Monthly Archives: March 2010

Laverne and Grallie in New York

One of the easiest, and most enjoyable relationships in my life has been with my granddaughter, Laverne. Now she is eighteen with the world her oyster, I like to think that I had a small part in creating magic in her life, for I have taught her from birth that she has a big part in realising her dreams. So I stand back and watch her fly. I see from her blog that she is in New Orleans, as she  couch-surfs across the States with a friend.  She’s having the time of her time and I bet her friend is too; Laverne is the best company in the world. She is creative, funny, open, honest and generous. We speak the same language, even when we don’t use words.

I’ve always been clear about my brief as a grannie. It  is to have fun and to pass on good recipes. I’ve always had fun with Laverne, from the time we kept an octopus under the sofa, to the two weeks we spent in New York, when she was sixteen, rustling up all sorts of magic. She thinks I’m a cool grannie and that, for me, is as good as it gets.

When she was a year old I wrote her letters from India, where I was travelling alone, trying to sort myself out. Not to be read then of course( even darling Laverne wasn’t that advanced). In them I promised I would take her there when she was sixteen but as she grew it became increasingly obvious that New York would suit better, so that’s where we headed when she was sixteen. We had two weeks in a boutique hotel in Chelsea called The Inn on 23rd, just around the corner from the Chelsea Hotel and boy did we work that city.

We caught our flight giggling over the fact that I’d brought the book and she’d brought the DVDs of Sex and the City. We walked everywhere the first week and did none of the tourist sites. Ours was a vintage trip and we found street markets and stalls, most memorably The Garage, where I found a divine 70s Giorgio di Sant Angelo shawl and resisted a Bill Blass opera coat on the pathetic grounds that no one dresses for the opera any more. In the evenings we went to the Chelsea cinema, which showed vintage films or we sat in our cosy boutique room eating pizzas which Laverne got from Ray’s up the road, watching Sex and the City. Twice we saw places we had been that day on the screen and screamed our excitement. Later Laverne told me how cool it is to have a Grannie who doesn’t get embarrassed about sex. I tell her sex is great but not until one’s cervix has fully matured.

Before we went, I spent some time meditating on the possibility of something magical happening for Laverne as a universal acknowledgement of the fact that her arrival in the world had helped to sort out some problems I was having. Well, how about this as an example of the power of prayer. 

One evening we were heading to the Paris cinema and got lost to the right of Central Park. The street was empty and the map was unclear, then I looked up and saw a young man coming along the street with a large bunch of flowers. I was  going to ask him the way but Laverne was in there first. Imagine my surprise when, having been told where the cinema was, Laverne said how much she had enjoyed him in Half Nelson. It was her favourite film star Ryan Gosling. I couldn’t get her off the ceiling for days. Now she knows for sure that her Grallie’s magic works.

We had other great experiences, met loads of interesting creative people at the hotel; went on the floor of the stock exchange, between Bear Sterns and Lehmann Brothers and caught the whiff of fear; spent an hour with the charming and other- worldly Edward Bess in Bergdorf Goodman’s make-up basement and ended up buying some fabulous lipsticks, one each.

I am sure that as we both grow older that two weeks together will deepen in colour and meaning. It was a time that can never be repeated, when everything else was put on hold and the two of us experienced a magical time in a city that fully lived up to our dreams. For me the outstanding memory was trailing behind a sparkling sixteen year old, walking tall in her high heels and flirty skirt and calling Taxi! at the curb, then the two of us collapsing in giggles at the sheer drama of it all, as we headed back to our sumptuous B&B in Chelsea.


Neo-Flat Earth Debate

I can now do links! This has given me a buzz, because it means that I am now working at a resonant frequency. Links are what life is all about and to be a part of the revolution, I had to overcome my natural IT timidity and just do it. So here I am, standing on the other side of linking, looking at the view. It’s taken me 20 years of research to reach here.

 Although, as promised, teachers have appeared on the way, I have had no single mentor. No more Gurus has been my motto from the start, though I have been tempted several times, I have stayed on my own individual path and now here I am, a long way away from Shirley(Maclaine) who set me on my way. Most of my mapping has come from serendipitous encounters in secondhand bookshops in my city. As I’ve said several times I have followed The Path of Vibrating Books. It has taken me into mathematical and physics tomes that I am far from qualified to read and yet I kept going, knowing that the answer lies between.  Sometimes (often) the experts, through the very nature of their expertise, don’t think of looking there.

It helps to be a rebel. Being a heretic is my natural form. I think I must have been burned as a witch in at least one previous life and here I am sticking my neck out again. And what a time for a revolutionary to be alive -here in the midst of the greatest revolution of them all- the one that is going to bring the truth back into focus and hopefully bring this glorious planet back from the brink of the sixth extinction.

 If the 20th century was the atomic age, revealing as it did the extraordinary findings of the quantum world, this one will probably be the zero point age. We are fast moving into seeing the meaning of nothing. And there are plenty of scientists brave enough to lead the way out of the straitjacket of conventional/orthodox thinking. Men like Bruce Lipton for example or Hal Puthoff or Fritz-Albert Popp. Brave men all and others who have quietly been chipping away at the resident Newtonian/Quantum dicotomy until we can see some light coming through.

I have during the twenty years of what I suppose was an initiation, moved well away from the orthodox conviction that life is random, predatory, purposeless and solitary and that we are an evolutionary accident. Today I do not believe, as I move through my day, that I am an isolated being but rather that I am linked through my evolution to everything there is. To me life isn’t harsh and nihilistic but simple and beautiful. We are born, we live and we die and then we carry on living in another dimension. The earth- living takes place in an ocean of possibilities, each one brought into being by the magic of  consciousness.

It is that very consciousness that makes the bridge between the quantum and Newtonian worlds. It is that which creates the theory of everything that the scientists in their bull- headed insistence on double blind testing are missing, for how can consciousness map consciousness?  But it’s there as part of the soup that everything exists within, enveloping everything and everyone and all possibilities from the beginning of time even to the Omega point and nothing has any meaning except in relation to everything else. At this elemental level everything is NOW. All is connected everywhere at once. Sub- atomic flux doesn’t gel without our human consciousness. We are the key to how the world is but science can’t recognise this, so keen is it to keep the rug from slipping from under its feet.

The small, the large, the living and the non-living are all connected by the sea of vibration in the space between things (the zero point field) This is what underpins the all and links everything that exists with everything else across time and space. We live within a web, not peering over the edge into a void.

Each one of us emits and receives information from the zero point field. The exchange goes on at a quantum level and the aim of life at this level is homeostasis i.e. all lines open; all messages received. The dialogue between cells is conducted in exactly the same way as the dialogue between our consciousness and  the world (perception).

The internet maps the sea and we are pirates all, connected by our collective consciousness, sailing into new lands and daily finding new treasures. Tell me this isn’t the most exciting time to be alive. Tell me why at this time so many are depressed? When change is in the air it’s best to lie low-it’s less frightening and we live in the midst of HUGE change. For many it seems best to hang on to the notion of a flat earth but one day soon it will become irrefutable. And the earth will be seen in all its rounded and connected glory.Then, hopefully we can set-to saving it from ruin.

Things my Mother Never Taught Me

* Never throw a bag of rubbish into a municipal skip with the car keys in your hand.
* Wonder releases dopamine, the feel-good chemical.
* DNA is a complex electronic/biological chip that communicates with its environment.
* DNA awareness is activated by metaphor/symbol/linguistics.
* Bicarb. works for beestings; vinegar for wasps.
* I was born to challenge orthodoxy.
* The smaller it gets the larger the quantum effect.
* Water holds the matrix of life.
* Matter responds to human consciousness.
* Irreversibility brings order out of chaos in the shape of a spiral.
* The stability of matter rests on zero point energy, which is unceasing and fills so-called empty space.
* The answers to all meta questions lie in this place.
*We can individually change our DNA (see work of Pjotr Garjajev); collectively we can change the structure of our world.
* Death is the movement into another dimension.
* There are more kind people in the world than unkind.
* There is a deep seated and special connection between the unseen and the seen.
* sex is a transcendental act
* homeopathy heals.

Bookshop Serendipity

A couple of years ago while rummaging in a secondhand bookshop, I got into conversation with the owner on the subject of vibrating books and he told me that in the trade there is a phenomena  known as bookshop serendipity. His bookshop is in the Herefordshire town of Ross-on- Wye, often confused with Hay-on-Wye, which is famous for the number of its bookshops. He gave me this account as an example of  bookshop serendipity. I know the man who told the tale and can vouch that this really happened

One quiet afternoon the door of his shop was flung open and a huge man stood framed in the doorway. He appeared out of breath and somewhat distraught and his first words were,”I’m in the wrong town!” When he had calmed down a little, he told the bookseller that he had flown into Heathrow that morning from Alaska, where he was working as a mining engineer, for the sole purpose of heading to Hay- on- Wye to search for a book called Nesbitt of that Ilk, which had been written by his late father. He had got off the plane and headed straight for the taxi rank and had been driven to Ross, paid the driver his£100 and watched him go on his way. Only when he wandered up the street and talked to people did he realise that he was IN THE WRONG TOWN. At this point he entered the only second-hand bookshop in sight in a somewhat dishevelled state.

As soon as the bookseller heard the title of his father’s book, a bell rang in his head for he realised that he had seen that very book only recently. It was nicely bound and cost £60. It had caught his eye because it was a rare book and only 50 of them were published.

 It was an incredible coincidence. He took the man to the shelf and when the book was taken down, a cluster of sepia photographs and cuttings fell out. The Alaskan engineer picked up a photograph and gasped in astonishment. It was the author’s copy and the photos were of his family!

The man,dazed with disbelief, paid the £60 and was last seen wandering up the high street, telling strangers what had just happened to him. He then apparently booked the town’s only taxi to take him back to the airport and no doubt caught the next plane back to Alaska.

The bookseller told me that the incident had had a profound effect on him. He had regretted ever since actually charging the man for the book. He felt that money should not have been involved in such a serendipitous event and secondly he said that it had left him with a horrid feeling that his whole life had been geared to lead up to that moment and he wondered now what he was still doing there. He said he felt like a fly that had been wrapped up by a fateful spider to be consumed at a later date.

I was much taken by this account for various reasons and I hope you are too.

The Power of the Pendulum

By now you will have figured out that in my world it is the unseen that fascinates; the space between, the pause, the silence, the zero. Everyone needs ballast as our planet hurtles through space. Mine comes from the belief that here on earth I am  living part of my existence, which was there before I came and will be there when I pass over the dead end. In my mind I am here for infinity, for my mind (mysterious though this may be) is eternal, connected as it is to Greater Mind, the one that created the blueprint of life itself.

According to Goethe, one of my favourite polymathmen, nature is alive and we humans are intimately involved in its living body. By nature he meant it all, flowers and trees and insects and animals but also rocks, crystals, water and minerals. This physical world is only one dimension but others co-exist with it. We live today in a materialist culture that doesn’t recognise that the brain and the mind are two separate and different things. Brain functions in three dimensions and works within the laws of matter, holographic mind works in many dimensions as yet uncharted. It is important, if you want to go where I go, to realise that mind is not bonded to the earth. The only difference between dimensions is speed; they co-exist like the ripples on a boating lake.

Materialists are this way because they cannot observe a basic plan, which does not mean that it is not there.  The earth is a living organism of great intelligence. We are cells in its structure. I have always found that the interesting thinkers are the mavericks, the rebels, the iconoclasts. People who would not want to smother their creativity with the straitjacket of orthodoxy. I like to tune into the off piste work of Fred Hoyle, Jim Lovelock, Dick Feynman  and Lethbridge of course, all of whom have already checked out on the dead end. TC Lethbridge did some facinating work on the pendulum. If life is a compound of matter plus mind, it is the effect of one on the other that is interesting. Lethbridge used a pendulum, pencil, a length of string and a lot of patience to map the numerical value of the seen and the unseen, following the idea that everything has a signature vibration that can be expressed by a number. What he found was that everything on earth falls between 1-39 and that the pendulum continues to give readings after 40 inches of pendulum string (the number of death) . Something happens at that death point but the spiral the pendulum maps moves beyond it. What he concluded was that life is organised, not according to the Darwinian school of evolution at all, but rather according to an elaborate scheme that an intelligence thought into being and then put into operation.  It all works outside time, space and distance.

Lethbridge was not a man to be afraid of being labelled a heretic and I have no illusions that my opinions on the subject matter one way or the other, so I have no trouble lining up with him. Darwinism (the ism gives us a clue) is a theory even now solidifying into dogma. It has provided a powerful foundation for the age of materialism, that is through its unsustainability, showing signs of flagging. But there is something wrong with it. The fossils are rather silent on the subject of diversity and variety. The dragonfly seems to have emerged in all its glory, as if according to some idea in the mind of intelligence. Life is the development of a thought all right. It is a creative act and the master plan is infinite. This is the way I prefer to see the world. I like the idea that my little mind links up potentially with all the power there is and that this part of me lasts for ever.

The Allure of the Mature

Bertram for the first time in his life has got himself an older woman and he’s so thrilled with the discovery, he’s wondering why he’s never thought of it before, for in the words of Martin Amis “the older woman brings with her the glamour and mystery of a life lived, people met, places seen, experiences experienced.” Here, here I say (or is that hear,hear?) but then I would , wouldn’t I. Martin Amis, like Bertram, likes clever women too. Or maybe they both just like women.

I like older men, they give one more attention than the young and start, with the decreasing testosterone, to understand the importance of tender talk. Fire a women’s imagination, I say, and the whole of her will fire up. Body heat in a woman is fuelled by self esteem not twiddling knobs. Believe me I know. The trouble with older men is that after 50 the returns diminish and that life- long fear of impotence, more often than not, becomes a self -fulfilling prophecy. Who said that impotence was like trying to get a raw oyster into a parking meter? I bet that was Martin Amis as well.

So for a woman my age, it is probably better to spend the energy that a younger woman expends on attracting a man, on enjoying the memories and dressing up for fun. With this in mind I have turned my attention to my wardrobe. Aunty Mu reminded me that next weekend the clocks go forward and here in England we begin official summer time. Aunty Mu, at 98, is still celebrating the occasion by putting all her black clothes away and getting out the navy. I don’t do that but I get my summer stuff out of the cedar box where it’s wintered and sift through it, editing items according to the passage of time. I can see if something has lost its energy but now I have to try things on to see if we still go together. Some things are best not worn any more, like flower patterns and beige. Some things can’t be worn any more, like stilletos and low necks, unless you are Streisand or Loren and have someone to guide you across the room and fix the lighting wherever you choose to perch. No, the time has come for simplicity and only one attitude item at a time. My biker jacket still hangs in the wardrobe waiting for an outing, but not with biker boots. I have several much loved denim pieces but don’t risk double denim. I love bags more and dresses less. I am at last paying lip service to that horrid expression ‘mutton dressed as lamb’.

This new carefulness does not come naturally. I am the generation that brought in mini skirts, biba lipstick, tie dyed T shirts, long boots, and rock and roll.  We are determined now at the other end not to emulate our crimpelene mothers or to dress old or Edinburgh Wool Mill ( if it still exists), which is pretty much the same thing. It’s a fine line between disappearing into the background and being mad woman in the attic and I walk the line.

So this summer it is jeans and cashmere twin sets and gladiator sandals and all those vintage accoutrements that have been building up over the many years. But in the privacy of the Warren I throw chiffon over the lamps and dance in basque, bowler and floaty skirts to George Michael. And dream as I have always done. Some things don’t change and I guess it’s in the confidence of the mature that is found that elusive allure.

Lemniscate Ahoy!

The vernal equinox was all set to take place at 5.37 pm today, I was reliably informed by a second generation pagan friend in the health store this morning.  So the year turns, as does the on-going development of Allie. It amazes me how much can go on between posts! It is a book on bees that has  brought in the new information, as it so often has in my years of growth (the last 20) Before that?  The stuff of matter.

I’ve a whole shelf of books on bees in The Warren, lots of them out of print and over the years I’ve collected some fascinating facts about their world. They were, after all, here on earth before the mammals that were our ancestors. I remember hearing a fascinating talk on the radio years ago by Beowulf Cooper on the annual drone assembly, which takes place higher in the sky than sight can reach and follows ley lines.  Millions of drones assemble, via set flyways at the same place day after day, until exhausted they fall out of the sky. And did you know that beekeepers rarely develop terminal illnesses? Also bees are the living proof of the power of 6. Their development of the hexagonal form for the purpose of honey production taps into the ancient secrets locked away in the shape. Bees dance the language of glyphs and myths(and string theory?) in the leminiscate shape (see right), thus reaching across dimensions to pass on to us the wisdom of our birth and the message that our home lies with infinity.

But do we listen? Do we buggery. Not only do we not listen, we are in the process of destroying the sweet messengers with our greed and the prostitution of the ancient art of beekeeping by unsustainable honey production. But enough of that.

The day afer my ill- advised trip to the docks, I was walking Tottie back from the park, past one of my favourite secondhand book shops, when a powerful vibration hit my peripheral vision. Looking closer I saw that the title of the book was The Shamanic Way of the Bee. Ancient Wisdom and Healing Practices of the Bee Masters by Simon Buxton. It was £3 ,which was a sure sign that this was my book. There was only one problem and that was that the shop was shut. Next day I was there as it opened and down the street I carried the book in that special way that certain books warrant- remind me to tell you about bookshop serendipity some time. As always, I started reading from the back, bouncing around from chapter to chapter, hoovering words in an obsessive way because I could feel a message calling from its pages.  ‘If only we could live like pirates, grabbing life’s treasures and sailing forward on the high seas, we might honour the gift that is our life.’ I saw the words as if I was drawing them through a membrane from another place and knew instantly that this was my truth. The message said that my urge towards capturing a pirate needs to be internalised.  The main is my creative imagination, the rigging my language and the sun over the yardarm, my time to come face to face with my personal truth. The bees had spoken and I had heard them.

‘Ask the wild bee what the druids knew’ is an old adage that has long fascinated me. They are the words written over the door of the home of the priestly beekeeper, Haris, in my novel, The Pebble Jar, the first part of the Llangrannwy trilogy(still  unpublished). I had a feeling I was being used as a conduit when I was writing The Pebble Jar and now I realise that I was actually writing about shamanism, though I had no idea at the time.

The element of chance is often absent from the major encounters of our life. It is as if we come into this world with certain appointments to keep and experiences to draw on. The ancients drew animals on the dark, hidden walls of caves, drawing the spirit of the being through the membrane of the surface so that the truth glows as clearly today as the day it was drawn. So it is with my realisation. I drew the book through the membrane and fixed it in my mind. It gave me a beautiful thought which in itself is an example of what happens in the communication between the living form of bees and a person open enough to hear what they are saying. For the language is not in words. It is the language of seeing without eyes, playing beyond the dots, moving beyond the rational mind into the infinite dance of the lemniscate, which offers the means to explore hidden realms. It tells me that there we find the treasure map and following clues we move into the world of myth, which is not a lie or a story but rather the essence of truth. The eye sees only what the mind is prepared to comprehend. Bees sing the cosmic song not singly but as it is meant to be sung, in unison. Maybe this is a good thought to hold onto at the moment of our movement into Spring.