Would you like to be my friend? No,I don’t value him highly

Would you like to fall in love? I’d rather swim through it.

Would you like a new car? I’ve not got an old on

What is your name. No, it’s not, it’s Nat.

What shall we eat tonight? I can chew my nails after putting mango chutney on them I don’t like to eat snails 

but neccessity is the mother of invention Will you saute them in olive oil? No, I’ll stuff them into a tomato You need a big one I’ll crush them I’m my

How cruel cookery can be But not as bad as Goering,Stalin,Hitler or Nero. Snails won’t know that But we know

Where are the children? I didn’t know we had any 

Why are we in bed? Because we are married Since when? Gosh, you’ve got dementia already Well, we do live in a Care Home Wow, only 29 and in a Care Home.

We run it

https://www.nytimes.com/2009/01/02/arts/02iht-defiance.1.19000454.html

Ed 8

The triumph of the three Bielski brothers, Tuvia, Zus and Asael, who fought the Nazis in the deep forests of Belarus and saved 1,200 lives, was unlike anything I had ever read about that dark time. Rather than victims wearing yellow stars, here were fighters in fur chapkas brandishing submachine guns. Instead of helplessness and submission, here were rage and resistance.

I knew of the uprising in the Warsaw ghetto, yet it seemed to stand alone in the popular imagination as the only moment in which organized opposition took root. Yet I have learned that, contrary to the conventional wisdom, the impulse to fight back was everywhere: from the streets of Vilnius to the forests of Bialystok, even unto the concrete slabs of Sobibor and Treblinka, thousands of Jews doing whatever they could, whether seeking refuge in the sheltering woods or recklessly taking up arms against overwhelming odds.

Learning of these defiant acts awakened in me something utterly primitive and deeply personal, a wave of awe, humility and admiration.

And outrage, too. Why, I wondered, had I not known these stories while growing up? Could it be that the necessary commemoration of six million dead had

No mirror for reflection in his mind
He says whatever suits that moment’s wish
Thus he is to truth disabled, blind

Pride and power make all of us unkind.
But reflecting deeply shows us what’s amiss.
There’s no mirror for reflection in his mind

In phantasy, we get what we design.
But fancied love won’t give a fleshly kiss.
We are to truth and justice surreal,blind

To find the truth we cannot be malign
Must view with horror what we once dismissed
Who can use those mirrors in their minds?

Judgement of our leaders is no crime;
For we judge our selves and that is less than bliss
When leaders lie, the world is undermined

He has no self at all, if all’s his wish.
Inevitable catastrophy the abyss
He has no space for mirrors in his mind
Now he is to wisdom doubly blind.

Stan was a very naughty man because he winked at his dear wife before dying and she had no chance to respond.
That is so typical of Stan, she said to Annie, her best friend.
Well, at least he went peacefully.Annie replied in a kindly tone
And to think I had just bought him 6 new pairs of pyjamas.
You can’t blame him for that.You always buy too much, Annie murmured politely
Well, I suppose I like to be prepared, Mary muttered.I felt so helpless as he went thinner and thinner.
What are you going to do with them all, Annie whispered.
There’s only one solution.I’ll have to find a man to fit the pyjamas and marry him
That’s a strange way of choosing a new husband, Annie said in a shocked voice.
In the end however rational we try to be, life is down to luck.
Yes, didn’t Churchill say, chance favours the prepared mind?
It wasn’t Churchill, it was Blaise Pascal.Mary told her in a voice rich with wisdom
Well, why not marry him? He sounds intriguing
He’s dead, Mary responded succinctly
Oh, what a pity.He sounded just right for you, Annie said tearfully.Are we going to the funeral?
I am afraid he died before we were born, Mary said in an anguished tone.
Well, he’s no use.Anyone else you fancy?How about Dante? Annie screamed
Which Dante do you mean?I thought he was Italian, Mary informed her.
It’s not far by plane, though Brexit might be a problem, Annie said wisely.
Let’s be realistic.No dead, great genius will be revived by the Lord to marry me.Mary said as if she were lecturing to a big class on differential geometry and its use in economics.No wonder we had the Depression
That might be blasphemy, Annie informed her.After all, if God is omnipotent he can do anything at all.
To me, he sometimes seems incompetent, said Mary wildly.And of all the lonely people in the world, why should he aid me in my grief? Anway male geniuses are very demanding.I think a cook or chef might be more practical.
Oh, look, we’ve missed Mass again.
We’ve not been for 40 years and just when we decided to go we started talking about these powerful creatures and a husband for you
Never mind, why don’t we wait till Xmas?
And so say all of us.

Or even better wait till next Easter.

https://wp.me/p6JwBS-30

Trust the dark and unseen aspects
Of the life we humans live.
Trust that there is wisdom elsewhere,
To your emptiness to give.

Wait in patience for the time
When inspiration comes at last
Trust in darkness,silence,lowness.
Opposition forms the cross.

Pain is bearable in lowness,
Like the worm in earth I dwell.
When I look I see the sunrise
And I trust all shall be well.

• • C
• 
  I studied the Arts of Love and War.
  I studied higher dimensional geometry.
  I studied other realities
  And I produced a learned article,
  As I love the strange world of the particlel
• .So when the day came I studied you.
  I found I love you so much too.
  I don’t need mathematics to know what’s true
  For my heart has reasons anew.
  Equations have positive and negative solutions.
  Metaphors for Love, Hate and Evolution.
  Reflecting a long mirrored Revolution.
• I love Abstract Geometry,
  And I love knitted Topology,
  Even if it’s a whimsical Tautology.
  It taught me the simple wisdom.
  Of Crocheted Accountancy,
  Knitted boulangerie.
  Strings of theorems dangling,
  Make a very good wall hanging
  And woven Number Theory
  Because it’s so springy and cheery.
  It makes a very lovely bedspread .
  Somewhere to rest my dreaming head.I like the Surface Geometry
  Of your Body,more than I like
  General Relativity,
  Or Algebraic Topology,
  Or even Love Poetry.
  I want to view all of you.
  I need to love,and to hate you, too.
  I study your personal Trigonometry
  Your so solid Geometry.
  Your personal Morphologhy.I love your geniality
  And your cool conviviality
  Love has proved good for us two,
  More certain than Pythagoras’s theorem
  Was thought to be, before Riemann.
  Now all my cello strings are vibrating too.
  What did you do?I’d like to have a dance with You
  To the music of General Relativity
  Will you come and waltz with me
  So we can spin within the Spheres
  Hear music non-Platonic too?
  Subtle harmony,sweet geometry,
  Algebraic symmetry,quizzical homology.
  Radical new cosmology.I am woven and patterned with you.
  We make a fine bed spread too
  Uniting the male and the female view,
  Incorporating the bodily anew.I love to see your corporeality.
  Your eyes and facial originality.
  You’re so whimsical and non-inimical too.
  Let’s unite the sensual
  With the metaphysical.
  Our love hit the critical
  Mass to go into orbit to
  Encircle the entire Universe
  It just grew and grew and grew.
  Now we have much co-creating to do,
  Taking the very long term view.
  And much more lovely dancing to
  The music generated by us two
  In collaboration with
  All that the world is.

Attracted by the light that is enough

We need not look for wisdom somewhere else

Wandering through the world so dark and rough

We may find the secret in ourselves

The sacred is as spare as leaves are fine

No wasted bud no colour in excess

So loving senses decorate the mind

We need not hide from chaos or distress.

The secret Life is here, the everyday

This is where we know the mystic light

Our tongues alone will tell us what to say

Our normal eyes will show us holy signs

for with our shadowed selves we rightly play

Enlightened by the flowers so wild and free

The sacred is on earth for you and me