I wonder why, out of the mass of all we forget, some inconsequential things stick in our minds. Perhaps they chime with our destiny, that elusive future no one can see till it arrives. And when it does, perhaps something from our rag-bag of memories may “ring a bell”, as if it had been foreshadowed.… Continue reading The printing-factory
Divine Economy?
Stepping out the door into sunshine or cloud, nothing on my mind, I marvel at what it is to be human. It’s like being in a strange land with no map. Here am I, familiar to myself. Slowly I change, but not as fast as the world around me. I'm more comfortable with things as… Continue reading Divine Economy?
On Further Consideration
I wasn’t satisfied with my last: not in a state of mind to do justice to its topic. Stepping out the door into sunshine or cloud, stripped of the conceptual paraphernalia that normally clothes our consciousness, I marvel at what it is to be human. It’s like being in a strange and wonderful land with… Continue reading On Further Consideration
Gaia Warriors
Nicola Davies’ book about climate change has hardly set the world on fire. Since its publication in 2009, it has attracted two reader reviews on Amazon: one in UK, one in US. It’s a lavishly-produced paperback, large format, bold use of colours and fonts; but I don’t think it’s selling too well now. You can… Continue reading Gaia Warriors
The King James Version
In my last I said “I hope to return to this theme in another post”. I had mentioned the Bible, in the King James Version completed in 1611. In its time and for several centuries it was Holy Writ, an authority not to be questioned by its readers, till developments in science, evolutionary theory and… Continue reading The King James Version
The Present Moment
This moment is ours, each to dwell in separately, and sometimes to share. Or so it would be, if the moment were not hijacked; of which more anon. There would seem to be nothing more obvious, more tangible and palpable than the present moment. And yet it eludes us completely. All the sadness of life… Continue reading The Present Moment
Discussion on Education
From D. H Lawrence’s Women in Love. Scene: in the garden at Breadalby, where Hermione entertains her house-guests. Her brother Alexander Roddice is a member of Parliament. There had been a split in the Cabinet; the minister for Education had resigned owing to adverse criticism. This started a conversation on education. “Of course,” said Hermione,… Continue reading Discussion on Education
Walking, Thinking, Thanking
I have the odd idea, when I’m tramping streets or country paths, or riding on a bus, that this is when I feel most truly at home. What on earth can that mean?* I’m threading my way through this housing estate on the hillside, the one I see from my study window. It has become… Continue reading Walking, Thinking, Thanking
Ellie Clayton on William Blake
In 2021, Ellie Clayton wrote a series of pithy paradoxical observations, on the lines of Blake's Proverbs of Heaven and Hell. She published them on a blog Divine Economy. I was inspired to format them into a printable document: you can download it here.
Intersecting worlds
Reality is composed of many interwoven strands and nowhere are these delineated more vividly than in The Sun Temple. What shall I call it? A treatise? A short story? A memoir? A traveller’s tale? It’s all of these and a masterpiece of erudite psychedelia as well. Above all it is searingly honest and true, never… Continue reading Intersecting worlds
To my literary agent
Previously published on Blogger. transferred to rochereau.uk for the first time Dear — If I knew your name, I wouldn’t be writing like this to you, in public. But we haven’t yet met. We’re still two lonely hearts, so to speak, seeking one another. I did write to an agent last year: one whose web… Continue reading To my literary agent
Walking on air
There was a programme on BBC Radio 4 about the writing life. At this moment, it’s only available to “listen again” for another five days, so I’d better get on and publish this. In any event, I’ve made a transcript of the important bit. It starts at 22:26 and you can hear the full audio… Continue reading Walking on air
Meeting Ghetu
We’ve never met face to face, but our first cyber-encounter was on 13th October 2006. You may think cyber-friendship is an impoverished thing, but for us literary types it has the special advantage of being completely self-documenting, like the legendary Akashic Records. That day, I stumbled on his blog “i am useless”, and I’ve reproduced… Continue reading Meeting Ghetu
The Howrah Bridge Palmist
I’ve already published five stories by Ghetufoool (that’s his pen-name) here. He’s kindly given permission for me to publish “The Palmist”, possibly his best. Five years ago I designed a cover for a projected book of his stories. He had an objection—see comments below. But never mind that, at least six of his stories will… Continue reading The Howrah Bridge Palmist
Inside Out
previously published only on Blogger Where is it, this book I long thought I would write some day, when I had the time? I have had that time in the last seven years, almost limitless in its horizon, though doled out in surprisingly small quantities each day. I used some of it to write this… Continue reading Inside Out
rambling in a landscape
Some use rural footpaths to walk their dogs. I prefer to go alone or accompanied by an equally faithful companion, the Muse. From a radio programme broadcast yesterday, part of a series called “Ramblings”: Robert McFarlane: Paths run through people as they run through places. I’m fascinated by the idea that we understand ourselves and… Continue reading rambling in a landscape
Park benches
I often pass this public garden, fifteen minutes’ walk from home going west along the valley. It has three benches, normally unoccupied, and I’m always tempted to sit on one, and be part of the scenery. It’s as if I have a romantic notion of park benches. There’s a nice film about shenanigans on Hampstead… Continue reading Park benches
Dreaming of Paris
I hardly know Paris.* That’s what inspires me to write about it, at book length if necessary; so that I can fill out that slight acquaintance with a body of research, and report back. The research is not to be carried out through the study of texts (other than my own notes), but through the… Continue reading Dreaming of Paris
Reader-Friendly
Seen rightly, the blog must be one of the great inventions for raising literature to a higher level. Apart from offering instant publication without middle-man intervention, it opens itself to instant feedback from readers. It can be edited ad libitum. Unlike a periodical, it has no obligation to publish at any set interval, or at all.… Continue reading Reader-Friendly
original version of diary software
retrieved from ian.mulder.clara.net Home | Access Diary software for MS Access97, Access2000 Screenshot 1: pick any date - the day you were born, today, some day in the future, whatever Screenshot 2: you can select the font, its size, the ink colour, the window background colour Screenshot 3: you can set up appointments and reminders and you… Continue reading original version of diary software
Piklu and the Old Man
Regular readers may recall occasional guest posts by Ghetufool, a short-story writer who lives in Mumbai. You can see the last one here. I’ve acted as his editor over the years, making his Indian English, where necessary, sound more international; and published a few of the best on this blog. This one may be the… Continue reading Piklu and the Old Man
Perpetual Lab
This blog has existed for seven years. It’s had three different titles: “An Ongoing Experiment” for the first few months, then “As in Life”, before fixing on “A Wayfarer’s notes” around mid-2007. It’s still an ongoing experiment, still a reflection of life, and reflections on life. Blogger allows you to change the title but not… Continue reading Perpetual Lab
The realm of infinite possibility
I dreamt I was dead. There was no afterlife. This “I” became a past-tense “he”, a past-tense entity, no longer part of the scene, soon to be forgotten. The dream was about that which remained: the world continuing as before, other people still there, gladness still existing. All was well, better than before, even, because… Continue reading The realm of infinite possibility
Blessedness
Days pass quickly, like the view from a speeding train. From another angle, I stand on a bridge above the line, hear the roar and clatter of the train below, watch it round the curve and disappear into the tunnel, leaving emptiness and the memory of its presence. Externally, each day resembles the one before;… Continue reading Blessedness
a letter from Vincent
[Arles, Mid-October 1888] My dear Theo, At last I am sending you a small sketch to give you at least an idea of the form which the work is taking. For today I am all right again. My eyes are still tired, but then I had a new idea in my head and here is… Continue reading a letter from Vincent
At sixteen
Here is the text of the essay I referred to in my last, as written in 1958. I don’t suppose it is intrinsically entertaining. To lighten it I’ve embedded some group photos in which my face may be seen, and an aerial shot of the place, Swainston Manor, which became my true home for a… Continue reading At sixteen
The Travelling Companion
Here’s another guest post from Ghetufool, the fourth of his stories that I’ve published on Wayfarer's The Travelling Companion 1: THANK YOU, ANGELS! Mr Sarkar’s journey hadn’t started well. After six hours, with another thirty to go, he was cursing himself for coming by train. But Mr Sarkar was the beneficiary of crack management training.… Continue reading The Travelling Companion
The Story of Our Love
There was certainly something extraordinary about the way Karleen and I met, back in December 2003, on a site called AI: Africa Introductions. we each wrote a little about ourselves: no details, no photos. From there on, we communicated online by text only, thru Instant Messenger. Despite 6 hours difference in our time zones, despite… Continue reading The Story of Our Love
A comatose fridge, and whatever’s meant to be
The fridge has been in a coma for three weeks. We’ve discovered there’s no hope of a cure. The freezer works normally, but the mechanism which controls the refrigerator compartment has failed. There’s only one moving part: the little door which lets cold air flow to the refrigeration compartment when the thermistor tells it to.… Continue reading A comatose fridge, and whatever’s meant to be
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
The Evolution of God
Limited by space, a frog in the well has no idea what is the ocean. Limited by time, an insect in summer has no idea what is ice. Limited by intellect, a man in life has no idea what is Consciousness. — Chuang Tzu (369 BC-286 BC), tr Herbert A. Giles In my reading, I’m… Continue reading The Evolution of God
The View from Nowhere
A year ago, Bryan White and I collaborated on an ambitious book project. I can’t quite recall the start point, though I think it originated in a conversation conducted in the comment columns of this site. Not surprisingly in hindsight, it soon foundered, but its remnants are a matter of public record as a blog… Continue reading The View from Nowhere
From Handwriting to Eternity
As an art form, the blog has extraordinary possibilities. It’s a “magic theatre: entrance not for everybody”. Anybody may come and peek, but those for whom it’s not intended will swiftly move on. This theatre’s producer—I mean the blog author—may put on a new show every day, or hardly ever. In the public imagination the… Continue reading From Handwriting to Eternity
God and the laws of Physics
From Marc Almond, blogger at Have me Pompeii Your Town While sitting in 'da couch, listening to the blaze. I was thinking: We don't need to prove that God exists, just that such a being could exist, as in the laws of physics allow that the traits we think of as God are possible. That… Continue reading God and the laws of Physics
The Gentle Art of Wayfaring
There was a programme about Wayfaring on the radio, based on a book called The Gentle Art of Tramping, written in 1927. In those days “gentlemen of the road”, often old soldiers, would be seen on foot across Britain, communing with Nature, find rough shelter each night, doing a little casual labour here and there.… Continue reading The Gentle Art of Wayfaring
In Memoriam: Derek Helman
Earlier this month I published a piece entitled In Memoriam: ..., followed by the name of my late friend from fifty years ago. Part of my intention was to bring him back to life in my own mind, and if possible my reader’s too. But what most inspired the effort was the wish expressed in… Continue reading In Memoriam: Derek Helman
Elemental
I scribble ideas aimlessly, nothing wrong with that. But then I fall under the spell of supposing this will generate “creative writing”, whatever that may be; something from which value can be directly harvested. It’s better to think of it as rotten fruit, to be cast out and forgotten. Some time later we may discover… Continue reading Elemental
Acknowledgements
Masochistically, I’d planned to spend much time and ink writing a structured essay on literacy; covering texting, graffiti, tweeting, Facebook, Wikipedia, hyperlinking, spellcheck, online thesaurus, apostrophe confusion, grammatical mangling, metaphor insensitivity, the history of books from Gilgamesh to Kindle, the National Novel-Writing Month, the demise of the typewriter, my mania for fountain pens, registrar’s ink,… Continue reading Acknowledgements
The Soloist: Art is More than Life
retrieved from my original blog via the Internet Archive A Los Angeles journalist befriends a homeless Juilliard-trained musician, while looking for a new article for the paper. Director: Joe Wright. Writers: Susannah Grant (screenplay), Steve Lopez (book). Stars: Jamie Foxx, Robert Downey Jr. and Catherine Keener.(1) The film is the The Soloist and I’d never heard… Continue reading The Soloist: Art is More than Life
The magic fence
It’s been raining every day for weeks. Catching a cold gave me an additional reason to stay indoors, but the other morning, in the bright lull after a heavy downpour, I ventured out for a couple of errands, taking the usual shortcut to the shops on Ledborough Road, through the derelict school yard and the… Continue reading The magic fence
Everything Knows
by Ghetufool “The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the Eyes of others only a Green thing that stands in the way. Some see Nature all Ridicule and Deformity...”—Blake I’ve published two of Ghetu’s stories before: Free as a Bird and Ticket to Paradise. Here is his latest. Like the others,… Continue reading Everything Knows
Amsterdam
I have a special relationship to Holland because Mulder is my surname and I spent four months near Arnhem in 1947 staying with my supposed father's sister, Auntie Non. I've described that sojourn here In 2012 we took a break to Holland to celebrate our anniversary and her birthday. The other day I looked for… Continue reading Amsterdam
Whithersoever
Stepping outside myself, I caught infinity in a moment; came face to face with a Super Star of Invincibility. How little we know: whence we came, whither we’re going. We're on our way. Whithersoever I went on a small journey in preparation for a bigger one. On Monday I fly out to Amsterdam, so this… Continue reading Whithersoever
Bach and Blackbird
I was driving to the supermarket in the rain. The CD player had come on, and was at no. 14 of Bach’s Goldberg Variations, by the pianist Glenn Gould. It was the 1981 re-recording as opposed to his debut album in 1955 playing the same 31 pieces. This later version stands out for the dramatic… Continue reading Bach and Blackbird
Film Noir
One of the most stylish and effective films I’ve recently seen is The Man Who Wasn’t There, starring Billy Bob Thornton. Set in 1949, it tells the story of Ed Crane, a small-town barber, who faces life with an eerie impassivity, whilst not enjoying his job, becoming a cuckold... He cuts the hair of a… Continue reading Film Noir
Binding a joy
He who binds to himself a joy Doth the wingèd life destroy; But he who kisses the joy as it flies Lives in eternity’s sunrise. This verse of William Blake is never far from me, internalised, imprinted upon my unconscious, and a work in progress. There is joy in being alive; breathing fresh air; having… Continue reading Binding a joy
The Book of Disquiet
Art consists in making others feel what we feel, in freeing them from themselves by offering them our own personality. From The Book of Disquiet, by Fernando Pessoa, translated from the Portuguese by Richard Zenith; numbered section 260 Art frees us, illusorily, from the squalor of being. from section 270 There are certain books which… Continue reading The Book of Disquiet
Invitation to a Close Encounter
I was invited to an evangelical-charismatic church service lasting a couple of hours. The invitation arrived by email: “On Sunday, if you would like to come with us to our church (it is an experience not to be missed!) we would love it ...” The church hasn't found a building of its own: that’s another… Continue reading Invitation to a Close Encounter
Night navigation
It was an eventful day, not without its petty annoyances, but our house-guests were happy, that’s the main thing, and enjoyed a merry evening. I was exhausted and as soon as politely possible retired upstairs. My dreams were scantily populated, and their spaces were wide. I was in a tall office building, looking for the… Continue reading Night navigation
Home, James!
All right, I willingly confess to being a technophobe, somewhere between moderate and severe, though I don’t know how they grade these things. I have no shame in the matter: what’s to hide, if they haven’t made it illegal? Not yet, so far as I know. But they marginalise it by stealth, and you cannot… Continue reading Home, James!
Why has Bodhi-Dharma left for the East?
It’s increasingly difficult to write anything, I mean write coherently. It’s probably not the first sign of dementia, more likely that “When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the Universe.” (John Muir) That’s my new excuse for rambling hither and thither. I wanted to write… Continue reading Why has Bodhi-Dharma left for the East?
Evolution
It’s been a long time since I just wrote a post straight off, but when you have guests sometimes you have little time to yourself. I’m wondering if I am like other people. They often seem to plan their lives, both long-term and for a day at a time. I’m not the planning type. The… Continue reading Evolution
Let Spring be my muse
Things are happening in hedgerow and pasture; a spate of fresh worm-casts; larks twittering; occasional sardonic comments by crows. A suddenly-surprised cock pheasant flaps away from me, going airborne in its panic, plumage bejewelled and voice like a rusty klaxon. Last year’s sunflower-heads, haggard and desiccated, stand witness to the kindness of supplying winter provender… Continue reading Let Spring be my muse
With a pinch of salt
I believe things because it pleases me to do so. I don’t require my belief to be anchored in verifiable truth. I’d sooner find allies, others who believe as I do. Doesn’t everyone behave like this, at the same time as denying it? Surely I am Everyman. Already in a few words I have placed… Continue reading With a pinch of salt
My Dream Project
My last three posts must have acted on my subconscious like postcards from 1976, inscribed on the back "Wish you were here?", for I dreamed of that time last night. I wouldn't have the audacity to recount it without the pathfinding example of Bryan M. White’s Encyclopedia of Counted Sheep, which offers vivid proof that… Continue reading My Dream Project
In 1976, the mighty ‘System’ is predicted
Here's another post rescued from the revisionistic cleansing of two years ago. See also this previous post and also my own essay for the same competition hosted by Computer Weekly. The one below, which won second prize, at first sounded as chilling to my mind as it did when I first read it in 1977.… Continue reading In 1976, the mighty ‘System’ is predicted
1976: the prizewinning Lawless prophecy
This post got discarded in a revisionistic mania a while ago. I vandalized my own writings on the basis that they needed to be made relevant and up-to-date. Sometimes amended for striking a pose unpleasing to my later self. So abhorrent is this notion now that I'm prioritising this work of restoring them to their… Continue reading 1976: the prizewinning Lawless prophecy
Prophetic words from 1976
In 1976 when I wrote the essay below for a competition, it was already possible to link computers by telephone line, but an international structure, eventually called the Internet, wasn’t established till 6 years later. Its use was limited to academics and technical types keeping in touch, till Tim Berners-Lee invented the World-Wide Web, nine… Continue reading Prophetic words from 1976
Sunday morning, late February
The morning is sunny and warm in the backyard. A noisy bee rejoices among the crocuses. Their purple petals open wide, greedy for the sun’s rays, exposing brilliant orange pollen and their kinship with crocus sativa, source of the dye saffron. More shyly than the extrovert bee, a delicate fly hovers silently just above the… Continue reading Sunday morning, late February
Preface to a book
I still haven’t given up on “the book of the blog”. When I do, this place can become “the blog of the book”, but don’t worry, it will be the same blog, going off in the same haphazard directions. In December last, I dashed off a Preface followed by a Preface Mark II", both of… Continue reading Preface to a book
Hitching to Heaven
There are things in my past I prefer not to revisit, as mentioned in comments on the previous post. ‘Cult’ comes from the Latin cultus, worship. In certain contexts it refers to “a relatively small group of people having religious beliefs or practices regarded by others as strange or sinister”. I was involved with a cult… Continue reading Hitching to Heaven
Mister God, this is Anna
Reading Nietzsche is like having a guide show you round your home town—perhaps your own street. He takes you to a familiar blank wall, and shows you cracks in the smooth surface. “So what?” you think and then he takes your hand and you go through each crack to an unfamiliar vista on the other… Continue reading Mister God, this is Anna
The Book as a sacred space
Today is the 70th anniversary of Desert Island Discs, a BBC radio programme in which celebrities are interviewed about their life, interspersed with their personal selection of eight gramophone records. At the end, they are invited to choose one book and one luxury to take along to the desert island on which they are to… Continue reading The Book as a sacred space
Sacred places
Books I’ve recently read convey snatches of the lore whereby sacred places may be recognized and visited. I find myself wanting to quote from them. But I must refer only to what I know, sketchy or part-submerged in the subconscious as that may be. David Abram for example speaks of certain peoples, on the fringes… Continue reading Sacred places
Scintillating Scotoma
In one sense it’s crazy to challenge and defy Plato, the Old Testament prophets, Jesus, scientists, one’s own doctor, and especially friends. Who am I to do this? A nobody. Which is a great strength. A somebody has something to defend. At the bottom of the heap, you are free. You have only yourself to… Continue reading Scintillating Scotoma
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
Straw Dogs
In his book John Gray is a demolisher, razing to the ground almost every idea which offers hope, whether it comes from science, religion, humanism or any other -ism. It’s not a long book. You can get through it in a couple of days: easily but not comfortably, unless you’ve already sacrificed all the sacred… Continue reading Straw Dogs
What is the greatest invention of all time?
Not previously published on Wayfarer's . Please note that the links in this post are to the Internet Archive which is currently very slow. It has recently closed down to guard against cyberattack and may be again. Click the link above for source (BBC Radio 4 "Today", 12/12/11 @ 8:20) See also this link for more… Continue reading What is the greatest invention of all time?
The interconnectedness of all things*
* as in Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency, by Douglas Adams I’m glad I went to the doctor about my backache. I feel much better now. I learned a great truth which I can’t wait to share with you. It wasn’t the doctor who revealed it, quite the reverse. But he was the catalyst—the midwife!—to… Continue reading The interconnectedness of all things*
Becoming Animal
I had thought of writing a review of David Abram’s book, Becoming Animal, but the breadth of its vision, the variety of its original ideas, the density of its poetical descriptions would take a long time to digest, before I could say anything of value. It would have been easier if I didn’t admire it… Continue reading Becoming Animal
Infinite are the depths
Some days are special gifts but it takes something else, some extra gift to be able to share them. When I say days, I mean moments within days. And when I say special, I refer to some magic visible only to the inner eye. A day is a torrent of moments which pass us by,… Continue reading Infinite are the depths
Gilgamesh, a book for our time
The Epic of Gilgamesh is the world’s oldest written tale, going back 4000 years. (See timeline at foot of this article.) It has survived by virtue of being impressed on clay tablets buried in the desert in “cuneiform”, the oldest known form of writing, which dates back 5000 years. Only with the work of generations… Continue reading Gilgamesh, a book for our time
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
Capturing the Moment
I was going to write about Wales. And then I was going to write about child looters rampaging the evening streets of English cities. I probably won’t finish either of these essays though they exist in partial drafts. So here instead are a few photos of a recent camping trip. You can click on them… Continue reading Capturing the Moment
When memory strikes
Why do people remember where they were when they heard of the death of President Kennedy? I have a mental snapshot of my precise surroundings when I heard of the deaths of King George VI, Marilyn Monroe, John Kennedy, John Lennon and Princess Diana. As to when Martin Luther King and Elvis Presley died, I… Continue reading When memory strikes
Life-illusion
My last ended with these words: We make ourselves blind to the fact that our lives are not actually ruled by reason. They are ruled by pursuing whatever makes us feel all right. We then apply reason to tell ourselves that what makes us feel all right is “the truth”. This thought needs full explanation.… Continue reading Life-illusion
Mission
The photos alongside were taken on a walk in Flackwell Heath I confess to a constant need: to have a sense of mission. I don’t suppose this makes me any different from any other man—I specifically mean man as opposed to woman, child or any other specimen from the imaginative catalogue of God’s creatures. I… Continue reading Mission
Museums and Women
Lately I seem to be getting more from literature than from life. A misleading observation, since reading is an act performed like any other, in life, as opposed to a dream. Again, this is misleading. Leisure reading fires the imagination as dreams do. By "life" we sometimes mean living, in the sense of an interactive… Continue reading Museums and Women
Sisyphus and the Rolling Stone 4
I've always been irritated by the stilted translation of Camus' famous book by Justin O'Brien, and offered my own to the publisher, Penguin Books.They informed me that this translation was copyrighted as the only translation, so my efforts were a dead duck. I'd read French and Italian literature for my degree at the University of… Continue reading Sisyphus and the Rolling Stone 4
Homer’s Odyssey
It matters a lot which translation of a book you read. I confess to being super-fussy about these things. I hear a piano concerto or symphony, for example, and compare it unfavourably with one which impinged on my consciousness years ago, perhaps in my teens. (You’ll have to trust me on this. It’s the impinging,… Continue reading Homer’s Odyssey
Affinity
Why do I write, if I can’t write any better? But what would become of me if I didn’t write what I can, however inferior it may be to what I am? In my ambitions, I am a plebeian, because I try to achieve; like someone in a dark room, I’m afraid to be silent.… Continue reading Affinity
Dreaming spires
Oxford is everything that my own town is not, and it’s only 30 miles away. I decided Park and Ride was the best way to enter in triumph, using my new electronic bus pass, on a superb day in June, discovering that the students are in exams and the streets are a motley of tourists.… Continue reading Dreaming spires
Blessed by the sun
I step out of the house for the daily ritual of meeting Karleen from work. My route involves shortcuts through alleys. A perfect ritual has no practical purpose, no sense of obligation. It’s done for joy alone. Its sacredness within the rhythm of daily life increases on every repetition. Its tendency to sameness draws attention… Continue reading Blessed by the sun
Head and Body
Excised from accompaniment When I practised as a therapist I would sometimes get frustrated at my patients’ use of the pronoun “I”. Despite being taught that the sense of self is composed of “head” and “body”, they couldn’t stop speaking from a head-mind which functioned in proud isolation, peopled with its own constructs. They often… Continue reading Head and Body
a wayfarer’s notes 