outsideinroads

Life games, music, magic and all the rest. Adventures of the fringe of the fringe amongst the.. "People's Republic of Brighton and Hove"


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Nyangara (for Kesh)

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What is magic? We used to meet in Owold, and we were in deep, forget-me-not-forever assisting each other, learning to process together in actions and energy sharing. Exploring territories that were unfathomable, discovering where the shared experience began and ended, dreaming together in separate dreams full of intersections. The dimensionality of imaginary space. A time of innocence, another childhood of experience in some ways, a peak experience too. The moment it happened, you said, the world you inhabited was completely destroyed, and all sense of you with it. As you emerged anew you saw how where we live is the universe contained in our own heads. You saw a web of meaning that stretched between us all and out to every being, “It’s freeing because the world isn’t fixed like it was” you told me, “and the world isn’t fixed for other people either. The world is in part a world you have control over building.” You laughed about a comedy show where a person given the chance to make endless virtual realities makes their own neurosis again and again “so.. there is that”. I laughed too, without ever having seen the show I knew the story, only too well. You were with us though, and we were with you, and together we were learning to look at things from new angles, we were playing, and the plasticine was reality itself, well, maybe.

Physical effects occurred too. The shaking, pains, heart bombardment. The shuddering energies that take over us and compel us in strange directions. Something snapped. Although I yearned more than I can say to do so from my space of all this, it was so hard to reach you. In fact I had no idea if that were possible, or how. Although so many of us were on this path before that moment, had experienced related things before… honestly, none of us fully understood what had been unleashed. I was unafraid, most of the time, but the fear was real and was out there, was in you. At times these processes would become cruel and intense. I would shudder and shake for hours, sometimes in agony, sometimes in ecstasy, find myself on spontaneous vision quests, become nothing, nothing, a tunnel of light. I would feel vast electrical energy ripped from me, through me, was ever sensitive to every strange fluctuation in the world as I encountered it, heard wings all around me and rolling through me, dissolving. I had no idea how to integrate some of this with the rest of it or with the other world, the familiar world. While I didn’t understand, I felt fairly able to navigate the space I found myself in, like it was my natural state. I was consistently told by my nearest imagination beings that this was the case. I don’t think it was so with you, and the space you were in. I checked these sensations with you, and with a few others, and some were the same, and some were very different. In my sensitive state when the shift happened the energy shaking off you felt so heavy, so drastic. I understood how, after a time, you seemed to react. For a while we grew distant and you seemed to avoid us. I did spells to help you find a way out of the mires. I tried to be there for you but I also kept my distance.

We took up playing mbira together, I after you. We explored together again. You came back, tentatively. You were, once again, so soft and silly and wise. Things were calmer, and we felt almost like veterans of some crazy battle, aware, underneath, that fighting could erupt again at any moment. Some of the spaces we explored then were so vast, so ultimate, so indescribable. We could come out of them collectively and smile, say “that was a deep one”…  humm a little. Giggle. Go back in. It was gentle and simple and amazing that it was available to us. We were gentle with it, as gentle as we could be. It was more than we would ever get to grips with or really know, and we were all very comfortable with that. When the tides turned yet again they turned for us all, but so heavily for you. The help you seeked backfired, it chased you out of this life, and it is so scary to say that because it feels like something one is not supposed to say. But it is so. Seeking help is a wonderful thing, but it is fraught, as everything, all healing is, with danger. Snakes are doctors, and doctors are snakes. Every human being knows that. Nyangara. Up on the mountain. May that snake be gentle with your spirit, heal the process that was you. Send you on your way with love.

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Flicker between worlds

fantasy-island-wallpaper

Stop. Breathe. Feel the world

Tumble down in the wail cadence

at the start of Erasure’s Sometimes.

 

Take a pace forward. You

know that iridesce

is a flicker between worlds,

overlay elements,

myth potential.

The ones you work with live

There, perhaps, in between worlds to

here, like this role in reverse.

 

The lands there appear differentiated too,

a stack of

 

 

 

which flickers, alike, different, to this space

and always has.

 

Yet things are different there, the same. When

spaces integrate I have

seen entities expanded over entire sky,

encountered beings up close in a

myriad of forms, sung to the dark

 and beautiful abstract mask spirits who cluster

around leaves and trees. Been encouraged in

process, shit and vomit by serious,

giggling gnomes. Felt >bzzz< wings against my

legs, learnt strategies, developed relationships,

friendships,

developed strength, and felt myself give it to them.

 

The question of reality is a misnomer.

The Otherworld does not exist

on the same plane as this

Space. Is this imagination? Pretend?

Dimensional? It doesn’t matter.

The shifts made through

interaction                              (between this non matter and)

matter.

The potentials created, envisaged,

the layers, those layers of being, life.

 

It is time to call the worlds together.

This is the

Battle. The only war that matters,

to paraphrase Diane. And yes,

it is the power of our imaginations, and

the power of working with their elements

as whirling, existent, experiencing in their own right,

which brings us to

strengths and possibilities

we did not know we had. The chance

for real change I can perceive

lies in aligning to these realms,

Honouring these spaces,

spirits, energies, that we have always

sensed. Seeing where they take us,

and where we may go with them.

 

What next? That daoist/BDSM symbol still appearing,

                        maybe, recently,

on surprise church windows in Africa,

back in the roundhouse in Wales.

 

Do you want to come

along? There’s a bridge to build

on this quest

and it’s not made of stones, but

wonderment, curiosity, stories.

Discoveries, energies, balances.

Space, Love, care, observation, listening,

communing,

communicating,

space.


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Slipsteam Lookout Post

Broad sweep of singing, wild cloaks, wild weather, not safe

as in a constant watch out for the

time to leave, as in a constant watch out

for, a constant action against

those baddies, those vampires, not just any,

as in…

and how to get across in words

this broad sweep of our cloak, this scoop up into wings,

this skin shedding, meta-morph paracosm,

this illusion, this broad stroke reality.

Head wool on the outside, mutating beasts

learning our responsibility in our reality and

so often playing out our virtual neuroses again

and again, as you said. Or in

a movement to protect from

a thing we all sense

All day,

Every day. We are not always clear about it,

and we sense it in and from the very best things, and ourselves,

as well as in enormity in this fabric, every strand and every space of the game that we must play….

And in the patterns.

The patterns.

And we speed out our activities to be ones of collaboration and

Peace. Love. And we speed out our activities to expand, to fill the

very real, very imaginary

Whole Universe. In final suspension of time,

as in / out, you, your love. NOW.

All power and vulnerability, all lost children,

all dedications, sacrifices to….

all Gods into, all shades of

this heart. Forever, forever, in growing, surviving as long as,

until it’s final. This final, final, final, always changing Never

Forever Love.


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Luna Hoof Heart

The moon afloat a perfect pitted sphere

 

Yearning, a / this yearning indescribable

          constantly contracting/releasing       

 

and you, us, adventure, it is

and this amorphous cabal, our hearts pulsating joy

pain

 

new life, new life

 

Indifferent, indescribable, imaginal

 

liminal fantasy, not spell,

 

told a game, we spun, spin, outwards, we

Nuclear fusion reactors, we

strange meat adaptors

we suffering, growing, growing, shrinking…

To ~

To just for once find a way to

tell you

but what? My notion that

this work, this

hurt us?

This

a process, which is Love

If you trust it it can happen

It can

flow, better

you with it

If you trust it hurts less, like still a heavy flutter sting…

Do I trust it?

 

Who are these beings? Is it a bet?

That stupid? That funny?

 

Are you ?

 

What is the dimensionality of imaginary space?

Does the moon hold specific indifference for Kesh?

Does he know how I love him?

Energy, energy

particle flitters between hands

It’s all

 

An explosion of hearts, stars, an explosion in US.

 

I want you to know it is still dragging on me, but love is the thing that heals it.

 

The giraffe is the moon. You are liminal starlight

 

I know you when you

Wings like rooks,

Hanging amorphous nothing space

Gentle light, endless power ripped from me, shaking

all over

simple words, trust, guiding hand in the dark.

 

I hate to see my friends suffer.

Were we ready for this? It happened.

 

still just broken winged birds learning to fly, forever

Interdimensional space travel

is our game, the Hove Space Programme

is our name.

Make a weapon, use it.

 

We grow, we love, we be

Love is a many splendid thing

 

The process is twists and turns

It lies, it has to…

it does not exist

Can there be such a thing

as cosmic friendzoning?

 

Sure can feel like it sometimes

 

(, softly, softly) I don’t suspect so...

 

I remembered what a world without love was like

I didn’t like it

Love, the web

Love, the mycelium

chatter, pulses, courses

Love the rip cord: yearning, being, tugging,

tidal

Love, the everything, the nothing of it all

Love


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Summer Summary So?

So many stories to tell. Community, play, old friends in strengthening in new friends. A summer, all Brighton, all travel, all small space make own culture (especially at Supernormal Festival). All more than could be expected. Release play, learning, being ok, some vital: “right path sonny jim, carry on moar!” Laffing. Such new / old companions, comrades, compatriots.

To learn that the purpose isn’t always the purpose it seems to be. To create things that change, that facilitate this beautiful tribe and the folk in it to grow and change and sweep about, without doing what we thought or imagined (yet). To be happy for it.

This bubble afloat. We’re from the future. Gender mess gay children. A summer in Owold ASStral, reconnect through science. New dimensions (as if it isn’t big enough!), new colours, new life. We make it. Thumbs up.

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Their unfeasible reality that continues, biting at heals – a terror – even to us – to our bright-arse inventive friends and their brilliant children. Dismantle of better rules of play continues alarmingly. People suffer. Sometimes we scream and hide.

Our new life is action, is a work against this work, is a work for ***^^^**** Universe/ourselves/itself. No need to have this work as punishment – it is in their interests. We’re from the future. I a mess of hopes and dreams, as ever, ever, all those forces on my side give messages of carry on, and I will. I do. Despair is a terror. Breaks happen, and we move. I stand with everyone in times of horror. Yes, and dive about on my own escapade. I just wrote this thinking of Lou Reed. (Although the formatting is not right, no matter). As I write this a beautiful tangle strand appears adrift in friends, their messages, the same message:

Here we are.