Archive for February, 2007
~Sunday is most people‚Äôs day off. It should be perfect - a proper rest and change from the preceding week. So often however, it turns out to be rainy, boring, and too full of family arguments. ~ ‚ÄúSunday Bloody Sunday‚ÄĚ ~ It‚Äôs understandable I guess; we play our parts all week and by the weekend it is so often a case of ‚ÄúWill the real Me stand up.‚ÄĚ
Shakespeare wrote: “All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players“. As an actor, I emerge from and then return to my dressing-room, at the begining and end of each performance. It sounds very like the Afterlife and I‚Äôm sure that Shakespeare was well aware of the analogy. It becomes more fascinating, if I consider my life, outside the dressing-room and the theatre. I would not consider the Australian Bar opposite the Manchester Opera House as being Heaven, but in a way it is. I am no longer an actor, smiling and laughing for an on and off-stage audience, irrespective of my real internal feelings; I am part of and happily anonymous, within a larger picture ‚Äď just being ‚Äúme‚ÄĚ. I can remember rushing home each weekend, to enjoy my ‚Äúfree‚ÄĚ time. Once at home, I would so often, become bored and unsure of what to do and neglectful of my family, as I irritably spent Sunday, on a fruitless search for the ‚ÄúI‚ÄĚ in infinity.~
“We are such stuff as dreams are made on…”
“I” had woken from my dreams this morning, feeling pretty good, but it was in church that the real Joy started. Each week we have a different ‘medium’, on a sort of spiritual touring circuit, around our area. Today we had Aileen Davies, a redoubtable lady I had never met before. Aileen turned, “May I come to you Sir…” “Yes” I replied. Aileen then described my mother, “Expressive and theatrical, although she was not on the stage” “An elegant lady, beautiful in her time”. Aileen then sensed lilies, my mother liked ‘lily of the valley’ soaps and perfumes. At this point, I started to hope that at last, after nearly two years, that my mother was contacting me. The messages became more direct; “She suffered with her breathing; she had problems with her heart…she died suddenly.” That was true. Then: “She is your mentor, she will guide and support you with your new project.” Aileen went on to tell me that Christina had written a lot, particularly poems and that I had all her writings and read them often - that my project was a literary one which had just begun and that I should go through “the gate”. I was so happy and kept thinking of the words the farmer heard in Field of Dreams, “If you build it, he will come”. I’m still wary - ever the doubter, but the accuracy of Aileen’s contact with my mother, made my Perfect Sunday.
We are such stuff As Dreams are made on…
“All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts…”
Saddleworth Moor in February is a bleak place to drive through, on a crowded M62 in the rain. I had set-off from the east side, near York, in the early just-spring sunshine and for a while it was a pleasure to drive. Reaching the summit of the Moor however, a pylon looking like a meccano monster covered in satellite dish armour, stood legs astride and menacing, on the barren slopes…and it rained. It was as if the moors were weeping over their sad history. I mentioned my feelings to Liz the next morning; ‚Äúsend the place a blessing,‚ÄĚ was her simple reply.
How right she was; I had not been feeling well all week ‚Äď I‚Äôm not saying that the Moors had affected my health, but nevertheless, as I drove over once again, I sent out my love and warmth to the Guardian Spirits of that barren place and at once, I began to feel better and more positive.
Arriving in Manchester, I bought some yellow tulips and put them on my dressing table at the Opera House. This is very unusual for me. Apart from having an aversion to seperating flowers from their roots ‚Äď cutting them off from their life force. I usually find myself just too busy to bother.
‚ÄúToo busy to Bother‚ÄĚ ‚Äď an awful thought, but life can be so hectic.
Meanwhile in the Grove - On Tuesday morning, an early yellow crocus had shown it‚Äôs face; by Saturday it looked a little sad and on the way out, but beside it had grown a cluster of new blue ones. Early spring ‚ÄúWhen the world is puddle-wonderful‚ÄĚ as EE Cummings would say, is a perilous time for new growth. A sudden frost or storm can wreck the most delicate and beautiful young growing-things. Only the snowdrops, looking the most fragile, seem to be unaffected. It‚Äôs the same in life ‚Äď People who look strong are not always the ones who are.No comments
My friend Ann in Manchester went potty one day; ‚ÄúMy belief mechanism can‚Äôt cope with it!‚ÄĚ she wrote, after being confronted with tales of spirits and an afterlife; not to mention a heaven of forests, rivers, fields, fantastic palace-like buildings and celestial universities, where souls reviewed the life they had just completed and where they prepared for their next incarnation ‚Äď choosing their parents and their future earthly environment and future-life challenges.It would be great to look forward to an afterlife of Joy in the company of departed friends and loved ones. Yet it is somehow all too Three-dimensional, concrete and of this world.We are three-dimensional beings, existing within a fourth dimension of time. We cannot physically experience a fifth dimension and understand it in the way we can experience and understand Height, Breadth, Length and Duration in our earthly environment. Yet modern physicists and cosmologists such as Stephen Hawkings and Michio Kaku are conceiving up to ten dimensions, parallel universes, wormholes in space and gradually through experiment and mathematical reasoning; proving their existence!We are surrounded, in fact saturated in vibrations, emanating from ourselves and our environment. Many of these vibrations can be ‚Äėpicked-up‚Äô and processed by us. But there are limits to human sensory awareness which can be surpassed by animals and birds for example. A dog‚Äôs range of smell and hearing is far superior to our own. An eagle‚Äôs vision is much keener and the sonar orientation of birds and dolphins cannot be conceived by us.Imagine that you are a B/W television set ‚Äď colour signal/vibrations pass through you, but because you can only receive and interpret monochrome ‚Äď the picture remains B@W.This does not mean that the colour signal/vibrations do not exist however.No comments