You lose something and you tell your house-mate. She says, in my case Karleen, " Where did you have it last?"or perhaps "When?" Then you say "well I don't know, I only just realized I don't have it," referring to something precious, in this case the glasses I use all day except for close work… Continue reading Nature’s Infallible Rules . . .
Category: Speculation
The Bitter Taste
From Bryan White Occasionally, I like to revisit ideas that I disagree with, to see if I can find a reason to reconsider my position. It's a wonderful thing when something compels you to change your mind. It's like a whole new area of the game board opens up. Suddenly there are all these fresh… Continue reading The Bitter Taste
The legend of honey
We find ourselves drawn to joy, truth, harmony, security, beauty, thrills, fulfilment, meaning, ecstasy. We don’t want to be stuck in some pointless, shitty situation. Such is our yearning for the pure wild honey of imagination, that we’re willing to risk being stung as we trace the sweet comb to some nest high up in… Continue reading The legend of honey
I know not
I don’t know if body and soul can exist separately. I don’t know if there is a God separate from creation. I don’t know if a theory of everything is possible, so that what I think and feel can find its place in science. I don’t know whether it’s love that makes the world go… Continue reading I know not
The opium of the people
This is what Karl Marx actually said: The struggle against religion is, therefore, indirectly the struggle against that world whose spiritual aroma is religion. Religious suffering is, at one and the same time, the expression of real suffering and a protest against real suffering. Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of… Continue reading The opium of the people
Into the Zone: a trip
" /> The Precinct looking west Trip, n(1): 3. A short voyage or journey; a ‘run’. Apparently originally a sailor’s term, but very soon extended to a journey on land. 5. slang (orig. U.S.) a. A hallucinatory experience induced by a drug, esp. LSD. I’ve learned that following others isn’t my way. Nor do I… Continue reading Into the Zone: a trip
The Horoscope
After replacing my old bookshelves, I was restless for more domestic improvements, so launched into tidying up a collection of papers I’ve been carrying around for years, and throwing away the dross. That’s when I found a document dating from December 1974, which I’ve taken care not to throw away throughout the vicissitudes of 40… Continue reading The Horoscope
Intelligent Design
I’m sure there must be various ways to introduce the elements of science in schools, some good and some bad. Let the reader judge. Aged 9, I was excited by the prospect of Science lessons. We started by proving the existence of air, a project which seemed disappointingly trivial and uninteresting. We thought we knew… Continue reading Intelligent Design
On Human Behaviour
Jean-Paul Sartre, about 1950 Click for source Among the comments on my last, Ellie referred to some words by Jean-Paul Sartre. I have expanded her quotation a little, for its context: “We are left alone, without excuse. That is what I mean when I say man is condemned to be free. Condemned, because he did not… Continue reading On Human Behaviour
I am not a machine
Click for an animated version of this diagram I spent days trying to compose a sequel to my last post about Maggie Boden’s book, The Creative Mind. She had outlined a science of creativity, leaning on her expertise in Computational Psychology, which she more or less invented. A learned paper says ‘Computational psychologists are “theorists… Continue reading I am not a machine
At the Blue Note Café
It was dusk, on a winding country road hemmed in by darkening hedgerows on either side. Round a bend, I suddenly saw two mediaeval peasants trudging along at the roadside, bearing staffs and bundles and what looked like bamboo hats on their backs. I was led back in memory to the Blue Note Café by… Continue reading At the Blue Note Café
Presence: the numinous in everyday life
Numen n. the spirit or divine power presiding over a thing or place. Numinous, adj. having a strong religious or spiritual quality, indicating or suggesting the presence of a divinity. (Oxford Dictionary of English, 2010) I suggested in my last that one might find a starting point for the meaning of “God” in the everyday… Continue reading Presence: the numinous in everyday life
In memory of George Whitman, 1913-2011
I once spent a few weeks as George Whitman’s guest in his bookshop opposite Notre Dame in Paris. Today I heard of his death on the news. I’ve mentioned him three times on this blog: in May 2008, May 2009 and Feb 2011*. It has always been difficult to write about the man himself, for… Continue reading In memory of George Whitman, 1913-2011
Project
Poor blog! Your master has neglected you: deliberately. And taken a vow also to write briefly and more or less spontaneously, as opposed to elaborate literary essays: the better to do other things elsewhere—to be elaborate in a more spacious (i.e. book) format, conducted with an excellent collaborator: sometimes sparring partner, sometimes antagonist. It’s going… Continue reading Project
The Denial of Death
According to Ernest Becker, the wellspring of human action is the fear of death: correction, the denial of the fear of death. In his Preface, he actually says that the “prospect of death . . . is the mainspring of human activity” (my italics). He makes short work of the real fear of real death,… Continue reading The Denial of Death
The secret life of strangers
How is it possible to remember a moment when nothing actually happened? I don’t know, but such moments are the ones I remember most vividly. There were some major works being done on the railway line which affected the bridge above, in the middle of the village’s main street. In consequence, traffic on the bridge… Continue reading The secret life of strangers
Here I’ll stay
Two years ago, when I’d just moved into this house and couldn’t get online, I’d go to the internet café on the Desborough Road and compose a blog post in an hour. One post, “Being Ordinary”, is an example, perhaps the only one, and didn’t work out too badly. Where did that simple spontaneity go?… Continue reading Here I’ll stay
Hole in the head
Phineas Gage was swift, capable, responsible. He was physically fit and a leader of men. These qualities made him at the age of 25 a supervisor on a Vermont railroad construction project; and might have helped him rise through the ranks to a senior management position in that branch of engineering. But the smooth track… Continue reading Hole in the head
Bus ride
It is wonderful to be able to rejoice with the fortunate: to see someone beautiful and young who is making the most of what he or she has, in a simple way. When I was at university, I was preoccupied with my own loneliness and wasted my time. If only I could have appreciated what… Continue reading Bus ride
Bus station
I was waiting at the bus station, that haunt of pensioners, new immigrants and indigent travellers---in short, the dispossessed. I feel at home there. For the first time in fifty-three years, the name of Morton Spencer came back to me. Katie Spencer was my mother’s schoolfriend: vivacious, pretty but still a spinster, still in her… Continue reading Bus station
Breakfast Rant
One of the characters in The Secret Agent is Michaelis, the “ticket-of-leave apostle”. Pitifully obese, he finds it difficult to communicate with others having spent his twenty years in jail (judged guilty by association with some terrorist atrocity) developing his own anti-capitalist philosophy. So now he continues his solitude in a cottage provided by a… Continue reading Breakfast Rant
Ce Que Vouldras
Francois Rabelais is on my mind. His character Gargantua founded the Abbey of Thelema, whose motto was Ce Que Vouldras “Do what you want”. At work, I can look out of the window to an interesting landscape, though they’ve pasted a reflective sunscreen on the glass which blurs it making me think I have my… Continue reading Ce Que Vouldras
On Coombe Hill
My favourite and only sport is frisbee. No rules, no training, no special clothing. The only equipment required is a plastic disk available from any general store. It holds an hypnotic attraction for participants and spectators alike. Above all, it’s not competitive. It’s co-operative: you adjust your throw so that the other person can catch… Continue reading On Coombe Hill
Nature holds everything
Simon Templar (“The Saint”) is the twentieth century Robin Hood. I have not encountered him on the screen and only read a few stories of his exploits, though I did recently thrill to the swashbuckling of Errol Flynn’s Robin Hood directed by Michael Curtiz in 1938. And now I’ve encountered a co-author of The Saint.… Continue reading Nature holds everything
On the side of the angels
In everyday life I act as though there is a power beyond Nature, that brings luck, answers prayers and sometimes sends miracles. When catastrophe strikes, I assume that in some way it is all for the best, at least in my own life and the small circle of those I know well. I accept that… Continue reading On the side of the angels
Cinnabar Caterpillar
On a warm but overcast day, we went up Lodge Hill. With my box of pastels and a sketch pad, I felt like Vincent van Gogh going out to do a day’s work. Before I knew its real name, we (kids and I) used to call it Butterfly Hill, because in August particularly it was… Continue reading Cinnabar Caterpillar
a wayfarer’s notes 