Tuesday, 5 June 2007


Well, it's been an emotionally turbulent day on the blogosphere.

First, I get to read the grotesque events behind Joss Whedon's post Let’s Watch a Girl Get Beaten to Death on the subject of 'honour killings' in general, and a particularly bloody recent one which was captured by the perpetrators on their cellphones in..err...particular.

Gosh I sometimes wish to turn my backs on the male of the species- except that

1)I know too many of them who are fine, wonderful people


2)They Are Me, anyway.

OK, moving right along I go visit my physics-studying pal Oaksong at his Journal.

Where I'm invited to a slideshow of What the World Eats.

Turns out that the 10% or so of the world which can afford it stocks up on fizzy drinks, prepackaged meat and transfats until it's flowing out of their ears, while the vast majority lives on bugger-all.

Since I'm one of the FatCats and I live in Africa, I can say with absolutely no pride at all that 10% of the population seems to be eating the other 90%.

Thoroughly disgusted with Ourselves, now, I happen to read something that Feri Princess T. Thorn Coyle has written in the comments section of someone's blog:

Don't forget beauty. Don't forget beauty. Don't forget beauty.

Damn right, Sister. If I can find any of it that is.

The final piece in this jigsaw was contributed by Dianne Sylvan,writing on Ecstasy,Practice and Breakdown

Ecstasy includes all those Peak Experiences that walk hand in hand with our religious lives. Moments of mystical unity with the Source, however they come, are bound to change us, and that’s why we have them—to remind us why we’re here, what we’re working toward, and why it all matters.

Yup.Ok, I get it.

Wandering outside to the balcony for a smoke, I watch the sun go down on this day pretty close to the MidWinter Point, and I think of my own last three Peak Experiences.

In 2001 my Dad died-suddenly and without any warning to me.
I hadn't seen him for over 18 months and had no idea he was even ill.
I was so unaware of his condition that I was apprised of his death by the classified section of the newspaper.

Yet, two or three days before I saw that notice, I had had the most extraordinary vision of my Dad-out of the blue, a portrait of him as a young man, perhaps 25, head and shoulders only.At the time I thought it was bizarre.But that was the moment he died.

That scared it out of me so much that I ran away and became an Atheist for a few years.

Ten days before I came down, for the first time ever, with bronchitis, I had a vivid dream of a plant with a flower.

In the dream, the plant told me its name.

It was Coltsfoot. Sovereign remedy against bronchial congestion. I'd never bloody heard of the thing before.

I keep a supply in my cupboard at all times, now.

...and then you all know the recent story of my crow encounter.That relationship is deepening by the day.

The point is..the point is...hel I'm not sure what the bloody point is anymore.

Only that I keep feeling fairly certain I know why we keep coming back here.

It's so damn beautiful, all of it.