Tuesday, 31 May 2016
On Sunday, in Church, a complete stranger came up to me, hugged me, and thanked me for my organ and piano playing. I, week by week, play piano and organ at St Catherine's Bow, its so good to be appreciated and made to feel welcome. It made me think are there any people you know that are dedicated members of your church, or club or place of work who could do with a thank you? Encouragement can make a persons day, it certainly made mine
Sunday, 29 May 2016
Yesterday I dreamt that I was being followed. It felt odd it verged onto being a nightmare. It was very grey and shadowy. My dreams are normally quite colourful. There was a feeling, a presence of being drawn into a confined space. It was like a cell. This dream changed into people around me being furtive and not audible hiding and walking around but not focusing on anything. I woke up from this dream feeling confused and slightly disorientated. I thought maybe I was dehydrated so I had a wee drink and went back to sleep. My next dream was of me walking along a path by a river but the river water moved very slowly. A very beautiful man was swimming in the water and he stopped swimming and he waved and wanted me to come into the water. He had a radiant smile I spoke to him but he vanished under the water. A boat came into view it was a very long barge but it was as big, as a two story house. I got on the barge. I woke up.
Friday, 27 May 2016
I had the happiest dream. I was chasing around a huge building that I did not know, with people I did not know. Having lots of fun. The police started running around laughing and going into different rooms. I started building a pipe organ which seemed organic. I was playing and people would stop and have a chat. I got up and ran around again. There were suddenly loads of plants started popping up all shapes, sizes, colours and textures. The organ I had built turned into a tree and I started to climb it. and when I did I ended up on the roof of this huge house, which was surrounded by a river with the sunlight twinkling and dancing on the waters surface. I was entranced by the dancing light and I heard laughter coming from people climbing the tree. I then woke up. It was a dream so vivid but odd as dreams can be a mixture of ordinary with the absurd and beauty intertwining. I woke feeling good and happy. A happiness that has not been in my spirit for a while.
Outside it was day time and the sunshine was shining through my window filling the bedroom with not a blazing light but a softer light defused by the curtains. I felt today was going to be a happy day and in many ways it was. The dream had acted like a medicine and lifted a weight off my chest that had lasted far too long. Funny how laughter and play in dreams can help so much. I wonder if I will dream a similar dream tonight.
Outside it was day time and the sunshine was shining through my window filling the bedroom with not a blazing light but a softer light defused by the curtains. I felt today was going to be a happy day and in many ways it was. The dream had acted like a medicine and lifted a weight off my chest that had lasted far too long. Funny how laughter and play in dreams can help so much. I wonder if I will dream a similar dream tonight.
Thursday, 26 May 2016
today
It is sunny and I am drifting around like a stick in a river with no clear intention of what I am doing or where I am going. Drifting, drifting, drifting. The day is beautiful the flowers and greenery bring life to this dullish town. I need to break free from this middle aged mentality and jump and dance and sing again. My enthusiasm seems drained today. Each word is dragged out of me like a tired relic from the depths of a deepening sea. Why is everything such a huge effort. I feel like a weight is pulling me down, pulling me down. Let me sing a new song and cheer myself everything seems old and worn and boring a hole of lack of interest. I must shake off this feeling of indifference and reclaim happiness and fun today has become a nothing day I must shake until I see the special, the great, the wonderful. Food, the smell of bacon does it every time. Marvellous.
Tuesday, 12 October 2010
I cant sleep
I cant sleep
cant sleep I
sleep I cant
I cant Sleep
I stay awake
stay awake I
awake I stay
I stay awake
GRAHAM C LINDSAY
cant sleep I
sleep I cant
I cant Sleep
I stay awake
stay awake I
awake I stay
I stay awake
GRAHAM C LINDSAY
Monday, 11 October 2010
Burning books
Why do people burn books?
Here is a negative statement about the origins of the Bible.
Before the Bible was written god had been a women. Some say she was called Lilleth and her emblems were an apple, and a snake. In the Bible Lilleth is turned into the snake of the Garden of eden tempting Adam and Eve into eating an apple. Also Lilleth in the Bible is represented as being an Owl. The Bible is propaganda and has its own agenda and Lilleth was turned from being the mother god of the earth into satan. I am guessing now but maybe people worship images of the Owl as it represents a time of wisdom and a connection with the earth. A time before the destructive Biblical hegemony.
Now imagine from this statement that a new religion of Lilleth arose and replaced the Abrahamic religions. The Bible would be seen to be a threat to the new risen Lilleth religion so they would burn the Bible.
Burning books is a powerful message. Have you ever seen the film Fahrenheit 451? Its based on a novel by Ray Bradbury. The freedom to read and write and to learn is an immutable human right. Through the history of the written word, politicians and religious figures have burned books. One of the greatest pieces of vandalism was the burning of the great library at Alexandria. Burning a copy of a Bible may seem like a nothing event, or burning copies of many of the Gideon Bibles that gather dust in Hotel drawers may seem just an empty issue, but it would lead to other vandalism. Imagine if a friend of yours took all your books and CDs and put them on the fire, what would your reaction be?
Imagine tomorrow if all the Libraries and all the book shops and every place that the written word is placed just vanished. Then like a continuing virus all the music disappeared together with every work of art. Just imagine a world where every creative expression was simply wiped away until a void was left. Not one speck of human creativity left to be admired or hated. And on tomorrow you woke to find that every word that you had ever written or music that you had ever composed or every photo you had ever taken completely vanished.
Here is a negative statement about the origins of the Bible.
Before the Bible was written god had been a women. Some say she was called Lilleth and her emblems were an apple, and a snake. In the Bible Lilleth is turned into the snake of the Garden of eden tempting Adam and Eve into eating an apple. Also Lilleth in the Bible is represented as being an Owl. The Bible is propaganda and has its own agenda and Lilleth was turned from being the mother god of the earth into satan. I am guessing now but maybe people worship images of the Owl as it represents a time of wisdom and a connection with the earth. A time before the destructive Biblical hegemony.
Now imagine from this statement that a new religion of Lilleth arose and replaced the Abrahamic religions. The Bible would be seen to be a threat to the new risen Lilleth religion so they would burn the Bible.
Burning books is a powerful message. Have you ever seen the film Fahrenheit 451? Its based on a novel by Ray Bradbury. The freedom to read and write and to learn is an immutable human right. Through the history of the written word, politicians and religious figures have burned books. One of the greatest pieces of vandalism was the burning of the great library at Alexandria. Burning a copy of a Bible may seem like a nothing event, or burning copies of many of the Gideon Bibles that gather dust in Hotel drawers may seem just an empty issue, but it would lead to other vandalism. Imagine if a friend of yours took all your books and CDs and put them on the fire, what would your reaction be?
Imagine tomorrow if all the Libraries and all the book shops and every place that the written word is placed just vanished. Then like a continuing virus all the music disappeared together with every work of art. Just imagine a world where every creative expression was simply wiped away until a void was left. Not one speck of human creativity left to be admired or hated. And on tomorrow you woke to find that every word that you had ever written or music that you had ever composed or every photo you had ever taken completely vanished.
Thursday, 30 September 2010
John Donne XVII Meditation
XVII. MEDITATION.
PERCHANCE he for whom this bell tolls may be so ill, as that he knows not it tolls for him; and perchance I may think myself so much better than I am, as that they who are about me, and see my state, may have caused it to toll for me, and I know not that. The church is Catholic, universal, so are all her actions; all that she does belongs to all. When she baptizes a child, that action concerns me; for that child is thereby connected to that body which is my head too, and ingrafted into that body whereof I am a member. And when she buries a man, that action concerns me: all mankind is of one author, and is one volume; when one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language; and every chapter must be so translated; God employs several translators; some pieces are translated by age, some by sickness, some by war, some by justice; but God's hand is in every translation, and his hand shall bind up all our scattered leaves again for that library where every book shall lie open to one another. As therefore the bell that rings to a sermon calls not upon the preacher only, but upon the congregation to come, so this bell calls us all; but how much more me, who am brought so near the door by this sickness. There was a contention as far as a suit (in which both piety and dignity, religion and estimation, were mingled), which of the religious orders should ring to prayers first in the morning; and it was determined, that they should ring first that rose earliest. If we understand aright the dignity of this bell that tolls for our evening prayer, we would be glad to make it ours by rising early, in that application, that it might be ours as well as his, whose indeed it is. The bell doth toll for him that thinks it doth; and though it intermit again, yet from that minute that that occasion wrought upon him, he is united to God. Who casts not up his eye to the sun when it rises? but who takes off his eye from a comet when that breaks out? Who bends not his ear to any bell which upon any occasion rings? but who can remove it from that bell which is passing a piece of himself out of this world?
No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were: any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bells tolls; it tolls for thee. Neither can we call this a begging of misery, or a borrowing of misery, as though we were not miserable enough of ourselves, but must fetch in more from the next house, in taking upon us the misery of our neighbours. Truly it were an excusable covetousness if we did, for affliction is a treasure, and scarce any man hath enough of it. No man hath affliction enough that is not matured and ripened by and made fit for God by that affliction. If a man carry treasure in bullion, or in a wedge of gold, and have none coined into current money, his treasure will not defray him as he travels. Tribulation is treasure in the nature of it, but it is not current money in the use of it, except we get nearer and nearer our home, heaven, by it. Another man may be sick too, and sick to death, and this affliction may lie in his bowels, as gold in a mine, and be of no use to him; but this bell, that tells me of his affliction, digs out and applies that gold to me: if by this consideration of another's danger I take mine own into contemplation, and so secure myself, by making my recourse to my God, who is our only security.
PERCHANCE he for whom this bell tolls may be so ill, as that he knows not it tolls for him; and perchance I may think myself so much better than I am, as that they who are about me, and see my state, may have caused it to toll for me, and I know not that. The church is Catholic, universal, so are all her actions; all that she does belongs to all. When she baptizes a child, that action concerns me; for that child is thereby connected to that body which is my head too, and ingrafted into that body whereof I am a member. And when she buries a man, that action concerns me: all mankind is of one author, and is one volume; when one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language; and every chapter must be so translated; God employs several translators; some pieces are translated by age, some by sickness, some by war, some by justice; but God's hand is in every translation, and his hand shall bind up all our scattered leaves again for that library where every book shall lie open to one another. As therefore the bell that rings to a sermon calls not upon the preacher only, but upon the congregation to come, so this bell calls us all; but how much more me, who am brought so near the door by this sickness. There was a contention as far as a suit (in which both piety and dignity, religion and estimation, were mingled), which of the religious orders should ring to prayers first in the morning; and it was determined, that they should ring first that rose earliest. If we understand aright the dignity of this bell that tolls for our evening prayer, we would be glad to make it ours by rising early, in that application, that it might be ours as well as his, whose indeed it is. The bell doth toll for him that thinks it doth; and though it intermit again, yet from that minute that that occasion wrought upon him, he is united to God. Who casts not up his eye to the sun when it rises? but who takes off his eye from a comet when that breaks out? Who bends not his ear to any bell which upon any occasion rings? but who can remove it from that bell which is passing a piece of himself out of this world?
No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were: any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bells tolls; it tolls for thee. Neither can we call this a begging of misery, or a borrowing of misery, as though we were not miserable enough of ourselves, but must fetch in more from the next house, in taking upon us the misery of our neighbours. Truly it were an excusable covetousness if we did, for affliction is a treasure, and scarce any man hath enough of it. No man hath affliction enough that is not matured and ripened by and made fit for God by that affliction. If a man carry treasure in bullion, or in a wedge of gold, and have none coined into current money, his treasure will not defray him as he travels. Tribulation is treasure in the nature of it, but it is not current money in the use of it, except we get nearer and nearer our home, heaven, by it. Another man may be sick too, and sick to death, and this affliction may lie in his bowels, as gold in a mine, and be of no use to him; but this bell, that tells me of his affliction, digs out and applies that gold to me: if by this consideration of another's danger I take mine own into contemplation, and so secure myself, by making my recourse to my God, who is our only security.
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