Immaculate-Part 1

King’s College rang to the chatter and tramp of students, flowing in currents to and from their classes or the library. Here and there could be seen a teacher, moving against the current in their bubbles of academic status and purpose. In one of these bubbles a tall man walked, brown eyed and dreamy, looking more like a poet than a professional Theologist and Lecturer.

“Now, what do we think, of thoughts?” The silence of utter incredulity reared its head.

“They’re…ideas?” Ventured one student.

“Chemical processes!”  Cried another, the self declared atheist of the class.

” Sometimes they are the will of God, if they are good.” Murmured one of those near the front of the hall.

“Mental energy, moving in waves.” Said one student, a bright one at that. Young Michael had a subtle, active mind, undoubtedly swimming in waves of energy.

“Indeed Michael, though all are right in one fashion or another. But what do you think of them?” With awesome speed, confusion and incredulity returned. What the hell did the barmy old prof mean this time, was what Dr Solomon got from it.

“Chaotic, there’s little order.”

So it began again, until the room was alive with conflicting paradigms, not mere whimsical thoughts. Solomon smiled as these various thought groups did battle, were defeated or victorious. All changed though. Whether victor or victim, all changed.

“Class!” he cried, clapping his hands then spreading them wide, gathering their attention as one might a pile of clothes. “There is but one conclusive answer. Thoughts are energy, and what do we know about energy? It never dies, or ceases to be.” He drew a simple stick man on the pad before him, the projector rendering his sketch, much enlarged, on the screen behind him. Then came thought lines, radiating from the stick man. Would they understand this?

“Now how many of you have heard of Noetics?” No hands went up, no cries of assent were made. One nod came from Michael. Solomon knew that would come, and ignored it, as Michael surely knew he would.

“Really, for theology students, your reading is very limited if you’ve missed this subject.” Dr Searcher said solemnly as he continued his sketch, placing various dark, vaguely circular squiggles around the central stick man.

“Noetic science is the study of the human consciousness, and may one day provide that controvertial bridge between man, god and science.” A few eyebrows went up. He had their attention, and basked in it.

“Let’s consider our stick man…” He thought of Jonah then, who always had better words.

“Our stick man is you, or me, or anyone else anywhere in the world…” the lecture hall reverberated to a deliberate, measured knocking on the door. Surely not…

“Jonah! A pleasure to see you!” Exclaimed the professor mid-lecture, throwing rangy arms round a slight, gentle figure, dressed in a light grey suit, the color of country rainfall. The little Doctor looked up at the screen and announced in a modulated, refined English accent.

“Class! Turn your attention and intentions, to that screen.” His complete focus on the stage and the screen rolled over the room, till every pair of eyes was riveted as Searcher retook it.

“Let us continue with the assertion that thoughts are energy. Now, what can move energy?” a brief silence, broken, surprisingly, by Amelia, a dark, curly-haired beauty of a woman.

“Only more energy.” Solomon smiled, a wide and dazzling thing as he retrieved a pointer from beside the podium. Jonah had taken a seat at the front, next to the quiet christian girl.

“Indeed, so. Our man thinks a thought. Then he decides he wishes this thought recorded and expressed, thus, media, the written word, this.” He announced, holding up a small pen drive.

“However, there are many, many steps involved, all requiring energy, between the moment of thought, and the act of recording it, in all modern, mainstream media.”

Jonah watched his old friend as he led the class through a long, winding tale regarding the various spiritual leanngs of amazon tribes and their belief in the power of totems and crystals. The old boy’s favourite subject. Jonah couldnt surpress a grin as Solomon’s infectious energy moved among the class, not quite reaching all, but reaching enough. This lot would pass.

“So we can arrive at the conclusion, that it may be possible one day, to move that awesomely complex construct of energy that is the human consciousness, or soul, into another physical medium.” He eyed certain students.

“This, I know, is a delicate notion, and a line of science humanity should pursue only with great care. Now, I shan’t bore you any longer, go out there and soak up the sun, peace and blessing to you all.” He finished, aware that his last comment might just have inflamed a few of the more zealous attendants to his lecture. As students filed out, murmuring in quiet, serious conversation or looking deeply troubled, Jonah slipped trough the snaking procession and shook his friend’s hand.

“How is Daniel?” Asked Solomon. Jonah smiled, shaking his head disparagingly.

“Careful old friend, confidentiality is the word these days. But he’s well, nothing that won’t clear up in, oh, three to seven days.” Solomon grinned back and began putting away the lecture things in his slow-seeming methodical fashion. Solomon’s mind didn’t move on prosiac matters on most occasions, but even Jonah could see some trouble, quite real, beneath his lofty daydreams. Such are the mental defences of the academic.

“It is not just for him you worry?” Enquired Jonah, simply. The room echoed slightly to his words now though, lending them a ring of command. He knew though, in his heart, what the trouble was. Angelique.

“You know, old friend.” Solomon sighed as he raised the screen and flicked off the main lights, leaving only only the pale white striplights, glowing in the floor, health and safety harmoniously worked into the design of the building itself.

At the college gates they parted, the mighty figure of Solomon stooping to his shorter, slighter friend. With a final wave they headed their seperate ways, Jonah to his motorbike, Solomon to his own car, a hyrid engine Ford Fusion in excellent condition, the blue model with white stripes. The bleep as it opened felt like a death knell. The roar as it started, the sound of oblivion and as he pulled out of the car park and hit the main road, Solomon sighed and prepared for battle with the worst enemy a man can have. His wife.



I hope you enjoyed this first chapter of Immaculate. More will follow in the coming weeks, and the strange knowledge of Solomon and Jonah will take them to surprising places, into the very maw of a metaphorical whale that will alter their lives forever.


Lament for Man

The High fall,
the Low rise
one and all thus its no surprise
many go screaming, to their demise.

for what lies beyond this endless wheel,
Something more, or something less real?
sometimes I look on, feel lost and damned
as lethargy, greed and avarice make plans
shortening the string, letting fall the sands
our time runs out in our own folly’s hands.

the Highest, fallen
the Lowest arisen
Samara’s wheel in life, our prison.

We gild, we gird greed in gold
hide rot ‘neath gown’s silken fold
conceal the crap, perfume the mold
the Nations? supplicants, slaves to be sold
their masters? Oil, gas, cruel weapons cold.

The Highest, fell,
the Lowest rose
thus my lament for Man I close.

Hood & Cowl, Burkha, Brimmed hat, Mask

Hood & cowl, burkha, brimmed hat, mask
dissimilarly purposed yet achieve the same task
for clarity, for conscience-clean most wearers ask

‘why, must I, surrender my secrecy?’
to conform, to comply to worldly masters completely.

Alas! Blast and damn, some are excused
some even excluded, services refused
fear on all sides of privacy abused
feeds ancient prejudice and skewed world views.

Garb is garb, a temporary cover
thrown aside by every kind of lover
some adorn, some warm, some are borne by others.

in this world of Allah, God and Vishnu
the Force, Satan, even Odin too
strive we must for the inclusive view.

give all or take all, grant or prohibit
infuriating favouritism, equality inhibits.

Hood & Cowl, Burkha, Brimmed hat & mask
to bring fairness and balance is the wise man’s task.



A view on Death

Death. It is the universal fear that resides in the heart of almost every man, woman and child. We fear pain and we fear death.  Of course there are myriad ways to deny the fear of death. Some people choose to be oblivious and never think of it, others find a faith and a promise of an afterlife. Yet others view it as a deadline, and so get as much done in their lives as possible.  Either way we find a coping mechanism, a means to face the possibility that we, as beings, may well cease to exist.

This article will try to illuminate a different path, an alternative view. This view has been arrived at through a rather strange and unique (to my knowledge) combination of influences in my life, which, if requested, I will happily divulge in further posts:).

What is Dying?

A seriously misunderstood process, I believe:). This stems from negative views regarding the process of decay. Dying is the ending of chemical, biological life. However, the body does not stop changing, as it did when it lived. Instead, the matter of it, the stored energy, is broken down by time, other living things and forces.

I wish to make a point before I continue. Grieving is completely natural and totally allowed!:)  I am simply expressing a view of death I have found to provide me with a certain amount of peace, knowing it is based (partly) on facts and partly on a very spiritual view of the world.

To resume, assuming that E=mc2 and that all matter is stored energy, then the process of decay could be described as the redistribution of energy. Therefore, that energy is returning to the world in one form or another.

A great number of religious texts, wiccan writings and so forth refer to power, or energy of their respective deities, channelled through people in most cases. This suggests one universal concept; that the power of spirit is a form of energy.

Concordantly can we assume that the energy of a person and their soul are one? If that is so, then that energy must go somewhere as well, assuming that the laws governing energy still apply.

To round this segment off, we’ll talk about ghosts and spiritual influence. Perhaps it is possible for the energy of a person to remain in a form of coherence outside the physical. If so, that would still fit the fundamental principle of my supposition that the spirit is a form of energy.

In summary, dying is the redistribution of energy.

Ok…what does all this mean?

It means that the people we love are always with us! It means that even if the person is no longer in a single, coherent form, the energy that made that person is not dead, simply their body is. Where their spiritual energy goes who can say? Perhaps it stays, perhaps it is paradise to be in this form, which would explain heaven and so forth. Perhaps humans are unique in that our thoughts in this life (another form of energy, perhaps even the same one) can direct our energy, our soul once we have passed, perhaps we are not. My point is that this means, literally, that our loved ones haven’t actually ceased to exist. The energy they used and stored will be redistributed. I believe a quote from James Cameron’s Avatar film sums this up best.

“…All energy is only borrowed, and one day you have to give it back..”