Beneath the veil

My fantasy fades
As the stories flow
From the innocent
lips of the wounded.

To normalize a horror story
that repeats itself,
some call it the news
but for so many refugees
it is just their reality.

A buddhist would say
without suffering,
we would not be this way -
human that is.

But many do not have to wear
the scars of their suffering
on their cheeks,
or bodies.
A wire lashing
or knife attack.

When the pregnant child
with a toddler by her side,
stared at me through hardened eyes
and told me a tale
of the traumatised;
A father who raped her
A husband who fled
A mother who shunned her
And left her for dead.

Listening to the wounds
of the stateless
first brought tears to my eyes
But it has since become,
normalized.

Light workers
in a dark room
in a dark world
like the monsoon
that ruthlessly falls
on bare trees

Such is nature,
such is life
and Ignorance is bliss.
But when the veil lifts
the light either blinds
or you pull down the blinds
or wear tinted lenses
to protect your eyes
from the fateful moment
that you realize,
the screen before
through which you saw
was made of real.lies.

Perspective shifted,
veil lifted.

In.sight

It has the world surging at its fingertips,
so lost in the movement,
their gazes stay down,
their lips locked
as the paper flutters by.

With tired eyes,
the small things in life,
become pure bliss.
An exchange takes place through the pigeon hole,
they pass me the black liquid,
enclosed in a neat cardboard cup,
I hold it in my hands, mm.
I love that smell,
the fuel that drives
the machine.

They wave me off
& thank me by name,
a personal touch,
to this anonymous game.

We wear uniforms by day,
that must be ironed out at night,
for if those shirts have any creases,
you would look a disheveled sight!
I quite enjoy this dress up game,
even though we all look exactly the same.
Looking smart has an effect,
it makes you feel together
& grants you respect.
But sometimes I do wonder,
whether these collars are buttoned up
too
tight.
And maybe it's stopping us from being able to breathe alright?

What if one day,
you wake up in the middle of the night,
gasping for air,
looking for the light.
You see your position,
in this repetitive dream
& you no longer wish
to be a part of the machine...

As you sit amongst the breathless,
surging forward yet feeling stuck,
you can feel a storm brewing,
it is beginning in your gut.

Your gaze snaps up to their faces,
they stare down at their screens,
you try to change direction,
shifting away from mainstream.

But now you're moving against the current,
you're blocking the flow,
there's no one to follow...
where would you go?

Outside of the station stands a tall,
oak tree,
still and unmoving,
perfect stability.

They continue walking passed,
picking up the pace,
for there is no time to slow down
in this incessant rat race.
From the weak day
to the weak end
your mind's beginning to falter,
you feel it beginning to bend...

Despite being granted those 2 days of rest,
it is beginning to prove hard to stand the test
of patience,
of submission,
to the daily grind.
You have looked up now,
you have made up your mind.
You desire free movement and change,
creativity begins to unearth the strange.
So you follow that urge,
and slowly beat the surge,
falling out of the main stream,

into open water

It is still and unmoving,
like the old oak tree,
you have reconnected
and found your stability...
The storm has passed,
and now it's time,
to swim.

A Summer Song

The sun is shining, the breeze is fresh and the background symphony is a combination of skylark, goldfinch and magpie calls, broken up by the odd splash of a Pollock’s tale in the estuary. The sounds of summer in the Devonshire countryside… lush. How liberating it is for the mind to be free of the burdens of city life and its hard, dense energy.

In Psychology, there’s a term ‘sensory adaptation’ that describes a common, unconscious behaviour that we use to blend into our environment… you know when you walk into a room with an overwhelming smell and it dominates your attention for a while, until your senses quickly adapt and your attention moves elsewhere… my point being that with its constant sirens, flashing lights and pungent smells, I think city living massively desensitises us.

In one way, it’s probably necessary; creating a coat of sensory armour to shield us from the tumultuous tumbles and shin splints inherent to the rat race. But on the other hand, it causes us to lose touch with our feelings, our common-sense(s)… our human nature. Despite our technological advancements and ability to instantaneously ‘connect’, we’ve sadly become so disconnected…

Now, while this may be my comedown epiphany,

RIP Gary

My macro evaluation of society,

Or my mind finally getting the chance to run free…

Whatever the reason,

The beginning of this season,

Has given me the space to see.

Summer time in England is when the true magic happens and for once, I am not jetting off to miss the show.

The wand has been waved

Tunes <3

And all those enslaved,

In grey clouds and monotonous drizzle,

Have been freed to unleash,

Their well-groomed beasts,

As the candy pops, cracks and fizzles…

From Gottwood to Glastonbury and somewhere in-between, I’ve been swept up in a rhythmic wave to dance to the sounds of summer. The disconnection of city life has been thrown to one-side as the crew re-assembles in tents old and new, to dance and laugh and sing; Ay ay me hearty’s I feel it in my soul, I feel that pirate ting up in my soul…

Glastonbury 2016

Like the smooth transitions of a really good mix, the days have merged into one another seamlessly and for the first time in a long time, I’m stopping to process the metamorphosis.

Weeks ago, we flitted and fluttered as forest fairies in the Welsh woodlands to funky, house-filled beats. A wave of the wand, another weekend and whoosh! The times took a tropical turn and we floated for hours passed London’s bridges and towers, feeling somewhat wavy aboard the Captain and Co’s birthday vessel. But rougher seas were in need, so the spell conjured up something greater for us to do…

Boat Party
London, 2016

Gottwood, 2016

We became reckless and wild, like an unsatisfied child, attempting to take over every vessel in site (unless they were in the kids playground area during which all crew members [unless gold], were instructed to come back at 7pm…); we became pirates for the night and exercised our rights to groove to that sexy disco beat (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eBpYgpF1bqQ ).

The fairy dust has finally settled on the windowsill in front of me.

A momentary breather from the mass of blissful confusion,

To ensure it hasn’t been an illusion,

And that the sounds that I’m hearing are real…

Om Namah Shivaya

Because one must not forget,

That in our attempts to re-connect,

We must still keep our feet on the ground.

For it’s too easy to get swept away,

In the tide of worries we try to keep at bay,

And we end up missing the current sound.

The one sound that we call,

The Uni-verse.

Quote of the day: "To be grounded is to be connected to our emotional-electrical currents, to the waves of our needs and images and the rhythms of actions which comprise our physical-psychic processes: the rhythms of the human and natural ground." - Stanley Keleman

A bottle in time

There he sat, round and solo

Drinking his beer with a sway.

A friend sat close, but in anyone's eyes

His presence was light years away.

The clock ticked, the alcohol flowed, 

We watched with devils eyes,

He walked around, a drink in hand,

Clinging to groups of guys.

He was joined at 11 by an older man,

But one could never tell,

As the beats progressed, the man sped up

As though under a magic spell,

His eyes were wide, his movements quick,

The people turned away.

And then, Alas! He found a friend,

He no longer jived astray.

The large one lunged, the small one hid,

Avoiding a drunk collision,

A hand on his shoulder, a walk to the door

The room swayed with blurry vision.

An hour later the man returned!

Not persuaded bed-time was near,

I looked away, with sorry eyes,

As he threw up all his beer.

In the background the other was zooming by,

No time to stop and chat!

While the poor man, leant over the bar

And belched and breathed and spat.

The tunes died down, the lights went off,

Speedy ran back home,

The drunk man turned to finally leave

And through the night, he continued to roam.

- a poem describing a moment of our last night in don det, Laos.

The smoke that blushed

Street art I found in East London

Yesterday i was walking through Camden and infront of me a bellow of blue and pink smoke was coming out of a huge industrial dark chimney. It was one of those tiny details amidst a normal routine that puts a smile on your face, I was just waiting for a suitable accompaniment of rainbows, fairies and candy canes to shower down upon the unsuspecting landscape. Below the dreamlike smoke were swarms of preoccupied individuals going about their daily lives with their heads down looking at their phones or buzzing in their own thought bubbles. 

Even though we all share the same environment, we are such seperate entities and our society only emphasizes the fact. We have our own entertainment to start, ipods, phones, books, newspapers. We're tuned into our own thoughts and feelings, and we rarely attempt to merge into the more communal world and really interact with/ feel what's going on around us. We have conversations and link in to one or two other people's fields of existence but we are primarily individuals. Yet what strikes me as odd, is in psychology, one of the sociocultural principles is 'humans feel a need to belong'; within this principle lies the idea that we rely on each other to survive, our whole community and society is built up of various blocks, from farmers to shopkeepers to businessmen, if one stage didn't exist, the rest of our pyramid would fall apart. It's so hard to switch everything off when sometimes it's just a force of habit, and it almost instills fear when you think of the idea of not being able to communicate with everyone in your life for one moment. It scares me when I start to panic after only a day of not checking my emails - but at the same time, in feeling 'connected' to everyone, it creates such a huge disconnect with your physical reality causing a whole percentage of our awareness, and sense of presence to fly out the window. 

East London again

It's funny, when we were younger in 'world studies' we went over the theory's that two great philosophers had about the true characteristics of human beings. Aristotle and Plato I think it was, were more positive about us, they truly believed humans were able to act for the benefit of others and not for self-gain. Whilst Hobbes on the other hand believed humans were completely selfish and every act was for self-gain even if it wasn't conciously done for that purpose. Lets look at a few examples: In helping someone carry their bags up the stairs, you gain satisfaction and content. In having a child, you set yourself up with what will become a physical, emotional and financial support system (that especially benefits you in your older years), in opening yourself up in a relationship 'for' the other person, you gain love, support and all that jazz. Hobbes commonly used the example of letting individuals loose in a sweet shop, or a bank, and taking away rules - what happens? We'd go crazy and grab everything we could, not stand around holding hands. A more recent and solid example is last year when the raids took place in London and the more primal side of the community was revealed, looting shops, stealing whatever there was to steal, getting violent, using weapons etc.

.. And again

When I first learnt about these philosophies, we were asked to give our opinion on whom we agreed with, I chose the more optimistic view. Thinking of humans as purely selfish and evil just didn't float my boat. But as I've grown up and my eyes have widened to the reality of the world, I do believe Hobbes was right, as pessimistic as the idea may be. Our main goal as mammals is to survive - but to do this it does involve helping, supporting and interacting with others, so though at its core our nature may not be full of rainbows and fairies, it does manifest positive outcomes.. but back to where I started.

Street art in Neasden

As I was watching the smoke drift over the conker trees, grey buildings, and billboards advertising the latest and most lustrous hair shampoo! I thought of a poem that made me smile, it was written by a great friend that sadly passed away last year - but her gift of writing should always be appreciated:

People don’t look up. 
They spend their lives absorbed in their feet,
in the pavements,
in the leaves and dirt,
in the rubbish discarded on the streets. 
This is what we seem to be fascinated by, 
only daring to lift our heads when someone points out how beautiful the sunset is, 
or a bird, or rarely, 
occasionally, 
something above their normal eyeline.
There could be entire goddamn cities on rooftops and no-one would notice. 

- Cameron Krokatsis 

I remember this poem when I lean over my windowsill and watch passers by. It reminds me to look up once in a while when I'm strolling through an empty street. The other day a little girl in a blue school uniform with dark red hair, was sitting by the window gazing out at the empty street with a melancholy stare. What was going on in her mind was a mystery to me but the image the mystery created was beautiful. 

Time to get out of my head and check what's next on my to-do-list, deep breath!


 Recipe of the day: Fairy Cakes

http://www.bbc.co.uk/food/recipes/fairycakes_93711