‘Like that?’ I ask.
‘Yeah,’ says one of the men a bit too eagerly. Not cool.
‘If you don’t mind me saying,’ says another older man, posh, slow accent, ‘it’s perfect for Easter.’
‘Yes,’ I agree. How can I not?
‘That’s how it is to be conducted well too in music. If a conductor is good he brings out from the depths the very best of each of the players. It’s like we are all birds flying in formation, all intent on one goal.’
Somehow we get onto the holographic Universe and fractals. ‘They are patterns within patterns, I tell her.’
She looks at me with her beautiful blue eyes.
‘Remember the hologram of Tony the Tiger on the side of Frosties?’
‘Yes,’ she says and smiles,
‘Well,’ I swallow, ‘if you cut it in half then you don’t cut Tony the Tiger in half, but you get two, complete half sized Tony Tigers. Cut it in four, you get four, cut it in sixteen you get sixteen...cut it into a million you get a million tiny perfectly formed Tony Tigers.’
‘Wow!’ she says excited, ‘I want to try...’
But the wow is coming: ‘Yeah! But listen to this, if you put them all back together into the original hologram, and you look at say a whisker on the end of his nose, it’s just a whisker, nothing special, but inside it has all the information of the whole...’ I can never get over how amazing that is.
‘Earth, water, fire and...’
‘Air.’ In my airhead I also parallel earth with sensations, water with emotions, fire with thought, air with intuition, ‘Jungian Psychology talks a lot about the balancing of these elements so that as they all align we rest in the very centre of the four directions,’
‘The centre of the cross?’
‘Yes...that’s where the fifth element arises, that of Ether, reminding us that we are part of the universe.’
‘I believe that since the times of Democritus it’s been considered as an esoteric place where atoms move,’
‘Yeah!’ I love talking to Thomas, he knows so much.
‘And where light is transmitted,’ he is turning me on, ‘where waves propagate.’
‘Exactly. And Higgs boson...’ I have to be careful being sapio-sexual. I could explode right now.
‘Yeah, and into the heart of the matter at hand, or into our own creativity, into our own life...’
‘Yes, it is...’ I smile, I feel there is a beamingness between us, ‘it is as if we were allowing life to express through us.’
‘As if, we are!’
I nod, so glad to be accompanied.
‘I also believe,’ he says, ‘that when we express ourselves we are expressing and thanking Mother Earth...’ I love the dance of our conversations, ‘because effectively we are celebrating new life, after having survived winter...’
‘And what would we do without Mother Earth?’ His face is smiling, open.
‘And also fractally, within ourselves, the Spring of our Souls after the long Dark Nights of San Juan de la Cruz.’
‘It’s time to celebrate the light Santa Teresa!’
‘It is – that’s why I’m going to put that picture up...’
‘From your art class?’
‘Yeah.’ I go red.
‘It’s just, well, ascension is connected to the virgin temple. The vagina...’
‘Yes, as true creative expression. The lower mouth as the Mellisae called it.’
He looks at me, a little shocked. Silent, slightly uncomfortable. I wonder whether to stop? ‘Well like,’ I continue, ‘as a portal into a deeper place...’ Blimey. I remember when Raimon Arola would get into similar tangles in his university lectures on Alchemy. I go even redder.
‘A celebration to the Earth of our bodies,’ he says kindly, coming back onto safer, more plough land.
‘Well yes,’ I say, ‘just a blog to wish people a Happy Easter and sow some seeds to flower into new, fresh concepts of who we are.’
|'The' Moon heralding Easter above Riverford Farm 9pm 23 Mar 16|