https://www.themarginalian.org/2014/07/18/adam-phillips-on-risk-and-solitude/

And it came to pass that they ate their dinner
and that she did washeth up.
And she did leave the dishes to drain
Whilst she put on the washing machine.
and the man was very pleased.

And it further came to pass
that she gave the man some pudding
and he was more pleased.
And then it came to pass the he fell asleep
By the fire.

And the Lord God,said
Who is this man that sleepeth by his fire?
And He said,I shall waken him up
And the man awoke,
And God spake unto him

How is it that the woman laboureth in ye kitchen.
And that thou sleepeth here in an armchair.
And the man said,
But Thou didst order women to labour.
And the Lord God said unto the man
Why dost thou remember so selectively what I have said?
And the man said,
I knoweth not and therefore I will help this woman.
And the Lord God said,
Why dost thou not think of it thyself?
And the man said in reply,
It was Thou that made me,O God.

And the Lord God was displeased with the man.
so he called down a plague of butterflies
To prevent him from sleeping.
And when the woman came in
she was much pleased to see these butterflies
and so she fell onto the man
And he did make love unto her.
And the cat was very pleased.

For it thrilled a cat to watch humans loving
and gave him hope
That the Lord God would take his rib and make a mate for him.
And indeed it doth seem to have happened
Judging by all the cats staring in ye old window here;
And by their ecstatic yelps
That the Lord God was very generous with them
and made them many mates.
For truly there is no jealousy among them
And they mate freely and happily
and never have rows about the washing up..
as they eat straight from the can.Amen

Here endeth today’s lesson.
Be thou kind to thy mate always

I wish we were on Easby Moor again

Or looking down the hill of Hasty Bank

The feel of scented flowers where we had lain

We closed our eyes and into bliss we sank

I wish we were near Saltburn on the sands.

I wish we were near Redcar on the coast.

The butterflies, the seagulls and the Band

Your mother liked the sea and sand the most.

Your father liked the hills and heather moors.

You were torn between them, now you’re gone

Your mother bough some honey for her store

Breathing northern air my loving one

When we got to Stamford you were low

Suburban London where no waters flow

I wish we were in Cleveland on the hills

We have to work in London for the bills.

The path on Arnside Knott came to the shore
Where sea and river meet at my heart’s core
Where wild flowers grow, where butterflies float on.
The views of Lakeland Hills ,so ravishing

My heart was only half alive till then
The land surpassed imagination
I was used to mills and dirty air
Despite the heather moors and hilltops bare

Later death came near on Langdale Pike
My fingertips were hurting,feet agape
Then my toe was back on a foothold
The shadow of the mountain huge and cold

Beauty,love and death, the opera calls
Singing as we walk the danger walls

https://www.themarginalian.org/2023/04/11/masud-khan-lying-fallow/

I suspect our ability to ask the unanswerable questions that Hannah Arendt knew are the heartbeat of civilization is intimately related to our capacity for dwelling in a particular state of being beyond the realm of our compulsive doing. Bertrand Russell called it “fruitful monotony.” Adam Phillips called it “fertile solitude.” Walt Whitman called it “loafing.” The Buddhist tradition describes it simply as presence. Whatever we may call it, amid a culture of filling the existential void with cultish productivity and an endless stream of dopamine-laced distractions, it is nothing less than a countercultural act of courage and resistance to enact such states of being — states in which our inner voice becomes audible, the voice with which we sing the song of our lives.

The Pakistani-British psychoanalyst Masud Khan (July 21, 1924–June 7, 1989) calls this mode of being “lying fallow” and unfurls its psychological tendrils in a short, brightly penetrating essay included in his 1983 collection Hidden Selves (public library).

00

Check out this video from this search, Nicholas Winton This Is Your Life https://share.google/KE2YklTJoyvdcrzqG

I do not think it’s a good idea for people to tmbe segregated by age. To my surprise I have discovered that it is a very modern development beginning with the industrial Revolution says that ultimately would lead to older people being put into homes so the the younger adults could work in factories and mills and coal mines. and now it’s gone even further to use women in the workforce it’s become almost normal for even the mothers of young babies to go back to work in a few weeks. you might you could explain that by the price of houses but it isn’t just that. they want to get all the adults between let’s say 16 and 70 into work so the children and the babies are with childminders or schools and the old people are in homes like leopards on the edge of the community cared for by lowly paid women sometimey show a great deal of love. personally I found it very difficult being in a place with several demented people because they do not have enough staff to give them the care they need and it serves a nasty message to the to the ones who haven’t got dementia look what happens to people like you. on the positive side or I can say is please visit your old relatives because I have observed that being a visited by a family member makes it very bigt difference to them. the symptoms of dementia are not static and anything that makes them relaxed or happy will reduce the symptoms. Don’t just throw us away like an old glove

age flowers identities loss love old people Poem self

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Now my bones are worn away

I disappear like Moths at day

My eyes hate sun, my ears are blocked

My senses dim,my mind half cocked.

Yet with the eye inside my mind

I see quite clearly what is fine.

I see the evil in men’s eyes

As to the poor and old they lie

A man who has to praise himself,

Is quite devoid of inner Wealth

A man who says that he’s the best

Will burn in hell instead of rest.

And we might twist our eyes and lie

And call this man your majesty.

The old have nothing left to lose

Except give up their power to choose.

My day is almost done, goodbye

Satan screams as Jesus dies

,

1 Fell off writers’ block into a pit of tigers.Bad layout.
2.Strangled by over-loving cat.

Verdict: guilty

3.Large bottle of ink bounced back off wall . thus broke skull.Suicide denied by dead man or wife as appropriate [Delete one]

4 Forgot to eat while writing long novel.Was not worth it

5 Forgot to sleep owing to inspiration.Stupid despite possessing unique genius

6.Killed by malfunction of new laptop.[Can be returned to Amazon free when body is removed]

7.Tried to meditate and fell out of the window. Oriental death
8 Tried to clean outside of the window with a microfibre cloth.A pane broke and cut his throat.Incidental death
9 Got depressed by lack of air.Jumped and lost balance killing two cats on the patio.Verdict Unfair
10.Thought he was sleepwalking and walked off roof of extension [only just completed].Insurance will be paid.
11.Fainted in church and was used as a human sacrifice.Jesus wept
12 Hit head on bannister while falling down the stairs.Euthanasia while dizzy.Resurrection imminent
13.Fought off wife but bitten by the dog .Both dead.Verdict, pointless end.
14 Wrote a best seller, got drunk and died of shock!
15 His website was declared a threat to humanity.Died of shame.