After a drizzly dawn and damp walk early, Sun appears, temperatures rise and attention turns to priorities: study of Frances Yates' take on Giordano Bruno; political subversion on FB; sawing wood in the back yard; collecting top soil from molehills for the raised bed in the front garden or writing about the strange goings on this morning. Since the blog is vital to developing the practical understanding of the Nature of Reality by processing the personal experiences of today, the writing wins, at least for now, before the memories fade ... as tends to happen when old bloggers get even older.
But that was Zen, this is Dao and another day dawns with other probabilities ... yesterday's synchronicities fast fading but including: an early chat with a young woman with two small dogs, one called Loki, the other as yet unnamed, seeking an apposite god-like name to suit his character; a convivial chat with Seroo about masks and things, his name comes from Sri Lanka so English spelling is uncertain; on the Fell, a deep conversation with Guardianista Catherine, strongly defending the need for all of us to accept a vaccine since her news source asserts that any rebels resisting will probably kill the rest by infection with the deadly disease or a variant ... whilst simultaneously accepting that the Guardian destroyed her left wing hero, St Jeremy and the election which produced our dear beloved fascist leader, St Boris the Narcissist; back in town Simon appears, waiting for repairs on his car and happy to converse en route to the garage ... leading to firm agreement that the Great Reset is the Plan and all the rest consequential.
After writing the first paragraph, priorities rearranged themselves. A half-expected phone call about the long awaited repair to Daisy the Chinese car promoted a trip to Durham on two buses in order to collect her ... meaning a brief walk after lunch to meet the hourly bus, then a short wait in Crook for the second one. Both trips swift enough and no request for masks from well trained bus drivers. The return was faster. Before all that, molehills were excavated, and afterwards time for a wander by the river in search of sand to supplement the soil on the raised bed ... and a rather deep conversation with a local bloke who spoke of Krishnamurti, though not Bohm.
Somehow another day slipped by without completing the post from paragraph one, since a trip over the fells to Hexham is suggested and accepted ... a small and friendly town, it offers opportunities to surprise passing strangers with eye contact, a smile, and a greeting ... all apparently radical as if humanity had gone on holiday for a year! Two elders working in an incredible edible patch engage in conversation of a philosophical kind, then on and round to see young friends serving cake and coffee takeaways ... these folks are radical Christians living in community whilst dealing with old traumas and ensuing addictions ... more philosophical enquiry ensues and warm engagement of a human kind ... soon they will be permitted to serve the coffee and cake to customers sitting down ... the kind and caring Junta clearly easing off the shock and awe tactics before the Fear wears off and the people rise up against them.
The afternoon event involved a visit to a school to greet the young grandchildren of a friend as they emerge from their training for a new normal ... and by sheer coincidence, a parent hears a comment from this old blogger about the Hermetic Tradition and engages in conversation about that, Dao, Zen, and the Nature of Reality. You couldn't make it up!
Sunrise again. Time to walk. Another day in retirement ...
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