Archive for September 2012

A Funny Thing Happened Yesterday

September 21, 2012

when  I opened my door to a caller by.

A stranger stood before me wearing a bright yellow safety waistcoat. A friendly man, broad smiles before long, slight hesitance before enquiring what I was doing with the two spare cars in my drive.

Opportunity sang in my ears leapt in my heart. The girls’ cash register began sounding out ‘kerching, ker ching’. I needed to keep reserve but this man appeared to be the answer to my prayers – to get shot of my kids cars effortlessly whilst finding some dosh for one of them in dire need of it.

He on the other hand seemed to feel he’d found a car for his own daughter following her successful driving test. Plus a little more perhaps, since his father knows a bit about cars apparently and so – who knows – by buying both vehicles they might just make a bit of profit as I saw my children out of a dilemma and cleared my front space.


My favourite equation.

As it worked out I was so delighted by the hope and by the guy’s demeanour that I happily parted with the vehicles’ log books and car keys before he went, oh and my telephone number. In return I got a leaflet from the company he represented and his mobile number hurriedly scribbled along the side.

Come on. Admit it. You think I’m a stupid, over trusting moron. ‘Danger, Danger’ is sirening in your head on my behalf. Too late, the other part of you is thinking – she’s done it now, silly cow. Act in haste, repent at leisure.

Only guess what? You’re wrong. It was totally kaucher, whatever that means (but it’s a jewish related word isn’t it so I think, with a sideways glance across the family noses, I should use it). The man is who he says he is. There are no guarantees he’ll take the cars because he may go away and decide to offer me less than we agreed yesterday before he noticed the bash on the side of one of the cars.

I knew about it so my price is staying where it is. I know that in this ‘credit crunch’ market these two cars are worth more than they would have been ‘when times are good’. They’re small, they have low mileage and they do infinity to the gallon – what’s not to love?! As to the bashes – it’s all a question of marketing. Like odd socks – market them well enough and they’ll take off – customised markers, that kind of appeal.

My eccentric spin could lose me the loss of the cars, the opening of space in front of my house. But who knows – we could agree to agree and then we’ll remain win + win = WINNING

I didn’t mean to go into such detail.

I meant to share with you this experience because within  me I experienced it as a gift from god, a visiting angel, a serendipitous occurrence flowing from an ‘excess’ of faith

Faith Happens

Faith Happens (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

What happens when faith becomes ‘excessive’? I suppose it  must transform, like water transforms – becoming, when excessively hot,  steam and then, apparently, nothing at all :- So faith,in reverse order, is  ‘invisible’ to begin with and  transforms,  into appearance by manifesting, appearing, solidifying the focii of faith, moving through faster and more easily by sustained faith, getting broken up and delayed or even reversed by attacks of doubt and undermined hope. And it isn’t the action of ‘I’ll focus my faith on that so I get it’; faith goes deeper and more joyfully than that – something some of these American so called New Age websites fail to understand.

Of course, where the processes of water as liquid, solid, semi liquid (steam) and full dispersal (return to constituent parts) are relatively simple and interpersonally measurable, the processes of faith are so complex that they defy all human measurement instruments – and rely on faith, circuitously to affirm them.

How infuriating is that for the scientifically minded? Simple scientism must simply reject faith (ie the power of belief and the presence of a pan-human, pan-life energy connecting everything) out of hand as superstitious nonsense.

Why not? After all – you can’t put a ruler to it. You can’t put a thermometer to it. You can’t weigh it. You can’t determine its age. You can’t detect its trajectory. You can’t see it, hear it, smell it, taste it, touch it at all. Any more than you can do any of these things with ‘love’, for example.

Anyhoo – I’ll write again soon and tell you more about my experiences of faith

Toodle Pip


Remedial Anaesthetics: Or the Science of Psychiatry.

September 13, 2012

That’s it for the time being: I thought you might like to reflect on the title ‘Remedial Anaesthetics: Or the ‘science’ of Psychiatry’.

Interesting isn’t it. Aesthetics is the ‘opposite’ of ‘anaesthetics‘. You wouldn’t automatically connect the two words/concepts.

This brings us to the etymological sense of ‘aesthetics‘. I’m guessing sensory experience is involved in it – Oh yes, indeedy, the Shorter English Dictionary (a large two volumed item for those not ‘in the know’) provides the pre late 19th C definition as ‘perceived/received by the senses‘; ‘the science of the conditions of sensuous perception’.

Hold onto this. We will be returning to it in due course. It is not insignificant. The counterposition of aesthetic and anaesthetic in relation to Modern Medical Science, specifically Psychiatry will prove, we suspect to possess the conceptual power of a volcano. In the right foundry, that is. 😉


Volcanic Brightening Burst

Volcanic Brightening Burst


(Please note ‘science’ is once within quotation marks and once without. That’s because I can’t decide which is more appropriate. What do YOU think?)

Back at last! Thanks so much for your patience :-)

September 9, 2012
English: What kind of poem did Hafez make?

English: What kind of poem did Hafez make? (Photo credit: Wikipedia) – or ‘HOW TO DESTROY AN AESTHETIC EXPERIENCE’

Hi there guys! Thanks so much for sticking around and I’m sorry that I haven’t been able to check in on this site and to update it at all over the last few weeks.

A lot has been happening at an internal and even at an external-skin level. I want to share stuff about mental health recovery with you from a first person experience perspective; I also, however, want to share other stuff with you that I’m excited about.

Today I’m excited about a find I’ve made : a guy called Eli Siegal, born 1902, died 1978, ‘founded the philosophy of Aesthetic Realism‘ and wrote a mind blowingly brilliant poem (in my eyes/mind) called ‘Hot Afternoons Have Been in Montana‘ around 1924, for which he won a prestigious award in 1925. I won’t bore you with details, you can find them on Wikipedia if you are interested. I’m not bored by the details because as I began to read my heart leapt – and this is why:

The article about Siegal, his life and his theory of Aesthetic Realism somewhat reminded  me of my claims in previous years, first that my two daughters were  my ‘best poems‘ (in process) and second that

‘I used to paint portraits of people with chalks and paints on paper and canvas. Then I got bored of it and found it uncreative. I decided to paint it directly onto the subjects with glances and words and
gestures. It costs me because I can’t charge, but I win because of the pleasure
I get from the practice of projecting loveliness and having loveliness
radiating back to me’.

I’m fibbing a little because whatever it was that I wrote a few years ago re the portrait business had the merit of brevity, sacrifice of explication – hey ho, the meaning hasn’t altered. Siegal’s Aesthetic Realism clearly had close connections with my nameless shift of identity as an artist in my own life:

In 1938, Siegel began teaching poetry classes with the view that “what makes a good poem is like what can make a good life.” In 1941, students in these classes asked him to give individual lessons in which they might learn about their own lives. These were the first Aesthetic Realism lessons.[12]

I urge you to read ‘Hot Afternoons Have Been in Montana’ – it’s not ‘Poetry’ in the stifled, cloistered, stuffy air of an overheated library corner, it’s the poetry of life sweeping cobwebs from the mind and opening the windows of the imagination.

A semi random quote from the midst of this long poem to give you a flavour:

“That bird over this green, under that sun, God, how sweet and
it is!
Could we ever do that? Machines that fly are clumsy and ugly;
Birds go into the air so softly, so fairly; see its curves; Earth!
Montana, men eat and have bodies paining them
Because they eat.

Kansas, with Montana, in America, has, too, men pained by
So has England, with Westminster Abbey, where poets lie,

dead now;
O, what their poetry can do; what poetry can do.
There is
the brain of man, a soft, puzzling, weak affair;”

Tumbling together urbanity with the prairies whilst inviting us all to consider applying aesthetics to more aspects of our lives…if not all aspects…

What a difference it will make when we do…

Watch this space because – no, don’t watch it, please, keep me to my promises, I’m clearing a space for a project, it’s a book length piece of writing project; it’s not the ‘autobiography’ type project I have wacked on about in the past. It’s got an ‘academic’ kind of subject matter from the outset but by the time I’ve worked it, trust me the academy will be weaved in so well it will be indiscernible (unless you think that more than two syllables is academic). No title yet, weaving first.

So if I don’t ‘follow through’ – prod me would  you – I have the concentration of an ant some of the time – adhd perhaps (additional heady distractions)

Over and Out Dear Friends, ’til the ‘morrow,

(or as PGW would say – ‘toodlepip’),

Janie x

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