It was a hot day… you had been asked ..invited to come to this place …It is not clear where it is … you arrive by night and waited seated in a vaulted hall … The morning arrives ..as do many people ..all are busy and acknowledge you as they pass … a man arrives concerned that you are tired …He leaves you in a sunlight chamber to recover … a tray is placed at the window while you slumber …woken by the wind you slip back into your shoes .. dipping bread into now cool soup .. you feel very rested … a knock on the door heralds a visitor ..without word you follow along dull corridors .. you are left standing … a door opens you are greeted by lamp light … a woman turns and appears to recognise you .. you are confused as this is your first encounter …All is calm .. She is happy you are here … from a dark corner she brings a linen wrapped bundle … She touches your arm briefly ..looks at you and says “This for you ..For you to keep ..They are yours…at last we have found you … The room is quiet and you are left alone …gently with barely a breathe you unwrap a pair of beautiful strong hands … you look and yes of course they are yours and most especially yours to keep …..
Monthly Archives: December 2013
I stood in the laundry room .The air rushed from the big cypress tree and pulled at my shirt . You came to me with a smile sat down and asked me to hear your story …..I folded my shirts and you explained how you had died twice in this most recent part of your life ….you were not meant to live for long and in fact this meeting might be cut short … ..For each and every day has just two hours an never any more . There is rarely a dawn and on occasions a dusk . you will wake from a deep sleep rested…you rise in the first hour and then as the second hour draws to its end you depleted must find a resting place and leave this world. you have lived like this for just this year your heart rests and you live…you look to the floor and kick the leaves as they creep in …you insist ” This is how I must live, two hours each one from your twenty four .”… my washing is folded and you look to the wind … now it is today .I return. I wait an hour … It is not your hour and I leave ….. .
I was hugely disappointed and possibly misunderstood… I had my hands buried in my face and then my face in my hands I was not consolable. arms rested on my shoulders .. I heard muttering ..what’s happened ? I can’t see why he is so upset !…. I ran to the changing rooms ….moments later a voice urged me to rejoin the body sculpting class …. shuddering with rage .. I shuffled back into the hall …” Maurice you are being childish! Everyone agrees you really have astonished us all” …one sop added “I would love a body like that” Stamping my feet ” “you don’t understand …. I am a 6ft 4 man with a pigeon chest hairy knees and I cannot accept any words of praise for after 9 weeks of abs blast ..body balance ending up as a 1950s bathing beauty ..It is just unaccrptable. For a start what changing room am I supposed to use now … and more importantly what’s happened to my willy …Where did you put it ? … I tugged at my uncomfortably tight costume to emphasis my point .. my patience had worn thin .. I want my money and my appendage back now …Please .. I flung my bathing cap to the floor grabbed clothes and changed in the chemical store …
It was a restless night …It seemed as if throughout it all that dawn was about to break …It never did … you remained trapped in the ducts of a wrinkled bed sheet …your became a dimple or an impression in the pillow ….Some of you was that morning warmth .. but that was all …you shifted from tangible to barely perceptible in just thus passing night …your senses are dull…your are complete. …until later that morning when someone opens the window…a draft of cool window lifts you from the bed .. your impression in the pillow is shaken…and finally the ruts of the Egyptian cotton sheet are flattened .. a broad hand scours your surface until there is no trace ……
N.B Again this from may this year by request
So by now I am hoping readers are getting a clear picture of the wide spectrum of people milling in and out of my caffeine driven community …anyway Bowden house was hosting a Jamboree on conflict resolution with special guest” Marshall Rosenberg” the god father of non violent communication …. he had got wind of echart tolle making me hurt his feelings .. marshall rosenberg is the dark lord of hoo fru fru … sort of the hardman of new thinking …non of this” its your choice “…he says ” just stop it!” …non of this tell tale tit dirty little sh@@.. Both Anthony Robbins and Echart tolle jumped on the blame wagon and had told on me … much like Bela Lugosi’s younger brother Marshall arrives at my door …..”Maurice I want you to express yourself to others in a way that meets the needs of your fellows without you needing to undermine them … I in calm yet menacing voice.” No thanks Marshall no one likes a tattle tale !!!! …. Marshall then grabs me by the throat ..Echart panting with excitment shouts” Kick Him !! …Anthony Robbins unfortunately manifested a monstrous hoard of needy “Zombies” who desparate to feel more human so he put on his messanic face and found an encounter space to begin walking on coals… Meanwhile .Marshall realising that Guilt..Coercion…or misplaced authority does not work on deluded fantasists …..gasping for air and frustrated by Echarts continual nagging… Marshall declared at this moment I was not meeting his needs and although he was harbouring feelings of rage, the fact was a 60 yr old pacifist assisted by the worlds happiest man should not kick someone for expressing their opinions …….Marshall however nevers says sorry but I could tell he felt it, as for the first time in 40 yrs he had expressed a suicidal need to experience anger and rage … I got up off the ground and as the two shut my gate …I shouted” Echart Tolle is a Fantasist!!!!”
This posting is from earlier this year but has been requested since then Ercharts solicitors have settled out of court
I arrived to the The curator cafe totnes to be greeted by indiscreet mumbling …as i sat down a particularly nervous group turned around and could be heard to suggest ..”.I think that is him !.”..being mildly asbergers and vain i thought only the best of this crowd sourced insinuation …. I smiled and was to discover later this was considered a taunt …as i slurped my blend ethiopa.costa rica. panama….ummm… a small man with a glib look joined me at the table …”No one likes a smart arse” ” that’s fine i am not here to be liked just coffee thanks ” he reached over and tugged the hair on my forearm …”ouch !” “People say you think happiness is the cause of western society’s discontentment ” “well if you read the bible particularly the book of JOB you would find that devil takes the form of an accuser on the council of angels ..pointing out humanities failings ” ” what are you saying ? ” ” you might be the devil Echart! “I had recognised his face from the his merchandise on sale in town ..” Echart for a happy man can get very cross… he was furious so much so he needed a double shot in his mini mocha … the crowd were aghast mainly because of the new expression on echarts visage …he was decidedly discontented …..” you mustnt call Erchart Tolle the devil ! Again my vainity overtook social graces and my tirade began “….he is making people so unhappy ….parents are so “mindful or should I say mindless that children go to school in flip flops and live solely on pitta bread and hommus … both he and Antony Robbins have got us so fixed on the “now ” we have forgotten the past and couldnt care about the future ….total silence …echart wass whimpering … the waiter walks over “Its best you leave now ” …not finished ” How the hell can anyone truly be mindful when your out of your heads on triple espressos four times aday …” the six psychotherapists in the corner started handing out their business cards ..” thanks maurice see you next week ” with a knowing wink
I was never a great listener…but needs must..a friend came to me recently ..well in truth I never met her in my entire life.. she arrived at the cafe in floods of tears …Well she didn’t really but it would help my story if you thought she had anyway … She was there tears rolling down her cheeks smearing her lavish make up ..after a stormy courtship and an outdated marriage she had married a man her father barely approved of in fact she described in great detail their childish male posturing and mock brawling .. people in the cafe were disturbed by her hysterics and more so by her appalling irish accent .. i offered to get her a skinny latte with soya milk … her spirits lifted ..She recounted how her quiet American husband stormed about their quaint cottage mainly during bad weather ..kicking doors .. he often yanked at her expensive dresses and frequently drew clumps of her flaming auburn hair …Well I was not quite sure what to say ..He did sound like an awful brute …She did agree but she protested with “we seem to have an onscreen chemistry .”. I had had enough . I STOOD AND GRABBED MAUREEN FIRMLY BY BOTH ARMS AND SHOOK HER …you have got to it stop this right now or every man you meet will treat you the same .. I flung open the door placing my flat cap at a jauntily angle and stormed off straight into an Atlantic gale ……. leaving £5.20 for my flat white and her soya latte