Tag: Bowie

I’ll kick this off in the mundane. Today the wife has been to hospital for her Zometa infusion to help strengthen her bones against disease.

——

Tomorrow morning before dawn we will try to get Bowie into her cat carrier and take her up to the vets to have her bits done and vaccinations updated. After that, assuming all goes well, Bowie needs to be indoors for ten days. The stray cat will get central heating…it already knows how to use a litter tray. We should pick her up before close of play tomorrow.

I read in the news that Western Australia is looking to recruit Brits. There is a job going as head of Molecular Sciences at a university in Perth. Unfortunately I no longer fit the bill, nor do I have any referees, so there is no point in me applying. I know {briefly} one senior member of staff there.

After the work done to repair the Clio the lights on the trailer have stopped working. I have isolated the problem {I think} and should be able to have a crack at fixing it. This will save a few hundred euros.

—–

There are many people who might be afraid, bricking it even, after a dream like the one I had this morning. In general people do not speak to/with disembodied dead people. But how else could you speak to a dead person? They are not going to be walking around all meaty and perhaps malodorous, despite however many zombie films/programmes you may have watched. The essence of the dead no longer animates the form. They must by definition {almost} be disembodied.

—-

A lot of people pooh-pooh the notions of ghosts and ghouls and things that go bump in the night. Yet their unwillingness to enter a so-called haunted house at midnight is directly proportional to the volume and adamant nature of their pooh-poohing.

I can make an unverifiable statement.

I have communicated with people who are dead as per the criteria of the medial profession. The number of “people” I have done this with exceeds a dozen, in this lifetime. Some were very distressed, others not, they were simply swinging by.

So, while people may pooh-pooh, I will say, “place your bets”. If you are right then we will never speak again. If not, then maybe you {the disembodied you} might just drop by one evening to say hi. I would resist the urge to say “I told you so…”

There are two different notions of reality here.

1) There exists no communicative entity after death. Alan is therefore a complete loony-tune. He has lost his marbles and is a few cards short of a deck. That a “scientist” like him should fall so low is a shame. Sad.

2) A fragment, a part of the essence of being remains after death and is able to communicate with appropriately skilled beings.

I personally am not overly fussed if people believe me or not. If they are adamant, I would like to invite them to hang out in a haunted house overnight with me. Put your money where your mouth is, balls out and all that. A soap box is a good place, a good height, from which to shit a brick. Armchair and keyboard warriors may feel more courageous in their executive or gaming chair in front of a computer.

In front of peers, and with the courage that proffers, many are insistent that their notion of reality is the only one.

At twilight, in the middle of the bush or on a dark unlit inner city street, the rigidity of that professed reality starts to shimmer, refract and change.

The “reality” if context dependent, is not universally real, it is a perceptual context dependent ersatz.

————

I can switch comfortably between talking about diary entries in mundane physical plane reality and talking with the dead in the wee small hours. I have no need to change my trousers. I know which world I am in and when.

Do you?