Monthly Archives: January 2010

From Burlesque to the Sublime

When my emotional life gets difficult what is there to do but dive into the brimming pool of ideas? Giles phoned. We had a difficult but ultimately healing chat. We thanked each other, recognised the differences in our relationship aspirations (he’s looking for a partner;I’m looking for a playmate) and said goodbye. I wish him all the happiness in the world. He’s a lovely but lonely man. And I have things to do. Now I guess I’ll deal with my sadness, as I always do, by trying to match the burlesque and the sublime.

Designs exist in space that we do not see until crystallisation gives them expression. This is what life is geared to do. Through aeons of evolutionary push, these patterns come to us and the place that they come from is the fifth dimension.

A dimension is a term used to describe the activities of (possibly) one seventh of the vibrations into which the universe is graded. These dimensions lie inside one another, each one more potent than the last. We are, as a species, moving closer to mastering four of these, which means we are utilising just over half the possibilities available to us. Way to go ,baby!  A hundred and fifty years ago wireless seemed inconceivable and look how that discovery changed our planet. By the time we get to five we will have  changed totally again-but in a less destructive way, for the move from 4 to 5 will be gentler and more in tune with real love-the meaning of it all.

Our progress over the last two hundred years has been based on our ability to manipulate wavelengths. As soon as the collective mind is tuned, then information flows. This information is available without words, books or media. Focus is all we need in order to see.

A summary of the first five dimensions that life is built upon.

1d   The straight line between two points. The primal push.

2d   The line taken to an angle onto a flat surface. Cohesion begins.

3d    Form linked to gravity. The curve demonstrated through all angles. Rotation and vibration are established here. All life is built in this dimension from atom to the stars.

It is 1 2 &3 together that create the third dimension. Here life expresses itself but that is not all. 1-3 do not create unity; they create separation. We have to move into 4d for unity. This is the world of subtle matter invisible to the senses. Outside the laws governing solids, liquids and gases, there is a world of rays, radiations and electrical energies that obey 4th dimensional laws and yet create concrete form. Our consciousness is implicit in this creation. We are made to reach out to this level and beyond.

The fourth dimension shows us that the closer we get to ‘reality’ the less separate things become. The 3d world is limited and if we stay in it we are limited. Moving into 4 gives us access to the limitless. Whereas what is separate makes us heavy, complicated and incoherent, what is unified makes us light, clear and coherent. Our task is to move beyond matter (3d) and learn to live with what lies behind form. We do this by adapting to a life of fusion and radiation, living  the love that does not differentiate or prefer.

Form always shows the way. The crop formations take us to the borderlands between form and meaning. We see the forms and we understand that their importance lies beyond the who and the why and the where of their creation. The summer of  ’09 produced stunning, complex forms, one of which showed in lacy detail the marbling on the wings of a dragonfly. It was as beautiful as a frost flower caught on a windowpane in winter. If the frost is formed while the sun is clouded, it takes the form of a fern( the earliest plants formed while the earth was shrouded in mist).If the sun is shining flower-shaped forms appear. Both forms exist within the same space;  conditions draw their own conclusions. In how many directions can we extrapolate this idea? When we understand this we are learning to be at home in the fifth dimension.

Then we will see how this makes nonsense of the people in the news today gulping down homeopathic pills to show they don’t work! But  we have to show ourselves up to make the breakthrough. Courtney taught me that.

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Dirty Girls

Who would have thought that I would have anything in common with Courtney Love? On a style continuum I would place myself at the opposite end to her so why, when browsing in my favourite CD and book store,  did my hand move towards her diaries, entitled “Dirty Blonde”? For a few moments I stood there moving the book on and off the shelf, confused by the signals the book was sending. First of all it was vibrating at me in that time honoured way and secondly I was repulsed by the messiness of the format and indeed the messiness of Ms Love herself. What was all that ambivalence about? There was only one way to find out. I bought the book and headed for home.

An intense but rapid flick through the pages and I had my answer. She fascinates me.  By doing and being all the things that were not allowed  in my youth (according to my mother’s creed anyway) because they are ‘dirty’. I can see that Courtney has lived the life of a wild pirate, while I have only dreamed it. Her diaries reveal her to be untramelled, ridiculous, shameless, shocking, messy and sometimes ugly; while at the same time being honest, loving, intelligent, and very beautiful. She is in fact the living example of the dicotomy that I as a woman have lived all my life. Larger than life and twice as raucous, she is everything that I might have been , if only I’d done what so many men advised me to do-ease up and let go.

But no that is not something that I could do. In the words of Bernard Shaw,”whilst we…. the conventional… were wasting our time on education, agitation and organisation, some independent genius has taken the matter in hand.” Although I would never describe myself as conventional, the truth is that the parade marched on leaving me behind and at the front, looking like a child dressing up in her mother’s glamour clothes was brave kamikaze Courtney, a finger up to the world.

Sometimes I think I haven’t loved enough, that even my madness, for there has been plenty of that, has been too measured. Was this what was going on as my hand hestitated over that copy of “Dirty Blonde”. Was it a fear of regret and the sadness of chances missed that kept me wondering? Was it the sure realisation that I was going to have to face up to the fact that although I have the biker jacket and can still fit my slender bum into a pair of  jeans over the thigh high boots that sit waiting in the back of my wardrobe, I never was nor I will ever be rock and roll. I do not and never did speak the language, though I moved deep inside to the rhythm.

In my attempt to avoid the dirty old men my mother warned me might be hidden in the bushes, I avoided the bushes themselves. I was neither loud enough nor fucked up enough to be Courtney’s friend, even if I was her generation which I suspect I am not. The only things I share with her is a love of teapots and WB Yeats. But no, there is more.

I’m glad I bought the book. Glad I read it in spite of the discomfort caused by the tea stains, scruffy masking- taped pictures and the myriad smudgy pens (and different handwriting styles) used throughout. I’m glad to see that there is a maturing as her story progresses and a redemption of sorts within the pages. By the end I liked her, respected the blistering honesty and finally saw that the the main difference between us is that she was not afraid. Both of us have spent our lives searching for cool ways to make ourselves  better people. I identify with her desire to be faithful to the mystery, to want to offer one’s creativity to both the Beach Boys and quantum physics. Also I understand why she includes the words of Nietzsche, “Is it better to out monster the monster or be quietly devoured?”  Neither of us did the latter but she did it more noisily than me and with redder lipstick.

Most of all, getting to know Courtney has helped me to face up to those free floating cultural anxieties attached to my internal dialogue about what it is to be a woman. In our never ending search for love and our deeply creative approaches to life, I guess we’re not at the opposite ends of the continuum after all. In fact I’d go so far as to say  Courtney and I are sisters under the skin. Which is both unexpected and in the words of the star herself,  “fucking hot baby”.

Sweet Inspirations

I used to think that the comment ,’you’re inspiring’ was a compliment. I’m not too sure any more as people so often prefer to sink into depression than be inspired. Me? I’m inspired. Here’s a list of my sweet inspirations and hopefully a photo or two to illustrate what I mean.

Diana Vreeland, Brian Eno, Louise Bourgeois, Werner Hertzog , Matthew Manning, Shirley Maclaine (the latter two for old time’s sake)

And of course Robert Mapplethorpe whose juxtapositioning of these two images tickles my fancy no end!

The Gift of Wrang Wrangs

According to Brian Eno, “for the world to be an interesting place you have to be manipulating it all the time.” My big fear has always been boredom and so I have spend my life manipulating my world, mainly through thought. As thought lies in the fifth dimension it is no doubt there (if there is a there beyond the third) that matter and spirit gel to produce what manifests in the high density, low vibration ‘real’ world. Cutting edge science in Russia is discovering that genes are turned on and off by our thoughts. I like the thought of being in control of my genes. I like anything that gives me a sense of control. I have used the brake a lot more than the throttle in my life, which is probably why, against the odds, I am still here.I made the decision at the highest point of a fairground ride in a French fair in the 60s. You need never be in this frightening place again of your own volition, Allie, I vowed to myself and I never have. The only scary rides I’ve been on since have been emotional. You can’t avoid those but I will say something-they get easier with time. I am not feeling the shuddering earthquake of heartbreak with Giles. He was urbane and good to be with. He held my hand but not my heart. This wasn’t a decision. It was the simple fact that my heart was already taken. That part of me went with the Boy. Kurt Vonnegut calls them ‘wrang-wrangs’, these people who appear in one’s life to teach the hardest lessons. The Boy was my arch wrang-wrang. And the lesson he taught me? That I can swim with all my heart and still have myself on the other shore. I have loved and it was not myself I lost. There is always a path out of the forest. Little Red Riding Hood. I can chart my course in fairy tales. But not today.

The Fifth Dimension

My friend Flick says I devour books.”You don’t just go into them with your eyes, you do it with your whole body. Reading takes you into the zone,” she said at lunch today. She was cheering me up after my difficult weekend. She reminded me that there are other pleasures at our time of life, reading being one of them. It’s true. In times of stress I stick my head in the world of ideas. Like Elvis.

In 1963 when celebrity was starting to weigh heavily, Elvis met a hairdresser called Larry Geller, who introduced him to the sort of books I devour. I scout charity shops for them. When they glimmer I know that I am being offered a chance to move forward on my spiritual routemarch.

Elvis didn’t just read, he absorbed the contents, using links and patterns and the books ended up dogeared, with notes and marginalia. You can still see his copy of Vera Stanley Alder at Gracelands. His thirst was unquenchable; Yogananda, Krishnamurti, Madam Blavatsky and Alder, he drank deep of them all because they were offering a view, he said, of a world he had always suspected lay beyond the familiar three dimensions.

Vera admirably explains the complications of assessing five dimensions while living within a three dimensional world. And remember she was writing at about the time I was born, which was a long time ago. She described the world at the time as ‘ floundering in a morass’, so not much change there. She predicted a time when we would all start thinking with our hearts and says that it will be through science that we find the key for unlocking the secret of existence;why we are here and the meaning of it all.

Life is organised as a complete, coherent and simplified whole, each part of which sings its own song. At the moment we are moving from the separateness and egotism of three into the love, fusion and unity of four, a move incidentally predicted by Jung, who said the collective consciousness was devoted to this aim. The fifth dimension is accessed at this time only through a glimmer. It is the place where any number of forms can exist. The place of pattern. The place where the dance of growth and evolution begins and ends. The place we are moving oh so slowly towards. I wonder if, when we get there, we will find Elvis.

Nietzsche at the Ritz

Back from Paris early. Good job I’d taken the sunglasses as I shed a tear or two into my leopardskin (faux)collar on the train home. My instincts were right, as usual. I wont go into it, as it’s so painful but suffice it to say that my silver fox had been on the prowl, as I suspected, and had come home with a tender morsel in his mouth. Her name is Yvette and she works as an intern at his magazine. It’s the Lewinsky effect. What man can resist? I knew the moment I was introduced to her in her cute little cheerleader outfit. I could see there was no doubt she had been tickling his dear face with her silly pom poms. I kept my dignity. I made my excuses and caught an early Eurostar home.

I cried until we were through the tunnel and back on home land. I don’t know whether it’s anything to do with those years abroad but my connection to home soil is particularly powerful, visceral even, these days. Perhaps it always was. Once after I had been away for two years, I fell on my knees and buried my tears in the first clover lawn I’d seen in all that time. Drama queen!

On the Eurostar as I quietly sobbed into my faux leopardskin, finding comfort in its soft and sensuous touch, my eye was drawn to a copy of the Daily Mail that someone had left on the seat when they alighted at Ashford. Now I am not a woman to regularly buy the Mail, though I have to admit that it is stuffed full of what my mother always referred to as ‘conk’ (gossip). In a section called Life and Style there was an article by novelist Howard Jacobson, a man who had already caught my eye this week as I gleefully read his Radio Times article called The Dawkins’ Delusion. This article was called The Allure of the Older Woman.

I can’t tell you how much I was cheered by HJ’s summary of older women as seductive, confident, experienced and knowing. Exactly. ‘Better to be chosen by a woman who has known many lovers than by a girl who has no-one to compare you to,’ he writes with complete assurance. Where can I meet this man? In the meantime I will make do with his latest novel, ‘The Act of Love’ and while on Amazon I’d better get a copy of Nietzsche so that, should the opportunity arise, I can spend an evening discussing him with Howard at the Ritz, something he so rightly assumes, you cannot do with a young girl, not at the necessary depth anyway.

By the time I had reached St Pancras I’d reconnected with my spirit and remembered how I love being an older woman. I don’t compete with the young, as quite frankly it’s no competition. I am Allie at the age that I am and that is enough. I like the fact that I am tuned into the poetry of life and I see and appreciate the patterns and rhythms of being alive. I’ve never been happier with who I am but I am shocked that a man that I have loved has been capable of treating me with what seems like a lack of respect. I will recover my composure in no time at all, helped as I have been by HJ’s words. I might not have that particular silver fox in my life any more but I made the decision and as I look around I see that it is I who have it all and knowing that I have it all is the secret of the allure of this particular older woman.

The Oregon Mystery

In 1990 a ranger flying over the remote salt desert of Eastern Oregon reported a strange marking in the ground. It was 13.3 miles long and when investigated was found to be a Sri Yantra consisting of lines 10inches wide and scored to a depth of 3 inches in the hardpan.

The Sri Yantra is the most sacred mantra or vibrational diagram of ancient Vedic philosophy and was believed to have a powerful effect on natural elements when energised by consciousness.

For some time this event was treated with the head scratching bewilderment that accompanies crop formations. On the ground investigations revealed no tell tale signs of vehicles or human intervention. Word spread fast that it was an extra terrestrial event. People were intrigued and fascinated but got stuck on the how? and the wow? The event was debated for some time and then rumour spread that a man named Bill Witherspoon had created it as a work of art.

To my mind this is where the story starts getting really interesting.

Witherspoon said that he and a group of friends chose the site for its beauty and remoteness. The design was made without modern machines or tools. They used a handplough and the ancient principles of geometry alone. They took ten days to complete the design and entered and left the site on foot in order to keep the area vibrationally pure.

The Sri Yantra as you can see is drawn from nine triangles, four pointing downwards and five pointing upwards, forming 42 triangular fragments around a central triangle. There is probably no other set of triangles which interlock with such integrational perfection. This is why the design is the most revered of tantric diagrams.

As soon as they had finished the design the weather in the valley changed and a rainstorm hit the parched valley. Bill Witherspoon spent the following couple of years monitoring the changes in the formation. There was an increased feeling of harmony in the area and two years later, with the lines almost gone, the structure of the soil had changed. The overall result was increased rainfall and more organic matter. He claims there is an inverse correlation between the lines disappearing and an increase in the enlivened laws of nature (parallel to the increased dilution imparting increasing levels of strength in homeopathy). This I believe could have some mysterious correlation with the power of reciprocals but I’ll leave someone more scientific to pick up on that idea.

It would appear that Gaia expresses herself fully when consciousness is connected. In the vibrant and responsive link between Nature and the Human is a conversation of vibrations. A couple of years after the formation of the Sri Yantra a geyser spring appeared 12 miles away. The only natural geyser spring in Oregon! For 4 months it spouted 210 feet into the air. Could the presence of geometric form, which after all is at the foundation of life and the interface between different phases of matter, be Nature’s way of ensuring plenty?

Bill Witherspoon is convinced that the intelligence lies within the geometry in some deep and mysterious way. The geometry is but the visible form of the invisible and powerful energy form. The Sri Yantra is the physical magnet to draw blessings from the mystery.

It is a pity and an irony that the creativity of the artist was rewarded with a large fine for desecrating the land…