I know that's how death will come,
Suddenly flying into another orbit when I am photographing flowers
It's not a gentle transition.
No-one will know where I've gone.
One step wrong and I'm off the high wire
And plunging into the no safety net.
Flying for a while
Jumping into hyperspace,spinning electrons
Startle my wide eyes.
Transiting the new black sun
I'm on a double gold helix,
Spider on her web,
Knitting furiously
Into the future heaven on gossamer wings.
Butterfly goodbye,
I'm off to see the stars.
And the black holes.
No one will come with me.
I'm shaking off,evaporating into mist.
I'm a flying saucer on a circus mission.
I can't say no to a new invitation.
Make it fast and break with tradition.
Time is passing smoothly till that break In the music,
I've been transmuted into a different key
someone else will play me on their violin
I'm a tune, I'm a thought, I'm a whisper in your vision.
Goodbye,darling.
I'm under orders Ready to leave for my performance
On the electric carpet.
Death dancing to a tune on a violoncello,
Arpeggionne sonata
I'm playing your words upside down
In a new foreign translation,
Accompanied by solo artists,ice cracking
I'm going in.
It's too sudden.
I'm flying.
Spinning faster to amuse the clowns,
too many ups and no downs.
I'm going right out of orbit
I've broken the pull of gravity,
And fly with pure equanimity
Into my future life,
I'm off at some moment
An instant,a crack,a loud smack
That was me passing
v
Category: reflections
The pillars of the Western Mind have cracked
The end of values, kindness, earned respect
The loss of wisdom,history and truth
The pillars of democracy are cracked.
The centre of the heart,who can protect?
Conspiracy and madness unseat proof
An end of values, kindness, earned respect
Violence is admired though lives are wrecked
The lasting triumph of the folk uncouth
The pillars of the Western Mind have cracked
Their minds unfurnished seem bereft of tact
They tread on others words like horses’ hooves
The end of values, kindness, earned respect
How can such opponents make a pact?
The calculating crucify our youth
The pillars of the Western Mind have cracked
Yet Western Empire builders had no ruth
They tortured those they conquered group by group
On such ground just madmen earn respect
The altars of the Western Mind have cracked
If we can’t make distinctions, the world does not exist
If everything is relative and nothing’s true or false
We can’t make distinctions, the world does not exist
Meaning leaks out faster than a a list of all our faults
The patient is unconscious but he/she has a pulse
Waiting for the Coming of the Saviour or the Beast
But everything is relative and nothing’s true or false
We think existential problems will be solved by someone else
In the Vomitorium the leaders have their Feast
Meaning leaks out faster by decision or default
The Leader’s being neutered;the people get more tense
Then s/he went to Downing Street to get themself more pissed
Drunkenness is relative ; the reading’s not the best
There is still a Dictionary; the words do not make sense
We fall into chaos but we don’t know Them we’ve missed
Meaning leaks out faster as we do not love pretence
I went to have my Orals,but they asked me to desist
Every system’s incomplete,I wrote it on my wrist
If everything is relative and nothing’s true or false
Meaning has no meaning; what will we all do next?
The gift of sight, fine flowers, blue butterflies

In my hedge of beech mixed into yew
The wrens have nested,now they learn to fly
I felt my heart grow lighter at this view
When the heart is lifted,that’s a clue
That symbols of new life are coming by
From my hedge of beech mixed into yew
Keeping vision clear,look out and bow
What lives now must shrink and one day die
I felt my heart ache taking such a view
With many gifts we humans are endowed
The gift of sight, fine flowers, blue butterflies
By my hedge of beech mixed into yew
The gift of tongues, creation of the new
From sweet Joan Baez to little babies’ cries
I felt my heart swell in my breast anew
Conception, growth,maturity,goodbye
Like the flying star we shall go far
By my hedge of beech mixed into yew
I felt my heart beat stronger than I knew
The wrens
My front hedge is so thick, wrens made a nest
I saw a small bird flying low and swift
With my garden I feel human, blessed
The bonsai beech has grown till almost dense
It has no trunk, the leaves are tiny gifts
My front hedge is so full, wrens made a nest
My clematis has flowered beyond all sense
When I looked I felt my soft heart lift
In my garden, know that I am blessed
In a deep green wood the eye can rest
Open eyed, a look must not be fast
My front hedge welcomes wrens ,oh,love,a nest!
Deep happiness connects us to what’s best
The dark blue sky, the sunset flaming, brief.
With my garden I feel love, I ‘m blessed
Be alive, don’t dwell on thoughts too sweet
The natural world brings virtue and deceit
My front hedge is so thick, wrens made a nest
These tiny creatures filled with love and zest
Deep in the ground the worms drowse mixed with flowers
A day with my own self, such peaceful hours
The inner seas make music as they roll
And in the ground the worms air roots of flowers
The rain comes down in cold but gentle showers
Desiring to give moisture to all souls
A symbol of the value of quiet hours
In Northern hills we looked for Durham owls
They hunt by day to keep their bodies whole
While in the ground the worms air roots of flowers
My loved one was a native of those towers
Highcliff Nab and Hasty Bank called home
My days with him a-wandering there for hours
As he died , deep in my heart I howled
I held his hands, remembered , paid the toll
While in the ground the worms digest the sour
Lying in the heather we had roamed
May God have mercy on his homing soul
Now I enjoy in reverie our hours
Deep in the ground the worms drowse mixed with flowers
A little peace


One damaged cell divides until it kills.
For in the end we pay the rich man’s bills.
The air polluted ravages and maims
Now it’s cruelly late to curse and blame
Oh sister how we played with our dolls’ prams
In our industrial town there were no lambs.
No sheep could safely graze in smokey streets.
No lark would rise amazed, the dawn to greet.
For you my sister breathed in that bad air
We hear the tread, the foot steps on the stair.
So patient still, I wish that you would shout.
From your eye I see one tear fall out.
My single sister I can see your pain
Your lips are dry you cough and cough again.
Your mouth is hurting so you cannot eat.
And on the telephone you barely speak
In the world some million others groan
Yes we’re fragile, merely flesh and bone
Even so the tears run in my sleep.
Into my face these tears will slowly seep.
I didn’t grasp at first that she would die
And leave me here alone to curse and cry
Hold me in your arms my kindly friends.
From your touch a little peace descends
An artist’s canvas stretched, a matricide
Saturday was shopping then a walk
Epping,Ongar,Finchingfield by car
Reading book reviews and chewing stalks
Buttercups and meadows,Henry Moore
Driving back from Chelmsford, cornfields flamed
Smoke and fire and earth, the sun dismayed
Farmers working hard, a harvest, grain
The sky through mist a cobalt blue displayed
Standon with its fords and wandering cows
Little rivers,Essex, flowing down
The Stort joins with the Lea,a gurglimg sound
Water for the Thames and mossy ground
The earth feels like my body sacrificed
An artist’s canvas stretched , a matricide
Now shivering alive
The myriad random movements, words and signs
Inanimate, cold blooded,hot or warm
In mystery make the world, complete, designed
From the stars at night, to needles’ eyes
Every size is present eye to horn
The myriad random movements, words and signs
Yet, not robotic, shivering, alive
Like a human baby when new born
In mystery the world is fresh, designed
So every morning we awake surprised
The dreams we had afflict us like flung stones
The random movements, words and latent signs
Are dreams the truth or can the unknown lie?
Are we subject to their nightly roams?
The mystery is the world makes its designs
As the wild geese land at one in storms
The murmurations of the starlings charm
The myriad random movements, words and signs
In mystery make the world, replete,divine
Now shivering alive
The myriad random movements, words and signs
Inanimate, cold blooded,hot or warm
In mystery make the world, complete, designed
From the stars at night, to needles’ eyes
Every size is present eye to horn
The myriad random movements, words and signs
Yet, not robotic, shivering, alive
Like a human baby when new born
In mystery the world is fresh, designed
So every morning we awake surprised
The dreams we had afflict us like flung stones
The random movements, words and latent signs
Are dreams the truth or can the unknown lie?
Are we subject to their nightly roams?
The mystery is the world makes its designs
As the wild geese land at one in storms
The murmurations of the starlings charm
The myriad random movements, words and signs
In mystery make the world, replete,divine
Some shelled shore
Walking to the bus stop from our door
We fell into a subtle harmony
Like little children dawdling on the shore
No haste, no chiding, wanting nothing more
Like swimming in a balmy pale blue sea
Or walking to the bus stop from our door
Who is known and which one is the knower?
What is here and what is yet to be
For little children dawdling on the shore?
Setting aspirations ever lower
No competing, rush nor victory
Just walking to the bus stop from our door
Though human who gave us creative power?
Who has loved and who evoked in me
The feel of dawdling on the sea, the shore?
Who hears the sorrow, plangent , of the sea
Where earth and stars reflect so rhythmically
Walking with you touching nevermore
Oh, that I were with you on some shelled shore
No defeat
Letting go of all my self defence
As if I might touch all of you at once
I opened up my body to the winds
And covered you by lying skin to skin
In the cradle of my being held
Like an infant needing mother’s aid
I did not move to break the chysallis
Both of us were melting in that space
Whose the hand and whose the mind that work
Metaphors may guide and also hurt
Remorseless is the process that goes on
Until the new forms break this one to one
At last the work is done, the task complete
Dead or living, this is no defeat
Deep in the ground the worms drowse mixed with flowers
A day with my own self, such peaceful hours
The inner seas make music as they roll
And in the ground the worms air roots of flowers
The rain comes down in cold but gentle showers
Desiring to give moisture to all souls
A symbol of the value of quiet hours
In Northern hills we looked for Durham owls
They hunt by day to keep their bodies whole
While in the ground the worms air roots of flowers
My loved one was a native of those towers
Highcliff Nab and Hasty Bank called home
My days with him a-wandering there for hours
As he died , deep in my heart I howled
I held his hands, remembered , paid the toll
While in the ground the worms digest the sour
Lying in the heather we had roamed
May God have mercy on his homing soul
Now I enjoy in reverie our hours
Deep in the ground the worms drowse mixed with flowers
A single rose
The fewer our possessions are, the better.
If you have no bread you need no butter.
Turn away from Envy Use your will.
If there is no illness there’s no pill
Comparisons are painful to the weak
If you and they persist the outlook’s bleak.
Be grateful you can see and feel and taste
The wonders of perception go to waste.
When we lose a sense we realise
Nothing can replace our ears and eyes.
Adding more possessions makes more work.
In the maze of choice do not get stuck
In the empty space perception grows
Lots of weeds or just a single rose
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?
Surrender to the otherness of all
Tact and subtle actions create life
Assertive force destroys another’s soul
To the High and Holy One, we’re wife.
The way we go seems but a throw of dice
Yet destiny will beckon, though we crawl
Tact and subtle actions make a life
Into every heart, there comes the knife.
Surrender to the otherness of all
To the High and Holy One be wife.
In his shadow, we look down, we cry.
We listen to that voice, so still, so small
Tact and subtle actions shape good lives.
As a mother births her child, she sighs
All lives and coming suffering must appal.
To the High and Holy One, we’re wife.
Here we seem like prisoners on bail
May we live with love in this, our world
Tact and subtle actions create life
Surrender humbly, love God and his wiles.
The walking frame and the smile

I saw you struggling with your walking frame
Guessed that you must suffer too much pain
I smiled because you caught my sidewards glance
Then your face too by smiling was enhanced
So often older people are ignored
Lost and lonely hidden at the core
Once this man fought in a major war
I hope by some fine friend he was restored
I saw him disappearing down the road
His posture more erect, his back less bowed
And in my heart I felt the smiling too
Enchanted by the essence , by the cue.
I got on a bus, ignored my phone,
Smiling still I pushed the door key home
I am the earth
It’s frosty and I found my knit wool skirt
It’s purple heather Northern, long and warm
I remember falling down some steps
Stone,they were ,you took me in your arms
With you standing staring on the edge
Oh, Cleveland Hills that make a cliff like fall
We drove the A 19 at deep sunset
The profile of the hills stood out,they called
They ,like Langdale, speak myself to me
My soul awakes with joy to cliffs of sight
Rejoice, oh psalmist, sing your rhapsody
From deep darkness to the morning light
I am the earth, my body will lie here
From Arnside’s Viaduct to Buttermere
The walking frame and the smile
I saw you struggling with your walking frame
Guessed that you must suffer too much pain
I smiled because you caught my sidewards glance
Then your face too by smiling was enhanced
So often older people are ignored
Lost and lonely hidden at the core
Once this man fought in a major war
I hope by some fine friend he was restored
I saw him disappearing down the road
His posture more erect, his back less bowed
And in my heart I felt the smiling too
Enchanted by the essence , by the cue.
I got on a bus, ignored my phone,
Smiling still I pushed the door key home
Surrender to the otherness of all
Tact and subtle actions create life
Assertive force destroys another’s soul
To the High and Holy One, we’re wife.
The way we go seems but a throw of dice
Yet destiny will beckon, though we crawl
Tact and subtle actions make a life
Into every heart, there comes the knife.
Surrender to the otherness of all
To the High and Holy One be wife.
In his shadow, we look down, we cry.
We listen to that voice, so still, so small
Tact and subtle actions shape good lives.
As a mother births her child, she sighs
All lives and coming suffering must appal.
To the High and Holy One, we’re wife.
Here we seem like prisoners on bail
May we live with love in this, our world
Tact and subtle actions create life
Surrender humble to God and his wiles.
When after death I lie deep in the earth
O happy worm that of my flesh might eat
When after death I lie in deep in the earth
My bosom,hands and eyes become your meat
You have no sun as you enjoy your feast
And none is chosen as we were at birth
O happy worm that of my flesh might eat
All of us are equal in defeat
None are high or low , what are we worth?
My brain,my hands,my eyes become worms’ meat
In the soil, we rest in comfort sweet
Let us all be blessed,God make no curse
You made the happy worms who will us eat
O remember the deep ash from Auschwitz’ heat
The little children killed without Kaddish
Those hearts ,those hands, those eyes no worm could eat
,
Why should we be satisfied by wish
When people burn or starve beside our dish
O Godly worm that of my flesh might eat
Let my very self become your meat
And on the world shall I bestow my wrath?
When life runs like a river to the sea
Then shall I take new lovers to my bed.
And with their carnal touch consoled be?
When my love lies and breaks my little heart
. When life seems grey and rocks bestrew my path
. Then, shall I my life of evil start
And on the world shall I bestow my wrath?
When puzzlement makes all the world seem mad.
Then I shall upend causality
And let myself do deeds which make me glad.
For I have love’s own child inside my soul
And I shall tend her till at last she’s whole
Sunlight at Easter
The Easter sun came through the rich stained glass
A little child illuminated passed.
The shining floor below the roof above
The glowing light a symbol of deep love
At this moment normal time had gone
Absorbed into the mysteries of the sun.
Then the child ran off, a cloud came by
Eternity has passed with just a sigh
Sunlight at Easter
The Easter sun came through the rich stained glass
A little child illuminated passed.
The shining floor below the roof above
The glowing light a symbol of deep love
At this moment normal time had gone
Absorbed into the mysteries of the sun.
Then the child ran off, a cloud came by
Eternity has passed with just a sigh
From a poem by Francis Thomson
T
Where is the land of Luthany,
Where is the tract of Elenore?
I am bound therefore.‘Pierce thy heart to find the key

When to the new eyes of thee
All things by immortal power,
Near or far,
Hiddenly
To each other linked are,
That thou canst not stir a flower
Without troubling of a star;
When thy song is shield and mirror
To the fair snake curled pain,
Where thou dar’st affront her terror
That on her thou may’st attain
Persean Conquest; seek no more,
O seek no more!
Pass the gates of Luthany,
Tread the region Elenore!
Francis Thompson
XXXTags: connection, death, flower, hope, knowledge, learning, life, light, loss, quest, sight, star,
Struggling on life’s craggy slopes
Living life in all its fierceness, Birth and death and joy and pain We struggle on our unknown journey, Sometimes lost and found again. We are indeed like lambs to slaughter Death will be our final goal. But while we live,let us live bravely. Let us not destroy our souls. Climbing in the hills and moorlands In the heather, children play. The sun half blinds me with its light Yet still I see the given way. I received a call to climb. These hills are my essential home. My vocation is to dwell here While in the silence,mind may roam. Noise in cities is destructive. Though nature's fierce,it's also true. Struggling on life's craggy slopes I offer up my words to you.
Trust begets perception
I have become interested in virtue and perception.It began when I read a littleAristotle about virtue being a habit.That was quite recent.Before that for many years I believed virtuous acts would follow from being able to perceive well.But when we are fraught our minds and eyes tighten up and so we perceive only what may be a danger to us.To perceive others well we need to be in a position to trust others and we need to feel secure.How is this possible?From my studies I read that our ability to trust begins with a trusted caregiver in infancy,[See” atttachment and loss “by John Bowlby reference to come] We may be able to become more secure later by good fortune,friendship and love.If not,I seem to get the idea that if we are insecure and nervous we cannot truly perceive others and they may be in the same position.If we are very afraid then virtuous acts may be hard to accomplish. The reason is obvious… when. we are concerned with mere survival as a person , in that state what we do to others may be impossible for us to consider.We cannot truly see them and so we cannot act well towards them except by good luck.Or if we are able to tolerate great anxiety,we may see better…. if not we are incapable…. Those whom we cannot see properly we cannot truly consider with feeling and act on this feeling.We see them partly or mainly in terms of the fearful fantasies in our minds and cannot see them as other and interesting.When we make a friend online we may feel safer but in fact we are more likely to misperceive them. When we are from a sad a or difficut background it may help greatly if we have some friends who might point out our errors if we trust enough to tell them.Or we may pretend to be hard and tough.Neither leads to virtue.If we trust God it may help but I believe we see God through the lens of our parents.. which is not good…depending on the parents. When we live in fear,we cannot see what is there before us.We cannot let go.We cannot accept grace and love nor give it.We will try to live by will power.Ironically people who are fearful inside can develop a shell of toughness and pride and so are not seen as vulnerable and/or lovable.Tbey may seem frightening to others. This account may help to explain why politics is the way it is and also we see that arguing is not persuasive when the other is not able to open up and see things more broadly.Arguing makes us tighten up and see less well.And it can be frightening too though some cultures find it more acceptable than others.
Here are some relevant blogs and articles
This author had a lot to say about perception…http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/obituary-marion-milner-1163951.html http://susannanelson.wordpress.com/2014/03/02/happy-go-lucky/
Christ came down as weak as candle light
In a stable with no heat or light
Who will celebrate the birth of God
When we each deny our rage and spite
Psychosis swallows up the dark of night
The star that shepherds saw has filled with blood
Above a stable with no heat or light
We live with fear, we know who has the might
Can our minds contain both bad and good
When we each deny our rage and spite?
We fail to know how others suffer fright
That they are persons too , not understood
Christ came down as weak as candle light
We are each a world, there is no fate
I see the tears run down the face of God
When we each engage our rage and spite
Shall we lose in darkness or in flood?
Asked a man bereft of his true love
In a stable with no heat or light
Love is born, is frozen, is denied
The pillars of the Western Mind have cracked
The end of values, kindness, earned respect
The loss of wisdom,history and truth
The pillars of democracy are cracked.
The centre of the heart,who can protect?
Conspiracy and madness unseat proof
An end of values, kindness, earned respect
Violence is admired though lives are wrecked
The lasting triumph of the folk uncouth
The pillars of the Western Mind have cracked
Their minds unfurnished seem bereft of tact
They tread on others words like horses’ hooves
The end of values, kindness, earned respect
How can such opponents make a pact?
The calculating crucify our youth
The pillars of the Western Mind have cracked
Yet Western Empire builders had no ruth
They tortured those they conquered group by group
On such ground just madmen earn respect
The altars of the Western Mind have cracked
The river in flood
Cold from storming rain and full of mud
The river Lea in winter turns to flood
Across the Abbey Meadows rings the bell
Brings back the ghosts, bring back the holy spell
King Harald lost his crown and all his land
The Norman Vikings, men with bloody hands
Deep in the ground the worms drowse mixed with flowers
A day with my own self, such peaceful hours
The inner seas make music as they roll
And in the ground the worms air roots of flowers
The rain comes down in cold but gentle showers
Desiring to give moisture to all souls
A symbol of the value of quiet hours
In Northern hills we looked for Durham owls
They hunt by day to keep their bodies whole
While in the ground the worms air roots of flowers
My loved one was a native of those towers
Highcliff Nab and Hasty Bank called home
My days with him a-wandering there for hours
As he died , deep in my heart I howled
I held his hands, remembered , paid the toll
While in the ground the worms digest the sour
Lying in the heather we had roamed
May God have mercy on his homing soul
Now I enjoy in reverie our hours
Deep in the ground the worms drowse mixed with flowers

