Thursday, 25 February 2016


Here I sit, surrounded by soundscape, going with the flow of time and lost in its eddies. Sometimes it passes quickly, sometimes stands still, sometimes swirls such that I am unsure whether I move forwards or back, seeing what is or what will be or what has been in my mind's eye.

Hear the children playing, limited vocabulary expressing complex understandings. The passing of a small engined motorbike. The crow of the cockerel answered by a distant rival. The quork of a crow. The chatter of small birds and the incandescence of a caged Canary, singing to attract a mate that will never come but singing nontheless.

In the distance the cries of doomed sheep, ignorant of their future demise as we are all ignorant of ours until it beckons, as it always does, signalling the end of our go and the reckoning to come.

I am surrounded by cats, all still as sculptures, passing their time in somnolence, the only indication of life the small movement of their breathing and the tell-tale indication that they live and are not dead, that essence which we all of us recognise and yet have no way of measuring nor proving, that innate knowledge, that instinct that life is there still.

Two humans pass by, communicating, their understanding of their true situation suspended and unexamined as they live the distraction of their reality, dealing with stuff, speaking of the inconsequential as we all of us do.

Someone has lit their fire, woodsmoke mingling with the scent of early orange blossom and the earth and the countless other ingredients that enter us with each breath and are exhaled, or not, as our bodies go through their automatic processes in which we, as observers, have no input nor control. If I listen I can hear my heart beat, my stomach rumbling as it processes atoms and turns them into energy and new cells in that ineffable process that the designer of human beings created such that we can have what we call life.

It's is worth the trip, is it not? It's worth the pain and the grief and the sense of a dream unfulfilled just to have a moment of this experience we call life, the beauty of it all, the variety, the satisfaction through interaction, the taste, the smells, the visual delights, the touch of a hand and the caress of lips, the warmth of a hug that conveys more than just the touch and feel of it but  the connection of hearts and minds and the linking of souls that comes too.

Here lies the essence of the experience, in the communion of human souls through that indescribable sensation we call love. Some find it, some pass through never feeling its truth and are angered and made vicious by its absence.  Some cast aside the very idea of it, seeking instead revenge upon the world and humanity because something, somewhere, somewhen embittered their spirit or captured and turned their soul.

We are as mayflies, our experience of life passing in moments, all of us moving on before we have the answers to anything. Born into the ignorance prevalent at whatever time we are created, rote-learning the current paradigm we spend half our time trying to convince others of our particular belief set, half our time failing to listen to the belief set of those who have arrived at different conclusions, none of us at all truly understanding where we are and, more importantly, why?

Inevitably each generation is driven to its own belief-conflicts. We shorten each others life experience arguing and fighting about ideas born of stupidity and ignorance and the guiding minds of those that see benefit in such conflict, those least suitable to have the great gift of life, those who seek only aggrandisement and comfort and power over others, those who seek the useless bauble of a grand tomb to encase their dead meat once they have moved on.

As if that has any value.

No matter who you were, no matter what you gained, one day someone will piss on your grave or etch their names on your pyramid or bulldoze it to make way for a mall. We are all of us processors of atoms and, when passed, become the atoms processed by other life-forms as they create a fresh reality in this never ending game of life.

And what can we gain from this?

That reality is shaped by we who are living, that the NOW is what we have control of, that what we believe we know will one day be proven false, that our science and understanding is naive, that a hug and the love of another counts for more than all the gold in the universe, that the world can be how most of the seven billion of us that exist in this moment want it to be, that we just need to cast aside the illusion of the pyramid builders and fear them not.

They are just atoms, waiting to be reprocessed.

And the world, the reality, is waiting to be shaped differently.

With love.

I hear a hammer as someone builds. I hear a child alone singing imperfectly a song just learned. I hear the bark of dogs. I feel the breath of air. I witness a cat cleaning itself. It is all part of this marvellous and wondrous confection. Treasure it all, and let none fill it with the filth they have nurtured these past millennia.

This world is ours to shape.


It's time.

Love to you few that read this,

Olive xxx xxx xxx