’s wrong with you?” But what’s the primary goal? Is it to get the work done or fix his unusual mood?

It may be better to PAUSE. Upon REFLECTION, you may UNDERSTAND his comments were out of character. Perhaps he is under pressure. Rather than focus on his bad mood, which will delay your work and get you into a discussion at a time when he is angry, you could REINTERPRET the event as a one-off slip on his part. Next, REDIRECT the conversation onto a productive path. One way to do that is to simply reply, “I’ll have it on your desk first thing in the morning.” This response bypasses the relational (bad mood) component and instead focuses on the content of what he said (timely delivery of the report).

There are times when after applying the PURRR process, it’s clear that the comment was just too personal or outlandish to let it pass. At least you won’t have flown off the handle by making something that is about the other person (current mood) about you as well. If you’re prone to making disagreements into disagreeable situations, this technique may be just what you need.”

Emil talks to Mary about the Grenfell fire

Posted on June 18, 2017
Mary went into the bathroom and looked into the mirror.She no longer feared to see Satan, as compared to many living and dead human beings he seemed almost an angel.
Her hair was standing on end and she realised that it was one thing to buy a box of 24 combs from Amazon but quite another to use one.
Ah, well, Stan preferred it wild, she told herself.But that was a long time ago.It was no longer thick and wavy.That stopped men singing,”O Sole Mio” when she passed them while they were painting the outside of a neighbour’s house.They probably didn’t know what it meant and neither did she.
Why am I looking into the mirror, she wondered? Maybe I am lonesome.But who to visit?Who to invite for tea?
Emile pushed the door open.
Are you alright, mother, he mewed?
I am not your mother, Emile, she said to her little cat, being overly pedantic about every aspect of human life.
Ok,grandma,he continued.I see the Yodel van outside. He probably has something fo you or me.
Now, Emile, I’ve told you before you can call me Mary even if I am your grandmother.
Who was my mother, he asked?Did you adopt me?
Your mother was my mother’s cat “Arabella Stuart”.We called her Bella.Your father was a total mystery.
Presumably a cat, Emile pondered.
Why, did you think it was an animal of another type?
How about Stan.Was he my dad?
In a metaphorical sense, she murmured shyly.He loved you very much.And so do I.
When we watched the dreadful news on TV I was wondering if any animals had been killed by the fire.Nobody has said.I doubt if they would keep dogs up there but cats might have been allowed, he howled
Oh, dear,I admit I have not thought of that.It was so terrible seeing people waving from their windows holding their phones.Saying, I love you to their parents or children.And now the Chancellor says it is illegal here to use that aluminium cladding.
I bet he is going to try to oust Theresa May, Emile told her.
You men, you only think of one thing! Politics and fighting.And sex and hot sinners.
Do you mean dinners, that cat asked her?
No , hot sinners are harlots.
But how do we know it is a sin.To cats it is normal.Except we have no money to pay
I don’t know.The word sin is no longer heard as it is not politically correct
Whereas letting 58 people burn to death is politically correct as long as we don’t call it sinful.And all the others will be sick for years.
My God, you are getting clever, Emile, maybe you should run the country! Mary’s eyes filled with tears
You’d better make some hot tea with sugar, Emile announced.I will have 2 cubes.
They are not cubes anymore.They are spheres, she said softly.Sugrt spheres, How nice it sounds

Golden love

Alone in  my small room ,end-state despair
I wondered what to do ,go here or where?
I tried the doctor and the priest  and then
Knew there was no answer from a man
I saw in my mind’s eye a  tunnel black
To which I was dead heading on my track
Abject and broken by a lover’s death
By his own hand, he tested out God’s wrath
 I was  held by  golden  clouds of fire
I felt the  kindest love , the Lord’s desire
The tears ran down my cheeks in one great gush,
Acknowledging acceptance without wrath
And so I  turned  to life and to my work
Pain and torment shall not make me shirk

Bill,Bill,my mother’s dad

Bill.Bill.my mother’s dad
Down the coal mine he did dig
When he was but a young lad

He was never very big
He spoke in the old dialect
He had a dog, a pipe, no cig

Silent,smiling, starving wrecked
He sent kids to a soup kitchen
Learned to read, but knew few facts

Went to London,saw Big Ben
Still angry from the General Strike
Aye,he were a silent man

He walked at night, he had no bike
To the coal mine with his cat
The cat sat waiting till first light

Then they walked, he did head maths
His wife had died, the son was born
When he got home, he had a bath

His father worked in fields of corn
Peasants on the Chesire farms
The pay was poor, were up at dawn

He himself were on good terms
With his neighbours, Irish, torn
He went to Mass,so Latin learned

My mum was th’eldest of those born
She had me,my own dad died
She went mad, she was forlorn

Lost her mother, then she tried
To help her Dad with all her heart
Never wept and never cried

Then she made a different start
Met my dad and married late
So I am here with my own charts

Is it destiny or fate
Why am I down here, d’you ken?
I see you grandad, is it late?



Latin as she is spoke

From Lancashire dialect to Latin

Die, et ideo breviter allocking
Killin quod suus ‘vicis ut nunc dicimus
Ah, ah non shud et chodchod proposuerunt; sed oh
Opus, quod cuius effrenae libidini, invenient te ard

s ill i mammy tibi cito et moriar
A causa enim conteret: et ligabis
Allocking me sentire ill meks
Nonne mater iure testamentum facere?
Ego autem totum tuom est allooan Pyk
Impensis est weear vulgares AMBULO
Allooan sum, mi humiliavit uxorem
Allocking suus scelus ah scitote intelligentes

Ubi mi daddy quod suus ” ‘sit pipe
Ubi est Pater iaccam plena fumigant putas?
Illi volo, mi mam s alloooan
Vos, ed responsis horrent divum er gemitus

Ubi mi cat, et ubi canis mi
Ubi iscatur, rhoncus ea pallio, si frigus?
Factum ‘putas veteres pannos et antiqua aduncum per’ T vestimento
Eeh, Deus non potest repleti sunt ira?

Deus enim non omnes allooan
Numquam allocks, qui est lapis
Ut ‘quare omnes nos homines ut irata

lottery for todaySed videtur ah’ve inferos et certus sum
Nil, yooman manebunt.

Arts and crafts give greater life satisfaction than work, survey suggests

https://www.theguardian.com/society/article/2024/aug/16/arts-and-crafts-give-greater-life-satisfaction-than-work-survey-suggests?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other

In the sea of grief, we swim not drown

The grieving one who never looks outside
Suffers like a prisoner in a cell
Yet we has some freedom to decide
To grieve yet view  our real world here as well.

To turn the eyes back to the lost and dead.
Is what we all must do  in painful  times
But to this natural world, we must be wed
And under suffering draw a heavy line.

From despair, we rise to be renewed;
To see our friends and make our hearts feel glad.
And  look behind  us with a gentler view
See the joy and love and all the kindness had.

In the sea of grief, we swim not drown
Cast away the weights which pull us down.

Love will need no trick

In my despair I felt that I was stuck
Paralysed by  grief and guilt I failed
By the end I had tried every trick

From prayer unthought to deeps of logic black
My  life, my engine ,juddered off the  rails
I hated God and of “his” Church was  sick

Starving  and alone I was in shock
The death of one I loved   had made me frail
By the end I had tried every trick


I felt  Love’s arms around me, death was blocked
I knew   this goodness,  why else would I wail?
I   thought I hated God  but Love had struck

Warm and golden light  that  did me hold
Where are you now when Evil has grown bold?
Kind despair  that  made me long time sit
By the end I learned Love needs no trick

Family Information Service | Foods to avoid if you’re over 65

https://fisd.oxfordshire.gov.uk/kb5/oxfordshire/directory/advice.page?id=HILSGDAEKa0

Someone who wants taught this subject in a college in Britain says that this is poor advice.

Many older people have got very strong immune systems.

How did our parents and ancestors survive without advice from the local authority

A matte screen?

When I die I’ll come back on your screen

Matte and stylish, why not try sage  green?

Sage is rather grey compared to grass.

I don’t worry, I let conflict pass.

Sage advice is wise, like ancient Greeks

Plato had no Prozac, he could speak.

So shall I draw on tablets as I age?

No pencil sharpener,rubber, no disgrace

It looks paper ,wonder how it feels?

Will it to the senses still appeal?

I think that in the end real papers best

Charcoal and a finger end the quest

The falsehood of screens

Drawing with a stylus on the screen

Makes us think of what we might have been

With paper and some charcoal, pen and ink

The sensuousness of touch, the eye that winks

The false  self is as real as any truth

Adapting to what’s needed, that’s its proof.

Always having time for someone else.

Never saving up for inner wealth.

Running to the door when someone knocks.

Keeping your own soul inside a box.

Living in our rhythm as does the sea

We guess that is the better way to beat

The frightening separation of the heart

Is just the proper place to make a start.

In the kitchen stirring strawberry jam

Is only one more away to fight the spam.

Cutting up the rhubarb into chunks.

Staring at the horse until it blinks

Snapping off the peas that sprawl in sun

Waiting for reality to come

On snails

I envy  snails their shining shells sublime.

For mortgages are  large, a  human crime

.Alas the shell’s a fragile luttle house

On second thoughts I’d rather be a mouse.

I’d sleep inside your slipper by the bed

I’d go into the kitchen, look for bread.

If I became a cat,would Oscar mind?

I’ll check with him to find out his designs.

Yet going back to snails I do declare.

Evolution might lead to despair

Snails would be quite safe were they alone.

Human beings treat them like they’re stones

Into the void, the sightless foot can step

Bringing instant death, Christ Jesus wept.

We’ll go to the sun

“The Belgians decided to go in for space travel. So the Russians have Mars and the Americans have Venus, and so they thought they’d go to the Sun. Somebody complained that this would be too hot. That’s all right, they said, we’ll go at night.” It got a guffaw, which is what it was for.

Nicholas Freeling.

A very tortured Xmas

Mince pies,mince pies, don’t you love pies
Say that you do even though it’s a lie
Cream,cream, don’t add much more
For if you do, you’ll  be sick on the floor
Meat,meat, we love our meat
Birds of a feather will   keep the house neat
Raisins and currents  give some diarrhea
If you’re  on codeine. you’ve nothing to  fear
Jump over  hedges, there’s always some cover
Take a big doll and we’ll think it’s your lover
Never let shyness   hold you back when we’re near
For imperfect our love and yet perfect our fear
At Xmas  our loved ones will fight like wildcats
Siblings are nastier than any poor rat
But they have not murdered you yet, I’m sincere
Wash your  hair soon and then rinse it with beer
Cain killed  his brother, the envy, the spite
Adam and Eve were distraught every night
Procreation  was rapid, we soon  filled the Earth
How did high culture   bring about  Hitler’s birth
Can God be omnipotent  when millions are killed
Maybe He died and   more innocents will
God seems quite dead but  he is merely remote
The tree of the cross is alive and it grows

What has human wisdom done?

What did all those sermons do?
Did they say he was a Jew?
Oh, Jesus.
Did he want the First Crusade
It is his blood the priest creates
Lord Jesus.
I don’t like the way things are
I am getting tired of war
Kill Jesus.
What has human wisdom done
From Wittgenstein to Abraham?
Cripes, Jesus!
Does research improve our lives
As for grants, the scholars strive?
Ask Jesus.
We may have chemotherapy
Radiation, history.
Where’s Jesus?
You’d think that after all the years
We’d have used up all our tears
Sweet Jesus.
Love your neighbour as yourself
Give 10 % of all your wealth
Aye, Jesus
.Do what’s better, not what’s worse
I see another fragrant hearse.
It’s Jesus.
See the plastic Crucifix
See him dying with dry lips
Bend your knees, confess your sins
Otherwise, the Devil wins
Not Jesus
.We destroy the good we hate
Envy writhes and with pride mates.
The progeny will wreck the earth
Eden’s burning as drones pass.
No, Jesus.No Jesus.
Know Jesus.

What haunts  me are the quicksands of the soul

What haunts me are the quicksands of the soul
The heart and mind and body all agree
That I will drown by struggling towards a goal

Apparently, we try to be more whole
But this can only come by grace all new
What haunts me are the quicksands of the soul

It’s best to relinquish hope too cruel
To lie quite still without fear or taboo
Or I will drown by struggling towards a goal.

Opposing all we learned in many schools,
Where teachers spoke to you and you and you
What taunts me are the quicksands of the soul

The art of living is not found in rules
But by wandering without any hint or clue
We can sink by struggling towards a goal.

Though we may use the stars to travel by
The moon is covered by her alibi.
What haunts me are the quicksands of the soul
Where we may drown by struggling towards a goal