Tag Archives: writing

… thoughts of an old woman …

I’m reluctant to call myself old. As common perceptions go, I feel at least 20 years younger, being curious and interested in everything. I just got a bit slow with manual tasks, procrastinating in executing them when my superego demands action. I’ve never been at easy terms with my superego; love/hating my hilarious authority complex.

Among parents, siblings, children, writers, artists, philosophers, teachers, the circle of minds that influenced and still influence me and in some cases vice versa seems vast. Despite being a hermit at heart, circumstances led me to engage with a rich variety of people, groups, colleagues, communes, film teams, social projects, journeys, clients. Like in a well-lived-in home with accumulated treasures, our countless interconnections with others settle and live on in us. Some memories are only partly woven into the fabric of our lives, with loose threads keen to be integrated.

A bonus of old age for me, are vivid dreams. The characters playing are usually people, dead or alive, I related to over time. In these dreams I experience undercurrents of feelings, rarely expressed but also informing the relationships. I catch my subtle projections onto people and their projections onto me. Like I tend to be guarded of controlling people, but like to be in charge myself J

These messages are quite confusing to absorb, and I ponder whether the awareness of such subconscious narratives changes the memory in my psyche, and has any subliminal effect on the characters involved, dead or alive – based on my belief that the psyche is a timeless phenomenon. Insights can arrive during daydreams. It could be a slight lift of the spirit or a feeling of unease, like a cloud swirling round the head.

Do we sense when people think of us? My paternal grandmother considered this happens when my nose itches. She also advised me to pull unpleasant thoughts from my nose via a downward stroke with my fingers, and then flick the thoughts away.

Her quirky tips were what a modern day influencer might employ.

I’m sometimes embarrassed about my ignorance – that is – not seeing where people might be coming from, be it the motivation for their interactions, secrets withheld, questions not asked, missed resonances, words meant in kindness, or in sudden spite or error, all the subtle hurts we inflict on each other, all of which just as well applies to me.

There seem to be polarized opinions regarding narratives … if it ends badly so be it. Attempts to make things well are soppy. Resolved and happy endings, though desired by some, can come over as insincere or boring to others. My preferences vary, according to the mood of the day, maybe yours too.

Our media is dominated by bad news, often too weird to be real, feeding a hunger for sensation, an entrenched feature of human nature that may be based on a masochistic and self-destructive mechanism in response to grief, rejection, resentment, disillusionment or lack of gratification.

All is Well … All is Bad, and a labyrinth between them for getting lost.

Clearly, we seek acknowledgement for our existence, be it through love or hate, but at least a nod for having some function in this game of living. Some players cause mayhem and are reviled or heralded; others are envied or applauded for personal or social achievements, sharing a life’s work, or for nourishing friendships.

Attention is never guaranteed, one moment we are valued by some, scorned by others, and next we are forgotten. Some of us get too much attention, some too little, some the wrong kind, some none at all.

It’s the way of life.

I conceive of the concept of soul families, whose members meet again and again, in different times and environments, with different roles … psychological constellations that provide a precious testing ground for becoming human.  I don’t think it is farfetched. It chimes with some eastern traditions, like Karma.

What annoys us in others often pinches at a trait we have ourselves, sobering when revealed. C. G. Jung put a bright beam on the unconscious complexes and shadow aspects of personhood. It should make us marvel at the intricate dynamic intelligence by which the psyche adjusts our perspectives in unseen energetic ways, sometimes surfacing during odd moments in relationships, and, quite regularly in dreams – for this I’m grateful.

Nature works in such mysterious ways we can’t possibly out-think it.

4 Comments

Filed under Blog

… asymmetry & body/mind dynamics …

My body has two legs and two feet that carry its weight, they walk, they run, they climb. My body has two arms and two hands that manipulate and make all manner of things, they can heal or kill. My body has two ears – they hear silence, voices, music, birds, wind, rain, thunder and explosions. My body has two eyes – they see beauty, wonder and horrible happenings. My body has two brain hemispheres, left and right, each controlling the opposite side of this amazing human abode.

Ian MCGilchrist suggests that our culture, as many before, tends to be dominated by the functions of the left hemisphere … focussing on linear time, growth, progress, taking things apart, analysing, and grabbing opportunities for power, as it were, with the right hand.

The right side of the brain hemisphere has a different agenda. From there the perspective is vast, sensing the whole beyond parts, seeing beauty also in decay, avoids being fixed by a piercing stare, though catching the gentle glance of those who experience life as cyclic and eternal.  

At best, the two different parts of the brain work together, though mostly one side dominates. In this asymmetry each hemisphere takes on a different function. One energises the linear and rational scientific tendency of the mind, which favours action, pragmatic goals and consciousness …

The other invites the dreamers, the artist open to intuition, receptive to the moods of weather and atmospheres, myth, metaphors, the imagination. We are deeply nourished by this larger gestalt of reality, the enormously vaster sphere of the unconscious psyche, beyond time and space.

So when I tune into my body, the different parts – legs, feet, arms, hands, ears, eyes, brain spheres, the asymmetric dynamic keeps me alert and curious. More often than not, and not always to my benefit, I like to ignore the constantly urgent rational mode our daily necessities require, and escape into the wild. Though ideally I wish for a balance of Yin and Yang energies.

At times I use my left hand to do tasks, shrug off reason, put my left foot forward, risk mistakes and imperfection, welcome the unknown, discern creatures in clouds, listen to birds, the hum of my blood, enjoy twilight, gaze at the waxing and waning moon, the twinkling stars, or simply get lost in a dream rich dark night.

The themes of my two novels (see books page) include asymmetry.

Then again, apart from wishing my novels to be read … I don’t have any stakes in the stock market to keep track of.

Further material to explore …

http://systemspedia.bcsss.org/?title=ASYMMETRY

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gregory_Bateson Gregory Bateson

10 Comments

Filed under Blog

… just being there, a summer morning from my desk …

Beyond my screen a green haven rises in all moods of weather, throughout the seasons. It’s a wonderful arrangement. I feel grateful my window does not face a concrete wall, or a busy street. My eyes get exercised, switching from screen to the far end of ascending grounds … the Buddha Island with its peonies and phlox plants, the white rose gate, and the studio beyond. Today I won’t dwell on urgent tasks, like heaving heavy watering cans, trimming overgrowth, or dwell on the help needed.

A still morning, butterflies frolic. Golden rays trail through the boundary hedge of my neighbour’s plot. Gradually, from East to West the sun fingers on and brightens my sanctuary. By noon the old apple trees will cast swaying patterns of dappled shade.

My dainty cat guest, Shey, delicately licks her snow white paws, making sure I notice her sitting on the patio wall. A patient creature, she knows I’ll stare at some weird thing in front of me for a while, certainly until I finished my cup of black coffee.

Once I step out to the patio, I gently rub Shey’s chin and feed her a few crisps, her daily treat, all under the watchful gaze of a friendly monster, her watchful cat companion. He is grey, fluffy, and huge, like a bobcat, tolerated but held at a distant by Shey, and me.

Next I replenish a wide bowl with fresh water, and toss a small handful of rolled oats in the earth of an old flower pot, for Robins, the little messengers of joy. And I admire the proud 50 cm Zinnia flower that survived aphids, from a batch of seedlings sent by a friend.

Later, a young fox sneaks out of nowhere, sitting straight as a stick, ears perked for the slightest sound or movement. He waits for my nod. Yes I see you, but I’m not sure you get food today. Aware you have Mange, I perked you up, but recently you brought a companion, and I don’t want my garden to become a fox highway. A raw egg once a week is enough. You got the hint and visit less frequently. In any case, you look better, and scratch your legs less.

A swift peek through my inbox – huh, a reader likes not just one but several of the monthly posts on my website. My eyes flick back to the garden – fragile flowers of wild geranium patches wave, and deeply pink wild sweet peas snail up the fur hedge next to the patio.

Finally breakfast – likely Kefir with soaked chia seeds, nuts and fruit.  

Facing the wide world, I open a news site and scroll down surreal headlines. A world in turmoil, which I feel duty bound to witness. Weather allowing I’ll escape into the garden, just being there.

Do you create, or have a space that feels like a sanctuary?

2 Comments

Filed under Blog

… thoughts on deep perception …

Be it music, dance, poems, novels, painting, photography, film, architecture, sculpture, weaving … I reckon that listeners, readers, image and film connoisseurs, shape huggers, textile lovers … many of us … occasionally perceive the deep emotional significance of what is conveyed, though sometimes even artists themselves may only faintly sense the deeper underlying symbolic essence of their work, where superficial layers of seeing sink away to the bottom of the Akashic ocean, from where original creativity emerges.

That’s just how it is, except maybe for some universally powerful masterpieces of the arts, old and new. So I wonder, were these masters aware of the emotional depth from which they expressed their art? Were they conscious of their mastery? Or, to put it in another way – is consciousness a factor in conveying deep levels in their most powerful way.

Or, like most of us, including many artists, do we grow only slowly into our depth, connecting us with our own symbolic essence, and through such recognition affect our collective reality?

My occasional deep seeing surprises, and shocks me alive, in pleasant or unpleasant ways.

Deep seeing can seem like the invasion of a psychopomp, in a Jungian sense – a mediator between conscious and unconscious content. It could come from an item on the virtual web, from an image, from a wise being, spirit, or animal – whatever rattles my comfortable ignorance. I may feel embarrassed when discerning a deeper truth, as if I had long failed a task my psyche suggested, or, physically, it may feel like hitting a sore tense point in a muscle.

At times I notice that when my body is tense I can fall into some weird associations, interspersed with trickery. The associations and the meanings I discern may be useful, or not, or outright confusing, as if the wavelength of a familiar radio station is crackling.

In my experience, when I’m contemplating an idea, a project, I tend to attract, like a magnet, tiny messages from anywhere. But what orders these messages into cohesion.

Instead of projecting invaders, why  don’t I assume my relaxed self being in tune with my diverse inner crowd, and my soul’s angel … with that extra PSI sense that awakens all the other senses, and a sane inner voice,  my normal crazy, which on and off I am asleep to, or intentionally avoid.

Meanwhile, every instance my body recovers from accumulated tension is a birthday, and a day of fresh unlearning, a new unknown.

7 Comments

Filed under Blog

… I’m a cat …

She greets me gently and calls me lady Shye. Appropriate, since I just about tolerate having my neck scratched, and only because every morning she feeds me a few crunchy bits and water. When the water smells, I reject it and wait around for a fresh serve. She knows better than to invite me into the house, and I’d never attempt to use the old cat flap, obviously installed for a previous lodger. I was traumatized once. It’s her guess that I don’t belong to anyone, which is half true.

While I wait for my morning treat, she tests my patience, by staring forever at something on her desk. It’s a mystery. Or she is combing her hair etc. … then I do my own manicure, to mirror her. Then she smiles. Though she smiles more at the Robins, which she feeds, tossing oats into vacant flowerpots, but only after I’ve seemingly vanished around the corner of the shed.

I like the peace here. I can sit for hours up in her garden. She must wonder what I’m thinking … nothing … cats are good at that. A gust, a movement, a scent, even a slight vibration hitting my ears is enough for me. Anyway, she seems to appreciate my calm presence. As to what goes on in her mind, I don’t have a clue.

At times I wonder if I’ve been drawn here as her guardian, like the robins, the blackbirds, and the fox, and lately the butterflies.

I keep a distance when she has visitors. I don’t trust humans unless they’ve proven to honour my shyness. I avoid fights with other creatures. I’m not of that kin. Even the fox respects that.

This is just to say to you humans, should you have guardians around you, treat them well, they may be send by angels.

9 Comments

Filed under Blog

… thoughts on the One Being …

It is said God created the material universe – life –

to seek containment

to know mortality through life’s cycles

of becoming and unbecoming – soul making

many humans don’t see themselves as part

of this ONE Being, united with nature and

all souls throughout time – but instead

destroy themselves, each other and their home

while seeking personal immortality

pause a moment –

all we know we learned from nature

and embodied experiences – retained

in a vast field of collective psychic memory

that contains us in an ever expanding consciousness

now human elites seek to escape mortality …

cycles that feed memories to the unconscious

the hidden reservoir that dreams us

the spirit of guidance, the source that

inspires and animates our endless creativity

and enables eternal life of the One Being

 … escape towards what …

artificial, disembodied simulation?

consider what is learned through the body

inside a womb … taste, sound, vibrations, feelings … 

through relating to adults, other children

animals, plants, earth, rain, sky, stars. seasons …

from early on – crawling that trains muscles

sorting objects, rearranging them

challenged by struggle and conflict

night, death, letting go and eternal return

my intuition flashes red

with an agitated heart – I ask

what will be a human future styled

by AI and disembodied simulations

a world of regurgitated data, made

devoid of struggle or decay – driven

by visions of personal immortality?

My speculative ponderings may irritate some people.

But hey … know thyself – to be human …

‘The ideal is the means – its breaking is the goal.’   Hazrat Inayat Khan

5 Comments

Filed under Blog

… the full moon jumped over the sun …

I was not on any drugs, when I had a most peculiar lucid dream last night. I woke up suddenly at some point and took time to memorize the sequence of the events.

I recall the full moon (which must have included earth) moving slowly from the left towards the sun. Wow, I thought, they’ve never been that close. Then the moon jumped over the sun, and they stayed two finger’s width apart. Next there was a shift and below they doubled up … another moon and sun, a foursome, and again, two finger’s width apart, forming a square shape.

Then my sight got diverted by falling stars coming in a rush towards me, or, I thought, the earth falling away from the stars. The hypnotic, ecstatic sensation, like driving a car at night with a snow storm in the headlights whirling towards me, shook me fully awake.

Given that our world’s mythologies around moon, sun and stars are innumerable, I won’t start to attempt any interpretation of my lucid dream, but, more likely, let it rest.

Though some random thoughts came to mind … Feminine principle, passive energy, intuition, dreams, unconscious; imagination and magic are often assigned to the moon, whereas the sun is represented as the masculine principle, active energy, reason and objectivity … the see all and know all eye of god.

Then there is the sheer multiplicity of stars.

Unlike a personal dream, this felt more like a shift in the collective psyche … a wind of change.

A by-thought … with earth’s diminishing resources; there is now a race for the plunder of minerals from the moon and other planets.

And of course, there is the nursery rhyme fun …

Hey diddle diddle,
The cat and the fiddle,
The cow jumped over the moon;
The little dog laughed,
To see such sport,
And the dish ran away with the spoon. 

Time ago I wrote a short fable about the sun and the moon …   https://courseofmirrors.com/2018/10/02/the-mysterious-object-a-fable/

Now I wonder if my readers have weird dreams these days …

8 Comments

Filed under Blog

… Stranger in a Strange Land …

It’s how I feel these days.

Stranger in a Strange Land is the title of a science fiction novel by Robert A. Heinlein, published in 1961 …

A child born during a failed mission from Earth to Mars remains the only survivor and is raised by Martians, only to return to earth two decades later, hitching back with another, successful mission. Brought up by Martians, he is now an alien encountering aliens …

The book makes worthwhile reading, even more relevant now then it was decades ago. The title came to mind recently, and it also brought up a precious connected memory.

During the late 70s, instigated by my then Sufi teacher, Fazal Inayat-Khan, I stayed with my then partner and later husband for several weeks in Washington DC, at the time when President Carter was inaugurated.  Our contact person was Dr Abdul Aziz Said, Professor for International Relations at the American University. 

The above image is us at Amsterdam flee market, raising money to the journey To Washington D.C.

I posted about Dr Abdul Aziz Said in 2015  … https://courseofmirrors.com/2015/11/28/the-inner-jihad/

In that post I did not enlarge on the remarkable people we were introduced to during our stay.

One such person was a young scholar who held an influential position at the American Library, the Library of Congress on Capitol Hill, and the largest library in the world. He welcomed us to a tour of this magnificent place – a great privilege. At one point he asked if there was a book we would like him to locate for us. My partner and I looked at each other and had no problem choosing … ‘Stranger in a Strange Land.’ A short search on a console and the book came whizzing through the extensive tube network of the library and landed in our hands in no time.

This happened half a lifetime ago. I’m thankful for this memory.

If you haven’t yet read Heinlein’s novel yet, do. And share if you, too, like a Martian, feel at times like a stranger in a strange land.

11 Comments

Filed under Blog

… all is well …

‘All is Well’ may not sound true to you, but pause for a moment, think of it as a deep state of mind, a trust in the balancing power of the psyche, a trust in human values; don’t underestimate the phenomenal power of this attitude.

Make it your manta. It’s an enabling attitude that dilutes all diversionary and sensational news.

Leave a comment

Filed under Blog

… applesauce – my sanity …

I’m fortunate to have a small garden, the care of which grounds my overactive mind and diverts me from the increasingly surreal global politics of these days.

This time of year I’m challenged to deal with a glut of apples, eaters and Bramley cookers. I hear them plop daily to the ground. I can’t leave them to rot, so apart from sharing the blessings with friends, wrapping the cookers in newspaper to preserve them for a while for stir fries and curries, I’ve made a batch of applesauce today.

I don’t think I ever posted a food recipe, but was prompted by a memory of my mum’s kitchen magic. Her potato fritters, made of raw grated potatoes, mixed with flour, egg – and fried, were served with a dollop of applesauce.  

The applesauce I made today, consists of 1 kg peeled Bramley apples chopped up into small chunks, the juice of a lemon, a tablespoon of maple syrup, a little castor sugar, a little cinnamon, a little rose wine, and some butter and salt …  result … it tastes divine …

That’s about all the inspiration I feel able to share this month :)

4 Comments

Filed under Blog