Sea Cloud

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It’s pleasantly warm here in Las Palmas, Gran Canaria this morning. One of the joys of a cruise voyage for me is the never quite knowing what a day will bring – the people, places, or the weather. Every hour of every day brings someone or something new – and I pinch myself sometimes as, on board a ship, ambling around a port, or dining in glad company, my boyhood dreams of sailing the seven seas keep coming true, but better than anything dreamed of then. Ships have wonderful personalities of their own, as do the people who sail in them!

Fab-u-lous!

I’ve only arrived at the Strictly Come Dancing ballroom in time for the Final this year, but alongside my mother’s lovely Christmas Tree, and in her enthusiastic company, I find myself with decidedly moist eyes and speechless with admiration. What a spellbinding connection between John and Johannes! And pure, shining magic between this year’s winners, Rose and Giovanni. Late in the day I may be, but – worldwide gloomy news notwithstanding – I can still join the huge chorus of gratitude for absolutely show-stopping and joyous inspiration.

The authority of the clock

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

[1348 AD] … word had reached them yesterday, spreading fast through the countryside, that a machine to count the hours had come to Shaftesbury to be put in the church and anyone could go to see it …

… It took them half the morning to get there and for the last quarter of the journey they could hear a bell, growing steadily stronger, ringing first once, then after they had gone perhaps another mile twice more, then three times as they approached. It was set up on a wooden frame outside the Abbey, on display, waiting to be lifted up to the platform now being built inside the tower …

‘It is ten hours in the morning,’ shouted the man, ‘by the precise authority of the clock,’ and a burst of cheering went up. Ferney suddenly turned away. ‘Let’s leave,’ he said, ‘I’m thirsty.’ He sounded unhappy …

James Long
Ferney (extracts)

Further to my musings yesterday about time and timelessness, I return, as so often before, to one of the most moving reflections I’ve ever read about ‘the precise authority of the clock.’ James Long’s glorious ‘Ferney’ is a novel about love, and about time, on many levels and through generations. Here (around 1348, so far as Ferney can recall), crowds walked miles to see the new ‘machine to count the hours’ that was about to be installed in the tower at Shaftesbury Abbey. Deeply fascinating a sight on one level, yet Ferney and his companion Gally soon enter into deep and concerned conversation about the very reshaping of our humanity that the clock would chime into existence. Ferney was not happy – not at all taken with the idea of a machine’s having ‘precise authority,’ and – with the prophetic perception of the seer – detailed for Gally why. For this little (and I think, very worthwhile) contemplation alone, I cannot recommend Long’s 1998 novel highly enough. And there’s more in it. Much, much more.

Le pain est le soutien de la vie

Le pain est le soutien de la vie

Bread is the staff of life

Having been without a breadmaking machine for the past several years I’ve been looking forward to the joys of a great loaf made in a new one, right here at home. And I’m absolutely reminded that the French have it right: Le pain est le soutien de la vie.

Pleased to set the new loaf on a cutting board in the centre of my kitchen table, I had no particular vision for the other ingredients of lunch. But there’s a secret to a new loaf’s being set in the centre of things: everything comes together around the bread.

Lake replenishment

Photo by Nick Nice on Unsplash

… The tree was a tree
with happy leaves,
and I was myself,
and there were stars in the sky
that were also themselves
at the moment
at which moment
my right hand
was holding my left hand
which was holding the tree
which was filled with stars
and the soft rain –
imagine! imagine!
the long and wondrous journeys
still to be ours.

Mary Oliver
From
Last night the rain spoke to me

I don’t usually mind a bit of a splashing but, half drowned, I headed home early for hot chocolate this morning. Not a hint of a golden sunrise today. Streams, rivers and lakes swelling. Sheep looking fed up. But – keeping a weather eye out for sunshine – there (always, really) comes the time for ‘on your marks, set, go’ and another three miles before further ‘lake replenishment!’

Inner universe

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… each of us has known mutations in the mind
When the world jumped and what had been a plan
Dissolved and rivers gushed from what had seemed a pool.

For every static world that you or I impose
Upon the real one must crack at times and new
Patterns from new disorders open like a rose
And old assumptions yield to new sensation;
The Stranger in the wings is waiting for his cue,
The fuse is always laid to some annunciation.

Louis MacneiceMutations

I’ve spent a lot of time in the course of my life contemplating my perceptions – of sunrise or sunset, of the firmament of the heavens, of the diameter of the great star Betelgeuse measuring at (conservatively) 766.8788 million or (more widely held) 850 million miles (compared to Earth’s 8000 miles), of my taste preferences at lunch, of my appreciation of the arts, books, colour, my fellow humans, the constituent parts of the ‘reality’ in front of me – poetry, the solid mountain, the fluid and reflective lake, Edinburgh’s Christmas Markets, music and other frequencies, sounds and vibrations, photographs and ultrasound images, silence, scent, touch, anticipation, delight or fear, movement, and the speed at which my car transports me to the supermarket, the enthusiasm and abandon of the little dog, ears flying, bowling across a field.

And sometimes I feel quite certain about the ‘reality’ of some ‘things’ – people, animals, flora, fauna, landscape and space. But fortunately there are many other times when I’m glad to say ‘I don’t know.’ I am uncertain. Glad in the recognition that on the one hand I have innumerable things to ‘learn,’ and on the other that I’ll never get to the bottom of all that I might learn – which is an eternal continuum. (A newsflash has just informed me that ‘Two Supermassive Black Holes have been observed.’) And glad, too, in the recognition that every single human being ‘sees’ or ‘learns’ or ‘knows’ absolutely everything only to the extremely precise degree that their unique brain has been formed by their remembered perceptions to date.

That is to say that I have come to realise within myself a ‘provisionality’ about all things – my expectations of ‘myself,’ and of others; my inability fully to ‘know’ the experience and perceptions of anyone outside my own physical being; my inbuilt inability to fully ‘know’ the ‘truth’ of my own perceptions within that unique physical frame; all of this is somehow wonderfully liberating. This is, at least, an inability that we ALL share! There are always going to be ‘surprises’ ahead – and that’s what it is to be alive. Anil Seth is a fascinating companion with whom to share something of the journey in which every one of us is engaged. And I am the more minded to reflect upon the value, or otherwise, of perceptions (what Seth calls ‘controlled hallucinations’) – alongside a regular seeking and inclination to enter into nourishing silence. And flow …

see the book ‘Being You – A New Science of Consciousness’ by Anil Seth

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