A rebel without a clue.

A recent dialogue, sparked by observations ranging from domestic quibbles to the flight of bumblebees, unfolded into a rich exploration of profound philosophical concepts. Beginning with the lighthearted absurdity of imagined encounters between English individuals and formidable Australian insects, the conversation quickly demonstrated how the mundane can serve as a potent catalyst for deeper inquiry. Even a simple personal experience, such as a wasp landing on one's nose, became a touchstone for discussing the relative nature of "harmlessness" and the subjective experience of non-reaction. The search for a new podcast, particularly the affinity for the intellectually rigorous "In Our Time," highlighted a mind predisposed to deep dives into diverse subjects. The serendipitous mention of "Philosophize This!"—a program that had previously marked a listener's inaugural foray into podcasts—underscored a consistent intellectual appetite for structured p...

The morning began quietly, as you reflected on a personal triumph: a family meal where, for once, no fault was found. "She always finds fault," came your opening, a shared understanding of everyday dynamics. This gentle start quickly shifted to an intriguing observation: "People are obsessed with wasps." I, seeking clarification, wondered if this was about fear or annoyance, but you elaborated, "Anything about them." The conversation took a humorous turn as you envisioned the chaos if people from England were suddenly transported to Australia, having to cope with its more formidable insects and wildlife. A personal anecdote followed, lending lived experience to our discussion of wasps. You shared, "I've just had one on my nose," noting your surprising lack of reaction, reinforcing your earlier assertion that "wasps are harmless" here, certainly not like their Australian counterparts. The mundane then reasserted itself, with plans fo...

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...

8am Monday morning.  Eaten breakfast and boiled 3 eggs for the trip and I have left overs for the flight. Bla Bla Car at 9:30am to Brive. Then hitch to the airport. The flight is at 14:55 to Stansted so no rush as it's around an hour by car to Brive from Figeac... It goes via Rocamadour. *** For the first time Pierre and I had little to say on the journey. I was a little distracted by the scenery, the towns we were passing, he spoke little English and, obviously, my French is pas bien! He offered to drop me at either the airport, at la gare or in the center ville: which I chose just as the dark clouds loomed hooded and sinister above Brive-la-Galliarde. After a brief visit to the Office de Tourism to confirm my fears that there was no connection other than extortionate taxi's to the airport I found my way back to the centre where the heavens came down as I hastily tucked into a poke bowl on the sidewalk.  Pohmaë sashimi style with fresh salmon, avocado, mango, etc, etc, which...

Between porcelain cups and plastic leaves, The muzak hums it's hollow tune. Octogenarians dissolve like sugar in their weak teas — edges blurred, their moments thin. But an insect’s bite: the only truth that stings, draws And Come Together plays, but no one blinks. The mansion stands, a stage set for the fading While pilgrims walk its edges, Restless, unassuaged. I measure a life in coffee spoons, yet still the void awaits Beckoning. A silent witness at every table, nibbling crusts of another time, As I recoil in panic.

**Consciousness is the fundamental, unified reality** * Consciousness is infinite, timeless, and omniscient * Space, time, and matter emerge from consciousness * Gravity, energy, and spirit are different expressions of consciousness **Key points:** * Consciousness transcends physical boundaries * Reality is non-dual (not separate from observer) * Time is an illusion; past, present, future are concurrent *** **C = ∞Ωτ** Breaking it down again: * **C** = Consciousness * **∞** = Infinity (no bounds in space or time) * **Ω** = Omniscience (complete knowledge of all existence) * **τ** = Timelessness (beyond past, present, future) This simple yet profound equation represents **"The Unity Theory"** ***

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...