mon 24 sep day 117

mon 24 sep day 117

Before the platanes were cut back

Sun`s rising 

Re-assembling the recipe for prawn curry.
She-who-must-be-obeyed destroyed it after buying the ingredients

[00:19]6am. feeling miz, frightened

[02:11]not anonymous

[03:09]sandrine traumatised

[04:07]my appointment everyones decision. the lake. thomas being eyeore

susanne dissing my recordings - rambling and discursive, `like the sound ofmy own voice`

[06:18]getting my cashflow wrong , merging all the companies into one

[08:15]getting close to ps` figures

[09:16]marieke. our expensive holiday camp

[10:31]recording and writing

[11:03]rich rohr not available off line.  finishing Lacan. not finishing others. stopping the Rule

[13:33]the prodigal son. cycle between sin and virtue

[14:32]the Father. the wounded father, the father wound. wanting to be bottom. risky behaviour, delibertately throwing myself into the ditch, to look up at the stars. [I`d rather be looking up in hope than down in fear

[17:31]In search of Lost Eden. magical thinking [ Rebecca`s remark about New Age thinking, no shadow

the search for god is an illusion. we dont need external god / eden, were running away from th shadow

[18:52]fears about the car / getting a car from Hertz

[19:54]the elder brother as shadow, in the shadows

things not done. Stuart`s book. 

[why havent I / wont I put in my woodburner?

[21:43]Andrew emailing Sandrine. miffed? not cc`ing me in. (Laurence was cruel to him,in front of everyone, you`re the bursar / housekeeper, and everyone trying to assure him this is really important. He wanted to be in charge. being more biffy in meditations - doing it all himself.) Andrew being tested. Delyth`s troubles

madness, tiny-ness, our total incapacity, yet bv rushes us up each wave, and over and we swoop down the other side into the next trough of despair and despond. i am a  muddy swirly painting.

[24:43]Laurence`s politics, the great and good on the panel in Bruges

[25:54]BV teaching all the time - moving so fast. we`re all mad. sandrine and the others so stressed.

med is a constant, the chapel an island of sanity