Be not loud. Be deeply conscious inside and the truth will cure you of any malady or strangeness. Look to the core of your being and forget what you think you are. Return with nothing but love because that is all there ever is.
I have to resuscitate a dying sense of spirit and enthusiasm into my present as I have become detached from the real joys of my life. No reading, no writing; no contemplation. Even now I am tempted to throw down the device and forget it, but why - because it's a dead end... Surely I can stay here a little longer until something infinite moves within and without? *** As I sit on Ruby's sofa/bed and listen to the sounds of spring, with the gentle murmuring of the pond at the bottom of the garden and the distant hum of the A1(M) I am aware of the distance growing between what I truly love and what I am become; in despair. Oh the alcohol fuelled me. The forgetful me. The desperately lonely me. The one I've cordoned off for the world to see. Ruby is happy with me, Lola is happy with me but I am unhappy with me simple as I am - Mother Nature's son: tranquil and unimpeded by mental noise... Knowing the truth will set me free, but being forever unable to accept it entirely. It...
Introduction. My name is Pilgrim. I walk through this life much as I walk through my allotment – a space I often describe as disorganized, yet to me, it feels profoundly holistic. I don't fear wasp stings; I stride through nettles and thistles and brambles, finding a curious interest in the cut skin, a quiet control over the bleeding. I have no fear of the dark or the unseen. What truly disturbs me is the chatter, the small talk that ripples through existence, obscuring the profound truths unfolding before our very eyes. I prefer chaos to order, perhaps because the imposed order I witness around me feels so deeply, fundamentally false. I literally eat things along the path, unbothered by what others might deem unsafe, for my perceptions lie far beyond the superficial. I’ve come to see this world as a grand, unsettling performance, a "game" played at the highest echelons, designed to "manage the populace from cradle to grave." It's not a conspiracy in the nea...
Monday, June 2nd 2025. Returning to begining of my second part of the final section of the Chemin Saint Jacques, aka GR65, which began in that distant May 2013: another Epoch ago in my finititude - when my doomsday was chasing my heels! The one I left at Condom on the 9th October 2024 (as autumn presence was fully displayed in dull tones and the repetitive bounce of rain drops falling heavily on my weary brow and my limping foot trod slippery on water logged soils betwixt mud, tournesol, mais and prairie; and the pain of the Morton's Neuroma became all-encompassing), begins again from today. First I've Lola to walk, then a visit to the allotment (hopefully dry) and two buses to catch up to that airport known as LBA: flight to Limoges at 6pm. Booked a night at the Ibis Budget (£35) as I haven't heard from the Maison Diocésaine and I shouldn't push French hospitality too far as my way isn't from Limoges (as it was in late summer 2018). Back on the 28th August 2018 tha...
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