spontaneous writing on my very own blog: hurtles, backfiring, over the crescent of the yellow hill, dazzled by sunflowers and a myriad daisies and yellow tulips and multiple suns and I’ve been brain washed to thinking what I write and draw can never be quite good enough… what do you think?
I’ve Dreamed of You So Much
I’ve dreamed of you so much that you’re losing your reality.
Is it already too late for me to embrace your living and breathing body
and to kiss that mouth which is the birthplace of that voice so dear to me?
I’ve dreamed of you so much that my arms, grown accustomed to lying crossed upon my own chest in a desperate attempt to encircle your shadow, might not be able to unfold again to embrace the contours of your body.
And coming face-to-face with the actual incarnation of what has haunted me and ruled me and dominated my life for so many days and years
might very well turn me into a shadow.
Oh equilibriums of the emotional scales!
I’ve dreamed of you so much that it might be too late for me to ever wake up again.
I sleep on my feet, body confronting all the usual phenomena of life and love, and yet when it comes to you,
the only being on the planet who matters to me now,
I can no more touch your face and lips than I can those of the next random passerby.
I’ve dreamed of you so much, have walked and talked and slept so much with your phantom presence that perhaps the only thing left for me to do now
is to become a phantom among phantoms, a shadow a hundred times more shadowy
than that shadow which moves and will go on moving,
stepping lightly and joyfully across the sundial of your life.
A la mystérieuse 1926
Maze Drawing 104 by Tony Chapman
well, here we go: a four wheeled truck creeps up the mountain path ( my breathing deepens immediately as I write this first non-sense, or hidden -sense line) (the voices in this Hema cafe chatter and choppy-sea around me. pleasantly busy. different cultures) the truck flies every flag of every nationality. it is universal , it is for freedom for all. and love. the truck trundles slowly and happily up the mountain to the very top. where it stops. out steps the happy leader of humanity, who is a skeleton. Who is the basic structure of humanity … the scaffold we have all built ourselves on. it is sexless, cultureless, religionless and free.
All of humanity, stops what they are doing, for a moment, lays down the tools of their trades and, smiling , waves to the skeleton, and the whole of humanity remembers: we all eat , drink and delicately taste, smell and feel. We all have a vast amount more crucial things in common than we have minor things seperating us.
… went to the English Reform Church in middle of Amsterdam last night … really beautiful building … joined about 2,000 people, queuing outside for the Christmas Eve Carol service. We slowly went in through a small door. Inside: high vaulted ceiling and real organ playing.
The singing made the decorated rafters shake… it was tumultuous, especially the last verse of the last carol…”born this happy morn”…”Oh, Come all ye faithful”… the whole people and building and organ sang as if riding a giant wave together … a spiritual, ecstatic experience. Unforgettable.
,.. and then everyone filed out through another small door and the Minister shook hands with, looked deep into the eyes of, and said “Happy Christmas” to : every single person as they passed him, one by one, through the small door … a phenomenal feat!
I re-evaluated Christ’s (Gods?) teachings … they were / are, mostly pretty cool, and, still are, really cool and unconventional… and a challenge to the status quo…
… I like them and I mostly live by them … all these years later when I don’t even go to church …
… Later, that evening, I watched , on TV the bishops in their finery .., and realised, Jesus didn’t wear finery, only the everyday robes of the time, like everyone else back then. In fact he wasn’t financially rich or anything … and he didn’t even ask to be worshipped…
.., after that it gets more complicated of course … like everything in life…
… but overall 1 think the stories Jesus told were and still are pretty awesome…
… Oh, and by the way, I think during the “mysterious” missing years, between Jesus’s childhood and when he arrived on the scene, aged around 30, meaning business, he lived with the Gnostics in one of their communes, in the desert … this makes perfect sense, it would have given him the context, the medium, the ideas, the form through which his (God’s, the Universe’s, his Subconscious, whatever you choose to call it), could work its original and paradigm shifting magic!
… so, there … that’s what I think, ’cause I read a book about the Gnostics of his time, who had these communes in the desert near him where they processed all sorts of ideas that were coming from the East , China, India and so on, with the silk and other goodies ..
So it makes complete sense … no-one works or lives in a vacuum (read ” Steal Like an Artist” by Austin Kleon), not Einstein, not Leonardo Da Vinci, and not Jesus. It doesn’t make him (or God in him ) any less awesome! it just shows he had a cultural context … his wonderful words didn’t come completely out of thin air! so, there, that’s what I reckon, 🙂 and I’ m sure he doesn’t mind me thinking that….. and also by the way , while I’m at it… I think everyone has a need the go beyond there everyday reality occasionally (ie. a need for some sort of “spirituality”), I do it through a very simple meditation form (my own), l just sit still, with my eyes closed for half an hour and let my thoughts do what they want . .. I don’t try and control them , I let them process everything they want to process … in the last few seconds of that half an hour all my tension drops away and its really like a profound re-birth. Amazing. (that’ s actually my secret … why people mostly like me … don’t tell anyone… 🙂 .
Other people find this rising above everyday reality through religion (very complicated , and fraught with dillema’s and difficulties for everyone in my opinion. Other people find it through drugs or alcohol. However you do it … it has to be done.
l think: simple, no tricks or hi-falluting ritualistic, esoteric, cliquey, rarefied, chosen ones, complications, just simple . sit still, upright, eyes closed, and meditate ( for half an hour, twice a day if possible ) and we would have paradise on earth
well that’s what I think . So there. 🙂
and I read another book about Saint Thomas’s gospel … fascinating stuff!..
Outside birds sing … dawn chorus … faint light appears through the skylight above me … a hum and the faint tap of my Spen stylus … me trying to write about what is in this moment
… tiredness behind my eyes …
apps are the Alladins cave … I lie awake all night searching for more and more … I always come back to Snotes. Must leave this device downstairs at night – must!
Feel better for writing about it all though – money low again – gig tomorrow night with bass player – should sleep – will have to cancel lesson tomorrow – no time for me … hardly – only way to get time for me is to lie in bed at night writing on my device … I have no children to carry my genes on – how strange – this particular billion years old evolutionary line – ends here – with me …
and yet, as there is only this moment what does it really matter?
l lie in bed waiting for Godot … oh how far does it go? – this spirit and spiral the past is just a memory, the future is ? … I close this ragged door and the pitiful strangers pass through … they collide and ricoche across tragic ballroom floors, they dance heavily on the poished wood, their heavy, muddy boots, dragging.
Where are they/we now?… our apples smelling over-ripe, in their orange boxes, stored on the dry, dusty floor of the woodshed at the bottom of that muddy track .
oh, take these blinkers from my eyes
… let me see again
… through this silly, rattling rain, hammering lightly on the corrugated iron of the goat’s shed at bottom of the garden. And beyond the shed: the ditch and beyond the ditch: the field, where the black and white cows sometimes ran …
…oh yesterday is gone and I’m learning,
… who knows maybe I’II have a family yet?
… and maybe there is another lifetime, endless Planet Earths, in endless, different dimensions, and us, merely transfering from one to another.
… and my own father’s life has finally reached the end … God bless him… it is so wierd.