Only take what is necessary. But what is necessary? Shinji's vision quest in the Burren.

A boy of say eleven years,  Hamato Yamamoto, was kicking a football in his garden against a wall.  His father Shinji came out in to the garden and after watching him for some minutes went to his son and said, 'My son we will be leaving for the Martian colony very soon.  It is time for you to begin packing your gear and sorting out what you will be taking and what will be left.  Remember we are only taking what is necessary.'
Hamato stopped the football smartly,  his foot balanced on its top.
'Of course father.  How will I determine what is essential?'
'What's that?' said his father quickly.
'How will I know what is necessary?'
Now this was most strange for Shinji stared at his son with an expression of sheer amazement so that the boy became disquieted and said nervously,
'Father!  Are you ok?'
But Shinji continued to look awestruck and amazed and just repeated,
'What is necessary?  What is necessary?  What is necessary?'

And so it occurred that the Yamamoto's missed their scheduled economy class trip to Mars aboard the Muskbus, due to the fact that Shinji had left home for the weekend and not returned.
He had stated gravely to MiriM, his wife,
'I must go away for the weekend, alone.  There is something I need to consider deeply and in quietness.  I shall return when I have found the answer to this puzzling question.
'Of course my beloved husband', said MiriM who was by now used to some of Shinji's strange habits.
'And what is it that you will be considering?' she asked sweetly.
'I shall be considering what the answer is to the question-What is necessary?'
'Of course husband.  I shall be most interested to hear the answer to this most fascinating of questions.' said MiriM.

After some consideration Shinji decided to spend a little time in Ireland in the place sometimes described as a limestone desert and known as the Burren.  Here he would find a quiet spot and contemplate what, if anything, is necessary.

The Yamamoto's lived in Sussex by the way, in a small incestuous hamlet called Trumpton, famed for its small racecourse and home to several hundred imbeciles.  There is no connection to the Burren except that Shinji had once dreamed of being there for a rain and wind-swept night and was, for some reason unknown to himself, irresistibly drawn there now.
Shinji set himself up in his small tent by the entrance of a cave and began his contemplation.
The days passed.  Then months.  Then years.
Five years later Shinji arose from his sleeping bag which was by now well worn and exiting his tent he was aware that he could return home as he now had the answer to the question-what is necessary?

Upon returning to his family, they gathered around the kitchen table to hear from Shinji the answer to the eternal question while the ring necked doves played haunting melodies in the garden.  Hamato was now a young man and in a close and loving relationship with his phone.
'So my husband' began MiriM, who had aged beautifully,  'what have you discovered?'
Shinji spoke softly but with complete assurance.
'It is necessary to take with you an Art.  The Art of Balance.  What is necessary is to contain and integrate the essential and to flow effortlessly like a river.  The Art of Balance is the ability to contain imbalance because equilibrium is only a temporary state and in most cases time creates spontaneous imbalance and it is that state that requires The Art.  This is what I have learned in the white wastes of The Burren.'
The family all looked at him with puzzled or bemused expressions.
'But what does this mean?  How does this assist us?' asked MiriM.
'Sounds like, you know, sort of mmmm... weird, if you like get me' said Hamato looking briefly up from his furiously texting thumbs.
Shinji said-'No it does not matter now what it means.  That path just leads to confusion.  Now, let us get our tickets booked.  I have spoken for many hours through the nights with the shade of Aldous Huxley and he has affirmed it is time for us to go.'

Statement of Purpose

Statement of Purpose August 2018

I wish to experience freedom.  Not total freedom because that means freedom from all responsibility.  Not that, but the freedom of a true creative artist who earns his crust from his own labours.  Who defines his work himself and whose life is sculpted not by the spurious notion of talent but by application, study and constant improvement, and most of all, by the discipline of showing up each day and doing the work.  By enduring all of it, the euphoria and the despair of art.  And all of it underpinned by the fusion of the attentive intellect wrapped up in compassion for self and others and the non-human beings in all their glory.

I commit this to myself as a life oath for however long I have left on this beautiful Earth.

Heart of Balance  

Writer and Musician

So all of that is posted on twitter and the blog but what about the unsexy stuff, that is, the planning, the cunning plan.

Well this independent social work malarkey is a joke and if you calculate the amount of time against the pay, you might find you are working for brass rings.

So…

We will jack that in and focus on writing.  Not the writing of high art derived from muse-induced inspiration.  This will be writing for money, for dosh.  Writing for competitions.  Writing to live not living to write.

So some rules are:

·      One complete weekend a month writing

·      Write 500 words minimum a day but take Sunday off (unless that muse comes calling unexpectedly.)  That is 3000 words a week.  12000 a month.  144000 a year.  1,440,000 a decade.  A million and a half well aimed words and stories is enough for any man or woman.

·      Read like a writer.  Anatomically and annotating.  At the very least an hour a day.

·      Be brave and bold but don’t believe your own bullshit or anyone elses.  Believe in yourself instead.

·      Write quickly.  If you are going to be dead by draft 380 there’s no point in its perfection.  Understand ‘good enough.’

·      99.9% of everything written about the creative arts is complete shite.

·      99% of all ‘criticism’ is written by non-creative jealous psychopaths.  Don’t waste time on their ego-driven bullshit.

·      The internet is a stagnant yet hypnotic pond.  Drain it.  Pull the plug.

·      Finish work even though it breaks your heart

·      There is no link between money and intelligence.  There may even be an inverse correlation.

·      To be truly free means that you are not affected.

·      There are few political facts.  One is that democracy is entirely dependent on intelligence.

·      Political activity is simply a means for nasty people to experience community.

·      Most human beings have less intelligence than their dogs.

·      There is nothing that is more important than the Earth.  It is already more beautiful than anything that can be created by humans.

·      99% of what is described as original is someone elses vomit, and likewise back to the beginning of time.

·      Nearly everything you have ever been told is a lie.

·      Everything else you have been told is by someone who believes the lie.

·      Religion is a ligature around the brain.  See above.

·      Only a fool denies the existence of Spirit.  Only a greater fool writes about it.

·      Time is completely relative but generally speeds up.

·      Gravity is inescapable.  Consider it nature’s way to declutter.  Likewise Death.

• Have death on your shoulder like a pirates parrot.  Get to hang out with her.

• Fast and move.  Its what we are designed for.

Reading July 2018

Reading never stops.  I'd recommend all these but I am struggling with Joseph Conrad, amazing writer though he is.  It's the patriarchy and stony manliness of the characters.  It's the tinge of racism even through an enlightened lens, for the time.  I am beginning to think Conrad is not timeless in the way that Shakespeare and Cervantes and Rabelais are.  But I have committed to the three books:  Lord Jim/Heart of Darkness/Nostromo in order to read Maya Jasanoff's 'The Dawn Watch'.

Such are the reading deals we make!  But I shall finish Lord Jim even if it curls my toenails.

The Vorrh is extraordinary.  A symbolist novel written beautifully by a sculptor.  The pinnacle of Science Fiction and there are two more books in the trilogy!  Marvellous abundance.

Pound I shall report on in future posts.

Edmund White-Humanity squared.  Lovely and an introduction to lots of interesting reading avenues.