I took my son to see Hellboy II a few weeks ago - partly because I'd been intrigued by the esoteric references in the first one. Driving home, we were coming up to the top of our road when we saw a spherical object moving sideways acrosss the sky, quite low, it seemed. It was pale like the moon with an orange patch along the rim at the bottom. At first glance i imagined this must be the fire in a hot air balloon - we get a lot of them around Tunbrdige Wells - but then why would it be inside the sphere rather than underneath it? Also, it was moving way too fast for a balloon.
I said i thought it was too small for a flying saucer. My son laughed and said How would you know?
There's a fenced off area full of big, old trees at the topof the road and over the past few weeks several people have heard a screeching that sounds very like a monkey coming from them and a huge commotion among the branches.
Perhaps the monkeys came down in the flying saucer? A more likely explanation, I suppose, is that this is just another result of global warming.
Somebody said that squirrels make a sound like monkeys during sex. Or perhaps they change into monkeys or just become more like humans at the moment of climax?
When my father died it turned out that he carried list I'd written out of the kings and queens of England, I guess when i was a few years younger than my son is now. Had i given it to him as handy reference guide in case he suddenly needed to know?
I took my son to Westminster Abbey. I remember my parents taking me - the tombs of the ancient English kings so worn down by the caress of pilgrims they looked like they were melting.
Now they reminded me of that scene in the first Alien film when our heroes chance on the fantastic, organic-looking tombs of the aliens. There was the same air that they are about to rewawake - which of course is what the people who built those tombs believed.
The tomb of Edward the Confessor is closed off from the public these days. You have to say you are going to pray. I asked someone in a red robe. She sat with us and we talked about the mosaics. There is a 'cosmati' mosaic - so-called after the family who originated the style - on the floor in front of the high altar, though it is usually hidden under a carpet. The mosaic also runs up the sides of Edward's tomb in a muted sparkling.
(I'm reminded now of a description of a wall Lorna has talked to me about in a very important vision she's described to me lately. I'm trying to get it published in a national newspaper. More shortly, I hope.)
The robed woman told us she's discovered that the design of cosmati pavement came from a mosaic in Santa Sophia of the 7th century. I said I was intrigued. She was enjoying telling us these secrets so I didn't interrupt with my own information - that the same pattern appears in Rosicrucian designs. I have on by by Michel le Bon propped up on the window sill of my office.
At this later date, at any rate, it represents the 'eternal pattern of the universe', which is to say idealism's concept of the way the physical world is generated by ideas - sometimes called the the Matrix. I imagine that standing in the Matrix would help you step into the other world.
I prayed and to St Michael - and to St Edward.
If anyone's interested, I wrote an article on celebrity and psychosis in the Independent on Sunday. As consciousness changes and we do away, more and more, with notions of private, mental space, we need to be careful about what we 'let in'. I talk about the tendency to psychosis that often lies behind the cheeky grin, and suggest that celebrity is incipient psychosis. What does it do to them and what does it do to us? If you Google Mark Booth celebrity, it's the first thing that comes up.
What I predicted in the earlier article in the IoS about changes in the book trade and publishing are all coming true. Supermarkets are beginning to withdraw from books. People at Haymarket, the magazine publisher, are complaining about not being paid. Amazon is now the biggest retailer of books, once you take into account the massive returns from the high street and the supermarkets.
The high street here is nearly deserted, even so near Christmas. We're approaching the deadest part of winter when the world is most like what lies immediately on the other side, when you might step over without noticing and when the dead step over freely in the other ddirection. Bookshops are perhaps more crowded with the dead than the living.
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