[Byzantine Bindings]

Thursday 28 April 2011

Source Code

Am I walking towards or away from?
How will I record the journey?

First I’m asleep,
but the only reason I know I am asleep
is the awareness of not yet being awake
then starts consciousness' dawn chorus.
In that transitional state
shadowy slumberland
where reality and dream meet
walking along the shoreline of the creative imagination.
Picking out a single ghost note, or trill
‘walking toward or walking away?’…
what?
 - in your journey -
‘walking towards or walking away?’

About Face…
the face you never see -
looks towards a fixed point - shoot…
reach the point
turn - shoot...
continue for the journey and present the result in pairs
a linear progression a vertical map of the journey
that anyone can follow…
with a commentary somehow -

Korzybski’s Reality.

Tuesday 26 April 2011

Vanishing Earth Egg

On Saturday
I found a pure white egg
like a small
chicken's egg
in the earth
lying there, mind you,
nestled in the soil
as I hoed the weeds.

I held it in my hands
it's fragile whiteness
like my soul or something
I left it back
where I found it
it vanished without trace.

Something
seems to have happened,
either because my reason is not sharp enough
or my intuition sulking
and untrustworthy,
I seem unable to process the significance
of this event.

It was a pigeon's egg

Monday 25 April 2011

Exciting times

made some headway with regard the final shape of the plot.
Need to sort some graphics out to post in order to save a thousand words.

Finished off weeding now and waiting for the weedkiller to take effect. I hadn't wanted to use it but with the way things are at the minute I only have the time to do what I can so sadly I have resorted to using some Roundup.

I'm amazed that the onions I threw in last week have taken. It's surprising how there is a lot of moisture below the surface after such a long time without rain.

Decided that whatever happens tomorrow I will sow some beans ready to go in when the last frosts have passed.

Took out the seeding head from the rhubarb.

Confession:

Concerning bird’s egg, owl feather, two chance meetings and the song of songs.

Act 1
hoeing weeds
Oh my God
there’s a perfectly white stone
it’s a sign!
No, even more miraculous
because thou art so good
egg
in the soil
ground egg
earthen egg
I am very sorry for all my sins
on Easter Saturday
and by the help of thy grace
I will not sin again
Which bird lays it’s egg in the soil?

Act 2
In comes Daisy stage right
I like your beard
you don’t mind me talking to you do you?
I went to town yesterday
didn’t know it was
er
red cross day
I’ve been ill and needed some t shirts - y’know
anyway
it was full
town
didn’t know it were red-cross day
you couldn’t walk in town
all out there, drinking an that
on of them said I was rude
very rude
you don’t mind me sitting here do you?
telling all my secrets
I won’t talk about me illness
no point
lovely day look at that dog
what day is it
must be going now.

In comes Dave stage left
d’y want a go?
you can go on this where you can’t go in cars
it gets me about
you can have a go
can’t walk like I used to you know
it’s my own fault mind,
I didn’t listen when I were young
they said, ‘Don’t grow up, and I did.’
Army escapades
Northern Ireland
mapping the dessert
under the stars in
Aden.

Act 3
owl feather
on the way to evensong
Southwell
“I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem,
by the roes, and by the hinds of the field,
that ye stir not up,
nor awake my love, till he please.”
Song of Solomon 8:5 KJV

Sunday 24 April 2011

Two Discoveries

discovery 1
having less time focuses the mind and galvanises the body into action
discovery 2
I can make some raised beds on the land where there is a thin layer of soil atop a roadstone path
discovery 3
gardeners shuffle is a universal dance it links me to the land and the others in time
dust flys up
amid thunder clouds

Easter Day

And so it begins.

broken,
dying rising
circle of birth re-birth
comes one no longer held by death
silence


once again
meeting in the quiet time
holding my breath
watching the flaming sparkling
splinters of faith
rise high
engulfed in the dark
desperately wanting it to happen this time
thoughts turn to afters
breakfast, laughter
tears and pain
spells cast in dreamtime
mainfest and evaporate before dawn's reality

Even when I believed with true and perfect faith I wasn’t sure. It seemed I had to cut my toes off to enable them to fit into the shoes of faith. That was a weakness in me of course. Saints have no trouble in understanding these things and willingly buy bigger shoes or trim their toes with little regard for the consequences. Certainty of purpose gives a clarity of vision beyond pain of martyrdom or sacrifice of sons or reasoned argument, pleading or family ties.

I wonder now about those days and how I dealt with the questions and the fences I fell at and the twists and turns and the glimpses of another reality perhaps.
The meal ends with the first bite, it’s often over just in the imagining thereof like silence, whereof in conversation where angels reside, a blink of the eye and the moment is gone forever.
There’s yearning, yes
emptiness, yes
communion, yes
But all that counts cannot be counted and the heart takes stock of the bodies excesses. Extreme conditions demand extreme measures in any time or place.

Re-evaluation is painful, in part because of my limited perception of time. Constrained to move forward, curtain of past behind and future’s fog ahead I pound the treadmill of the present moment locked, as it were, in some battle with some unseen enemy behind and before me.
Stopping is the impossible option, death to past and future. Free-fall. Free for all. Chaos of nature’s cycle beyond my understanding or more importantly my control.

Who is it that will not leave me alone, that hounds me out sniffing my scent across time and space, annoying me with compassion and love when what I want is to be alone?

holymarymotherofgodprayforussinnersnowandatthehourofourdeathamen

Why was he unrecogniseable in the garden?

Thursday 14 April 2011

Ticking over

it's been a fraught few weeks with family illness and I am only just beginning to come to terms with integrating it into my practice. I manage and hour some mornings and just pull weeds and tickle round with tools.
I think I'm kind of resolved to just dig and keep on top of the weeds this year and do what I can until things improve. Hoping not to have to give the plot up.