Medium-Transmitted Communication

The further one removes oneself from direct experience, the more difficult it becomes to believe. When we introduce a third party, and a third party who could potentially make a profit out of a situation, then the trust in the source (the disconnected consciousness) becomes stretched.

The word “credibility” is a key word when reviewing the ability and outputs of mediums. A key question for me is what exactly is the medium communing with, is it the deceased individual (perhaps even via a 4th party spirit guide), or is it the projected subconscious thoughts of the “sitter” via ESP or is it in fact an ability to tap in to the collective consciousness, the source?

So when one looks for evidence, one must assess the credibility and accuracy of the information presented and judge beyond reasonable doubt. Tenuous links, if, buts and maybe’s hold no sway here. Most people are very sceptical when it comes to clairvoyance (on the basis of the aforementioned profit perspective), especially in this digitally connected age which makes “life” that much easier for mediums to profile future clients (should they wish to).

In the more intriguing of historical cases, the evidence is presented which the medium would have struggled to find via other means, via connections with complete strangers which includes follow-up actions in this plane of existence which bear fruit, much like the example of the medium who determined the exact location of a hidden last will and testament (sewn inside a coat of the deceased) which superseded the previous iteration, much to the chagrin of the original profiteer.

Oddly, I was reading the Medium-Transmitted Communication chapter from The Immortal Mind in my local Starbucks and after examining the case of the dead poet Roden Noel (who frequented Cornwall to write), I closed the book and headed for home, only to come across a camper van parked at the end of my road with a flag of Cornwall sticker on the back window…

On a personal note, I have been to see two public displays of mediumship. The first was Derek Acorah at Southport Theatre, a man who in my opinion is a complete and utter charlatan and a proven fraud who gives clairvoyance a bad name, clearly only in it for the profit. The second was a visit to a local spiritualist church a few years back, whereby an “expert” who had been through a Near-Death Experience of his own was brought in to relay messages from his spirit guide to certain (perhaps ‘pre-selected’) members of the congregation, again all very random and tenuous and not at all credible.

Whilst those two experiences were rather disappointing, there are two others which were a lot closer to home and a lot more accurate, both involving my wife. The first was an innocent trip to the solicitors to file for a divorce from her first husband. The area of Liverpool we resided in at the time was awash with solicitors, so after perusing the phone book (remember those?) she made her selection. Oddly, the one she selected was furthest away from our house, but pick it and went she did. The appointment was set for lunchtime which worked out well as she could pick our boy up from morning day care on the way. She was invited to sit down by the solicitor who greeted her with a smile on his face, followed by a little chuckle. He opened the meeting by saying that he was glad she turned up today as he had a message for her, my wife looking on very confused. He went on to say that he often received messages from the other side and that he had been in the presence of Mary this morning, stating that her real name was Cathleen but my wife knew her as Mary (her Grandmother was baptised Cathleen but was known by her middle name of Mary by all those who knew her). The message was quiet profound, he stated that she had told my wife not to worry about her brother going overseas and that she was there to keep an eye out for him (one week earlier my wife’s brother had flown out with the Royal Engineers to diffuse bombs in Bosnia).

My wife believes in spirits and welcomed the message, nodding and smiling. On to business and the formalities of the Decree Nisi where discussed and the appropriate documentation signed. As she was leaving, her took her gently by the arm and softly asked her “What happened with the jam tarts this morning?” Earlier in the day when she picked up our boy from day care, like any other day, she went armed with a shiny ten pence piece, in preparation for the daily cake purchase. That day was different. Instead of selecting a cupcake, “J” instead insisted that he wanted a jam tart. Knowing full well that he didn’t like them, my wife tried to persuade him to buy a cupcake, but as he was so adamant, she let him purchase one anyway and learn a valuable lesson. He took one bite of the jam tart and spat it out on the floor, demanding a replacement which never came, much to the annoyance of the little one who then proceeded to have a full on tantrum…

I have never had a direct clairvoyant experience but something was trying to help me along my way. Not only was the flag of Cornwall thrust in my face, but later in the afternoon I had to prepare an application for my son’s entertainment licence (for a TV show he appears on here in the UK). To support the application, I needed two photos, which I knew I had spare in the “purple folder” where I keep all of our household documents. I reached in for the photos and found them, but as I did some sheets of paper fell on the bed. Of the one-hundred plus documents in the folder, the one that decided to present itself was the only medium notes my wife has ever kept from a visit she made to a local clairvoyant 3 years ago…

In the evening I said to her that I wanted to visit a medium to experience the experience myself, and she duly gave me the number for a guy a few miles away who was apparently very good. Oddly the next morning, she came to me and said a friend of hers is starting up a medium reading night and would my wife like to offer her holistic therapy services as an accompaniment to the readings and could we do it from our house…

OPINION: I have always been quite sceptical about clairvoyancy, my take that there are a lot of folks out there that claim to be in touch with “out there”, purely for monetary gain and often extending the grieving process of others. That said, the examples from my wife really did have a profound effect on my judgement. Here is someone I trust with both my life and my children lives, who does not lie to me (with the exception of how many dresses she buys from eBay / Next), so I have no reason doubt, at all, that what she has shared with me is the truth. On that basis, I must therefore conclude that some folks do have the ability to make a connection with something from beyond. I look forward to my first personal clairvoyant experience, no doubt reported in full before infinity beckons…

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Breadcrumb Diary: Week 1 – 2015

It’s been a while since I have had the time to catalogue my synchronicities, serendipities and coincidences, but with a fully charged and de-stressed noggin (following sixteen glorious days off work) the time is right to start again…

#1: Don’t scry over spilt milk…

Due to everyone being off work or school for 2 weeks, our stocks and supplies depleted at an incredible rate during the holiday period and as a result, I found myself making many a trip to the local store to replenish rations. After a scan of the fridge, I made a mental note that we also needed milk as well as a few other bits. What struck me as peculiar was a sense of foreboding about my future dairy purchase, not that I would get run over by a Morrison’s lorry on the way, but that I had what can only be described as a future echo, a premonition of leaking milk. Thinking nothing more of it, off I trundled to the shop at the bottom of the hill and acquired the needful.

When I got back I placed the milk in the fridge, the bread in the bin and collected the pooch for his evening exercise. I was accompanied by Dr Ervin Laszlo via a podcast I had downloaded earlier, in which he described the Akashic Field, a theoretical and mystical cosmic field that connects and informs everything, everywhere and everywhen, both at the quantum and material level. It was very interesting and I look forward to reading his new book (with Anthony Peake) I gifted myself as a Yuletide present over the next few weeks.

After de-leading the dog, and putting the kettle on to thaw out my frozen digits, I turned to look at the fridge, and lo – there was a white substance oozing from the door. I opened the fridge door to see that the milk I had placed there forty-five minutes earlier had in fact leaked, dripped into the salad compartment below and out through the ageing front.

I don’t recall ever having such a strong feeling of precognition before (albeit on an incredibly mundane scale), but I’m certain this was a full on premonition. Why it occurred and why it was shown to me through the medium of milk, I cannot comment…

#2: Together in Electric Dreams…

I guess it is never wise to watch a “thinking man’s film” just before one retires for the evening but that’s what I did last night anyway. The film in question is called Primer, a sci-fi time travelling affair created in 2004 for a mere seven thousand dollars (grossing five-hundred-thousand dollars since then), which for the very limited budget was and is quite remarkable. It’s one of those Inception type movies where you will have a general idea about, then you’ll go and do some Googling, then watch it again, have a chat to some friends then watch it again, satisfied that you still don’t have a clue…

My youngest son had watched it over the holidays and said he’d like to watch it again so with the females in the house safely tucked up in bed, the three amigos (my eldest included) sat down to watch, deliberate and cogitate the films content before during and after the movie. We all came away a bit confused but in agreement that it was a bloody good effort.

I crawled into bed near midnight my mind still fizzing somewhat at what I had just seen. When I woke in the morning, the wife was not impressed. By all accounts, I spent the night ‘fitting again’ as she calls it. The dream I had was a tremendous one. I was in a town somewhere in the US minding my own business with the wife and daughter when all of a sudden dark clouds appeared on the horizon and quickly made their way towards us. As they approached, the winds started to whip around us and all too soon there was a panic in the streets and my wife and daughter where swept off in the midst of the crowds, separating themselves from me and then my vision. I made for a nearby hill to get a better look to see if I could spot where they were, when all of a sudden the buildings that lined the road to the top of the hill slipped down the hill (all in one piece though as if on a conveyor belt), and there I stood high the grassy peak, as the storm’s epicentre made it way directly for me.

It was then that it hit me, literally. There was a huge white flash as the lighting strike hit me directly on the top of my head. I recall a loud sound accompanied the blast as well as the force which came with the bolt, but it did not harm me, instead it gave me a gift, the gift of foresight. I made my way down the hill which one again turned into a town and made my way towards the train tracks. Thankfully the train was still stationary at the station, so I made my way towards the first carriage in which there were two passengers. The first passenger (who my message was not for) was David Bowie dressed as Ziggy Stardust who sat calmly and statically as I ripped the entire side off the train with my bare hands. The second passenger (who my message was for) was still seated, and looked over at me.

“You don’t know me Anthony [Peake], but you must get off this train now as I have had a premonition that it will crash as it approaches the main station at Liverpool”. He took my advice and the pair of us left and made our way to some sort of lab / facility where he worked. Oddly when we got there a friend of mine “M” was there and I introduced him to Anthony and Anthony to him, quipping that up close he looked like Sting with white hair – which he quickly corrected “light blonde”. He shuffled some papers and I turned to him and asked what he thought was going on and as he opened his mouth to answer the scene faded and I woke up…

This morning I looked up nocturnal epilepsy to see how that was defined and what the symptoms of it were. Although that sounds a bit over the top, I do on occasions suffer from something rather interesting. I have a strange ability to fall asleep instantly, sometimes within thirty seconds of my head hitting the pillow I’m gone. Sometimes I also experience strange sensations which wiki defines as either Exploding Head Syndrome or Hypnic Jerk (my wife concurs with the jerk tagline).

Exploding Head Syndrome
Exploding head Syndrome (EHS) is a form of hypnagogic auditory hallucination and is a rare and relatively undocumented parasomnia event in which the subject experiences a loud bang in their head similar to a bomb exploding, a gun going off, a clash of cymbals, ringing, an earthquake, or any other form of loud, indecipherable noise that seems to originate from inside the head.

This noise usually happens at the onset of sleep or within an hour or two of falling asleep, but is not necessarily the result of a dream. Most episodes occur just after falling asleep or just prior to waking up, and are not associated with occurring in any certain sleep stage. EHS is an uncommon, usually nocturnal parasomnia that arises from the transition between different sleep stages.

Interestingly these noises are a common feature of out-of-body experiences.

Hypnic Jerk
A hypnic jerk, hypnagogic jerk, sleep start, sleep twitch or night start, is an involuntary twitch which occurs just as a person is beginning to fall asleep, often causing them to awaken suddenly for a moment. Physically, hypnic jerks resemble the “jump” experienced by a person when startled, often accompanied by a falling sensation. Hypnic jerks are associated with a rapid heartbeat, quickened breathing, sweat, and sometimes “a peculiar sensory feeling of ‘shock’ or ‘falling into the void.’

As I have tinnitus, then it’s logical to some extent to link the EHS / HJ to the point at which I fall asleep, my inner ear balance changing as I drift between states. I’m not overly concerned by it all and from what I have read do not think I have any links with epilepsy, nor do I get stressed about having EHS / HJ episodes. I know that I have more of these when I’m overworked or overtired, and restoring the balance via meditation and improved sleep patterns is the cure should I need it.

But that’s the logical view point, what if it is not that at all…

ADDENDUM: I just got a cold call from a life insurance company, should I be worried now?

Down the rabbit hole…

If I’m certain of one thing in relation to consciousness, it’s time dilation.

I had one of the most profound dreams I’ve ever had two nights ago, one of those meaning of life experiences. Sadly as the events of the previous night involved a bit too much festive cheer at the work Christmas Party, the contents of the dream remain a mystery.

It was only after going through the entries of the Notes app on my iPhone that there was some semblance of recall. This is what it said:

What I do remember is climbing (crawling) into bed around 2am, and at some point waking up from a dream and reaching across to the bedside table in the hotel and picking up my phone, the scraps of dream content being type with some accuracy (given the state I must have been in) in the same way I once kept my Lucid Dream Diary.

Time. Time is the only thing I remember about the dream. The visual representation has been lost, no pictures were stored to hard disk, but what I do remember is that the dream lasted quite literally an eternity. I had with the space of 2 hours of ‘real time’ lived not only a previous life, but the entire history of human consciousness.

Time really is wonderful, as is the perception of time. Clearly, our consciousness (our “awake-state”) perceives time as linear, with each segment clearly defined, measured and going from left to right. However, the same cannot be said for our sub-conscious / unconscious self (our “not awake-state”), the rules of the game are different and simply do not apply.

It is as if we have in our noggins two distinct consciousness’s, Observer 1 who observes time in accordance to the rules of being awake, and Observer 2 who operates in a time with no real rules at all. These consciousness’s have the ability to talk to each other, to commune and share each other’s experiences and it is the duty of Observer 1 to interact with other conscious or awake Observers (you) in what we call reality.

What is reality? Reality it seems depends on which Observer in charge; both could argue that their definition / experience of what reality is, is correct.

So how far down the rabbit hole are we; is there an Observer 0? Is what we think Observer 1’s reality just a part of the “super-consciousness” of Observer 0, in the same way that we think that Observer 2 is simply a subordinate of Observer 1, our waking self?

I’m not sure, but “I” hopes to find out one day…

Accessing The Source…

There’s waking up in a dream and waking up from a dream, and last night it could be argued that I did both…

I’ve been purchasing a lot of secondhand books recently, taking stock for what will soon be my ‘meditation loft’ in the house, contained within it my very own ‘Noetic Nook’, a gallimaufry of works from Anthony Peake, Brian Inglis and J.W Dunne to name but a few.

After all but finishing Anthony Peake’s thought provoking ITLAD, my search for other mysterious tomes took on frenzied vigor and speed; soon books were being delivered at a high rate of un-nautical knots. As much as I am a gadget man, it must be said that I’d much prefer a book than a Kindle. I have dabbled with a Kindle before but for me the novelty soon wears off.

I went to see the rather excellent British psychedelic / space rock band Ozric Tentacles last week and engaged in debate with some friends over the pros and cons over digital versus the printed word. My argument was that as much as one can store ridiculous amount of books on these lightweight and portable variants, for me the digital experience cannot compare to aged or aging book (as detailed in my poem of last week). Coupled with the fact that I am such a slow reader and a soul that can only read one book at a time (and not having the need to carry several tomes around with me at the same time), it was a no-brainer. Books.

I quipped that come the apocalypse, any associated EMP (Electro Magnetic Pulse) from a nuclear blast would render the electric Kindle inoperable, which was met with ‘you can’t exactly read your book when your flesh has been ripped from your skeleton in the aforementioned explosion now can you?’, a good response, and a fair one…

And so to last night’s dream…

I am middle aged, I see my middle aged self in the mirror; a common sight these days. However, as I look in the mirror at my reflection today something is different, a vision or a memory from another “time” is flooding in to my mind. It’s a very odd feeling, a feeling that the memory is not from this lineage. It feels like a long lost time, a connection to another me in a separate lineage to the one I’m living right now. All of a sudden, it is clear to me. I have “lived” or experienced other timelines before, many other timelines.

Call it the eternal return, call it reincarnation, but this is not the first time that I have lived, nor is it the first time that I have seen myself from behind the mirror (even though only now have I recalled this).

That’s it. The mirror. I am looking at a subjective view on a material reality which is right now focusing on my reflection, but behind the mirror is another me. This other “me” has made contact with me, perhaps not for the first time. It has communed a message directly to me, a message which is saying that all is not what it seems.

It is clear; there is something beyond the material universe; there is a source. This source is where our consciousness is stored, not within our brain (our consciousness is not simply an epiphenomenon of an evolved brain, it is something more majestic, more divine), but somewhere else; somewhere non-local.

I leave the house and follow an untrodden path up an unknown hill. The sky is very blue and clouds are wispy, dreamlike. Atop the hill is a glass pyramid, and upon approaching I see some sort of display panel, but a display to what – the source? I approach it and see there is a keypad, which looks like it will require some sort of password to open the glass door. I search deep inside myself and key in the following letters: L A S Z L O…

The panel makes a noise and at once, the screen above the keypad presents an image, an image of an old man who is walking towards me. I recognise the man instantly; it is Dr Jacab Bronowski, creator of the Ascent of Man essays and documentaries.

“Congratulations” he says, “You have found the answer to the question you have been looking for. Welcome to The Source”. And with that the door starts to open, but everything around me starts to fade…

This was a not a lucid dream as I never gained that realisation that I was dreaming, but it felt quite profound as I lay in bed, reflecting. I was experiencing in a dream (or was it), what Anthony Peake refers to as the Eidolon (Lower Self – the “I”) and the Daemon (the Higher Self – the “Immortal Self”); the duality of human consciousness (or unconsciousness in this case) making a connection with each other. I guess the image of Dr Bronowski was my mind throwing me a curve ball, as the man in question believes not of externalism, but of materialism, chance and probability, all very unromantic.

A few days back I looked at the bibliography at the back of ITLAD and ordered some books from there, including Science and the Akashic Field: An Integral Theory of Everything by Ervin Laszlo and there will be a joint effort released next week from Peake and Laszlo entitled “The Immortal Mind: Science and the Continuity of Consciousness Beyond the Brain” so maybe this is where my noggin is getting all of its dream content from (as well as keypad passwords to the other side).

As I was typing this up, the postman has just dropped of my latest book, “The Daemon – a guide to your extraordinary secret self”. Now that is quite peculiar…

I’ll finish on a song, the opening lines from Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody:

Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality… Open your eyes, look up to the skies and see…

ADDENDUM:

Imagine my surprise when resuming my reading of ITLAD, and upon turning the first page I come across the following italicised statement, apropos NDE’s and OBE’s:

“…I was faced with an image of my own face (as if looking in a mirror)”…

Furthermore, upon leaving Starbucks (the location of my Friday afternoon read), I looked up to the sky, which was hours earlier very grey and very wet, for it now to reveal an incredible blueness with ethereal wispy clouds. As I approached the Marine Park, my focus turned to the roof of the wooden structure in its epicentre, a building painted dark brown, save the apex which was painted a brilliant white, for all intents and purposes the representation of a pyramid…

You, me, us, we are one…

I am you, you are me.
X, Y, Zee to A, B, Cee.
You, me, us, we are one…

When I first listened to Pop Will Eat Itself (aka PWEI) back in the 90’s, one of my favourite tunes of theirs for no apparent reason at the time was X, Y, Zee. I kind of liked the music and the lyrics were a bit cool and nutty. At the height of my web design days (when I was a lowly paid and under-valued civil servant), I had ideas to create my own web design company. I had quite some experience under my belt and if truth be known quite a bit of flair and talent too. Thinking of a name for the venture, I came up with XYZeee, in part due to the song of the same name, and the fact that on every corporate bullshit bingo card, XYZ always comes up.

Sadly my flair in web design was measured in equal parts by my “unflair” in business acumen and engagement, and my first date with design destiny (a flash-based website for a London comedian) crashed and burned and XYZeee was no more.

Something rather “far out” happened today. I drove my daughter to school as I had to run an errand in the car before work, so my wife got her out of her car seat and escorted her up the hill, as I waited in the car for her to return. To the right of me a beautiful grey and white cat (similar to a snow leopard but thankfully not one) popped out from beneath a fence. Again for no apparent reason I decided to “connect” with the cat. I sat in the driver’s seat and meditated, using my reiki charged mudra to try to get the cat to turn around and look directly at me.

It didn’t. Instead it walked down the pavement alongside a bush which by the look and sound of it had some small birds in. The cat carried on down the pavement stopping every now and again to peer into the bush, but again ignoring my psychic current. As it got to the end of the bush and just before it disappeared out of my line of vision I sent a super charged bolt towards it, and then it stopped dead and turned around and looked directly into my eyes for what seemed to be a lifetime, my Arnold J Rimmer “mesma-stare” in full flow. Whether it was pure coincidence, a glitch in the matrix or an indication that we are all linked who can truly say. All I can say is that whenever I see the cat again I will call him by his new name, Schrödinger.

As it wandered off, it got me thinking about “Year Zero” and the beginning of the Universe (quite deep for a Thursday morning) and the fact that if one believes in the singularity theory and the Big Bang, then “you, me, us, we are one”, or more to the point “you, me, us, were one”. If at some point 13.7 billion years ago we were one, then doesn’t it carry forward that we are all still intrinsically linked to every other thing in the Universe, if not materialistically (matter) then perhaps at the mystical quantum level?

If we are all still intrinsically linked, then maybe we can resonate such invisible Universal energies or communicate at the quantum level in a dimension we cannot yet measure with our existing senses or gadgets.So maybe I did commune with Schrödinger after all.

With the phrase “you, me, us, we are one” reverberating around in my noggin, I decided to dig out my old PWEI playlists and listen to the aforementioned song. Some of the lyrics are very interesting too, they even reference a cat…

I am he who is X, Y and Zee, I carry no card, my life is cheap.
Have no worries, I do not fret, some may have what I’m yet to get.

And you may wonder, “Is it how?” a kitten may turn into a cow.
With bells and horns and tinned corned beef.
Forests, profits, plastic High Streets.

I am he who is A, B and Cee,
An easy option, like twentieth century satisfaction guaranteed.
It’s easy…

Let’s steal a spaceship and head for the sun.
And shoot the stars with a lemonade ray gun.
Make a movie and a TV show.
You be Jane, I’m George Jetson.

I am you, you are me, X, Y, Zee to A, B, Cee.
You, me, us, we are one.

From out our window we can see.
Electric sunshine, oxygen factories.
Clockwork tides, synthetic trees.
Just like the real ones on Vee Tee.

Mother Nature and Father Time, used to be good friends of mine.
But now we’ve put them in a home, filed them under, “Uses unknown”.

“No pop, no style”, is a phrase out of phase.
To praise what’s worthwhile, this is as good as it gets.
This is the best…

Let’s catch the last rays of civilization and tune-in to a sub-space station.
Turn up the DJ, let’s get lost in intergalactic punk-rock, hip-hop.

I am you, you are me, X, Y, Zee to A, B, Cee.
You, me, us, we are one.

This is the time, the time of our lives.
Escaping time for the all-time highs.
Of love, lust, laughter that make us sweat.

Let’s stimulate sensory amplification, this is PWEI-zation.
This is this, it’s the living end: “Je t’aime, encore, je t’aime”.

I am you, you are me X, Y, Zee to A, B, Cee.
You, me, us, we are one…

ADDENDUM:

Imagine my surprise when my daughter came home from school this afternoon with a WWF leaflet alerting her to the cats she can help to save. Imagine my further surprise when she said she would chose to adopt a Snow Leopard…

Internal Landscapes

And I felt myself going. I was in a great deal of pain…
It was a very frightening experience, but I began to slip…
I just sort of, felt myself going, and I remember trying to hold on…
I’ll be ok, I’ll be ok…

And it got to the point where I just couldn’t…

And everything began to just become very quiet…

And I can remember with every ounce of strength I had…
I wanted to say goodbye to my wife, it was important to me…
And I did, I remember just turning my head, looking at her and saying…
I’m gonna die, goodbye Joan, and I did…

It was then that I experienced, what we call a Near Death Experience…
For me there was nothing near about it, it was there…
It was a total immersion in light, brightness, warmth, peace, security…

I did not have an Out-of-Body Experience…
I did not see my body or anyone about me…
I just immediately went into this beautiful bright light…
It’s difficult to describe, matter of fact it’s impossible to describe…
Verbally it cannot be expressed…
It’s something which becomes you and you become it…

I could say that I was peace…
I was love…
I was the brightness…
It was part of me…

As I was putting together various purchases from IKEA on Saturday, I had a moment of recall, a moment of warmth, a moment of connection with something, not sure of what that something was. I was alone in the hallway happily busying myself with Allen Keys and screwdrivers, when Anathema’s Internal Landscapes song from the Weather Systems album came on. I must have heard it a thousand times already, but Saturday was different.

I have had moments of peace and wonder listening to the spoken word of Joe Geraci before, recalling his own Near Death Experience many decades ago, but Saturday’s experience was much more profound. As I listened, I found myself drifting off listening to each word very carefully, recalling my vision under Lucia No 3 a few weeks ago, the Lucid / Hypnogogic Light Device of my last blog.

In particular, I picked up on the following lines:

It was a total immersion in light, brightness, warmth, peace, security…
I did not have an out-of-body experience…
I did not see my body or anyone about me…
I just immediately went into this beautiful bright light…
It’s difficult to describe, matter of fact it’s impossible to describe…
Verbally it cannot be expressed…
It’s something which becomes you and you become it…

In short I felt that. That, exactly, was what I felt. I cannot describe it in a better way than Joe did all of those years ago, but to me, it felt the same. I felt that I had become part of something non-corporeal, sentient, albeit briefly, too briefly. It was beautiful. It was like there was something else. It was my own Internal Landscape:

“I remember being surrounded by a warm glow, with a central ellipse of orange light (an eye if you will, or tunnel even), a place of peace”…

When I came around, there I was still sat in the middle of my hallway, surrounded by nuts, bolts and nails, and then the analogy hit me. Life is like a box of IKEA flat-packed furniture. Everything comes at you in pieces once you open the box. There are instruction manuals for those who need to be led and for others, there is chaos, a collection of bits and pieces, but when considered carefully, logically and put in the correct place, everything eventually makes sense and becomes one, a replica of the source (in my case a shoe rack)…

And it’s just so beautiful…
It was eternity…
It’s like I was always there, and I will always be there…
That my existence on earth was just a very brief instant…

I could say that I was peace…
I was love…
I was the brightness…
It was part of me…

A whiter shade of pale

We tripped the light fantastic,
Turned cartwheels ‘cross the doors (of perception),
I was feeling kind of far out,
And the mind called out for more…

My spiritual journey has been on the road now for exactly two years this week. I look in the mirror from time to time, the face is still the same (albeit with a few more lines and the levels of monochrome in the facial fur department have increased), but looking beyond the physical manifestation lies an inner self which is, to me at least, almost unrecognisable.

I reviewed my commitment today to both myself and others, a commitment which was a sincere pledge undertaken during those dark times and I’m happy to say that I’m on track. My personal outlook is and will continue to be my priority list. I’m a firm believer that it is our priorities that define who we are and how we are perceived by others, and when these priorities change, the universal order of things becomes chaotic, fragile. Often when one changes priority, it’s most often as a result of the ego kicking in, want and desire taking president over need and reason. My priority list is quite simple really:

  1. The Wife and Children.
  2. My health, well-being and search for enlightenment.
  3. My friends.
  4. Everything else.
  5. Work.

Work really is a distraction to what is important to me, but a necessary evil nonetheless. So when I do have to work away from my number one priority, I try to keep myself distracted, to fend off the pull and energy drain of “The Corporation”. This week saw me climbing over the roof of Millennium Dome on Tuesday with my brother-in-law, and Tuesday marked another milestone in my search for “the source”.

Following on from reshuffling of the priority list deck two years ago (whether that took place on a prioritisation table I’m not certain), I took up yoga, meditation and reiki which really help ground me, the glue to who I am now. At that time, I also saw an opportunity to open my still sceptical mind to alternative ways of thinking, alternative ways of operating, which inevitably led me to the door of my good friend in Eastham.

The catalyst to this change in consciousness was a gig in Chester. We went to see Nick Harper (a personal favourite of ours) but instead of taking up our usual front row seats, decided to stop at the bar and talk. And talk. And talk. Nick played majestically on his “Last Guitar”, as our conversation delved deeper and deeper, from quantum physics to Everetts Many World Interpretation, as Anthony Peake stroked Schrödinger’s Cat in a parallel universe somewhere.

Fascinated by all of this, I drove us both home (stopping to relieve myself on the way due to all the soft drinks) and bid my Peroni pal a fond farewell, with a mission to find out more about this Anthony Peake character. The next day I found that he had quite a few books out and more immediately available was a plethora of podcasts, vodcasts and articles on the web. I duly ordered ITLAD and downloaded most of his audio files. It was quite a departure from the former me, no woo-woo name calling was to come from my lips.

There was one particular podcast which drew my attention, it was his theories relating to the pineal gland. The pineal gland makes/secretes melatonin, the chemical which puts us to sleep each night. Peake posits that there is more to this pine-cone-shaped walnut than meets the (third) eye, in that it has the ability under certain conditions to
self-produce “metatonin”, a DMT-based neurochemical which can put the “secrete-ee” into altered states of consciousness.

One such “under certain conditions” is Lucia No 3, a Lucid Light Machine. This device is comprised of several halogen bulbs placed within what resembles a shower-head; it combines a stroboscope with a constant white light which induces a transcendental experience for the viewer.

So a few weeks back, I sent out a list of potential things to do with my chums in work whilst I was in London this week, including running events, the cinema and a “trip” to Light Eye Mind studio in Finsbury Park. I wasn’t hopeful that anyone would go with me to see Lucia, but was happy when “M” decided she would go with me, the lads stating that they would meet us up after for a spot of tiffin.

Eager to read as much of the remainder of ITLAD that I could before our visit, I managed to cram in a hundred pages on the redeye down to London, both eager and a bit apprehensive about what was to come.

Our journey to Finsbury Park took a while, but we arrived a little early and had to wait a wee while (apt as we were desperate for the toilet) for our hosts for the evening. Talking outside the store, “M” and I swapped our own stories about our own experiences, of spirituality, of alternative therapies and holistics.

We were met by “A”, “N” and “D” from Light Eye Mind, and within minutes it was clear that there were no egos involved here which was great. There was no big sell, all very humble and approachable folks. “A” resembling a young Russell Brand (hope that is taken as a compliment should he ever read this :D) introduced us to both the studio (which was displaying some cool artwork by Danny Wilder) and Lucia No 3. His suggestion of an initial three minute tester was well met by both of us, a sample of a longer session to follow if we felt ok with the machine.

Waiver forms dutifully signed (that we didn’t have epilepsy or deep rooted psychological problems), I stepped up as guinea pig and took to my seat. I decided to bring my own music, my approach was one of deep meditation (if that was possible) so on went my Kundalini Yoga playlist from Spotify, as did Lucia. In bright light with the eyelids closed, I guess we would all see a peachy glow, and before the strobe kicked in, that’s exactly what I saw, but once the strobe kicked in, everything changed. Everything changed. I saw art. My art. My eyelid was the easel, my mind the painter. Even though the tester session was brief, I managed to see / create fractal vistas of magnificent colours, a gallimaufry of spirals and shapes, more colours, more shapes, downwards spirals.

When the light dimmed, I took a deep breath and passed the cans over to “M” who selected some of “A’s” own tunes by a band called Carbon Based Life Forms and assumed the position. The three minutes went fast and she was done. She opened her eyes with the same “wow-look” I’d had and immediately wanted more, to get back to that place she had just been, and so she remained in-seat and took a further fifteen to twenty minute session.

I talked outside to “A” and shared my journey over the last two years with him, and he listened, really listened. It’s so refreshing to talk to folks like him, folks in-tune and attuned to one’s own frequency, not ridiculed or pilloried for looking at things in a different way. I told him I’d been reading a lot of Anthony Peake and studies into consciousness (Piero Scariffi), watched a great many videos regarding DMT and ayahuasca (Rick Strassman) and experienced first-hand universal energy flow via yoga, meditation, reiki (advising that I was now Reiki Level 2), and having listened to podcasts pointing the way to Lucia No 3, I’d decided give it a try and here I was.

When “M’s” session came to an end, “A” went to her to gently wake her as she  remained static. She opened her eyes, there and not there, seemingly having a full on hypnogogic experience, managing to finally reconnect her out of body consciousness with her physical form. We made sure she had settled before I took to the chair, the details of her trip to be shared after my own journey.

As the session was a lot longer, I decided to settle into a seated yoga position, and with mudra fully deployed I relaxed into it. Once again I began to create my own William Neal / Roger Dean prog-rock-album-cover type vistas. Isometric shapes began to form, mandalas created by thin illuminous “Tron-esqe” lines appeared, followed by what can only described as wormholes, deep blues and greens spiralling inwards and outwards. Then I saw a swastika, not the revolting symbol of the Nazism, but the softer ancient Hindu symbol, growing in size from central core before disappearing.

The most profound part was yet to come. I felt myself departing into a middle state, not conscious nor subconscious nor unconscious but somewhere in the middle. I remember being surrounded by a warm glow, with a central elipse of orange light (an eye if you will, or tunnel even), a place of peace, and for the first time I saw (or created) white light, three forms or shapes of white light presented themselves. Initially the three small star-like shapes (reminiscent of looking at a far off light source from underwater) moved and twisted, and then grew to be larger amorphous forms, the one on the left staying significantly smaller than the two on the right. It was then that the full on kundalini experience kicked in. I felt a surge of energy in my spine, emanating out from the base and traversing upwards through each chakra, through each of the seven tattoos on my back and out to the meridians.

Whether I was conscious, hypnogogic, unconscious or in another place altogether, I couldn’t say. Gradually the white forms faded and the whole scene turned a blood red orange and then upon reaching the darkness I came out of my altered state and opened my eyes. The energy did not stop however, it continued whilst I gave “A” and “M” commentary of my experience, as it did all of the way back to Finsbury Park train station.

I asked “M” about her experience on the way back and she said she too had seen swastikas, but associated these to the Second World War, and saw ghostly images (like those on film negatives) of soldiers passing her line of vision one by one.

We both felt quite tired and drained, but nonetheless we made it to the Brazilian restaurant where our work chums waited patiently (albeit with beers in hand), for the inevitable closed-mind ribbing and they did not disappoint. We were both fully prepared for the abuse, and took it all, good natured as it was.

One thing “A” told us was to watch out for our dreams that night, as a lot of people have very strange and vivid visions post-Lucia sessions. When I got in to work the next day, I asked “M” how she felt and did she have any interesting dreams, but sadly her dreams were even crapper than mine. She dreamt that she was in work testing a new IT product, mine was running a 10km race which involved climbing up a hill covered in snow, all rather boring…

ADDENDUM: Always a Cynic     

I got in late last night to a message from a friend of mine who’s into his metal in a big way. A favourite band of his is called Cynic (oh the irony) and he sent me a link to their latest video, them having taken a fork in the road to a more progressive rock style. The video itself was surreal, fractal art central, mandalas everywhere. Coincidence or just another universal synchronicity presenting itself?

Along came a spider

Of late, I have been reading “Is there Life After Death: The Extraordinary Science Of What Happens When We Die” by Anthony Peake (also known as ITLAD). The book is a fascinating read, so very interesting and covers a great many topics (some of which my limited brain can only take in on the first reading).

The section I have just finished (Echoes of the Future) relates to an attempt to describe / prove (both scientifically and experientially), precognition. In short (and my interpretation which is very basic in stark contrast to the book), it is the concept that we have a lower self (our physical form experiencing the external (objective) world subjectively) and a higher self (perhaps best described as the subconscious or the “non-local us” – the premise that our consciousness exists not inside us but “out there”). Furthermore, it is suggested that from a precognitive perspective, certain folks have the ability to tune in to future echoes, via dreams (day or night) or via visions / messages (via mediums). Anthony posits that our higher selves may in fact have lived a life already, our life the we are currently living, and that the likes of precognition or déjà vu is our higher selves way at saying that we know what’s coming next and here is a message, a breadcrumb if you will. The book cites several cases, most notably a precognitive dream a little Welsh girl had the day before the Aberfan mining disaster, sadly her request to stay away from the school that day being denied, and not averting the course of her future and immediate demise.

So it came as no coincidence that I could well have had my own precognition today, my very own Minority Report. As Morrissey once said “Last night I dreamt”, sadly not about someone who loved me, but spiders. At the age of forty two, I have pretty much overcome all of the fears of early life (including some rather irrational ones), namely tall buildings, dentists, sprouts on ironing boards and dying. There really is only one left, spiders (again quite irrational for someone who lives in the UK).

In my dream, I was back living in the Far East and recall that I was on a trip to Thailand, somewhere in the jungle outside Chang Mai. All of a sudden there was a huge down pour and I looked for cover and found a wooden terrace which was only about two foot high. I wriggled snake-like half way down the terrace, when from above spiders (black and yellow) started to descend on fine wires landing on my naked torso, giving me the fear. I woke up in a sweat, itching all over and it took me a while to get back to sleep (after checking under the covers just in case any of the little bleeders where in there).

Maybe it was the fear / negativity within dream or perhaps lack of sleep which put me in the worse mood I’ve been in for quite a while. Maybe it was that work is a real drag at the moment which doesn’t help, stuck in endless days of mind-numbingly-boring contract documentation. Some days (thankfully very rarely) I wake up and without reason and without justification, stay subsumed within a dark cloud, stuck within its black sticky “mono-filament-esque” web, unable to cut myself free. This in itself is ok as long as others are not affected by it. Sadly in a busy house that can be a real challenge.

So before I logged in, I decided to have a quick round up of the news via The Guardian and the BBC website (my last visit to Auntie honest) to see what was going on in the Scottish elections. On the BBC homepage was a picture of a spider. Knock me over with a “magic feather”, what a coincidence. The story behind it read that the UK is set for an invasion of giant spiders by all accounts. Excellent news….

By lunch time, I decided to take my mood into my own hands and sat out in the garden and decided to meditate during lunch. The weather was fine, so on went the Kundalini Yoga playlist, down went the eyelids, up went the mudra and I was taking back the natural order of things, control. It was serene, it was calming. In my hypnogogic state I drifted in and out of consciousness for about an hour, not dreaming, but feeling (not seeing) kaleidoscopic colours and soothing warmth of the sun. Towards the end of my chill out time, I felt something on my left arm, a tickling sensation. Upon looking down I found that there was a “money” spider weaving in and out of the hairs, laying behind it coils of silk. I picked it up with the end of my finger and drew it close to my face, and there it sat not moving for what seemed like hours, just staring directly at me (not that I could see its eyes, it may well have been its arse – I was still feeling quite sleepy and my glasses were still in the office). I gently placed it on a nearby rose bush and trundled back to work feeling much better.

With the wife at college on Thursday nights, I made sure all the kids were settled before I took the dog for a long walk. Still feeling a little dazed from the dark morning cloud, I decided to lighten the mood further by listening to Bill Hicks, a natural pick-me-up of mine whenever I’m feeling blue. Towards the end of our walk, we have to pass an embankment and the right hand side of the road, a high sandstone wall with only earth behind it which acts as foundations for the houses above. There is a rather curious feature on the wall, one which always catches my eye each time I pass it. Half way along the wall there is a door. A door which leads to nowhere. I glanced up at it to see that right in the middle was a huge spider web, with a disproportionate common garden spider sat still in the middle, just as Mr Hicks informed me once again that life was just a ride.

After the wife got back in from college, I went for a late night run with my eldest down on the promenade and told him of the events of the day. He is very logical and put it all down to pure coincidence, and the former me would have done exactly the same. I said that it would be a shame if everything was reduced to materialism, and to me what matters most just now is not matter at all. I concurred that the logical part of my conscious state agrees somewhat to his argument that if I hadn’t have had the dream in the first place, those things may well have been there today anyway, it’s just that my sense have been alerted to their presence (all very mature for a 17 year old boy). The romantic in me would like to think beyond the logic though.

One thing is for sure, I love my new-found thirst for the exploration of the Universe (both outer and inner). There are so many interesting and diverse interpretations “out there” that my reading list grows day-by-day (especially the writings of Mr Peake). I love the fact that for the first time in my life, I can’t get enough of reading and writing about reading. Long may it continue…

ADDENDUM 1: As I type this up, my spidy-senses are once again tingling, allowing myself one final arachnid-based chortle. On getting out of the car (after dropping the wife off at work), I glanced at the wing mirror to make sure there were no cards coming before I opened the door, only to find a further two micros-spiders fighting it out over a well trapped breakfast.

ADDENDUM 2: I just met my wife for a coffee in Starbucks and without knowing that I’d uploaded a blog or even be aware of the whole spider thing as I’ve not spoken to her much since yesterday morning, she said that after she had finished her massage session at the salon, she had heard an almighty scream coming from outside. She quickly went to see what the commotion was about, when she was confronted by a stylist in floods of tears. She asked her what the matter was, and she said that earlier, she thought she had flicked a huge spider from a cardigan she wearing, but was unaware that it hadn’t dropped on the floor, but it had moved to the back of her arm, and eventually crawled itself up her back and then up her neck to the underneath her hair, snuggling in nicely under her right ear lobe to keep warm.

Enough already…

The Magic Feather

Little rook in the midst of the parliament,
They harp and chatter, but everybody knows he’s going to be sent, away,

Cos he’s a wild, he’s got a red eye.

The trees are ringing, with the cackles and the twilight,
Little rook, takes one last look and takes flight, he’s away.

Cos he’s wild, he’s got a red eye.

Can you believe that his family, cannot be allowed to be together,
By the very same tribe that helped the elephant fly,
With a beautiful light and a magic feather

The dark old pie, in the tallest ashtray alone,
In the upturned branches, sceptres for the thrown.

It’s alright, it’s alright,

How can it be that a family cannot be allowed to be together,
By the very same tribe that helped the elephant fly,
With a beautiful light and a magic feather.

——————————————————————————————————————

As breadcrumbs go, I recently experienced a rather significant trail. Around three weeks ago, the mother of a friend of mine passed away. Around three weeks ago, friend of mine passed me an album by Nick Harper. Around three weeks ago, my wife and I started to find our garden, local parks and promenades were all covered in feathers. No coincidence there.

That was until everything was drawn together. My wife and I attended the funeral of our friend’s mother, a beautiful service which focused on both the celebration of her life and the respect her offspring and friends had for her. A few days after the service, our friend got in touch with us as we sat on our patio late one evening, talking. She thanked us for attending and shared something her mother had shared with her before she departed. She told her that once she had gone, for my friend to be on the lookout for feathers, as they will be a message from her that all was well on the other side and as long as she noticed the feathers, she was with her.

A short while later (no more than five minutes), I made the short journey from the patio to the fridge to top up the wife’s wine glass and saw a small white feather float past me, landing on the floor quite close to me. I guess the old me would have been pretty spooked by such a random coincidence, but no longer. I beckoned the wife over to see the spot where the feather landed and to my extended surprise saw another two feathers in the near vicinity.

After discussing the feathers and inevitably ITLAD (Is There Life After Death), we changed topic and talked about our joint excitement over some up and coming live events, namely concerts with John Legend and Lenny Kravitz. I also told her that Nick Harper (an incredible folk guitarist from the UK) was playing Liverpool in October and should we perhaps get tickets as the venue is really small and it would be a good opportunity to catch up with some friends we hadn’t seen for a while. At that point I reached for the iPhone as I had added all of his albums to it earlier in the week, including Miracles for Beginners, the old new album I had only heard live before. I duly hit the forward triangle on my phone and we sat a while, and then it happened. Track number four came on. Magic feather…

I listened to the album as I worked this morning, and was prompted to put fingers to keyboard over lunch before I forgot. The amount of feathers I have seen over the last few weeks has been incredible. Everywhere I look (including at one point on the sole of my Converse), feathers can be found, mostly white fluffy ones.

OK it may be the season for it. OK I live two hundred metres from the beach. It’s the sheer volume of feathers and random links that make you think about reality in a different light.

I have read the lines from the song today (posted above) and can draw even further links to all of this:

“The dark old pie, in the tallest ashtray alone” – my friends mum had a dark complexion and smoked cigarettes.

“How can it be that a family cannot be allowed to be together” – the sad departing of my friends mum.

“With a beautiful light and a magic feather” – the funeral reference that the sky has a new star and to keep an eye out for magic feathers…

Should I stay or should I go…

To quote the delectable Natalie Imbuglia on the topic of Scottish independence, I’m torn.

On the one hand, I think the devolution of power from the political behemoth that is Westminster (or any powerful centralised government for that matter) is a good thing, as it lessens the power and the might of the “UK” on the global stage, whilst at the same time it gives back to the people of Scotland a sense of being in control of the separate nation it once was, with the ability to administer policies and finances solely on and for the people of Scotland.

However, on the other hand, there would inevitably be the erection of yet another border (manned or otherwise, invisible or otherwise), yet another area of our little blue dot segregated from the rest, yet more nationalism both sides of the border. For those left in the UK who are not of the capitalist / nationalist persuasion, it could spell danger. There is the potential (if not inevitability), that those aligned to the right may swell in numbers, which could lead to further segregation (albeit from a social class perspective) if the Conservatives gain a majority government. This could herald a wave of neo-nationalism in England, including the potential (if not inevitable) rise of UKIP and pave the way for an extraction from the EU, as well as no end of multi-culturism problems.

As coincidence may have it (not that there is such a thing of course), I was doing my weekly ‘big shop’ and stopped off at the magazine rack to see if anything caught my private eye. Sitting next to The Private Eye was a copy of the New Scientist which I had never read before, so for the first time ever at the weekend I bought it, as its cover made reference to a special report inside which read “End of the Nation?” It was a very interesting read which went through the inaugural birth and associated definition of nation. It was full of very long words, so it was an article I would definitely have to read twice due to the offspring (not the punk band) vying for my weekend time so I only skim read it. I knew I was in London this week so decided to give it some serious “strokey beard time” on the train.

Many moons ago I purchased a DVD box set, a classic from the BBC archives. The “Ascent of Man” by Dr Jacob Bronowski is a series of essays made into thirteen documentaries, in which Bronowski details from his perspective the ascent of man through the ages. The series starts off with the story with Australopithecus, the first bi-pedal of the primates and in his opinion the earliest hominid which evolved four million years ago, and which arguably played the most significant step-change in human evolution. Sadly after six episodes Dr J seems to be a material reductionist, I hope that changes by the end of episode thirteen.

Dragging myself back on topic, one needs to consider the full chain of events that led up to the formation of what we call nation, the full chain of events and the concept of the hierarchy. The definition of a hierarchy is an arrangement of items (objects, names, values, categories, etc.) in which the items are represented as being “above,” “below,” or “at the same level as” one another.

As Bronowski rightly points out, hierarchies can be found anywhere. Take the atomic hierarchy, atomic order. Particles join as nuclei, nuclei join as atoms, atoms join as molecules, molecules join as bases, bases join as amino acids, the building blocks of life itself. And so it is with geographic order. Homes joins as roads, roads join as villages, villages join as towns, towns join as cities, cities join as territories, territories join as nations. And so it is with social order. Selves join as families, families join as class, class joins as society.

So that which we find in nature seems profoundly to correspond to the way in which we join geographically and socially with our nation.

Following the path of biological order (on the basis that we are modern-man at this point), we evolved and started wandering the land as families, then extended families and eventually formed larger bands of hunter-gatherers, not bound by any rules or laws of the land, nor any boundaries as they did not exist (besides physical ones of course). That was until around 10,000 years ago, when the agricultural revolution started. Due to a “coincidental” amalgam of wheat grasses on the plains outside Jericho in then Palestine, modern man realised the theory of Neil the Hippy from The Young Ones: “We sow the seed, nature grows the seed, and then we eat the seed…”

The agricultural revolution moved man away from his previous hunter-gather, nomadic “camping and caves” lifestyle and developed the first settlements. Early agrarian collectives required little governing as they were largely self-organising and happy living the hippy life. But with the advent of agriculturalism came complexity, as collectives turned into settlements, existential complexity increased.

As time went on, places like Jericho, Damascus and Aleppo came into being (the first cities) and became fixed places on the yet to be penned map of the world, and within the city boundaries there began the production and storage of food. Once food surplus was being stored, inevitable skirmishes between the haves and have nots broke out. Once it was clear that in order to progress, rules and laws were needed to exist to keep law and order, and the first ruling powers took seat.

This was the true birth of the human hierarchy. Society was born and with it the hierarchical class system and more and more cities started to spring up around areas of natural resources. As the social complexity grew so did the concept of trade, with settlement exchanging produce, for produce cash or favour. As society was becoming ever more complex, the apparent need for leadership arose, whether that be monarch or government or warlord, as often territory warred against territory. I guess this also heralded the birth of greed, of capitalism (perhaps).

As lines started to appear on the map, so did the birth of the nation, both visible and invisible boundary lines were drawn segregating one nation from the next. And with the birth of the nation came the notion of national identity, a sense that a population which belonged to one area of a map was glued together by common language or cultural inheritance. For the first time people belonged to something bigger than their local environment, patriotism grew as man pledged allegiance to one’s nation.

Ever since, nation has fought against nation, over boundary lines and natural resources, over religious and cultural beliefs and there seems to be no end to it.

Mother Nature has a reset button and it has been pressed a few times already. Whether it be asteroid, ice age or biological (plague/black death), there have been times in our four billion year history that our little blue dot has changed course. It now looks like man will at some point press his own self-created reset button, that I am almost certain. It looks like Mother Nature has been put out to pasture, for now.

I’d like to see “Un Monde Sans Frontiers”, a world without borders, a world which devolves power to smaller territories in order to look after the needs smaller numbers of folks, where folks are free to roam and settle in places that suit them, where folks all work together for the good of everyone and not the self, all in peace. I think that’s called The Venus Project.

I for one am not patriotic. When I think about pride and allegiances, I am proud to be a father of three amazing kids, proud to be the husband of a remarkable woman, proud to be a friend and confidante to others I hold dear. I have a sense of belonging to my local community as well as Liverpool my home town but that is where it stops. I don’t see myself as English, or British or European, my allegiances lie with man in general, not any one kind of man but all kinds of man. My allegiances do not lie with political ideologies, corporations or boundary lines on a map, it lies with the Universe, with the global collective consciousness.

I personally don’t feel connected to Westminster or the UK one bit. I would feel more connected to a devolved territory, and I guess that’s the decision Scotland has to make next Thursday. They have an opportunity to reconnect. Good luck to them.

Slainte Mhath…