McKenna

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went to see a fascinating talk by Dennis McKenna yesterday, hosted by club imaginal
he covered an impressive coagulation of material in 2 hours, mostly with aplomb… occasionally at a plod… consciousness and psychedelics
i came away with the notion that perceived reality is a mental construct, the realm we inhabit a symbolic hallucination
that and the extent to which we, and all living things are, whether we realise it or not, in profound symbiosis with the plants
not new ideas, but well expressed… as with many of these talks some of the science is speculative (a smidgin spurious)… but dennis equally stressed the importance of poetic insight
are the plant guides external or internal? he was refreshingly agnostic about that
a priviledge to have the opportunity to see and hear these counter cultural icons… not quite the firebrand like his brother, but 50 years working in the field of ethno botany is an impressive haul
me.. wafflesome as ever, was still thinking of it this morning, marshland awash with mallows, bike got a puncture so a long purple push in which to admire them! fractal
pink blush of blackberry blossom, the purple tinge to the thorns, stain and harbringer of the coloured fruit to come
‘amongst ungulants’, as soon as our hominid anscestors left the cradle of our arboreal home, dabbling with fire, following the herds, curious mushroom guzzlers, consciousness flowering, dwell midst this the radiant (528) frequency of hathor

olga da polga

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olga da polga! the guinea pig with a dramatic flair and a penchant for elaborating almost everything
many guffaws as a child… and in turn reading them to my kids
oh and he wrote paddington too… RIP

https://www.theguardian.com/…/jun/28/michael-bond-obituary

Mel: And a love for Tommy Tittlemouse!!!

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ha! born to everyones suprise on ants birthday, tittlemouses oedipal relationship with his mother founded a dynasty, before being banished to live out his days munching grass in grannys park… sounds like something out of caligula … but the guineas were fab! x

solstice stones

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happy solstice! may fire and passion blaze forever in your hearts
… and if your british, wear red knickers on your head and prance around an ancient stone circle at dawn (again)
just back from a 5Rhythms crew overnight adventure jaunt to the stones
how was stonehenge? bizarre, motley, chaotic and really rather wonderful!
yes of course everybody and their grandmother was there, waving there phones in the air (ever on trend i managed 6 grainy snaps)
in the dark hours before dawn too many geezers meandering… but buried within it all, why firstly the stones themselves, ancient, warm, soft and pulsating, freckled with lichen, fluffy with moss giving back all the lush heat of the day,
and yes some of the drumming was incessant and tedious… but then for an hour, lost midst the supple gyre of looping rhythms, arms flung high to the dark night sky, ullulating to the sarsen stones looming large overhead, together
later dancing up the sun with the krishnas, whilst everyone peers like meerkats, waiting awaiting away to the east
and finally a shared moment at the altar stone… a circle of us, hands touching, forehead softly nestled to the rock… exhausted, remembering, tears on my cheek… fare well, dwell long beloved soul in these the summer lands of the spirit
a wordless hug with a soft, beautiful stranger
ha! and the voyage there and back, frazzled in arundel tea rooms
… stone circles are amazing… four and a half thousand years! our land, all of us, wherever we are from, a privilege and a treat to be amongst them
right off to dance… waagh

comment about clobber

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ha! i wish, sadly not, nor is it hand woven by dryads, from spider skein under the lambent light of the beltane fool moon? no, you know me a vision in lurid polyester and cheap nylons… my soul is 100% acrylic… charity shop find some years back xx

Relinquish

Relinquish everything, slip deep beneath the numinous numbness of being, forget even that ever there was thought
glug salt splutter!… and remember to keep mouth closed… whilst floating, a speck midst the mighty ocean… this morning, bob bob bobbing along
leave all niggles, qualms, foibles neatly in a pile on the beach… there next to my recklessly strewn clobber
brain in a vat? no, just take one look at the nervous system, we are forever the jellyfish that absconded!
all life remembers the waters… love like rain, will always find its way to the sea
a dalliance of every conceivable blue.. cobalt, azure, royal, turquoise
as humans, we are always poised, nay dangled, between the heavens above and the oceans depths below… could be worse?
sea cold, tightens, focuses us to the meniscus of skin… but our bodies, being water, here submerged within water, spread forever, distant to the horizon
sun pumelled, duck dive beneath the sea, a few hearty man from atlantis dolphin kicks, towards the sure (shore)… hop on bike, then pedal like billyho back to work
… usual word blather, apols no idea who the lovely pic is by!

and snap from yestereve… horrified offspring and impressive rainbows!

Tallula: so soft and beautiful

socialist

WOW! that is a gobsmacking result, extraordinary!!
young people voted… in their droves… and they voted SOCIALIST, hurrah!
well done!!! (sayeth grandpa, and wouldn’t classify myself as a socialist)
and this against a backdrop of the ukip vote imploding and mostly trundling to the conservatives
kudos to corbyn, personally i thought he had no chance, michael foot rebooted
may is toast!
stayed up far too late, and lewes result was pants, so near in hastings, bad luck
but look at what happened in all the brighton constituencies!!! huge swings, personal mandates for caroline lucas and peter kyle, and a strong victory in kemp town…. brilliant!

maggot tatcher

(polling day)

death to Maggot Tatcher! Vote Red, Vote Green! Vote Beetroot! Kali Yurga!?
and errm in my case vote lib dem! its newhaven/lewes, only chance of ousting the evil incumbent… ‘go tim’… said noone ever
i always like election day, a jolly georgian affair of rotton boroughs, rosettes and hope… sadly its usually the day after which is forever devastating
visceral disgust at the tories, they sicken me… i tried to do a whirling dervish dance in the church last night, but rather than reaching the usual ecstatic bliss, just felt queasy and nauseous
as tho i’d accidentally swallowed a tory election leaflet, or the front page of many of the tabloids?
personally i’d vote green, as what we’re recklessly doing to the planet is my gravest concern, plus i love the swashbuckling romanticism… and caroline lucas is genuinely brilliant and inspiring
i appreciate only a few of my friends would actually vote tory… and i struggle to comprehend it, but i guess thats part of me being a middle aged, middle class intellectual, when your life is awash with privilege and benign circumstances, hard to imagine a different world view… even tho their completely utterly WRONG! ha!
i’ve mostly ignored the election, i know where i stand, but the couple of times i’ve seen jezza, have to say he’s had a really good election… focused, coherent, passionate, benign
oh well, all will be as it will be
do get out and vote tho… its a beautiful thing, an honour to be able to do so
… and vote green!

oblig (as opposed to obliga-TORY!) polling day snap, tho due to govt cutbacks we can no longer afford any eyes

tho as the lad has a cold, he wouldn’t do the suggested ‘power to the people’ stance… spoilsport… kids of today!

Russet

Russet and peach, the soft subtle colours of Woodbury hill fort just before the rain, red Devon soil overlaid with last years leaf mulch and the skein husk from fresh beech leaves… the deep groove of Iron Age fortification, now overgrown with wriggle rooted trees…. beneath the canopy of lustrous green… nature mingled with the ancient, the sacred… plus inevitable selfie x

paparazzi

paparazzi… pans labyrinth stylee… before work on the costa de living
p.s don’t vote tory … d’oh

Charlie D: Fab to see you the other day. Enjoy the rays (sun ones, not manta ones) x

ditto mademoiselle perigrina! xx

Ant: The nose still looks unfathomably large and bulbous, even when it’s not contrasting with the infinitesimally small eyes.

oi mush, enuff of your conk envy … or you’ll be walking from gatters… all those who have managed to peer into my delightful orbs have commented on the profound beauty of my soul.. yeah, that and how miniscule and lost they are midst the deep trenches of my characterful wrinkles!

Ant: piss holes in the snow.

i’m telling mum