You’ll find a PDF access to a longish essay ‘The Body Electric … An Exploration of Human Identity in the Digital Age’ in this post from October 2021:

My promised essay ‘The Body Electric’

Science of the Heart  – a link to an article of mine written in 2003.  The article has since been updated, but I share the original version here. The ideas are inspired by the great mystic Ibn ‘Arabi and sum up an approach to life that informs my writing.

*    *    *

Below, I had posted DRAFT  chapters from a sequel to Course of Mirrors – SHAPERS

I’m presently completely absorbed in the writing, so I took the material down, apart from the first paragraph.

Illustration by Arthur Rackham ( 1887-1939)



 Chiming worlds     

 Pale mist poured over the rim of the sea, the kind forming when warm milk hits a cold pail. Luke and I had boarded the Engrail sailing to the West Isles. I felt displaced, anxious about conditions on deck, and there was a deeper unease, which would soon be vindicated. I had told Luke about Cara, my spirit companion, but not that she lived centuries ahead in the future. He might question my sanity, like Katun, who scoffed at hearing voices, in dreams or bright daylight – he called it ‘raving nonsense.’



Please note – comments below don’t necessarily relate to the present text.

4 responses to “Other

  1. I thought generally the plot development was great and it was mesmerising, I did note one or two little typos but I was so busy reading I only remembered to note the one “form the galley” which I believe should be “from the galley” I thought the descriptions of life on board the ship were very good indeed. I think that I would have appreciated more indications of time passing, how long were they on the island with Oruba for example, it was long enough to build huts etc but there seems an urgency to the quest which is witnessed in Oruba’s decision to let them go so was it days, weeks?

    I noted two spellings of Rhonda (Ronda)
    human rights failed deploringly. I wonder if that should be deplorably
    Their spacious underground swellings – ?dwellings?

    I realise these are drafts and so am not trying to nit pick but simply to help.

    I would love to read more but am out of time for the moment – I leave Mesa with the clown and Tilly in Ronda (Rhonda?). I love the voice in this and the worlds that you weave are intriguing and fascinating and to answer your original question yes it does make me want to read on and find out more. I intend to come back and read more but we are away to the ocean for a couple of days so I must now go and do things. Thanks


  2. Thanks Diane, this cheers. And thanks for pointing out the spellers. Will fix things soon, and ponder the other points you raised. Have a great time at the coast.


  3. Been reading a bit on Artificial Intelligence lately (AI). Not sure we know what intelligence is. And if we don’t know what intelligence is, how can we know what consciousness is? Not quite on point, probably, but anyway… and btw, about that “swelling” or “dwelling”?

    Because I could not stop for Death (479)
    Emily Dickinson, 1830 – 1886

    Because I could not stop for Death –
    He kindly stopped for me –
    The Carriage held but just Ourselves –
    And Immortality.

    We slowly drove – He knew no haste
    And I had put away
    My labor and my leisure too,
    For His Civility –

    We passed the School, where Children strove
    At Recess – in the Ring –
    We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –
    We passed the Setting Sun –

    Or rather – He passed us –
    The Dews drew quivering and chill –
    For only Gossamer, my Gown –
    My Tippet – only Tulle –

    We paused before a House that seemed
    A Swelling of the Ground –
    The Roof was scarcely visible –
    The Cornice – in the Ground –

    Since then – ‘tis Centuries – and yet
    Feels shorter than the Day
    I first surmised the Horses’ Heads
    Were toward Eternity –

    Liked by 1 person

  4. A wonderful Emily Dickinson poem, about time and eternity. Thank you Joe. So many things I love about the poem. The house that seemed a swelling of the ground – I have a house a little like this in my short story, ‘Goats are Goats,’ where an ageless crone seems rooted to her environment as through fungal filaments under the blacke earth.

    Re: Artificial Intelligence – loss of time – you must here also relate to an article I mentioned ‘Body Electric.’ I haven’t typed it out yet, it’s over 20 pages. Will type it eventually. I think you’ll find the article interesting. It quoted many authors you’ll be familiar with. What’s your reading on AI?

    And no, we don’t really have a fitting definition for intelligence, other than that it may relate to vibrations, aestethics, beauty, like something coming together in symphony, harmony, which gives us meaning.
    Consciousness – ha – not this, not that, single, singular, yet breathing through all and everything. Just muttering 🙂


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