In my series, ‘The Secret Of Systems’ I’ve tried to explain – in as much as I understand these things myself – how a system works, and how they might be employed better. Employed, not exploited. The former is a legitimate use of a system, the latter is not.
A very long time ago, I visited the British Museum in London. In their great hall where they display their collection of monumental sculptures there stood two enormous creatures. They stand well over six metres high, that is nearly twenty feet and must weigh several tons. I knew they stood as guardians to the entrances to palaces in ancient Assyria, and as guardians were shown as godlike figures having human heads with bull’s bodies or that of a lion – and the wings of an eagle. Continue reading “The Five Legged Beasts Of Nineveh.”
MQ is a new charity – yes, another one – that looks into mental health. I can’t quite make out why it’s MQ, but that’s modern marketing for you and they don’t have a contact page so I can’t ask them.
What is interesting in the post I have linked to is the one thing Alex doesn’t speak of. She suffered from Schiz – schizophrenia – and all she talks about are the voices, the circumstances, her friends and how she couldn’t cope. She didn’t mention brain chemistry once…
This is her tale: “I became completely disconnected from the person I had been before.”
Those of you who have understood the things I spoke about in my series on the subconscious will at least be aware of the secrets that lie behind control.
Whomsoever wishes to control will do so because they know that they are correct. I will explain: someone wishing to control does so because they know no better. Sounds like a paradox, doesn’t it? But I assure you, it is not. If a person knows no better, how can they truly know their limitations? Those you can only learn if you are ready and willing to listen to what the world around you is trying to say.
What Is It And Why Do We Have One?
Between visiting galleries at the weekend and being at home, my life doesn’t speak of much. In fact, yesterday I was extremely bored, so much so that I really couldn’t get anything done. Anything I turned my hand to was met with a ready excuse that it didn’t need doing.
This was supposed to be a sort of review and reprise of George Orwell’s “The Decline Of The English Murder,” only my point of view is very different to his. Which makes his essays the more appealing to me. Add Orwell’s beautiful and evocative writing and you have a blissful read.
Not that murders are blissful, but that’s the point of murders – and the point of Orwell looking at their decline. Orwell’s books were written to be read by those who enjoy reading, those who read the story as much for the writing as the story itself. But that is what makes literature; if it’s only a story thinly interwoven by lumpy descriptions, it’s pulp fiction.
It is 1916 and an English gentleman is sitting in the shade of a trottoir café in Limassol on the island of Cyprus. Next to him is a Greek Cypriot tailor. They are both drinking coffee and discussing the events of the day. As they are about to part, the English gentleman says, “as soon as you have definite information, ring up 8456 and ask when it will be convenient for Mr Crowder to try on his new suit.” And adds that if he’s not there, he’ll phone back later in order to confirm the meeting.
So you’ve already spotted that something fishy is going on here, haven’t you?