Category: Mantra

ॐ, buddhism, Cause & Effect, Karma, Mantra, Meditations, Poetry, Rāja yoga, Yoga

Golden Lotus

Floating free in the æther

the golden lotus

swirls on the pond

of inner sacred space

–

Om Ah Hum

Three Petals open

Om Ah Hum

Then three more

Om Ah Hum

Now there are nine

–

Perfect kernel of wisdom

still clasps tight knowledge

sealed within its naked bud

radiant magnificence

–

Sat upon the leaves of gold

the sea electric

whirlpools round

an ice blue vortex

all wisps and whispers

–

Call in the fire

the lightning snakes

Strikes once

Strikes twice

–

A dual conveyor

one going up

one coming down

the blue electric fire

–

Now tinted with indigo

deeper and more vibrant

ocean deep

and current strong

–

The bud rises on its

Auric pin

stretching

the snakes and ladders

pulsing now, a heart

–

The bud rotates

and finally yields

through open wings

peeling chrysalis back

to show brilliance

–

Pure ecstatic white

faceted with stardust

crispest Diamond

sparkles like February’s

coldest dew at dawn

–

The jewel levitates

and starts to turn

gaining brilliance

with each revolution

–

Behold resplendent!!

–

The Jewel in the Centre of the Lotus

–

Om Mane Padme Hum

Cause & Effect, Climate Change, Karma, Mantra, Musings, paradigm, Quotations, Vision

Supply and Demand – The Oxymoron of Growth

There is a very simple fact; endless economic growth as it is currently perceived is inconsistent with our continued planetary existence. Unless we fulfil science-fiction and leave behind our scorched and desolate Earth in cryochambers for another “Goldilocks” planet we will not survive as a species. We cannot sustain this greedy locust paradigm.

Who is to blame?

Evil tempting technology or our hungry birds in a nest clamour for shiny toys? Without our demand for gadgets and trinkets, there would be no supply. Of course, purveyors of such trinkets will tempt us, but do we have to succumb?

This paradigm of economic {but not spiritual} growth is getting a bit long in the tooth. It started a couple of hundred years ago.

We do not need to fly to {unspoiled} destinations in the middle of an ocean to send back fatuous on-line content for our followers and paymasters. We have Zoom, Teams, Skype and perhaps Telepathy.

Our computers here are eight and four years old. There is no need for a new one every year. Once a decade is probably OK.

The melting point of Silicon is 1,400˚C.

“Silica is the dioxide form of silicon (SiO2) and occurs naturally in the form of quartz. While beach sand is also largely quartz, the most common raw material for electronic grade is high purity quartz rock.  Ideally the silica has low concentrations of iron, aluminum and other metals. The silica is reduced (oxygen removed) through a reaction with carbon in the form of coal, charcoal and heating to 1500-2000 °C in an electrode arc furnace.

SiO2 + C → Si + CO2

The resulting silicon is metallurgical grade silicon (MG-Si). It is 98% pure and is used extensively in the metallurgical industry.”

Electronic Grade Silicon

A small amount of the metallurgical grade silicon is further refined for the semiconductor industry. Powdered MG-Si is reacted with anhydrous HCl at 300 °C in a fluidized bed reactor to form SiHCl3

Si + 3HCl → SiHCl3 + H2

During this reaction impurities such as Fe, Al, and B react to form their halides (e.g. FeCl3, AlCl3, and BCl3). The SiHCl3 has a low boiling point of 31.8 °C and distillation is used to purify the SiHCl3 from the impurity halides. The resulting SiHCl3 now has electrically active impurities (such as Al, P, B, Fe, Cu or Au) of less than 1 ppba.

Finally, the pure SiHCl3 is reacted with hydrogen at 1100°C for ~200 – 300 hours to produce a very pure form of silicon.

SiHCl3 + H2 →Si + 3 HCl”

Everyone who uses semiconductors, in mobile ‘phones, computers, tablets, Televisions, printers, cars, Fitbits and perhaps even “intelligent” sex-toys has a Silicon footprint too! Your precious gigabyte images are stored in the “cloud” which sounds all nice and fluffy. But the cloud is energy hungry servers which need vast amounts of cooling.

So not only do you have a Carbon footprint you have a Silicon footprint too!

How do you spend you Silicon budget?

How much Silicon do you use?

If we continue to consume and hence make demand, those fond of a buck or two will supply. Simple.

We do not need anywhere near as much as we demand and take. We have become accustomed to our vampiric interaction with the planet, sucking the blood out of it, ripping out its lungs {forests}, defecating plastic into its oceans and burning up its energy reserves to fly to St. Barts.  

We need to grow as a humanity so that we are no longer beholden to our materialistic addictions.

Until such time as we manage to escape the clutches of this misguided materialistic economic  “growth” mantra we will continue to repeat our folly until the planet becomes nearly uninhabitable. If we and our livestock are the only animal species left what then? There will be no tropical reefs to waste air miles on, no alpine glaciers to ski down, no birds to watch in the wetlands and no sharks for our shark fin soup.

Will we take selfies at the biological meat production facilities?

Or will we queue at the spaceport for planet Goldilocks hoping that the rising tide will not engulf us before blast off?

There is no Planet B!!

Dreams, Juxtaposition, Mantra, Poetic Prose

Sam Gates of the Red Berets

It was five thirty in the morning when the alarm went off and Sam reached wearily over the ashtray to turn it off.  Christ he felt like crap this morning. Coughing he reached for his Marlboros and lit one. The acrid smoke hit the back of his throat and he coughed some more. Slowly he made his way through the first of the day, pausing to spit into a tissue. He didn’t remember going to bed last night and hoped he hadn’t done anything too stupid. In the front room he saw the empty crisp packets and cans of Stella. So that was where all his dole money had gone. It had been years since he left the paratroop regiment, the shrapnel in his knee still spoke to him of the weather. Here in his tiny little flat there was not much glory anymore.

When the kettle boiled, he made man coffee. It was as strong as an ox and as dark as the night. He sat on his step outside to smell the sea air and smoke some more. A pint or so later he was ready to face the world. There was a job going at Sainsbury’s for security and today he had an interview. Showered, shaved, suited and booted he now set off, wondering what sort of weak chinned school leaver was waiting to condescend him. Monitors are only dangerous to sanity he thought, no IEDs in Cardiff, well not yet at least. He wondered if he could cope with the inevitable bleep as the barcodes scanned the sheep through the tills, how long could he stay before he lost it? Strange, how it had all come to this. If only he had kept quiet.  Para Gates had gone beyond and when he came back he was changed.

Here in this plain part of the universe, he was an unemployed ex-soldier scrimping to make ends meet. When he had the money he slept with Stella and with Becks, otherwise it was Special Brew. These kept his world intact and helped him cope with the Double in him, his other self.  As he pulled into the car park, it was already busy, all buggies, died hair and fake tan. Round the back he found the entrance and reported in.

“You are a little early Mr Gates, please take a seat.   Please can we see your passport so that we can satisfy the UK Border agency requirements…..”

He handed his passport over and wondered about garrotting that boy, thinking to himself as the lad turned; “Pull up your trousers and get a haircut!!”

He looked at the date on his watch, today is a full moon and that meant much to him. He would go later to Nash Point to soak in the sea and the sound of the Atlantic, and the Irish Sea. At this time of year and at midweek it will be empty.

As he sat there listening to that clock click its fingers of eternity, the smell of the place filled his nostrils. Not one ounce of hope here, no excitement only day after day. The carpet was a little tatty and frayed at the edges. The youth had disappeared behind some screen and he could hear the strident early morning gossip from the office beyond. He didn’t care who had been on the X Factor or who had been un-friend-ed on Facebook™.  Soon he knew he had been forgotten and he started to drift.

First he felt that hint of incense on the air and then clear clean mountain air. Next, sinking into himself he began;

“gate, gate, para gate, para samgate… gate, gate, para gate, para samgate, Bodhi svaha”

A little off the main causeway to the stars in the land of Buddhi he saw the Temple steps cut into the mountain side. They were waiting for him. Now dressed in his robes and with his vajra and bell he began the procession up the hillside. They gathered in their hundreds. In file they climbed the stairway and poured into the Temple courtyard. Chanting purification he led them on. In the courtyard he paused until they all were there. Together they looked south to the snow capped Himalaya resplendent in the dazzling morning sun. When they were ready the doors to the outer chamber opened and they filed in. Some sat on mats where they belonged, few stood still. And then he moved to the white febrile door carved intricate and ivory. He opened the door and there on the dais sat Kumara and the three Buddhas. 

He brought his palms together and inclined his head in a bow. He touched his thumbs to his ajna, his mouth and his heart, Bodhi, mind and Spirit. He moved into that august place, others following him. Some took their places in the seats on the right and the left. He went forward to stand before. There in his white, white robes, he showered in the pillar of light. 

“Sit now where you belong, oh blessed one…”

The service continued all around him and when the time was right he began again, as was his custom.

“gate, gate, para gate, para samgate… gate, gate, para gate, para samgate, Bodhi svaha”

Soon the white room, his in that ineffable place, set aside from the main Temple complex, began to take shape. It was in a quiet part just to the side of the main rose garden. Soon he was in his foyer next to the marble wash basin. He washed his hands and walked past his little armoury into his room. It was just as he had remembered it, his piano, the flowers and his sleeping quarters. The windows at the end letting the light warm the tiled floor. He must dress now. His tunic white fitted snug over his mail and the blood red cross brilliant on his chest. From the cabinet he took his sword and scabbard, belting them on; he picked up his spear and held it left. Now he was ready.

He made his way into the complex. In the corridors he met Cederic his aide and batman. They embraced and hugged. Cederic’s face still bore the marks of many a campaign and so many times had they stood back to back. Cederic too wore the rosy cross and sword. Today they would meet again, the council of nine.

At that table seven were already sat with Noh at the head, our very own Gandalf the White. No one knows His name but His magnificence speaks enough, whiter than white with eyes that sparkle like nebulae. Now all seated the meeting begins.

When they were done and roles assigned it began. Down the chiselled stone corridors he and Cederic went to the antechamber door, carved of darkest wood with the crossed sword and spear emboldened out of it. The door opens and ahead is the simple altar clothed in white and crossed in red.  Before it he and Cederic halted again clasping palms together, thence to touch Bodhi, mind and Spirit. Genuflecting each drew out his sword and lay them on the floor before the altar, there to prostrate. Replacing swords in scabbards they move forward into the first hall. Together they draw and raise swords skywards. The blue flame of the One Power is virulent in the partial darkness shimmering along the length of the blades and dancing like serpents.

“Fey-da-yin! Fey-da-yin! Fey-da-yin!”

He calls into the darkness and slowly robed and hooded in grey, figures emerge out of the darkness, called to fulfil an aeonial oath.

“Fey-da-yin! Fey-da-yin! Fey-da-yin!”

The figures now congregate and as he stabs the air a host of swords join theirs to create a spark fantastic which illuminates the cavern. They come from all the bands, scattered across the universe. They come to the call of Fey-da-yin.

Collected now behind him they file into the next chamber, huge and vaulted with stall seats all around its circle circumference. Each of the grey joins his fellows and soon this room too is filled. Their numbers now are much, much larger and the place is filled with murmur and greetings.  Cederic is now seated.

He lays down the spear, touches hands together as before and prostrates. He stands holding the spear in his left hand and he cries out again:

“Fey-da-yin! Fey-da-yin! Fey-da-yin!”

The spear head now diamond bright with utter radiance illuminates the many. All around blades are drawn and raised and voices join;

“Fey-da-yin! Fey-da-yin! Fey-da-yin!”

Now we are ready.

In procession they march into the vast, vast Temple proper. At the front are the seven sitting behind the altar. He and Cederic take stage in front of the altar and before the crowd. On that marble slab lies only a single yellow rose still fresh with the morning dew.

Noh stands and approaches the altar, he turns and hands the spear to Noh’s open palms. He bows and turns on his heels to join Cederic. Together they stand side by side. As one they draw and raise The Swords of Power they show them to the crowd and call out into the cavernous expanse;

“Atl’aman, Atl’aman, Atl’aman!!”

They parade The Swords a while and then re-sheath them. Cederic takes his seat on the side of the stage. He turns to the altar and bowing receives the Spear from Noh. He turns and raises The Spear of Destiny aloft, a point of brilliance, blue-white diamonds sparkle from it and he again calls;

“Atl’aman, Atl’aman, Atl’aman!!”

walking around the stage as he does so.

When the time is right Cederic joins him and alone the two of them file out that place the way they had come. The hush envelopes them and only their steps can be heard resounding. Now they are in the corridor and alone together.

“Mr Gates, Mr Sam Gates?” he hears a voice calling. He opens his eyes.

“Mr Gates?”

“Yes, that is me..”

“I am sorry but Mr Jones, the manager, has told me that the interviews today are cancelled. We are not taking on any more staff. It’s the recession you see. Here is your passport and thank you for coming…”

He steps outside that chamber and into the fresh morning air. He lights a Marlboro and inhales. Oh well, at least he can go to Nash Point this afternoon and after that, buy some Special Brew to help him sleep and numb him for the evening’s telly.

Cause & Effect, Climate Change, Mantra, Mental Health, Musings, paradigm

The Throw Away Society

In  our current society there is a tendency to throw things away and that includes people. Jacinda Ardern has resigned, worn out, perhaps utterly knackered. These days there is not only the job to do but endless harping to endure. In the “wise” western world people are measured by things like performance metrics, requiring one to achieve more, year after year. This is especially true in “sales”. People “burn out” and are jettisoned to gardening leave or early retirement. Perhaps all they need is a year away from the hamster wheel. But no there are the young up and coming cannon fodder to feed into the hungry cogs of the meat grinder. So, they must trot off into the sunset.

And now dishy Rishi is suggesting that we entice the over 50s back into the work place. What for, some more metrical idiocy? More pissing up against the urinal wall? Once one has said foxtrot this for a game of soldiers, would one look to re-join the madness?

To my eyes this phenomenon of “burn out” is a symptom of the idiotic growth paradigm. People talk about growth but they forget that cancer is also a growth of sorts. In our case the “growth” eats the planetary and human resource at a tremendous and unsustainable rate. If capable people cannot sustain the effort demanded and required of them in the workplace, is it their fault or simply a systemic inadequacy? Is the frantic frenetic world it is my postulate that the current paradigm needs a radical overhaul. Hundreds of millions of people suffer so-called mental health problems because they find themselves at odds with the apparent demands of the throw away paradigm. Life is stressful if one is for ever measured against some arbitrary ruler.

“Is my cock sufficiently big to work in this august and noble company?”

I have met many people in and around my age, who remain very able and capable. Yet they have taken or were forced into, early retirement. They are societal jetsam, though materially comfortably off. All the young guns are free to make exactly the same mistakes as those who have gone before and who learned the hard way. That advice is no longer available, it is out walking its Labrador and is a regular visitor to the garden centre tea shop.

So now the young and thrusting will have to work until they are ~70 in order to pay the pensions and health provision of those who have been jettisoned early. Smart move, methinks. Dishy Rishi is of the generation that got rid of the likes of me.

People throw away those who do not conform to some rigid person specification made up on a spreadsheet and laden with bullet points. I have sat in interviews watching people check things off a list. I was thinking that these dudes are wankers and there is no point throwing pearls before swine. They were complexly unaware as to what was transpiring in the moment, fixated on their check list and unable to listen properly. They had never written a business plan which raised £5 million yet they were judging me on my entrepreneurial ability as per their omniscient spreadsheet.  Doh…

I thanked them for giving me the opportunity, they had no idea as to what I meant by that. They were oblivious to my nuance of tone. Autoproctology had them.

So, not only do we throw away plastic, we throw away people and talent all in the name of “Growth” which is in many ways an oxymoron. Stagnation of paradigm is not growth or change, it is stagnation. People do not evolve if they do the same shit over and over again…

lyrical poetry, Mantra, New Age, Poetry

I am a Magical Being of the Universe

Before the beginning of time

the seed of cosmic stardust

was sown into the primordial Aether

there to create all the incandescent gold of me

–

Forged on the very Anvil of beingness

I am folded fine, thousands of times

the edge of my Soul shines sharp and brilliant

a clarion bell brimming full of galactic potential

–

My consciousness is not transfixed here

it encompasses all that there is and has been

it extends far, far into the aeonial future

I, the real I, know no limits

I have no chains

–

My beingness is seeped deep profound with pure white Magic

I have capacities which transcend my limited imagination

my power as both a God and a man knows no bounds

I, the alpha and omega, am a fiery circle of God’s ineffable intent

I am at one with His will and I burn within, a desert bush on a mountain side

–

I seek all the wonders of creation beneficent with the gifts most sublime

I hold each treasure, each sparkle delight of 24 carat gold dust in my innermost core

the essence of eternity coats my translucent dragon wings as I soar among nebulae

I sail beyond the event horizon of this mundane life into dimensions without parallel

I have no chains

–

Known, unknown and unknowable

I am a Magical being of the Universe

a star child born in space

who dances each second of his time

here, on earth, where it really matters.

Cause & Effect, Climate Change, Mantra, Mental Health, Musings, paradigm

Is the “world” we live in making us happy?

The answer is a big fat no.

Societal pressures, the obsession with photoshopped and filtered images and smartphone addictions are seemingly driving us “crazy”. To my eyes rejecting a way of living which makes us miserable is in fact sanity. If people are being shoe-horned into a broken society no wonder they are unhappy.

I worked in pastoral care for a while and if I was still doing it and read this article from the Independent below, I would be pretty damn concerned. This suggests that 1 in 4 youngsters are estimated to have a mental health problem.  Can the purveyors of SSRIs keep up with the demand?

———————————————————

It comes as recent NHS figures showed that 25 per cent of 17- to 19-year-olds are now estimated to have a mental health problem – up from 17 per cent last year.

In an interview with The Independent, Ms Cordery warned: “I was talking to a [NHS trust] chief executive the other day who was telling me their sense that what’s happened to mental health over the last few years – in terms of people suffering with these conditions and disorders – is like a parallel pandemic. I would agree with that assessment.”

“We’ve really got to address the significant, unmet need for mental health care”.

Mental health issues “flew under the radar” as the NHS battled the Covid pandemic, she suggested, and since then there has been a rise in the numbers requiring help and accessing services.

“And those are just the ones we know about,” Ms Cordery said. “The situation we have to worry about is the people who haven’t come forward for care.”

She also warned the problem could worsen as the cost of living crisis risks exacerbating mental health problems.

The crisis is predicted to have two consequences. The first is a rise in the number of people who experience mental health problems for the first time, while the second is that some who already suffer will find their mental health decline.

Rosena Allin-Khan, shadow mental health minister, said: “Demand for mental health treatment continues to grow, with many patients, including children, languishing for days in emergency departments, waiting for a mental health bed.

“The government simply doesn’t have a handle on the crisis. Without access to timely treatment, mental illnesses only worsen.”

————————————————————–

Is there really a mental health problem or do we need an entirely new societal paradigm? If 25 % are deemed as having a mental health problem, who is doing the deeming? What are the metrics?

What happens when 51% have a mental health problem? Who will be in charge then?

Earlier this year we had Truss chanting the free market growth mantra. That went down like a lead balloon for the markets. The trickle down effect sounds like the aftermath of a risky fart when one has diarrhoea.

It is all so very old and dated.

The argument that a pay review body is “fair” to the unions is a manipulative attempt at spin and misdirection.  

Patrician: we have set it out so that everyone gets a “fair” share. Now settle down and be a good pleb…

Plebian: yes, massah, thank you for being so kind and magnanimous.

It is a bit Orwellian. “All pigs are equal; some pigs are more equal than others, don’t you know old chap.”

Fact It is impossible to sustain infinite economic growth on a planet of finite resource. The growth paradigm is illogical and unsustainable. This is particularly so as resource will need to be redirected to mitigate the destruction incoming due to climate change.

A good way to address the so-called mental health problem is to admit that the current societal paradigm has stopped functioning, it is broken and not fit for purpose.

It needs replacing but I don’t know with what as yet.

Stopping trying to shoe-horn people into the old ways is a good starter for ten.

buddhism, Cause & Effect, Mantra, paradigm, Personal Development, Philosophy and Buddhism

That Infernal Internal Dialogue.

One from the vaults…”pain is inevitable suffering optional”

—

Earlier on this year I was overcome by a very strong sense of how much apparent suffering there is in the world, and I mean that more in the sense of angst, fear and frustrated desire than in the sense of genuine suffering. For most people in the west life is relatively speaking, comfortable. Even if times are financially difficult the vast majority do not have to exist under the conditions in refugee camps such as Dafur; so many are unhappy and actually quite grumpy about their lot. The world then has to it a sense of malaise or disease, in which most are not at ease with themselves nor their life conditions. I was filled with a sense of deep love for my fellow humanity and the folly which creates and perpetuates this sense of malaise.

As such I was drawn to the word’s of Shantideva’s Bodhisattva vows:

As long as diseases afflict living beings

May I be the doctor, the medicine

And also the nurse

Who restores them to health.

Altruistic and life affirming as these sentiments no doubt are there are some people who do not want to change, nor lift themselves out of the apparent suffering in which they live.  I have pondered long and hard as to what causes most of this apparent suffering and it is fairly plain to see that it is that infernal internal dialogue which is causative of apparent suffering. Through what we say to ourselves we create our own sense of reality and for some that is infernal, or a living hell of sorts. So my premise for today is:

Our internal dialogue is the cause of most of our apparent suffering, as such it is not our friend rather our own self created enemy.

The basis of neuro linguistic programming (NLP) and cognitive behaviour therapy (CBT) is that reality and behaviours can be changed by altering both what we say to ourselves about stuff and how we act within this self created framework. People live life in a manner which is very much akin to building a house. As we evolve, we lay the foundations in youth, the first bricks in early adulthood and leave a gap perhaps for cavity wall insulation. We then construct the rest of the house as life progresses. The nature of our construct does not change that much as it evolves and apart from a few variations the basic design is set at some point in the past. The extent to which our house differs from the others on the housing estate which is humanity speaks volumes on our individual tendency towards being avant garde or herd like. The house, the castle, is what ever we tell ourselves it is or aspire to.  We build our lives by telling ourselves all sorts of stories about ourselves, our capacities, our desires. These stories are often heavily influenced by our peers, the media and the times. In our talking both internally and with others we create our own “reality” and our shared “reality”.

Internal dialogue is very repetitive and as such it is our internal mantra. These dialogues of course vary, though perhaps not quite to the extent that one might first imagine. Some of the dramatic elements are common and shared, these might be related to house, children, jobs, careers, health, holidays, religion, sex, food, drinking and television based entertainment. These are the building blocks of the common dream, that larger housing estate upon which we build our own little houses. 

Our internal dialogue is often of a very comparative nature, discussing whether we are as good as our peers, better than them and whether our house matches up to our own expectations and the perceived expectations of others. Much of this dialogue creates an imaginary and self limiting reality in which we are forever unhappy because we fail to live up to expectations. In a very real sense we conspire with each other to limit and by and large strive towards the lower common denominator called social acceptance. My guess is that the self esteem, self confidence and self belief of many is way lower than any outer presentation to the world.  Most of all internal dialogue is the most fertile of grounds through which fears are propagated and amplified by the means of collective mind.  Internal dialogue provides for us all a justification as to why it is foolish to try something entirely new and perhaps even slightly unknown. It breeds an infernal fear of ill health, death and dying and a terror of complete social exclusion; and in so doing creates an earthly hell of sorts.  The desire for longevity is misplaced. When my sell by date is up I hope to be taken off the shelves and not to be left there to rot.

Internal dialogue bolsters the sense of shared victimhood and “it is not fair” mentality. When, if one is detached, it is easy to see that for most people in the western world, there is really not that much to be grumpy about. There are relatively few who face starvation and gang rape on a daily basis. That might be something to complain about!!

Much internal dialogue centres around the concept of physical beauty and sexual attractiveness in which access to horizontal jogging is placed a little too high on the great mantelpiece of life. The vast tracts of advertising imagery based upon idealised physical forms, fashion and lifestyle, acts as an accelerant to the fire of internal dialogue, through which the comparative fire of mind says we are not good enough. Very few stop to ponder on the fact that physical beauty can in it self be a real curse. Internal dialogue is mostly about the form side of life and where we may or may not stand in some imaginary pecking order.

The plethora of fears associated with diet, health, exercise and longevity fill the mind with a mass of bric-a-brac such that the thoughts and sounds of internal dialogue are like so many young birds in a nest clamouring for the parental worm. The internal dialogue needs and demands constant feeding, as such it is a harsh master. There is simply no space or room amidst all that noise to stand back and consider about where life is going. The apparent urgency of internal dialogue causes the days, months, years and decades to flash past like an express train. The desires of the internal dialogue appear paramount and are rarely, if ever, sated.

My experience of most internal dialogues is that they are filled with such words as you can’t, you should, you ought to, that is normal, you have failed, that is not what is done here and would daddy be proud of that? For many there is a relative cacophony of entirely negative thought forms which create a climate of some grim application to life.  This is so very familiar that, just like heroin, it is very addictive.  Internal dialogue needs a fresh score every morning and to be shared with all the other pushers within our social circle whom we might choose to call friends. The reality is that pushers are criminals and hence we the junkies and the pushers are all, partners in crime.

I am going to make another premise here:

You are not your internal dialogue

This might seem mildly radical but it is true. If you can examine your internal dialogue from a detached view then, you are not it. In any case much of what you say to yourself is a pack of lies with which you have created your own mythos, your precious self image. The internal dialogue does not like to be challenged and is very defensive. Most conversation is shared internal dialogue and is mutually bolstering.

For the reader of a religious bent I have a simple question which points directly at the folly of internal dialogue; does God care about whether you are pretty, have a large cock, a nice car, a fashionable wardrobe or if you achieve the national average of extended multiple orgasms each week? Is Buddha all that interested? I suspect not. Viewed from this angle the contents of most internal dialogue are “chitta” which is onomatopoeic and exactly like the sound of birds in a nest. If you were about to die, would you really be bothering as to whether Mr Jones’ new Audi looked better than your Volkswagen?

Perhaps as a beginning it might help to look at the interaction between internal dialogue and fear, which is the very basis of the corrupt and manipulative insurance industry. This plays directly on the fear of losing possessions, accidents etc. and is a part of the fabric of the blame culture which abounds today. If you are stupid enough to trip over a paving stone is it really the fault of the council for putting it there? I don’t think so. Deep down everyone knows this, but the litigious “victim” can these days seek recompense. “I didn’t deserve to trip up…”

The fear of litigation is a product of the internal dialogue which supports the blame culture. It is always someone else’s fault!! If you had not been stuck up in your mind, within the circles of your internal dialogue, you might have been sufficiently wide awake to look where you are going.

In what way does the chitta in the mind reinforce all your fears, how does it limit you and above all does it make you at ease and happy? The internal dialogue is one of humanity’s major diseases and my prescription is first of all to become aware of your own internal dialogue and then simply to stop doing it.

If you must have internal dialogue then your mantra might be; “I am a Magical Being of the Universe”. Try this and as the saying goes; “Trust me I am a Doctor!”

Mantra, Musings, paradigm, Prophecy, Satire

Ministry of Truth and Dumbed Down Political Mantra

“Ein Volk, ein Reich, ein Führer!”

It is sad that modern day politicians have learned to ape Hitler and Goebbels with their dumbed down quaisi hypnotic mantra. Save the NHS. Get Brexit Done. Make America Great Again. Don’t they see what they are doing? Don’t they care? Don’t they realise this is the thin end of the wedge?

I know let’s have huge worshipful rallies…with MAGA baseball caps. Badges? Emblems? Flags? Posters?

This is the wrong use of ceremonial magic or order. Hitler the black magician knew exactly what he was doing.

Apparently, people were doing fascist salutes in Italy yesterday.

The Orwellian prediction of the post truth and hyper spin epoch, where things are polarised by mantra is stark. Now people are redacting the past, removing statues of slave owners and allowing people with penises to use women’s changing rooms. {One dare not argue against this.} They refuse to answer questions in prime minister’s question time and television interviews. They withhold statistics and data from mini-budgets. They write lies on the side of big red buses. They send out their underlings to squirm defending the indefensible.

They may expect us to blackwhite what we are told. {To accept whatever one is told, regardless of the facts. In the novel, it is described as “…to say that black is white when [the Party says so]” and “…to believe that black is white, and more, to know that black is white, and to forget that one has ever believed the contrary”.}

They even make a voyeuristic programme called the big brother house. There are dating shows where one can see a full frontal fanny or a cock before deciding to date. Never in human history has there been so much surveillance of populace. It is much reduced here out in the sticks in France when compared to genteel Surrey and Hampshire.

Are we getting via artificial intelligence towards facecrime — A facial expression which reveals that one has committed thoughtcrime?

My computer keeps asking me if I want to use facial recognition to log on.

At the moment there is a propaganda war going on in parallel with a killing war, so we are told.

The British newspapers say things like “a terrible blow for Putin” and “mad Vlad”. I don’t see it reported so stupidly here. I read Reuters and it seems much more measured than the ridiculous reporting in some UK papers.

Thanks to NSA and GCHQ we are close to telescreen — A two-way television set with which the Party spy upon Oceania’s population.

We all did some zoom, teams, Skype, etc. during the pandemic. We have two way screens in our pockets and on our desks. For some these are quasi-umbilical.

Politicians break the law and then claim that they did not. They argue they are malquoted — Inaccurate representations of the words of Big Brother and of the Party.

 Why do people wriggle and squirm to avoid answering simple questions?

Are we all hypnotised by Minitrue — The Ministry of Truth, who manufacture consent by way of lies, propaganda, and distorted historical records, while supplying the proles (proletariat) with synthetic culture and entertainment?

Thank God for “Strictly Come Dancing” I say…

Orwell was sadly visionary…