Friday, November 02, 2007

Peace/piece of (my) heart/mind - delete as appropriate



Today started out as one of those days when my mind is sorely aware of the hyper-reality messages existence seems to be sending me. There was the inevitable cliché of one magpie, in flight, from my balcony, right past my balcony, level to my balcony, in fact, and I had to greet it and salute it. (Later in the day, I saw another solitary in-flight magpie, from the balcony at work, and I greeted and saluted it, too, but together they make two, so I didn't really need to.)

From the bus window, just before getting off in town to go to work, I saw a child at the window of one of the old town houses. How lovely, it struck me, because these days so few people live in the heart of town in the old buildings, they have all been converted to this and that and the other, mainly offices, how lovely to see a person, and not just any person - a child, a resident of one the old town houses, at his window. Think what it was like, I thought, when people lived there, and looked out of the windows (in the evening, I thought, for some reason, although it was morning when I thought it), to see what went on, on their street, because they had more time for that then and it was good for entertainment. Just as I was thinking this, in the split-second it takes for a thought process to go several paragraphs, the mental image changed into the residents looking out of their windows, during the war years, fearing air raids. Wtf? Where did that come from? And why? And why can't I let lie, why does the next thing I see have to be a naff and garish advert for downhill ski-ing package holidays in the rapidly-to-be-destroyed Lapland, where - rejoice, rejoice, residents of our poor and deprived north - not only us southern affluent folk but also "real" Europeans are beginning to flock to, in increasing numbers, because they aren't getting enough snow anymore in the Alps (we aren't, either, here in the south). And yesyesyes, I know downhill ski-ing is fun and exhilarating, I have tried it once or twice, it is, and we need fun and exhilaration because we don't know how to enjoy anything else these days (we=mankind, here, not you and me in particular), although sinking into the environment, becoming one with the background (yes) that is existence itself, is bliss. What need have we for bliss?

And finally, I saw something I see quite often on my morning trundle - pigeons, drinking from a puddle which often collects in a particular dent in the pavement at the top of the block of my workplace, and why in God's sweet name am I always, without failure, moved by the sight of pigeons drinking from a puddle (it seems meaningful and symbolic of something, and I am reminded here of how thousands of years ago augurs used to read the meaning of life and the intentions of the cosmos from the flight of pigeons, although they did use sheep's entrails, too, which I don't see on my way to work, which is just as well)? What sort of an effing dork am I?

But then, I was almost at work, and had to buckle up and stop receiving cosmic messages of little worth and even less meaning, because people tend to take it all funny if they think (or realise) that's what you're doing. When I came home, I lit candles in my four little squat coloured-glass candle holders and started to work on writing this post, and yes, what the fuck has this been all about?

25 comments:

Merkin said...

'....and yes, what the fuck has this been all about?'

Dunno, but I enjoyed it just the same.

trousers said...

Merkin says it well.

Nice to travel along with someone on their internal journey for a wee while and not need to go anywhere in particular, but marvel at what's happening along the way.

It's good to look beyond the surface and be in touch with the hyper-reality messages anyway (I think you've summed up in that one sentence that whole "Landscapes of the mind" thing that I was writing about).

One thing I was wondering though: is there any symbolism in the fact that after the word failure in the penultimate paragraph, there is a comma which happens to be red?
Or is this just blogger playing tricks with me/you/us?

NMJ said...

Hey Cyberfriend, this gentle collision of thoughts is just lovely.

Hello Trews, You have eagle eyes, you should be a proof-reader.

word ver: pamji - now isn't that just a word you want to say over and over?

xx

Reading the Signs said...

I am awarding you free lifetime membership to the exclusive and extremely selective Society of Readers of the Signs. An advanced sign-reader such as yourself (don't argue, I know one when I see it) obviously knows that it is possible to be infinitely creative in the interpretation of the Signs and, further, that it sometimes behoves one not to commit to any particular interpretation that would confine you or the sign to illuminating one aspect only.

WTF has this all been about? The Signs just are, lady FOMP. A word in your ear: resonances. Or perhaps just become a poet. A lot of sign-readers end up doing that, or if they don't they go bonkers. That's ok too btw.

I think you have possibly hit on a deep an existential truth with the "existence itself is bliss" idea - and even if you are possibly not the very first one to hit on it, who cares? It is born afresh here. I shall carry it with me into the (very bright, golden, ridiculously exuberant) autumn day.

Mwah to you, lady!

Anna MR said...

Merkin - glad you enjoyed it, although sorely disappointed you didn't come here and explain it to me. Now I'll just have to keep on stumbling in the dark, wondering what the hell I've written.

trousers said...

I've done my fair share (if there exists such a thing) of proofreading, NMJ!

Anna MR said...

housut, hello. My internal journey is certainly going nowhere in particular, as you say, but I'm pleased to know you found it a nice look-in. I'll need to go back and have a look at your Landscapes thing - I remember enjoying it very much and recognising something I, too, have experienced from time to time (why do I see places I recognise in dreams, detailed places, with public transport systems and so on and so forth? And others in real life - but they don't tend to be the same, mind), but hadn't thought of it in relation to this post of mine.

But what are you going on about, housut? A red comma? A red comma? I can't see it. No Red Commas here, Officer housut (this conversation is taking a distinctly political turn - I like it).

Anna MR said...

Oho - you snuck in there again, housut, but as you're talking to Ms Legs, my Cyberfriend, I needn't acknowledge you again. Sorted...(hey, joking, okay? Please feel exceedingly free to talk to whomever you may find here, housut, okay? I like it when people connect and talk and stuff, and providing a corner for that makes me happy. There, sorted again. A close shave, though. I could see you getting all worried there, without this explanatory note, even though you hadn't heard what I had to say yet.)

So - Cyberfriend, moi. How are you doing, girlfriend? Alright I hope...lovely seeing you. Pleased you enjoyed the thoughts - collision is a good word, honey, although gentle is not usually a term I use to describe the goings-on inside my cranium. I often use scatty, myself.

And pamji, NMJ, is the term (originating in India, I believe) describing the process of the brain interpreting random everyday events as seemingly meaningful and carrying an existential weight of some sort. Thank you for bringing it with you, today.

xx

Anna MR said...

Princeling of the Pirates, Signreader Supreme, Abbess of the Monastic Order of Virtuality - hello. I am honoured, really and truly, by your visit and your words, and completely blown over by the awarding of a title you come bearing. "Thank you" seems an awfully inadequate response. I hereby solemnly pledge to execute my role as a Fellow of the Society of Readers of the Signs (FSRS) with the best poetic bonkers I can muster.

Very glad and humbled to hear you would carry my pronouncings on the nature of existence into your autumny day. Also lovely to hear it was bright and golden for you, and ridiculously exuberant is just a brilliant term for one of those days. I know them, Signs, I have seen them too, but the gold here is getting sparser - we had snow today, Signs, snow, although not enough of it and it wasn't cold enough for it to really stay, but anyway, gold is turning into ice here. Although, astoundingly, we have had two afternoons this last week of sunshine - a freakish thing for November - and I noted that as it is about to set (at around four-thirty pm, and it is only going to get earlier and earlier, for nearly two months yet - I am a darkness-dweller, Signs, and no mistake), the low November sun gives the most golden light possible, as if it's squeezing out a final concentrate of all gold remaining, until it's too late and there's no time left for gold to appear.

Incidentally - I hope your Friday night worked well, and that my projected ethereal substance settled for making the curtains billow slightly, or flickering the candles a little, rather than going more full-on startlingly poltergeisty-outrageous. I can never fully control her, once she's sent out...

Mwah's right back atcha, lady. Lovely to have you visit, come again soon.

Anna MR, FSRS

(man, that looks good)

But Why? said...

I do find work a very terrible intrusion on such days, and it has robbed us of more fine wanderings of the minds. Ooooh, work makes me angry sometimes...

Payjummo: Financial reward after a satisfactory appraisal.

Anna MR said...

Mutta Butkins (I take it you're off duty, it being a Sunday and all that, so no Tri today), you are right - work can be a curse. I, unfortunately, teeter precariously on the edges of (shhhh) loving my job, so I can't complain too much, which is really rather outrageously terrible, because complaining is good for the soul. But even in a job you love, you can't be seen to be receiving cosmic messages of little worth and less meaning, which can be considered either a blessing, or a grave loss to the collective bollocks of mankind. Possibly both.

I love your word ver, by the way. 'Snuff said. May you have a payjummo first thing tomorrow morning, Mutta. In the meantime, enjoy your Sunday, girl.

x

Reading the Signs said...

What the bxpofn (thank you, word ver leppies) is going on here? Either it looks, and is, all different or I am going as bonkers as I think I am. But anyway, what I really came here to say is thanks for glimmering so radiantly in Lewes the other day. I was going to come and warn you about smoking fags in a library but then realised that astrally projected personages can do what they like and decided there and then to do a lot more of it myself - smoking fags and astral projection, I mean. I hope you enjoyed the wine spritzer, the nag champa incense and the music, also the demented pumpkin. I'll book you in for a few more gigs, if that's ok.

Anna MR said...

Sweet Signs - not only are you incredibly perceptive ("Either it looks, and is, all different"), but also only you have so far been adventurous enough to say something here. No wonder you're a poet.

Anyway - I'm very glad indeed that I behaved myself in Lewes. Phew. It is always a worry, because I would be mortified if I'd got up to some of my more unsavoury tricks. Please keep the possibility of these in mind, if you do indeed book me for another event. Or several. Which I would, naturally, love, because, well, I'd love to be there. Please note my poetic eloquence, which I took out specially to thank you for your perceptive adventurousness, mentioned in the opening of this reply. Mwah and mwah, you will receive a prize or something, Signs, when all's said and done. xx

That's so pants said...

Hi Anna

Re magpies - I think you have to see two together to get the 'joy' thing happening. Try only to see them in spring is my advice.

Love the new look btw.

xxx

Pants

Anna MR said...

Pants! How lovely to see you find your way here, and thank you, I'm delighted you love the new look (it is beautiful, is it not? I love it too, I will tell you that for free). Less delighted, though, that you seem to think a sum total of magpies is not acceptable. Hmmmm. Mighty glad I greeted and saluted both, now, because I am told by a reliable source that wards off the sorrow.

Good idea about the spring, though. I'll try to keep that in mind.

xxx

But Why? said...

"...the collective bollocks of mankind."

Not a concept I'd ever pondered, but one which I suspect is worthy of deep consideration. I think I might just do that as I walk to work this morning.

Anna MR said...

But Mutta, how can that be ("Not a concept I'd ever pondered")? However did you make it to your PhD without doing so? Now quick quick, chop chop, off you go to ponder. The collective cause of mankind needs you and your input, Doctor. You mustn't let us down. I look forward to finding out about your discoveries and inventions in the times to come...

(and don't forget, depending on the nature of your job, working hours can sometimes also be utilised for this type of fruitful and creative brain activity)

trousers said...

Nice to see your little kitty-in-a-basket all high and mighty and looking down on the planet. Such is the rightful place of a feline :)

But Why? said...

Anna,

I would be most pleased to consider at a later point the collective bollocks of mankind. However, I would like, if I may, to clarify the type of bollocks I should be considering - hairy, or management?

Anna MR said...

Hei housut, well done for finding your way here (I believe you got here before the addition of the clarifying button). Yes, you are right, Kisumisu the kitten is enjoying herself up there in space. I actually think it is really sweet - I don't usually go for cute but I think she is too adorable, all minute and blending in with her backdrop of space and playing with her red ball there amongst the heavenly bodies. She started her life as a he, but has mutated from representing the black (tom)cats I have loved and have lost to being my alter ego. Perched up there in the heavens she reminds me of a William S. Burroughs book, actually - my ex-husband was into Burroughs in a big way, and although I can see why someone would be, his stuff wasn't and isn't really my thing - but there's one book, quite a late one, if not his final novel, called Western Lands, which I did like a lot. It features, amongst other threads, a little black cat, who seems to conquer death and continue living a little black cat's life, playing with time and life and death and the universe and everything.

Hoping all is well in the house of housut, housut, and sorry about the lateness of this reply.

Anna MR said...

But Mutta - hairy. Without a shadow of a doubt, and particularly given the choice you offer. Management bollocks is most emphatically not the sort of bollocks I speak of when I say I wish to add to the sum total of the collective bollocks of mankind. (Mind you, I don't personally add a great deal to the other sort you mention, either.) I would also, or possibly in particular, like you to carefully consider the seemingly nonsensical chinwagging, keyboard splurges, shooting the shit, kiss the Blarney stone and talk bollocks sort of bollocks (which, for instance, a long time ago, in another thread, had me claiming the Blarney stone had kissed me). I believe both the future and the salvation of mankind, both collectively as well as individually for its, well, individual members, lies therein.

That, Tohtori Mutta, is the sort of bollocks I refer to, my sort of bollocks. Now please, put your brainpower into proper use and consider the matter most carefully. If you can get paid to do so, you get a special award, I promise you.

But Why? said...

I shall dutifully consider your type of bollocks over the coming week, regardless of any payjummo which may result. I accept this task as being simply a necessary thing for the common weal. Any findings shall of course be reported in a suitable peer-reviewed journal.

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