The broken clock is a comfort
It helps me sleep tonight
Maybe it can stop tomorrow
From stealing all my time
And I am here still waiting
Though I still have my doubts
I am damaged at best
Like you’ve already figured out

I’m falling apart
I’m barely breathing
With a broken heart
That’s still beating
In the pain
There is healing
In your name
I find meaning
So I’m holding on
I’m barely holding on to you

The broken locks were a warning
You got inside my head
I tried my best to be guarded
I’m an open book instead
And I still see your reflection
Inside of my eyes
That are looking for purpose
They’re still looking for life

I’m falling apart
I’m barely breathing
With a broken heart
That’s still beating
In the pain
Is there healing
In your name
I find meaning
So I’m holding on
I’m barely holding on to you

I’m hanging on another day
Just to see what, you will throw my way
And I’m hanging on, to the words you say
You said that I will, will be okay
The broken light on the freeway
Left me here alone
I may have lost my way now
But I haven’t forgotten my way home

I’m falling apart
I’m barely breathing
With a broken heart
That’s still beating
In the pain
There is healing
In your name
I find meaning
So I’m holding on
Barely holding on to you

I know you can dig holes. Grab a shovel, dig hole upon hole under the desert sun. The night comes and you don’t have a foothold. I know that. I’ve felt that. Some people dig potholes, though, which worries me.

If you take a shovel and dig, you’ll eventually dig into night. After the Sun sets, the storm comes, and then the Sun reappears. When the dust scatters, you can pull yourself to the top again.

Makes sense, right?

Well, what about when people dig holes they can’t get out of? Permanent potholes deep under cities, where sewers rage, and manhole covers chip and clang when cars pass overhead. Rusted ladders that crumble with a touch of your fingertip. And no one to hear you scream.

What happens when you trip and fall into a pothole? Do you just drift below for centuries in the gloom, never knowing the Sun’s path across the sky or the cycles of the moon? When you raise your hand to push aside the cover, do you just fall back down?

Maybe, if you try hard enough, you can slide your head out and see the Sun, smell the orchids, breathe the world. If the right car drives past you, and you take it to the center of town, maybe you’ll be out of the cage at last.

But I guess that really just depends on how strong you build your ladders.

Going to Toronto on the long four oh one
Heading down into those concrete valleys.
The sun is shining in my eyes my love.
It burns the salty tears that tremble on the edge of falling.

We stopped for gas near Gananoque
The trees around us all were grey and bare.
The plants around were yellow, the fields all sere.
The rest stop like an isle of green amid the brown.

And oh, I cannot leave you
And oh, I cannot stay.
The sun is shining in my eyes my love
I don’t know what to say.

We’re on the road, the black top cut by painted lines
And my heart’s like a two way road and comes and goes
And sinks into the briny depths like drowning men
And flies up to the skies like sea birds soaring.

And I am torn in pieces by the Bacchanal
And one piece runs to you and one piece dies
And one piece hides inside a cave
And one piece just stays and stays.

And oh, I cannot leave you.
And oh, I cannot stay.
And the sun shines in my eyes, my love
And one piece runs away.

But you are all inside me love
Your hurts and cares and griefs;
Your pains, your joys, your smile, your burning fire;
There is no way to rip you from my womb entire.

So stay inside me always.
And bind yourself to my sinews and my bone.
And when autumn turns to winter and the cold draws near,
And vision fades with light into obscure night time haze,

You can be what holds me fast
Whether you be close or far.
I dry wet tears and pull us both into this one car.

And oh, I cannot leave you.
And oh, I cannot stay.
And the sun shines in my eyes, my love
And this is what I’ll say. This is what I’ll say.

Last night was one of those bad sleeps that I have to endure every now and then, and as a consequence I didn’t feel too good this morning. It took me at least an hour to get out of bed. Almost before I knew it was time to go to work, and the old dread instantly filled me, and I desperately didn’t want to go in. I’ve been given new tasks at work to fill the extra hours that I’ve taken on this week, and yesterday could hardly be described as a success when it came to me learning how to perform my new tasks. I wasn’t looking forward to arriving today, to finding out that I’d be left to get on with the extra work alone as if I had already mastered it. I’m fast learning that my superiors don’t really want to be bothered at the moment, with it being the run up to Christmas and the mass of extra work that this necessarily entails for everyone. I felt time slow to a snail’s pace this morning as I waited desperately for the hours to pass just so I could get to work and get it over with. Time goes strange when I am under pressure – the way it always drags when I need it to pass the most is hateful. I know I’m making it drag by thinking about it so much. The anxiety makes me analyze the passing of time more than I would normally. I’m so anxious for it to be the weekend that I can’t just let the days pass without hindrance. I watch the clock constantly. I can’t help it.

When I finally got to work at noon I was unexpectedly told to go downstairs to man the helpdesk for a couple of hours, so I could get a feel for the kind of enquiries coming in over the phone at the moment. From now on part of my role will be to respond to e-mail enquiries from customers – the idea was to see if I could hack it on the phone first. Since I received the official helpdesk training when I started three weeks ago, I should have been able to handle it today without breaking a sweat. I have no idea if it looked like I was handling the job: inside I was panicking horribly the whole time. I have had a phone phobia all my life – I never use the phone if I can avoid it (and I really mean never) -  taking calls from angry customers wanting to know why their retail discounts aren’t working was just about the last way I wanted to spend today. I can understand why they thought it would be a good idea for me to do this. It would give me a more rounded feel for the business, a perspective on the bigger picture from the other side of things, the customers’ side, rather than the retailers’ side that I have been exclusively working from so far. Even though I did the helpdesk training three weeks ago I in no way felt prepared to answer the telephone today. Around me ten other operators took calls constantly, smoothly directing customers to the answers that they needed, while I sat there staring at the handset in front of me, praying for it not to ring. Some of the people who I trained with were in the room with me this afternoon. They’re lucky: they’ve had three weeks of helpline experience now. Since I started I haven’t answered a single phone call. I’ve got quite comfortable at my computer upstairs, where I can perform a multitude of tasks without ever having to speak to anyone.

I don’t know why I am so terrified of telephones. Is it the threat of hearing someone’s actual voice? The possibility that if I can’t answer a question I will have to deal with verbal abuse? In the world of retail the customer is always right, even if they’re hurling insults at you. At least on the computer I can take time to think about what I want to say, and the abuse, if there is any, doesn’t have the emotional punch that it does when you hear it coming from someone’s mouth.

Anyway, when my two hours of hell were up I was allowed to return to the slightly comforting familiarity of my usual home upstairs, after the person who had been semi-supervising me at the helpdesk told me I’d done well. I refused to believe him: for a start I’d only answered the phone once, after much persuasion and guidance and badly disguised looks of contempt from the other helpdesk operators who all had their hands full.

Upstairs, being allowed to get on with my normal job was something of a relief, just because I now find it very easy, if slightly boring at times. I remain haunted by the possibility that I may be asked to return to the helpdesk from time to time, when they are short of staff for instance. They seem to think that because I did the training I will be as good at it as everybody else. I don’t know, maybe I am good at it, I just happen to feel as if I’m being plunged into the deep end of a very deep pool every time I’m in that room.

Hopefully now that I’ve done the helpdesk once I will be able to answer the online enquiries that I am to be given in my extra hours from now on with some ease. It kind of seems like another string that I’m adding to the bow, another test to be passed. As long as I don’t have to answer the phone again for a long time, I’ll be fine. I’m learning little things in my job every day; I’ve survived two weeks of it now and when I’m doing what I’m good at, i.e. working at the computer, I would say I feel quite comfortable. There will probably never be a day when there isn’t at least one challenge to be faced. I already know what tomorrow’s challenge is going to be: a big after-work trip to the pub has been arranged and everyone is expected to go. Melanie, the American boss, is cooking turkey for everyone to celebrate thanksgiving and we are going to sit down in the pub together and eat it. Part of me is quite looking forward to the occasion. I don’t quite know what’s going to happen. Maybe it will be my long-awaited opportunity to meet the other people in the team, get to know them in a setting that isn’t entirely work-related. Since we’ll be in the pub it’s bound to emerge at some point that I don’t drink. I know the question will come up and I know what I’ll say: ‘I don’t like alcohol’. I certainly don’t owe anyone any more explanation than that. In my experience, 9 out of 10 people are perfectly happy with that answer. It’s the 1 in 10 who are the interesting ones.

My desire drifts away but dream shall forever be my treasure as it takes me further from where I am now, travels time and place, beating despair and “truth” trap.

By Shane

“Dreams surely are difficult, confusing, and not everything in them is brought to pass for mankind. For fleeting dreams have two gates: one is fashioned of horn and one of ivory. Those which pass through the one of sawn ivory are deceptive, bringing tidings which come to nought, but those which issue from the one of polished horn bring true results when a mortal sees them.”- Homer

Sigmund Freud believed that our dreams serve as wish-fulfillment bring about all our greatest desires, fears, needs, and wants. Carl Jung believes  that our dreams correct imbalances in our life. Much like our immune system that naturally fights unwanted bacteria and infections, or our natural respiratory system that sustains our life processes as we sleep. When we are out of balance with the natural patterns of life, our subconscious sends us dreams and visions manifested by our inner self.  However, all these concepts come from psychiatrists, dream councilors, etc.  who are educated to think in a particular fashion.

What if there is a deeper meaning to what resides within our dreams? What if a soul on a downward spiral and essentially everything that happens is a chain reaction leaving one action to beget the next? Every man has a weakness because we’re flawed by nature. In these flaws guilt is born and evolves into shame. Through various acts committed this shame is compensated with pride and vanity. When pride fails despair consumes and sets his destruction in motion. Somewhere in this process the flow has to stop.

What if all the beautifully horrid dreams that plague my nights is in retrospect a battle being fought over my soul. For every dream of bliss and happiness was I being touched by a guardian? Likewise, for every terror was I graced by an incubus? Are these thoughts in my conscious mirrors of my unconscious mind or influences of the battles that take place over me.

Take a deep breath. Breathe. Follow me as I lead you on this journey to the end of my conscience and we dive into my dreams.  As we plummet into the abyss I can feel myself succumbing to the shadows over me. Makeshift wings sprout taking us into flight among the darkness. Down below I can see myself tossing the ripe fruit from the tree sanity as all seems loss.  We slid down a razor blade’s affectionate kiss as my veins cried out in triumph and blood tags along for the ride.  Impure, horrendous thoughts lodge themselves in my ivory skull as my wings fade and I lay helpless next to my own body.

Paranoia.

Delusional.

Tortured.

Do you feel it? The control the incubus has over me. The power the incubus now has over us as I can no longer protect us here. Not that it matters because what do you know of how I feel? Is this my hell?

As i lay there. My stare is blank as I watch myself savagely mutilate my once former body. Peeling off the flesh like fresh fruit.

I can’t scream.

I can’t turn away.

Death is what I yearn for.

A warm hand closes my eye’s and warmth encompasses my body. “Believe” is whispered and echoes intensely in my head. My guardian I hear you. Push these demons out of me. I watch as light replaces all the areas where once only darkness dared. It was my thoughts that connected me to you, but it was the tainted ones that allowed evil to leave its mark. Our thoughts is the blue print to our reality for the things we dwell on we cause inadvertently.  When you sit on the fence between heaven and hell. The devil owns the fence. Don’t make the mistakes I’ve made and put your destiny in jeopardy. Death is guaranteed and we might not always get the chance to rectify all our sins.

everybody always cites, the first thing
we do, let’s kill all the lawyers.
but the scariest thing in cade’s rebellion
as presented in shakespeare for me is
“burn all the records of the realm.
my mouth shall be the parliament
of england.”.

because, like i keep tellin ya.
it’s a hardcopy holocaust out there
what with everything being turned into
bits and pulp and landfill.
libraries closing or turning into
data processing stations.
entire university departments…
life support systems for libraries…
being sent to retraining by
human resources zombies with
really good benefits packages.
shred your records at the earliest
opportunity was the law of the land
where *i* was last employed
and i don’t think it’s unusual.
cf whatever rant i posted a while
back about paper bank checks disappearing.

this is how “populist” dictators win.
democratic kampuchea probably the
textbook case of “purge the intellectuals”
but they all do it. it’s farenheit 451
all around us every day so dig it please
and hoard whatever books you think
anybody might want to get a look at later.

Putting aside your feelings for the sake of someone else’s is not always a good thing.  You destroy the inner beauty, the very soul that lives within you and you can never take it back.  I am such a victim, I can tell you my heart has never been the same.  I have given up so much of my life for this one person, that I have become not only lost but have lost strength and belief in who I am.

For awhile, I was beginning to find my inner self and I know it is still there.  But the burning question I have is why can’t I have it all?  I want so much to find peace of mind again, I would do just about anything to sacrifice myself to get it.  But what I really want is so unattainable, that’s it is slowing killing me.  I mean emotionally, physically I feel totally doomed.  I went to see a counsellor yesterday and against all my better judgement; she was not positive about anything.  The only thing I got from that whole conversation was that I was in the wrong.  I was the problem, I was not a victim, I was the idiot who kept reaching and reaching for more pain.  I have never been a really big fan of therapy because I feel they try and seduce your mind into believing something your not.  Like most people. 

I got an email this morning from a dear friend, his words just shot through me.  I would like to include a piece of his work on here today:  “Trust and verify”

Yes. It means you have to take responsibility for your own decisions. It also means that you are more in control of your own decisions and not blindly following someone else’s. I am a strong supporter of having your own opinion. Be rock-solid and do not be easily swayed by others selling their stories to you. You should be open to everyone’s ideas and opinions, but you should know that you do not have to follow a single one of their opinions if you do not agree with it.

This way, you get the best of both worlds. You stay true to yourself and your own opinions, but you are able to capitalize on good and great opinions or advices from others. Weed out the bad advice that will cause nothing but problems by verifying your facts.

Get one, two, three or more opinions if you have to in order to verify the advice. Do not be afraid to pass something up because you do not agree with it. Trust your instincts and your own decisions.

Remember: “Trust but Verify.”

Have a Rockin’ day
Diggy

http://upgradereality.com/trust-but-verify

I always feel that this person writes specifically to me; he sends a signal when I most need it.  I am forever grateful when people write words of wisdom because I do need that right now.

Yesterday I was so filled with voices in my head, I couldn’t think clearly about what was really good for me and this piece of his article made me realize again, I only need me. I only need to hear the voice that tells me, I will be ok.

I will survive this trauma again, this tragedy that hits me every so often but I can say I have had a revelation.  I faced quite a bit of fears this weekend past and it is difficult to swallow.  I thought facing fears would be easy, smooth sailing and would make me feel so much better.  But I have learned that it only releases tension and reveals who you really are and what you really want for yourself.  For me, right now in this very moment, I want inner peace.

I have given my love away so much over the years, especially in the last 4 1/2, and I will no longer do that.  I need that love in return and I will no longer waste it on someone who cannot love me back. 

“May my angel take all my love and put it away somewhere, so that when I need it back he can send it to me.”

I am dedicating this blog to someone whom I have never met, but “HE” rests in peace. (To you AP, my angel.)

I so need a purple sky.

If only words could save me. Words are all I have.

I read a story last week: Return of the Guardian King.  Fourth and final of a vividly epic fantasy series written by a woman who knows my world, my type, and my God.  Her name is Karen Hancock, and her stories have invaded my imagination permanently.

It is a book about temptation, I told a friend.  Resisting in the slow way, wearied by the persistence, common days, small things.  And massive temptations: to betray all you have believed in, to denounce the promises of God for the power of ruling kingdoms, to trade love in the good God and His simple gifts to the extravagant suit of the alluring devil.  But the large and the small are the same. 

The characters are strong against deception and temptation when they have been faithful in the daily denying of self.  To live for others, in kindness and patience, prepares each person against bitterness and despair.  Immersion in the truth and promises of God is comfort and hope.  Even if their prayer is a single cry for help from God, bad things trun to good when people talk to their God. 

The story isn’t about what is happening on the outside as much as it is about whether the characters are trusting God, whether they know with all their might that He loves them and that His plans for them are good.  When they are rebelling against him, they are miserable.  So are those around them.  So am I. 

Kiriath is in the hands of the jealous and vengeful brother Gillard, possessed by a demon rhu’ema.  Already they treat and ally with the archenemy, Belthe’adi, Abramm had warned them of.  Abramm is known to be dead.  But Abramm is also walking the mountains, chafing under the waiting in a snowed-in monastery.  Maddie is back at her childhood home, a palatial life she never embraced, and her newest royal duty is to marry some rich aristocrat who can offer troops to defend the last stand of her homeland.  But her dreams linked with her beloved’s are back, and something tugs hope alive in her that maybe Abramm survived after all. 

Shapeshifters, dragons, and the critical people who are supposed to be his friends plague Abramm on his Odyssey-like journey back to his wife and sons.  Trap and Carissa mirror Abramm’s struggle with pride and longing but in a quiet domestic setting.  Detours take the exiled king and longed-for husband to places of faith and doubt he never would have imagined – and sometimes wishes he had never asked for. 

Every character learns the power of friends: locking them against temptation, praying for their dearest concerns, teaching and challenging with the truth, dividing the attacks of dragons, delivering messages, watching with unbiased eyes, guarding against betrayal.  Again Abramm learns that it is not his strength that conquers, and that God has not gifted him with leadership and military prowess to fight God’s battles for Him.  He is but a vessel. 

Maddie meets a charming man who is attractive in all the ways Abramm never was.  Tirus wants her, wants to help her.  He understands her and shows her off, showers her with gifts and protects her from scorn.  How long can she wait for her husband whom even her dearest friends still believe is dead?  Will she believe the light-born visions and promises from God, or the technological, repeatable sight from the stone sent to her by her suitor?  Will she change her mind about regal living and the purpose of marriage?  The things that stood in Maddie’s way when she wanted to marry Abramm, and the undeniable need they had for each other – will she forget those? 

When things go from bad to worse, whose job is it to protect the ones they love?  At what cost will they buy safety and love?  Will the armies of the Moon, and the powers of the air – dragons winging terror across the skies – will they succeed in doing their worst, in taking everything from those faithful to God?  Or will they be utterly defeated?  If they cannot be defeated, what is the point in fighting and sacrificing? 

And when God’s people fail, bitterly weak, The Return of the Guardian King resounds with display of God’s mercy.  God knew we were weak when He chose us.  He knew we would fail when He sent His Son to suffer for those sins.  And a single prayer, sometimes the end of God’s longsuffering chase, brings grace empowering His servants to do the right thing.  He cannot deny Himself.  His promises will be true, however faithless we are. 

To God be all glory,

Lisa of Longbourn

“Despair is the damp of hell, as joy is the serenity of heaven”
John Donne (English poet, 1572-1631)

Setuju sama perkataannya bang John

Hadooh… Bayangkan saudara-saudara!!!

13 hari lagi Ujian Akhir Semester en aku sama sekali belom nyiapin apa-apa!!!

Trus Besok hari Rabu ada ujian Badminton dan kebetulan aku nomer absennya 8

Dengan ini, saya nggak akan pernah memberi nama anak saya dengan awalan huruf “A” paling-paling namanya “Soran Ibrahim” Setsuna Lover

Kalau boleh jujur seumur-umur aku nggak pernah main Badminton. Serius! Aku nggak bo’ong! (ngapain juga bo’ong)

Dulu pas ujian Badminton di Surabaya aja aku jadi Dokumentator T_T

Besok juga detlen tugas akhir pelajaran T.I.K yang suruh ngerjain 100 soal plus pertanyaannya . Dan aku belom ngerjain juga!

Di kepalaku aja cuma tengiang-ngiang suara “Mokyuuuu Mokyuuu Mokyuukyuuu”-nya Chizuru (Seitokai no Ichizon)

Selama aku sekolah di Jakarta ini (baru taun lalu pindah dari Surabaya. Masih pakai logat Jawa) Aku pergi kesekolah cuma tidur, ngeliatin shota, ngerusuh, makan, pulang. Nggak pernah ada kejadian “YEAH! Hari ini aku ke sekolah. Seneng banget deh! Ahaha” terus berjalan ke sekolah sambil melompat-lompat bersama teman-teman sambil di kelilingi bunga-bunga “Ahahaa.. Matte yooo… Ahaha” . Maho.

Ngomong-ngomong aku hari ini ga masuk sekolah gara-gara sakit

Badan lemeeess banget. Entah kenapa setiap mendekati ujian badanku selalu kaya’ gini.

Oiya aku akhir-akhir ini suka liat Tegami Bachi

Tegami Bachi ~Letter Bee~

Tegami Bachi Trailer

Ceritanya tentang seorang Bishounen yang cinta pada pandang pertama oleh seorang Shota MOE.

Tegami Bachi bercerita mengenai seorang bocah bernama Lag Seeing yang ibunya diculik sekumpulan orang menuju ibukota yang bernama Akatsuki. Lag lalu bertemu dengan seorang pria bernama Guiche yang mengaku merupakan seorang tegami bachi dan diserahi tugas untuk ‘mengirim’ Lag kepada bibinya, entah bagaimana sang pengirim adalah ibu Lag. Perjalanan panjang yang nyaris merengut nyawa mereka lalu berakhir ketika Lag sampai ke rumah bibinya. 5 tahun kemudian, Lag yang sangat terkesan pada Guiche memutuskan untuk menjadi seorang tegami bachi, agar mampu bertemu lagi dengan Guiche serta ibunya.

Cast:
Ayumi Fujimura as Niche
Miyuki Sawashiro as Lag Seeing
Ami Koshimizu as Aria Link
Daisuke Kishio as Zaji
Hisayoshi Suganuma as Connor
Jun Fukuyama as Gauche Suede —> Seiyuunya Lelouch Lamperouge (Code Geass)
Katsuyuki Konishi as Largo Lloyd
Kazuya Nakai as Jiggy Pepper _–> Seiyuu-nya Roronoa Zorro (One Pice)
Nana Mizuki as Sylvette —>  Seiyuu-nya Fate  (Magical Lirycal Nanoha)
Naomi Nagasawa as Steak

Menurutku Anime ini seru banget!

Bukan berarti aku yang ngerekomendasi anime ini animenya jadi genre yaoi T_T

Entah kenapa setiap aku nge-review anime pasti orang-orang pada nanya “ini yaoi bukan?” “kalo azu yg review past yaoi!” dsb…

Saya nggak selalu liat yaoi lho kak T_T

Anime yang banyak bishoujonya aku juga liat kok

Contohnya Getsumen to Heiki Mina .. (yeee… itu sih gara-gara Usagi-mimi)

Oiya aku selalu update lho setiap seminggu sekali

so… tunggu aja ^w^

Mokyuuu~

I found these photos from a newspaper blog. There were others, but these two captured me.

A child searches for recyclable material in India.

Child laborers in a balloon shop in Bangladesh.

]]> http://sixtywords.wordpress.com/2009/11/23/read-all-about-it/ Mon, 23 Nov 2009 18:44:14 +0000 erisian http://sixtywords.wordpress.com/2009/11/23/read-all-about-it/

A policeman murdered his soon-to-be wife; bludgeoned her to death before staging a fatal car accident.

Hundreds are bereft of their homes; flooded out a month before Christmas.

A forty-six year old man has spent half his life in a conscious state of paralysis; believed comatose, unable to communicate his awareness.

I struggle to comprehend.

Still less should I complain.

Mechanism of Mind, by Edward de Bono

The Mechanism of Mind, by Edward de Bono

“Freddie was designed as a space age pet for modern living. He is a small black sphere which is completely smooth on the outside. When Freddie is kicked he starts to roll about. To stop him you kick him again. Whenever he comes up against an obstacle he just backs away, moves along it or just changes direction as he feels inclined. The purpose of Freddie is to provide intelligent animation without the owner having to feed him, look after him or take him round the lampposts every evening.”

Freddie’s image is so intriguing that we find ourselves smiling, but not at the implication that our lives might well be similar to his own. When it comes to our mind, to our way of thinking, we resent being told that our mental processes are mechanical, and that there is no separate self or agent initiating or directing our thoughts.

Though Dr. de Bono is a physician and is currently working in the Department of Investigative Medicine at Cambridge University, England, he uses no monkeys, rabbits, rats or electronic brain probes to make his case. He seeks to convince us with models made from pins, lights, switches, blocks, jelly, water and other equally familiar materials.

Put some table jelly in a shallow dish; now spoon some hot water onto the jelly and then pour the water off: as the water melts the jelly, it creates channels. As more water is spooned onto the jelly, the patterns become more diverse and intricate. But soon, no matter where you pour it, most of the water will flow through the channels already created, thereby making these channels deeper and ensuring that any additional water will flow through them. Think of the jelly as the memory surface of the brain, and the channels as memories or associations. The flow of water through these channels is the “interpretation and recording of incoming information. . . the main point is that there is flow, and that the flow is dictated by the contours of the surface.”

In other words, the past shapes the present. But what about new ideas and perceptions? Can we receive them without their being processed by the various patterns which have accumulated through suggestion and repetition, or are we doomed to a constant repetition of past thoughts and perceptions (as the jelly model indicates)? The answer seems to demand a more precise study of the mechanics of the human mind, of the way it is “kicked” in and out of action by influences from outside as well as from within.

Dr. de Bono distinguishes between several different kinds of thought, all of which are equally mechanical, but which nevertheless differ in the results they bring. The most “primitive” form of thought is “natural thinking.” This is the passive associative flow along the contours of the memory surface. It is totally dependent on whatever happens to be accumulated at the moment. There is a momentum from cliché to cliché. “Natural thinking makes use of absolutes and extremes since these patterns become more easily established than intermediate ones.” In de Bono’s words:

“The lack of proportion in natural thinking in some ways resembles the contents of newspapers. The odd, the unusual, the emotional, all get as much emphasis as ordinary events, or more, even though the latter are much more important in real-life terms. Labels and categories are much used in natural thinking since they provide quick interpretation and firm direction of flow. There is little vagueness or indecision in natural thinking since even a slight degree of dominance in one area is sufficient to attract the flow.”

“Logical thinking” differs from natural thinking only as a result of the experience of “non-identity,” or “no.” No conveys an awareness of more than one alternative; it implies a “mismatch,” a conflict between patterns. As a result of no, one pattern or pathway is selected and another is blocked from our attention. “The effect of logical thinking is like that obtained by a farmer who directs the water to his fields by careful blocking of some irrigation channels in order to get the water to flow through the others.” The difficulty is that what may have been useful in the past may be the exact opposite of what is necessary now. Once no has blocked a particular pathway it is likely to continue doing so even when the conditions have changed. “The more emotion that was infused into the no label by upbringing, the more powerful would be its use and its effect.”

With “mathematical thinking” we come to what is supposedly the least subjective form of sequential thought. This kind of thinking, for de Bono, is based on the use of “ready-made recipes,” or “algorithms.” “An algorithm is any fixed pattern which is not derived from presented information but serves to control and sort out that information. Algorithms may be mathematical techniques but they may also be word patterns or any other type of preset pattern.” Instead of the incoming information finding its own path along the contours of the surface, specific channels are pre-cut and the information flows through them. If the “preset pattern” actually represents the given situation then mathematical thinking can avoid many of the errors of natural and logical thinking. Unfortunately, in most cases, neither the algorithm nor the choice of what it processes is itself the result of mathematical thinking.

Dr. de Bono makes it clear that none of these forms of thought can get beyond the limitations imposed by the nature of the memory surface. He therefore offers a fourth classification which he calls “lateral thinking.” This type of thinking is based on the disruption of the sequential flow of our ordinary thought:

“Lateral thinking has nothing to do with chaos for the sake of chaos. Disruption of a pattern in lateral thinking is only in order to let a better pattern form. Later the process can be repeated again. For this reason those chemical methods of disruption which work by upsetting the smooth co-ordination of the mind are useless since the smooth co-ordination of the mind is required to snap the new patterns into coherence. The art of lateral thinking is to bring about the disruption while still retaining the ability to benefit from it in terms of coherent ideas.”

How does one achieve this kind of thinking? Dr. de Bono offers a number of different methods, all of which are dependent on the ability to allow one’s thought to organize itself in a “new” way. But whether this new organization be the result of shocks coming from without, the intentional effort of turning an idea upside down, or the effort of a slight shift in attention, it is always necessary to confront what de Bono calls the “main information sin”–arrogance. “Arrogance appears in many forms. Just as one particular fixed way of looking at things leads to the arrogance of pride so another fixed way of looking at things leads to the arrogance of despair.”

How can we escape this “sin”? Dr. de Bono tells us that one way is through a “realization of the arbitrary nature and historical development. . .” of our attitudes:

“It is not suggested that the realization of the arbitrariness of patterns should lead to a loss of drive and direction. On the contrary, one realizes that patterns are useful no matter how arbitrary, and so one uses them. But uses them without arrogance, with an inquiry about better patterns, and with the willingness to change to better patterns if they should seem more useful.”

But is the interest in “better patterns” sufficient motivation to see and accept the mechanicality of one’s mind? If arrogance is not simply an information sin, if its effects are scattered through our entire being, then perhaps we do need to experience a “loss of drive and direction.” Perhaps freed for a moment from our cerebral manipulations, we will feel the need for a totally new quality of thought–one which could bring us to a wider, more fundamental sense of our existence.

This review first appeared in the journal Material for Thought, Spring 1971 (issue #3), published by Far West Editions. Far West Editions “was begun in 1968 by John Pentland, a direct pupil of G. I. Gurdjieff and president of the Gurdjieff Foundations of New York and California until his death in 1984. Its original purpose was to discover if a more impartial quality of spiritual thought can emerge when a small group of people work at writing while at the same time trying to see themselves as they are.”  Though I am “the author” of this review, it was working in these special conditions that made it possible. You can click on the above link to see what issues of Material for Thought are currently available.

by Saint Amphilochius of Iconium

When, my brother, you feel too ashamed to raise your eyes up to heaven and you feel that your soul no longer belongs in the book of life, read these words of Saint Amphilochios, and you will find the power to struggle in life and to eventually be victorious, with the help of our Lord Jesus Christ. Persist in your struggle, and God will provide, for all of us!

St. Amphilochios on Avoiding Despair
from “The Evergetios: A Complete Text”, Vol. 1 of the First Book

A certain brother, overcome by the passion of immorality, sinned every day. However, each time, with tears and prayers, he would fall before the Master and Lord and receive forgiveness from Him. And as soon as he had repented, the next day, being misled again by shameful habit, he would fall to sin.

Afterwards, having sinned, he would go to the Church, where he would prostrate himself before the honorable and revered Icon of our Lord Jesus Christ and tearfully confess to Jesus: “Lord, have mercy upon me and take away from me this fearful temptation, for it troubles me fiercely and wounds me with the bitter taste of the pleasures. O my Master, cleanse my person once more, that I may gaze upon Thine Icon and see Thy holy form and the sight of Thy face, brighter than the sun, that my heart might be sweetened and thankful.”

And though his lips had just whispered these words, no sooner would he leave the Church than he would fall once again to sin.

Despite this, however, he did not despair of his salvation, but, returning from his sinful deed, would cry out in the Church the same words to God, to the Lord, Who loves mankind, adding the following: “My Lord, I swear to Thee on my word that I shall no longer commit this sin. Only forgive me, Good and Most Merciful Lord, whatever sins I have committed from the beginning to this moment.”

No sooner would he utter these awe-inspiring words, than he would find himself the captive of this evil sin. Let no one cease to marvel at the sweet love of God towards mankind and at His boundless goodness, with which He each day tolerated the uncorrected and evil transgression and ingratitude of the brother. Indeed, God, because of the greatness of His mercy, persistently accepted the repentance of that sinful brother and his inevitable return. For this happened not for one or two or three years, but for more than ten years.

Do you see, my brother, the measureless forbearance and boundless love of the Master? How He continually endures, showing to us kindness, tolerating our terrible transgressions and sins? And what evokes astonishment and wonderment with regard to the rich mercies of God is that He did not become wrathful with the brother in question, though the brother, agreeing not to fall to sin again, continually broke his word.

At any rate, one day when all that we have described again occurred, the brother, having fallen to sin, rushed to the Church, lamenting, groaning, and crying with anguish, to invoke the mercy of God, that He might have compassion on him and take him from the sin of immorality.

No sooner had he called on God, the lover of man, than the Devil, that evil of old, destroyer of our souls, seeing that he could gain nothing, since whatever he accomplished by sin, the brother expunged by his repentance, became infuriated and appeared visibly before the brother. Facing the Icon of Christ, the Devil said to our compassionate Savior: “What will become of the two of us, Jesus Christ? Your sympathy for this sinner defeats me and takes the ground I have gained, since you keep accepting this dissolute man and prodigal who daily mocks you and scorns your authority. Indeed, why is it that you do not burn him up, but, rather, tolerate and put up with him? … It is because one day you intend to condemn all of the adulterers and the dissolute and you will destroy all sinners.

“Actually, you are not a just Judge. But by whim your power is sometimes applied leniently and overlooks things. So, while I was cast from the heavens down to the abyss for a little breach of pride, to this fellow here, even though an immoral man and a prodigal, you calmly show your sympathy, just because he throws himself down in front of your Icon.

“In what way can you be called a just Judge, then? For, as I see it, you receive individual people with great kindness, but ignore justice in general.”

The Devil said all of this, poisoned with great bitterness, whilst there poured forth from his nostrils a black flame.

Having said these things, he fell silent. A voice was heard in response, coming forth from the divine sanctuary, saying the following: “O, all-cunning and ruinous Dragon, are you yet not satisfied with your evil and destructive desire to gobble up the world? Now you have even the nerve to try to do away with this man here, who has come with contrition to entreat the mercy of my compassion to devour him, too? Can you offer up enough sins that, by them, you can tilt the balance of justice against the precious blood which I shed on the Cross for this man? Behold my murder and death, which I endured for the forgiveness of his sins.

“You, when he turns again to sin, do not turn him away, but receive him with joy, neither chastising him nor preventing him from committing sin, out of the hope that you might win him over; but I, who am merciful and love mankind, who counselled my laudable Apostle, Peter, to forgive sins seven times seventy (St. Matthew 18:22), do I not show him mercy and compassion? Indeed, simply because he flees to me, I will not turn him away until I have won him over. Furthermore, I was crucified for sinners and for their salvation; my immaculate hands were nailed to the Cross, that those who so wish might take refuge in me and be saved. For this reason, then, I neither turn away nor reject anyone, even if he should fall many times a day and many times return to me; such a person will not leave my Temple saddened, for I came not to call the righteous, but to call sinners to repent.”

During the time that this voice was heard, the Devil was fixed in his place, trembling and unable to run away. The voice then again began to say: “We have heard from all that you say, O Seducer, that I am not just; to the contrary, I am just beyond all. In whatever moral state I find a person, in that state I judge him. Look at this man who a few moments ago repented, having returned from sin and having fallen at my feet with a sincere resolution to abandon sin, and thereby having conquered you.

“Therefore, I will accept him immediately and save his soul, since he did not lose hope in his hard toil for salvation.

“Look how much he merits by his repentance before me, for which he is honored. As for you, let your hate be shred to pieces and you disgraced.”

While this was being said, the repentant brother had thrown himself before the Icon of the Savior. With his face to the ground and lamenting, he surrendered his spirit to the Lord. At the same time that the repentant brother departed to the Lord, a great tempest fell upon Satan, like a fire from Heaven, and devoured him. From this incident, my brothers, let us learn of the limitless compassion of God and of His love of man—a good Master we have—, that we might never again be disheartened by our sins, but rather look after our salvation with zeal.

2. Again another brother, having repented of all of the sins that he had committed, attained peace (he no longer fell to any misdeed or sins). It so happened that almost immediately thereafter he stumbled on a rock and injured his foot. So much blood flowed from the wound that he lost consciousness and died. After his death, the demons immediately came, wishing to take his soul.

However, the Angels stopped them and told them:

“Look at that rock and see his blood, which he shed in struggle for his love of the Lord.”

When they had said this, the Angels ascended with him to Heaven, his soul free of sin.

3. Satan appeared to a brother who had fallen to sin and said to him:

“You are not a Christian.”

The brother, without being ensnared by this thought of the Devil, answered:

“Regardless of what I am today, from now on I will flee from you.”

Satan, attempting to cast him into despair, spoke again to him:

“I tell you that you are going to Hell.”

The brother, not losing his courage, answered a second time:

“You are neither my judge nor my God.”

So, Satan took leave, having accomplished nothing.

The brother then repented sincerely before God and became a valiant struggler.

4. A brother, possessed by sadness and melancholy, went to an Elder and asked of him:

“What am I to do? My thoughts present me with the idea that perhaps in vain I denied the world and that I cannot be saved.”

Thoughtfully, the Elder answered as follows:

“My child, even if we do not succeed in reaching the promised land, it is better that we should give our carcasses to the desert than return to the Egypt of fearful enslavement” (Numbers 14:29-33).

5. Another brother asked the same Elder:

“Father, to what does the Prophet refer when he says, ‘there is no salvation for him in his God’ (Psalm 3:2)?”

The Elder gave the following response to the brother’s inquiry:

“He is referring to thoughts of despair, which the demons place before the sinner, saying: ‘Neither now nor hereafter is it possible for God to save you.’ With such counsel they try to cast the sinner into despair. But a person must contrast these thoughts with the words of Holy Scripture: ‘The Lord is my refuge and He shall free my feet from the snare’ (Psalm 24:15; 25:15 KJV).”

6. One of the Desert Fathers relates the following beneficial story: In Thessaloniki, there was once a convent of virgins. One of the nuns of the convent, by virtue of the works of the Tempter, left the monastery and fell to prostitution. She remained in this loathsome sin of immorality for a number of years. Yet after some time, with the help of God, Who loves mankind, she repented and returned to her convent. But before she was able to enter into the convent, she fell dead at the gates. In the meantime, her death was revealed to a certain holy man. In this revelatory vision, he saw—among other things—the Holy Angels who had come to take her soul and the demons following behind the soul. On the one hand, the Angels claimed that the nun had returned to the convent repentant, and thus her soul belonged to them. But the demons answered: “She has worked so many years for us, and therefore her soul should be ours. Moreover, she did not even manage to enter into the convent. How, then, can you claim that she repented?”

The Angels, however, cut them off, saying that from the moment that God, Who is omniscient, perceived that the nun’s intention was aimed at repentence, He gladly received her and she was justified. “She was master over her repentance, in reaching the goal which she had intended; the Lord over her life, however, was the Master of all.”

After hearing these words, the demons were thwarted and departed, leaving the soul to the Angels.

The holy man who beheld this vision related it to others.

7. Abba Alonios said: “If a man but so desires, he can return to the divine standard and repent anytime, whether early or late.”

8. A brother posed the following question to Abba Moses:

“Let us suppose that a man beats his servant for a certain transgression; what should the servant say?”

The Elder replied:

“If he is a good servant, he will say: ‘My Lord, have mercy on me, for I have done wrong.”‘

The brother asked again:

“Should the servant say nothing else?”

And the Elder answered again:

“Nothing else. For, having admitted and confessed his fault and having said, ‘I have done wrong,’ immediately his Lord will take pity on him from the depth of his soul and forgive him.”

9. A brother said to Abba Poimen:

“When I fall to some deplorable sin, my conscience eats me up and sharply reproaches me because I have fallen to that sin.”

The Elder answered the brother as follows:

“If, at the very moment that he commits a sin, a person says, ‘I have sinned,’ his conscience ceases to be troubled.”

10. The parents of a young girl by the name of Taisia died and left her an orphan. The young woman converted her home into a guest house for the Fathers of a neighboring skete. For many years she thus welcomed them and showed them care through her hospitality.

After some time, however, having spent all that she had in her hospitable work for the Fathers, she fell into need and became poor.

So it was that she fell in with some perverted people who led her to change her way of life and to abandon the path of virtue. The result of these destructive associations of hers was that Taisia flourished ever more in the way of sin, ending up, in time, in prostitution.

When the Fathers heard of her plight, it much saddened them.

So, they called upon Abba John the Short and said to him: “We have learned that our sister Taisia is living in sin. It is well known that, when she was still able, she showed us her love and hospitality and gave us rest. It is now time for us to help her as much as we can. Take upon yourself the task, then, of meeting with her and try, with the wisdom that God has given you, to set her aright and to pull her out of the mud of debauchery.”

The Elder thus went to the den of sin where Taisia was staying.

“Inform your mistress, please, that I am asking for her,” he told the old woman who was the doorkeeper of the house of ill repute.

“Get out of here, monk,” the old women told him angrily. “You monks early on took all that she had and have left her poor now.”

“Please go and do as I asked you,” the Elder insisted, “because I aim to bring her great benefit.”

The old woman finally stubbornly went upstairs and yelled to Taisia. that some monk wanted to visit her.

“Those monks,” Taisia thought, on hearing who it was who was asking for her, “frequently live near the Red Sea and find valuable pearls.”

Having adorned herself with special care, she lay down on her bed and said to the old woman porter:

“Bring the monk to me.”

So, in fact, shortly Abba John entered the appointed room and sat near her. Looking carefully into her face, he said emotionally:

“What is it that you have against Jesus, and why do you blame him for coming to such a state as this?”

She, upon hearing these words, was totally paralyzed. At the same time, the Elder lowered his head and began to weep in sobs.

Shaken, Taisia then asked him:

“Abba, why are you crying?”

Abba John, raising his head a little, and then lowering it again, said:

“How can I see Satan playing on your face and not cry?”

At this remark, the sinful Taisia asked:

“Is there such a thing as repentance, Father?”

“Yes, there is,” the Elder replied.

“Then take me with you,” Taisia said, ” and direct me as you will.”

“So, let us go now.”

At the beckoning of the Elder, the repentant sinner immediately arose to follow him.

The Elder was beset by astonishment, since he saw that Taisia had no interest in settling her household matters, but left things just as they were and followed him.

By the time they reached the desert, it had become completely dark. Abba John prepared a little place to sleep for her and, having made the sign of the Cross on it, told her:

“Sleep here.” And after he had prepared for himself an improvised place to sleep on the ground, a short distance away, he completed his prayers and lay down to rest.

During the middle of the night he awakened and saw a strange spectacle; he saw a shining pathway leading heavenward from the spot where Taisia was sleeping and Angels of God leading the soul of the repentant sinner upwards along it.

Immediately he got up and, rushing toward Taisia, tapped her lightly with his foot. Once he realized that she was indeed dead, he prostrated with his face to the earth and entreated God to reveal to him whether He had accepted Taisia’s repentance. Praying in this manner, he heard a voice from God, which said to him:

“The single hour for which this women repented was more quickly received than that of many who spend years in repentance, since the repentance of the latter is not as earnest as hers.”

From The Evergetinos, Book I, Vol. I (Etna, CA: Center for Traditionalist Orthodox Studies, 1991), pp. 17-38.

Ancient Faith Radio – Saint of the Day

Someone got a new computer, with a built-in webcam. Someone else taught her how to automatically upload pictures to the web at regular intervals. Considering how, in the long run, it’s not beneficial for us to be in love, this was a bad idea. But right now, it feels like it was the best idea in the world. I just feel like a molten pile of goo.

I went over to their house tonight. We had lasagna, and just hung out for a little. She wanted to show me her new computer, and it was fun. I told her plainly before I went over, that she should keep in mind that there’s a fire burning in me, and it’s going to be hard, but I won’t show it — and I didn’t. I played with her daughter, I was cordial with him, and I kept my distance from her.

It didn’t go off without a hitch. Before I went over, I got off of IM with her after telling her that I’d be over in 15 minutes. And only a minute later, she calls and says, “Maybe tonight isn’t such a good night.” – I got the message, and merrily said, “Okay, I understand. Another time perhaps.” – I could only imagine what was going on over there. A few minutes later, she came back on IM and said I was still invited over. I told her that I didn’t want to cause trouble, but reluctantly agreed, this time with a little trepidation.

After I left a few hours later, she IM’d me, “He’s jealous of you.” – I asked why, and she said it was because of our friendship. There’s not much else to be jealous of, but I suppose that is more than enough. They’re not fighting or anything. I guess he just shared his feelings. She said, “I don’t know what to do.”

You know, neither of us do. After well over a year of every day ending in anguish, what’s stopping it? I take comfort in knowing that time passes anyway. Time doesn’t stop to recognize suffering. It just keeps going… to an inevitable end.

There is no peace

There is no hope

How the hell

Do I cope?

I cannot feel

I cannot see

I cannot give

Onto thee

My voices cries out

My tears will fall

I have no doubt

I’ve said it all

He sees my pain

He sees my grief

For I do not gain

Any sign of relief

My only hope

My only dream

Someday I can cope

And never scream

-Cathy Belyea

Is it only the lack of trust, the fear to trust? Or is there something else? I don’t know. I’m just tired and totally destroyed… What do I want except of oblivion? What do I have to do with all these feelings I have, all this anger, despair and deep offence? What do I have to… So many questions. And no answer.

When a healing is done, who is it that is really doing the healing? In ThetaHealing™ we are taught that we witness the healing, and God/ Creator (or Source, Universal Power, All That Is, Oneness etc) performs the healing.

During my time in the Spiritual Business world, I have noticed that in all healing modalities there have been people who break away from a modality, call it something different and then claim it is better or that is replaces the original modality. This is really peculiar behaviour, why does there have to be any comparison, competition or  replacement. If God is the one doing the healing, does it really matter what it is called. Is it the modality that heals the person or are we just looking for something to call it, or even taking the credit?

Everyday we are bombarded with claims from healers in all modalities that they are better than then everyone else, and they even claim that particular modalities don’t work. That is really subjective information. It may not have worked for them and maybe someone else that they know, but did it not work for everyone, no! These claims create fear in people and create thoughts of disbelief and even inadequacy, especially if you are doing a modality that is being called dangerous or redundant. But why are these claims even generated? Is it due to an over active Ego, or a need to save people from themselves.

If all healing modalities use the same universal energy then is there any real need to compare and compete? People are attracted to what they are attracted to, and disrespecting other modalities to make you look better, in fact makes you look worse. If you come from a place of abundance, then there is plenty for everyone, no matter what modality you do. If you come from a place of lack, or scarcity there will never ever be enough, not even for you! The choice is yours.

I appreciate that role of the witness is one of great importance, because without the witness the healing does not happen. And at the same time the witness is not doing the healing, so we are all important aspects of the healing process. I guess that I am really aware of my role and enjoy being an integral part of changing a person’s life. My Ego and I work together really well, they help me to get up in front of people and teach ThetaHealing™, and then they are quiet when the healing is happening. This is a wonderful relationship.

On the point of Ego, I will say in my advertising that I am the first ThetaHealing™ Master in Australia, so is that an over active ego or a statement of fact? I know how I intend it to be taken, how people read it is ultimately up to them. I do not make the claim that I am better than anyone else, I am displaying a credential I am proud if. Remember, that being discharged out of the Army at the height of my career was devastating to me, so now I have something to be very proud of.  There is a huge difference between pride/ self-confidence and ego!

So now matter what modality/ modalities you choose to use in your journey, know that they are  perfect for you. You will not have to prove anything to anyone, unless you still need to prove it to yourself. By allow others to enjoy their journey, you will be able to truly enjoy your own journey.

A month ago, if you had told me I would be going to see my new home in the centre of London today, I wouldn’t have laughed at you. I would probably have burst into tears, collapsed to the floor and proceeded to have a fit of tragic hysterics. Today, against all previous expectations and beliefs, I saw my new home, and of course I fell in love with it. Not because it’s nice, or cosy – just because it’s going to be mine, in a month from now. It is in an amazing part of town, round the corner from the South Bank and Waterloo station, on the same road as the famous Old Vic theatre and a plethora of fancy shops and restaurants that I will undoubtedly be trying out with eagerness in the New Year. The price for the room is so reasonable, and the room itself is amazingly big, with a view that incorporates all that the South Bank of the River Thames is famous for, including the London Eye, the Imax cinema and the towering industrial chimney of the Tate Modern. I can’t believe I’m going to be living there by the end of this year. I’ve been saying ‘I can’t believe…’ a lot this weekend.

I also keep thinking how it’s all dependent on me continuing to do everything that I’m doing. For the first time since early recovery, I feel like I’ve been placed in the cockpit of a plane, and in order to survive I have to learn to steer the aircraft to safety. Two and a half years ago just having to live without alcohol was like flying a plane – today it’s growing up, taking responsibility, keeping a job that feels like the hardest flying lesson anyone ever took. If I keep doing what I’m doing, I won’t crash the plane. I’ll keep it in the air, I’ll get to dry land and everything will be OK. If for some reason something goes wrong – if I give into the feeling that I can’t go on, if I let go of the wheel and retreat to the familiar safety of my old life, then I won’t get to live in Waterloo. I’ll be a child forever.

It seems as if the past two and a half years have been bringing me to this point. This is what recovery is for. I didn’t stop drinking to be happy, make friends – I got sober to become an adult, find my place in the world. If I hadn’t got sober then I would never have spent all that time working on my sleeping patterns, daily routines, applied for all those jobs, picked myself up from all those rejections. It’s such a cliché, but I wouldn’t be here today if I were still drunk. Everything I’ve done in recovery has been about this moment: it’s made today possible. I keep repeating the fact that this is SO important because it really is. I can’t afford to fuck it up in even the slightest way.

Again, I wonder if it’s all happening too soon, if I’m jumping the gun when I should be waiting a while to save some money, pay off a few debts. If I’m supposed to be waiting, why did I get that phonecall from Ethan on Friday, asking if I was looking for a place to live? It’s well known that things happen in God’s time, is it not? Whether I’d waited a few weeks to move or a few years, I would have had to do it eventually. I’ve lived here for long enough. I need to go to Waterloo and start my new life properly.

What if I lose this job next year? What if my colleagues really hate me and don’t want me there any more? What if? What if? What if? Oh, the doubts are endless. I’m so used to them, I’m hardly listening to them. Behind that wall of fearful noise in my head I see a small child – the scared little boy I have recently started trying to get to know. He doesn’t want to leave home, he doesn’t want to go out in the world and be without mummy any more. It’s my job to become his parent. All of this stuff I’m doing, it’s all completely unknown territory to the child inside me. Last time I tried independence, my three year stint in Norwich failed spectacularly because I didn’t listen to the inner child. I drank my independence away trying to shut those childish, dark fears up. Now I have to ration my income, make budgets, pay bills, purchase my own provisions, clean my own clothes, make my own bed – and I can’t fail. I don’t want to fail. I came back to London from Norwich five years ago thinking it would only be a year or two before something came my way and I’d be able to skip off into the night again. Five and a half years later, a chance has finally come, after hardship and tears that less tough souls wouldn’t be able to weather. I have waited so long for today. Independence is here at the door when I least expected it. It’s the end of a monumental decade in my life; a decade in which I’ve been a practicing alcoholic, lived in East Anglia, studied for two full degrees, had a handful of disastrous relationships, made some incredible friends, got sober and found spirituality. Now I am sailing off into unknown and unknowable waters, for the first time or the millionth time. When I move to Waterloo next month the world won’t change; London will still be the same beautiful, crazy, scary city that it has always been. For me it might as well be destroyed and rebuilt, such is the significance of the changes about to take place in my life. These changes are necessary, I know they are – they had to happen some time, because I got sober and set God’s true plans for me in motion. I don’t know what’s in store for me. I don’t need to know – after all that’s happened, I can’t help believing that God isn’t about to let me down.

I’m going straight to the heart of danger now, looking for safety. I’m about to start, or I’m starting to live a life beyond my wildest dreams. The AA promises ARE coming true. Who’d have thought?

This is utterly unscientific from about 4 to 52 angles so please stop reading if you’re inclined towards sanity.

Now, for the rest of us: this is a review of “Rocketfuel (self-heating) Black Coffee (Hot Energy Strong Black Coffee Powered by Guarana)”, see image for visual appreciation and deep scientific understanding of the issue at hand. Ok, so here’s the, erowid.org-style, personal trip report from the encounter:

Dose: 1 (oral) Rocketfuel Black Coffee (wet)
Body weight: 69 kilo (152lb or 11 stone)

First, before I begin, despite what may be deducted from the intro and everything else, this ALL HAPPENED TO A FRIEND and it is only for ease of writing that I have adopted a first person perspective to re-tell the daring tale of despair.

15:47
I first spot the much feared yet also tantalizing substance flaunted on display at a local news agent in the area. After the initial doubt over the slightly hefty price of £1.45 my curiosity gets the best of me (its coffee.. it HEATS ITSELF!) and I commence to pay for the drug with my girlfriend’s (named “Y” for anonymity in the rest of this report) money as I’m as always low on cash.

15:56

After calming myself down (by walking out of the store and thinking about a watermelon and listening to an psychedelic ambient music album by Shpongle) I promptly read the simple yet tantalizing instructions on the side of the jar: 1) “Click the base (once)” 2) Shake for 40 seconds 3) Drink (after opening). Because I’m largely fearless, and mildly retarded, I proceeded to press the base nearly 10 times to make sure it was more than ordinarily pressed and…

15:57

… immediately after I was transferred to another reality zone of complete appreciation in regards to just how well the self heating cup functioned as a hand-warmer; this effect is so strong that it was also commented on by Y who was my sitter throughout the trip [Erowid Note: always use a sitter when trying out dangerous/novel substances].

15:58 (ingesting the substance)

This is f*cking mind-blowing, the coffee just heated itself (at least mildly) and now I’m drinking it… ARGH, the issue is that it taste as if someone is forcefully injecting roughly one imperial gallon (yes that is 4.54609188 liters) of sewer waste into my gullet. The shock causes a strong onset of hallucinations involving small pixies dancing with metal boots in my groin while laughing hysterically. This hallucination however rapidly fades and gives way to swirling visions of me kicking the manufacturer of this coffee in the groin and then finally disappears.

16:05 (the come-down)

I now strongly need a toothbrush and industrial strength hydrogen peroxide to clean my mouth from the vile taste. The lingering taste even as I’m writing this reminds me exactly what sort of price one should be willing to pay for buying pre-manufactured self-heating coffee crap. As I wipe tears from my eyes due to the emotional impact of this trip I cannot help but wonder whether this experience will make me think twice next time. I think I learned my lesson, crac.. coffee isn’t for me, self-heating or not.

I’m currently working on the very basic beginnings of a video for my cover of GNR’s “Estranged”. Working on this video led me to exciting new photographic possibilities.
Part of the images I will use will be from Andy Morahan’s video for “Don’t Cry”. These stills are all based on that video.

I’m currently working on the very basic beginnings of a video for my cover of GNR’s “Estranged”. Working on this video led me to exciting new photographic possibilities.
Part of the images I will use will be from Andy Morahan’s video for “Don’t Cry”. These stills are all based on that video.