Much is made these days of the concept of “mindfulness”. It is the cure-all of the new age. Depressed? Mindfulness…
My good friend Alfred of Amsterdam has filled his garden shed with gro-bags laced with B+ Cubensis spores.
What exquisite bitter-sweetness, an English autumn in the countryside.
Said to be the second oldest parish church in the country, churches don’t come much bleaker than All Saints, West Stourmouth, Kent.
Are we living in the 21st Century? How do serious people honestly believe in such man made hogwash.
In a lifelong search for meaning, I have found little to compare with matins in an English country church.
Such words are prone to make me lift my laptop and smash it to the ground.
I had a delightful morning over a cup of coffee with some acquaintances I had been meaning to get to know better.
“…..the philosophy of personal identity is relevant in the realm of ethics by helping us address age-old questions like whether being born is good or bad.”
…how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin…
The back of beyond is where I want to be. And I am back, at the back of beyond. I have come in a full circle.
Cleopatra was fortunate indeed, the rest of us may age less well. But we should embrace age, not resent or fear it.
Analysis and thought are the very antithesis of the sort of behavior likely to lead to lasting peace.
It is time to “feel” the universe for myself. To cease to see it through the words of others and to experience it directly.
Is it a detrimental term or may it have hidden meanings and use?
Do they really work?
The unknowing fool is one who does not know he does not know.
Does it sound curious to link a vastly popular work of science fiction to the concept of mysticism?
Perhaps it is best to acknowledge the endless pawing of the black dog at your door. For some, it is a rare day that the gentle scuffling can not be heard.
If the doors of perception were cleansed every thing would appear to man as it is, Infinite.
For some years I have assumed that far from inheriting the earth, the meek will be trampled underfoot. I am beginning to wonder whether I am mistaken.
Unqualified objective truth can not exist. Heavily qualified objective truth probably does.
You may be forgiven for mistaking the image above for photo montage. But it is not: it is the London Mustaba project.
I have sometimes wondered whether art has any importance, and if so, what?
For many years I had worked on the assumption that anything written east of Berlin was cacophonous and horrible. I have been proved wrong by Dvorak.
Portobello Road in London W11 is a most curious mix of home and abroad.
Psilocybin is a naturally occurring psychedelic drug found in over 200 species of mushroom and may be of help in curing depression.
I recommend a paper entitled “The Stockmarket as a Complex Adaptive System” by Credit Suisse Director Michael J. Mauboussin.
Long term investment is simply about following the trend of economic growth. I am not convinced there is much more to it that that.
We can expect limited success in our endeavours to change but some change is better than none. We may be able to tip the balance in our favour.
It is pleasant to imagine that there was a day in the distant past where people did not live in Grenfell Tower and didn’t have to look at Trump’s haircut in the media.
I turned to the Guardian this morning after my Bad Hair Day yesterday, looking for inspiration but need not have bothered.
Bad hair day doesn’t begin to describe the awfulness of a day of real negativity. There are days when the sun just seems to go out.
Is it right to feel distaste for your fellow man?
The legend of El Dorado, a fabulous golden city in South America, inspired many expeditions in the 16th Century in search of wealth and excess.
I’m sure there is peace to be had and I have often found snatches of it. The big trick is to make it last.
A poem written in 1932 by Mary Elizabeth Frye, beautifully set to music by Howard Goodall as part of his Requiem: Eternal Light.
Is the internet a curse or a blessing? Used carefully, in my opinion it is a huge blessing.
I was reading a post this morning on “alchemical healing” and was a little puzzled by it.
Earlier this morning I had been contemplating nihilism. I was feeling nihilistic and unconstructive. I wondered if some pill or other could improve my mood and cheer up my day.
I was wondering whether I really mean what I write? Or to turn it round another way, do I write what I mean?
I wonder whether it is possible to be a hermit these days? And if so, where.
Internet forums are the perfect place to understand the petty origins of conflict. The Troll must be studiously ignored.
The Arab Israeli conflict arose from vibrating energy “strings” – it really is that simple in a sense.
My latest Netflix Binge is Fauda – a violent, compelling and visually superb take on the Arab Israeli conflict.
I’m sorry to have to wax lyrical but it doesn’t get much better than being “down Deal” (as the local patois would have it).
Deal is a little seaside town in East Kent which seems to have been forgotten by time and a mile or so further south are to be found beautiful Walmer and Kingsdown.
Commercial blogging is so utterly grubby and most practitioners of the art are second hand car salesmen, whatever they pretend they are selling or “doing”.
Someone in Canterbury Cathedral (the Dean perhaps?) decided that Verse 9 was going a little far .
In today’s Guardian, some dear lady say that she gives the Communist Manifesto out as a gift.
I am so grateful for the BBC who explain that LGBT+ is now passé.
I am always amused by the sheer vastness of the Blagging and Bluffing community on the internet offering advice on subjects in which they themselves possess no expertise whatsoever.
As deadly sins go, bingeing on Netflix probably ranks among the less serious.
I wonder whether I am guilty of “tilting at windmills”.
There is nothing quite like a funeral to concentrate the mind; “carpe diem” seems such an apt phrase at such a time.
David Harding ( Winton Capital ) has for many years been quoted as a superhero of the hedge fund world. Harding’s meteoric…
Is it odd that 100 million deaths in the Spanish Flu outbreak of 1918 has received comparatively little attention?
Is everything bad? Is the world a bad place? Are we humans damned and doomed? Is there any good news?
How can people not see what their untrammelled hatred does to themselves and those around them?
John Singer Sargent ranks high in my list of favourite painters.
I have come to question my behaviour when dealing with a pig over the past couple of years. Well, pigs actually.
Why does society have to be so divisive? Why does political posturing have to increase polarization and seek to indoctrinate?
it’s time to dip back in and carry on my quest to discover whether artificial intelligence can predict financial markets.
Bishop Michael Curry preached a fine sermon at the wedding today of Prince Harry and beautiful actress Meghan Markle.
Art prices at ‘obscene’ levels as Chinese join high-spending elite says Richard Partington, the Guardian’s economics correspondent.
I am trying to work out in my own mind my exact feelings about Meghan Markle’s Royal Knees Up and the role of the Royal Family in general.
Elaine Pearson (Australia director at Human Rights Watch) states that Australia’s lame response to Anwar Ibrahim’s detention was a mistake.
Martha Gill writes of the hazards of dramatising the near past and asks whether we should delay so as to achieve perspective.
Victoria’s Requiem, written for the funeral of dowager Empress Maria of Spain who died on February 26, 1603 is sublime.
Hatred is a difficult emotion to combat connected as it is with so many other qualia.
All radical and swift changes imposed on society began as Utopian dreams and descended into Dystopian horror. Need it always be so?
We must ensure that education is not slanted towards any political agenda and is concerned with providing what our children need to make a better world.
Class War in Journalism and Politics is alive and well. It is business as usual in Parliament and the news papers.
An end to “Conflict in The Middle East” is unlikely to be achieved by conventional and time worn solutions which have achieved nothing over the decades.
My own petty, unimportant and irrelevant moral dilemma should teach me something about the world and how to improve it.
Must try harder! Unfortunately as an imperfect individual I find it necessary to question my own behaviour on a daily basis.
The mighty kings at the FANGs are the modern robber barons.
“The UK government’s education policies are damaging and benefiting the few. It’s time for a rethink.”
I am disappointed to hear that Scandinavian happiness is “more a matter of class whether you can afford to take time to take care of yourself”.
Do I have what it takes to be a Guardian Reader? I have always been desperately keen to say: “yes I am, I’m deeply socialist in moral and ethical terms”.
JFK famously said “Ich Bin ein Berliner” but I can perhaps more accurately say the same thing about London.
Rembrandt – Belshazzar’s feast: the literature, art and music of religion still hold a vast sway over the imagination of many of us.
Jan van Eyck painted what has become known as the Arnolfini Portrait in 1434.
He is an odd character the bully, a difficult one to work out sometimes.
Beauty comes in so many forms and is so utterly transformative wherever it is encountered.
The act of self expression in writing seems to provide relief from strong or long repressed emotions – a catharsis.
Are we all hypocrites or is there the odd saintly exception?
Every human should have the right to take his or her own life and the means to do so painlessly and swiftly should be made easily and openly available.
What possible use is hindsight when the past is behind us and unchangeable?
Nobel prize winning physicist Frank Wilczek’s book “A Beautiful Question: Finding Nature’s Deep Design” is certainly worth reading.
I do not read the news because it is repetitive, dispiriting, boring and irrelevant.
Regret, while you still have breath, is a wasteful extravagance, a futile and destructive luxury.
To have lived a good life is all that matters in the end.
If there is one thing I can not stand it is a mealy mouthed clergyman (in that mournful oh so serious and pious voice) telling us we are all so sinful
Racism is most often and probably correctly thought of as a modern phenomenon.
Evil cannot exist without consciousness and free will.
Anger is an invention of the selfish gene, an evolutionary tool for the survival of the fittest.
Why is it that siblings often fall out in such a bitter fashion on the death of parents? Is it a petty dispute over the will? Or is it something deeper?
Is the “salesman” grubby and embarrassing by definition?
I write to educate myself.