Order, order.

There was a statement shared by someone: “I am strong. But I am tired.”

I thought; That sentence sounds so different if you switch the order of it around to: ‘I am tired, but I am strong’.

The person heard me out, and responded: “If only it were that simple to kid my brain.”

So I thought about that.

But…

It is (that simple); which is maybe exactly why you’re currently doing so well at kidding it into thinking first: I am strong, but then: But I a tired.

The only reason it feels ‘not simple’ to communicate back to your brain that you are both of the statements existing together, both are true, but the conclusion of the statement changes the instruction- the instruction that the brain then believes is the command, and follows.

Literally just repeat the phrase backwards as: ‘I am tired. BUT, I am strong.’ over and over in your mind, say it out loud, and whether you feel like you believe your own words at the time or not, carry on. Because the brain will then remember, and suddenly the only convincing version of this phrase will be: ‘I am tired. But I a strong.’

The mind is much more co-operative and adaptable than I think we remember as humans; influenced and affected by the constant bombardment of external environment on a daily basis- yet, our minds are the drivers, and have all the capacity within to take control and command

To weave the body through and unharmed the surrounding chaos, in a harmonic wave which is greater than the sum of that around it. Forwards you can float.

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It’s always worth checking up on how your brain mentally verbalizes thoughts and feelings every day. To do so enables you to hold the cycle of thoughts accountable via reflection (ultimate boss). You notice the brain might have picked up a particularly bad habit of always internalizing the pessimistic, tiring and overtaxing conclusion. These cycles of thought, as we all know, can be brutal when left to thrive unchecked. The pattern becomes harder to break the longer it goes on without the whip.

Therefore; we should definitely command that whip! Input a new set of instructions via language and repetition, and re-wire those pathways. Positive outlook restored.

Fukushima insect study shows there is no safe low level of ionising radiation

Fukushima nuclear disaster; it’s consequences still ripple through the natural world relentlessly. Mutated butterflies and insects are just one of many tidemarks of this disaster. It makes one wonder how this is going to have shaped the future of our entire planet; had this disaster not happened, the path of things to follow would have remained very different.

nuclear-news

Butterfly-grass-blue-mutateThe researchers found that caterpillars that ate radioactive leaves pupated into mutated butterflies that did not live as long, compared with caterpillars that ate non-radioactive leaves. These mutations and increased mortality were seen even in butterflies that consumed only very small doses of radioactive cesium.

Plants in the area around Fukushima, Japan are widely contaminated with radioactive cesium, which is Cesium-137
producing mutation and death in local butterflies, according to a study conducted by researchers from the University of the Ryukyus, Okinawa and published in the journal Scientific Reports.

The butterflies were found to experience severe negative effects at all detectable radiation levels, even very low ones.

“We conclude that the risk of ingesting a polluted diet is…

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Pursuits of mental decay

So in recent years, it has become increasingly apparent that I cannot hide from my true self anymore. I mean this in the broad sense too, but this post concerns the more specific ‘paint drops’, which keep appearing in my ‘picture i’d like to paint to show off my worth/talent/whatever to others’. Like I pretend to be enjoying myself for excessively long stretches of precious time, when out with friends in a really shit bar, for example.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my friends and their company.  It’s just the part of the terms and conditions; which involves listening to completely uninspiring and terminally depressed instruments being forced to squeeze out sounds which are positively indecorous.

I stand or I sit, try to dance myself out of the terrible inhuman electronic synth vocals, as if trying to ‘trick’ the music into thinking it might just have the potential to enable people to dance. It might receive a boost in self confidence just to simply fucking loose itself, burn the scripted trap it was previously bound into promoting. I want to find a means to inspire the music, to transcend it’s low self esteem and fear of the unknown- let loose, go totally off the modern day ‘conventional’ formula which has been beaten into it, and find it’s true self once again, as perhaps a moderately tolerable tune.

But then even my passion for dancing feels trampled upon. I eventually have to preserve the health of the gift bestowed upon me as a human- and therefore musical- being, and give up the lie.

Go sit in the smoking area, hope to find some people with a generous outlook on sharing Psychedelics, and loose myself chemically instead.

I do wonder, when i’m out at these sticky, hipster, ‘mainstream’ and ‘trendy’ drinking venues, how many other people in the room are also completely dumbfounded to find themselves having to ‘think secretly’ about how bad of a time it all is. You see these other people, groups of crude, sweaty, polo-shirted men, or women in heels and spider lashes who genuinely seem to be thoroughly enjoying themselves. And I wonder; what am I missing here? Am I just suffering from early onset apathy? Is there something clincally wrong with me, which makes me a ‘poor sport’?

I feel like a bad person for failing to find other people in these scenarios in interesting or even worth listening to. I want to be free to be more open minded, see past the shallowness of the primal human showcase put on to mask the real character hiding underneath the packaging.

Needed sharing, not stewing, did that little rant!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dig For History

One of the most memorable campaigns of the 20th Century: Dig for Victory!

 

This was an extraordinary campaign led by the British Government; before WW2 , the government realised that the population would go hungry if the war was to last longer than a few months. The result was that formal gardens, lawns and even sports pitches were transformed into allotments, large and small, and everybody on the home front was encouraged to become a vegetable gardener.

Before World War II, Britain imported over 55 million tons of food a year – much of it from Canada and the USA. After the outbreak of war, merchant vessels carrying provisions into Britain, especially those coming across the Atlantic, became targets of the German navy and food imports were under threat. At the same time the British government recognised that the merchant ships were required for the transport of troops, munitions and even aeroplanes to the theatres of war. Our reliance on imported food needed to be reduced

An World War II poster depicting an old man 'digging for victory'.

In a well-publicised speech in late 1944, Lord Woolton said:

We can justly congratulate ourselves in what we have achieved. But we must on no account relax our efforts. The war is not yet won. Moreover, even it were to end in Europe sooner than we expect, the food situation, far from becoming easier, may well become more difficult owing to the urgent necessity of feeding the starving people of Europe. Indeed in many ways it would be true to say that our real tasks will only then begin. Carry on therefore with your good work. Do not rest on your spades, except for those brief periods which are every gardener’s privilege.

(Source: Hg2g Earth blog)

 

 

April Showers Galore!

This April has been wonderful for plant growth (including weeds of course!). In particular, the Tulips, some of which are from Holland and others gathered from various Sheffield dealers, are growing exceptionally well!

I’m really pleased with the height some of the Tulips have achieved for themselves: many of the bulbs have returned from the previous year, and some were planted new in about January this year. The April Showers have caused the window box Tulips, in particular, the thrive. They have grown outside from bulb, and been subject to some pretty challenging winds here in Sheffield. It seems to have been good for them, though!


The cat’s posing next to the window box Tulips (above) is just a coincidence of cat vanity and her own shy love of Tulips.


 

tulips in window box 26 april 2016

Photo taken: 20/04/2016

Alcoholic Summer

A winter once

Upon a time , there was

Hypertension in the contracted

Ice fractures

Enveloping the sleeping twigs

 

Slept not soundly

Did the bulbs on the back

Of an Earth, harassed

Spun like a cart wheel

Tattooing the soil with the last seasons’ tracks

Carried forth by an anonymous wind

Winter, she whipped no slack

Biting, she sugar coated in blankets,

The sun to its heel, begone

 

Begone! The Soil shall endure

The cold pin pricked recoil

The alcoholic’s cure

Abstinence; it’s for your own good

You drunkard Earth, stupefied by sunlight

Merriment will kill by eventual

Overdose of gladness

Remember to revive, the feeling of sadness

If you ever want to sing hazily

Through thick pollen once again

 

So the soil was placed on the program;

Rehab for the intoxicated Chlorophyll

Those leaves drank in such volume, their sweet sunny cider

They were beginning to show discoloration

Sallow, over nourished skins

In the shape of old stars, curling at their edges

 

Solitary confinement and sedation

For the Earthen organ

Until the blue, beautifully blue

Yellow centered, Spring scented

Forget-me-nots push through

The night shift bell rings out

Unleashing new Earth, re-invented

By sleep and blistering atonement

 

For over-indulgence in summer’s tonic

Skeletal, thirsty- a short lived moment!

When Earth thought it was going to change this time,

For good, it promised, to the void of the heat! Never

Again will I slip into old habits, indiscreet…

Said mother Earth, with a grin on her face

At the crack of May’s dawn

She was back on the gear

Birds merely singing; Summer’s here, it’s here!

 

Drunk again, the Bees get back to work.


 

 

 

 

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