Reading ‘Illusions’ by Richard Bach again. I thought I may write out his handwritten introduction chapter in the book as a therapeutic exercise. Currently today have reached reading most of the typewritten prose that starts in the second chapter. It’s a beautiful book and the handwritten opening chapter prepares for the ongoing story. But is also a stand alone delivered message simply on it’s own.
Okay……right. Got a bunch of paper and various journals or new stationery book choices…….begin to write. But they’re in the VeeDub! Then the difficulties in choices start. Which pen? Got five here available. Others are in the VeeDub. Which one of the five? Depends on which paper? Because pens work differently on the paper choice. So…Paper? Again, decent stuff in the VeeDub ready for tomorrow. Got some old wallpaper or cheap 99p grid stuff from one of those bargain shops. Opened up the wallpaper tied bundle and looked at the nonsense written. Which Journal then? Upstairs I have a Moleskine ‘favourite books’ journal. Could use some back blank page ‘notes’ opportunities inside that! Or maybe stand alone separate sheets and shufty them inside the journal later? Can I be bothered to find it out? Nah! Ink choice? Most bottles are housed outside in the VeeDub ready to go outdoor writing tomorrow. Along with pens and paper. And journals. Got these 5 pens here and which work best on the old wallpaper? Or cheap paper. Style of presentation? Then I thought, Man! This is supposed to be relaxing! What’s this over cyclic thinking all about? I’ll write the Richard Bach’s own handwritten introduction another day when more relaxed.
So I picked out the one pen I tend to mostly pick out. The Montblanc #34 oblique nib. Chose a piece of grid paper I hardly ever use at all. And wrote a bunch of garbage. But was it garbage? Well yes. It was. However. Random thought and just any old words are extremely therapeutic at times. No self analysis or meaningful expressions. No Richard Bach insightful words copied out and then to reflect on and make the mind tick tock later in monkey chatter. Just any old words following more any old words. One after the other. Intentions, illusions, rubbish and observations. But nothing concrete to lay your hat on. Fleeting thoughts here today and gone tomorrow in nature.
I enjoyed those 10 minutes in beautiful gentle Edison warm glow lightbulb ambience and the tick tick tock of the big old clock on the wall like a metronome beating out a rhythm to the writing speed. Time spent with a very decent fountain pen, trustworthy Parker Quink ink and cheap as chips paper. All adding up to a synergy involving an artefact of timeless quality (pen), wisdom that this product is usually very consistent (ink) and a perceived poor relation to this party that actually rose to a pretty great behavioural nature and fully suited the occasion (paper). And me to bring the whole thing together with the ability to spend 10 minutes of gentle time actually slowly preparatory mucking about and then writing. Nonsense content wise, but writing nonetheless. Result? Synergy resulting in a Mindfulness experience.
Mindfulness is clever meditation because it is so simple and yet so useful for it’s calming influence in the period just before settling down for the night and seeking elusive ’Sleep’. Also. Given this opportunity to write out some spiritual considerations of Richard Bach’s. I’ve just written this baloney for a quick blog. So dynamically I’m back to square one!
Or am I?
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4 thoughts on “Mindfulness is simplicity.”
Amazing what a small world it is. Referring to your “Hello Bach” doodle. Just days ago, I drew a bridge over troubled water, with a stick person. Each side offered an option. I tried to add an infinity symbol but that did not fit well. Cannot beat an oblique nib when doing such things….
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Love oblique and italic abilities to slant and change widths. Flex pressure always goes wrong with me somehow. Bach was two fold with this one. Bach in Welsh means small or dear. Dear as a term of endearment. Not as in expensive. And now Richard Bach too. Crossroads and choices have been a lifelong theme for me. Nice your choice of infinity and troubled waters linked. Are you in some deep Freudian thoughts? The other choice could be the freedom of a spiral? 😊 I kind of like the circles and spirals similarities. One trapping in the cyclic. The other allowing freedom to fly. Cheers for the feedback. Mind you…..Twilight Zone music now in my brain. And Simon and Garfunkel too. Cheers for that. 😉 All the best.
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I am always in some deep Freudian thought. Philosophically, I find answers in the lyrics by Lennon, McCartney, Garcia, & Simmon.
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Love The Beatles. Lyrics are joys to decipher. Just read David Mitchell’s ‘Utopia Avenue’ a few months back. Such a great book. Here’s a Goodreads quote to explain what I feel too re: lyrics.
“Songs do not change the world,’ declares Jasper. ‘People do. People pass laws, riot, hear God and act accordingly. People invent, kill, make babies, start wars.’ Jasper lights a Marlboro. ‘Which begs a question. “Who or what influences the minds of the people who change the world?” My answer is “Ideas and feelings.” Which begs a question. “Where do ideas and feelings originate?” My answer is, “Others. One’s heart and mind. The press. The arts. Stories. Last, but not least, songs.” Songs. Songs, like dandelion seeds, billowing across space and time. Who knows where they’ll land? Or what they’ll bring?’ Jasper leans into the mic and, without a wisp of self-consciousness, sings a miscellany of single lines from nine or ten songs. Dean recognises, ‘It’s Alright Ma (I’m Only Bleeding)’, ‘Strange Fruit’ and ‘The Trail of the Lonesome Pine’. Others, Dean can’t identify, but the hardboiled press pack look on. Nobody laughs, nobody scoffs. Cameras click. ‘Where will these song-seeds land? It’s the Parable of the Sower. Often, usually, they land on barren soil and don’t take root. But sometimes, they land in a mind that is ready. Is fertile. What happens then? Feelings and ideas happen. Joy, solace, sympathy. Assurance. Cathartic sorrow. The idea that life could be, should be, better than this. An invitation to slip into somebody else’s skin for a little while. If a song plants an idea or a feeling in a mind, it has already changed the world.”
― David Mitchell, Utopia Avenue