I am an ocean

Come then dive into my vast ocean there are gallons and gallons of me. So glad the blog page has a nice broad page a blanket I can pour my words onto like all the The wardrobes of memories in me all the colours the bits and the pieces all the flotsam and jetsom and currents astir As i woke in my bed this morning I felt my body an octopus and the sheets the ripples and twist of the gulf stream every river and rain dropping cloud melt of my girlfriends hair so then I dreamt last night that my neighbours house had a moat of water a gathering and for a moment i was concerned lest their foundations got under mined like shoes n boots that let in the puddles of rain but i have such a resilient articulate gift for discerning what is dream and what belongs to what my parents suggested to the child of my earliness as o jimmy pay it no mind from a vast and ever growing pieces of garments and fabrics a patchwork it forms on the miles of white beach you were feeling like hiding neath a stone and I can understand that when the sun gets so bright and your colour wants to remain vibrandt and doesn't want to be so exposed to the whitening bleach the beach offers miles of potential I would use it with parasols placed all along neath one needles n thread and rolls and ripples of mighty find cloth perhaps the next will have blocks and just white lengths and upon them we print out the blocks we have put our ideas on the next has musicians a playing yet we can any time we wish have the whole beach to ourselves we can wash our naked or clothed bodies in saltiness or neath a waterfall unsalt both ourselves hosepipes of water to have fun and do squirty things jackson Pollocks of invisible ink clearing the vast beach its a canvas I makes paper in trays of water and leave frames of moist paper to dry in the sun we can add things or see the virginal pulp that later on will invite colour and ink mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm i'm not frightened I have such a restful and courteous body to rest in this had been both beach and blotting paper and all will be well in me there is a vast beach and a vast ocean a vast sky and a slow pumping heart that says all will be well now the storm is passed over and when you swim there isn't as storm just a warm fire in a cave of warm imagination rest in its harbour made for a well wrapped up body with legs arms head tum and neck n ankles there are books bonfires tenderness and as you rest gently un think I will paint all the chosen fragments of meaning I gather like making breakfast from well chosen dreams you can see me unsee me recall and reveal me I am both a well and so well for each thought is so gentle my mind bed's a good place to lay down in goodness caressed by hands that are artist hands who feel out the wonder the niggles and tingles and thrill to the joy of you so well arranged and proportioned both yourself and your author and I trust your/their instincts. One day you will swim and I then your ocean one day my ocean and me the small fish together we paddle in wonderful sand n warm oceans of hope and we waken to rest and let go no longer subject to things we just don't and cannot and yet n need not understand In the vast patchwork of cloth clothing and fabric

i return to write down the gentle art of accepting

First thing I need then to recall and remember Is that I belong to myself and my God And I am loved here where I am and that I matter And accept there's a pathway I've trod Sitting here in a room full of wonder Though an inner critic a cynic might say That it looks to untidy and somewhat confusing yet its is fused in its own special way yes this nest where my body's been moving has been spilled thrilled and tide spilling born Just occured toi me now there's a word most interesting 'Tidily'.....tidies up Must mean when we put up shelves and compartmentalize so many bits of our selves We are the tide itself and all of our flotsam and jetsam Are being tossed by the energetic waves that spill out of our turmoil and current and flow of God's wealth mmmm some talk of bucket lists and those unwritten goals that we may yet turn into our life's shopping list a house holiday a husband or wife and our children a car skiing sailing exhibition top selling book lovely meal or various identities into which we might fit I have been graduate student husband and various kinds of a artist a muralist embroiderer illustrator sculptor of clay printmaker in screen etching plate wood engraver lino cutter and mono printer canvas portrait landscape portrait abstract acrylics on and watercolours painted on wood cloth and paper oils on panel mural in emulsions chef baker vegetarian baker and salt dough maker a life of bucket lists and collages and pulped and layered paper mache

I've been a friend and myself been befriended life goes on or it doesn't it stops sometimes we have lots of pennies and sometimes we pause before we set off to the shops there are consequences from every decision and we all dream of meeting someone who can take all the hurts and make all of life's fears go away I believe we watch films read books and magazines and we all study each other to both conform and be different sometimes we feel better being accepted and yet sometimes the 'norm' suggest we must nevertheless be completely unique in some way the dance of the ying yanging tide like tsunami spills out ideas to such children as I Of course we all need some tender applause and seek caring company without which just look you'll find tears there in everyone's eyes I own nothing the tide spills around me I accept that this room looks to some then a mess I accept I am fool and both genius and still but a child that a lovely young girl recently gave such hope and such tender caress

I accept i wioll find this to do maybe but maybe not tidy should the tide in me choose to spill into boxes and lists and alphabetically coded library versions of all of those worn out and tried on layers of meaningful selves I have tried out find comfort in and gratefully worn when I go out with no real intention of drawing i see something so very beautiful in the fragmented tatty selves of the old and the young whose waves both inside and outside of have tossed them th drawings I make say look at you I'm so glad you were born

not just then as old/young /gifted Jimmy's life models but that the pencils pens itch in these fine hands of my caress are both God's crucified loving father's tender tear scooping hands at life's fountain do I accept you as kind gfst o yes i do ever so yes do i love the girl who has come and understood me do I care how things will be for her I do must i live my life alone and so so sad here without her you are all out there sotling with all life's tidal sweeps and interventions only the right wind and tiller within you will ensure God brings me and you to me i feel the fabric of you flotsam jetsam n fine fallen petals make one flower angel faery and canvas watercolour sky and head us both to a future of mutual caring where er you are i feel already married to you I accept we'll get tired be conformed to lifes pathways I accept we'll often be left with trinkets n twigs n petal and few bunches of flowers at all but on those few wondrous occasions we'll sit down for meals and we'll picnic in storms for we are rich in ways none may not see as we walk on life's shore and until God herself gets lonely and wants to draw both of us with those crucified fingers that tenderly seek to restore the petals back to her tenderest rose we will fell the pieces of flotsam and jetsam and draw God's tears in everyone's faces they are our tears though on other cheeks we see as mirrors traced by petals n pencils n soft water colours on to the tender retinas n hearts of a movie that's ours amen

everyone matters

its important to let everyone matters even those that do hurt us do too jesus said forgive them for they know not what they do if you yourself were not a small piece of sacrament bread from the one bread were not a grape from the vine become water and wine then how would your value be salty andunderstand this sad song? You matter and so do the ones that have hurt you they did not know just what they do Nothing is going to be wasted that God tenderly nurtured corrected and put back the one pathway through the garden put down the 'horror scope' ' for they are fiction and do NOT never could or have seal(ed) your fate that's twixt you and a generous artist sculptor animator scientist genius both male /female/totally 'other' author not limited by man's manipulative schemes FORGIVENESS so vast tis an ocean yet one need not return for more hurt and you won't make the same mistakes twice if you look heavenward and take on much more compassionate values like that of forgive n forget n move forward learning to trust in the LORD LADY author of everyone's hearts not just their's amen

Whilst

I love the word 'whilst' and how it invites represents and gentle nudges the world's fabulous simultaneity and mais ouis but of course multi tasking for we all breathe n dream as we sleep eat smile gaze as we eat drive using one hand for the wheel two feet for the speed as our eyes scan the road and the mirror and reflect all the time on the long journeys all of the time so bonjour tout le monde good mnorning to all of the world 'whilst I have been typing this I have bee listening feeling and my feet touching the rag rug and my ears hear the milk float go bye whilst youv'e been reading this rhyme you have been feeling its beat whilst your heart beating so then has mine so how sweet and how neat whilst wearing your pants n licking your lips taste the world's salt beneath all our house and clothes all the adams n eveses still naked neath fig leaves and sharing the simultaneous sap oozing up through God's weel ropoted vine and I will say it again go read you psalm one plant yoiurself where ther water still turns streams into wine and the feats of the marriages of heart soul body earth water and creatio ex nihilo will show you there's is no such thing as 'dirt' tis living soil growing nurturing whilst offereing sand neath our feet whilst our toes seek to meet halelujah for whiling away whils t the birds bees n sea tide are breathing in shared air whilst bathwater runs to wash all of those bottoms boobs tums of babes dads n mums whilst stiff upper lipped politicians seek maintain status quo and decorum well all i can say come back to reality and a gentler humanity cehz mois au chez vous that is to say your place or mine neither really for whilst thinking like this it is our author's page pen and of course so is the law's real rhythms n rhymes transcend so much stuff tis all leaves n petals to play with we must find a warm river and flow there together whilst our clothes sort of jumble together like a collage with daisies n socks pebbles leafves and joggled off shoes whiolst whilst whilst whilst is a gentle whispy breath as the fibres mutually caress the world gets back to Eden to gardens n gifts whilst not knowing so much oft not feeling the touch of shrill wondrous electricity buzzing n fragrantly seeping n oozing synapses tongues words n flutter by humming birds of paradise us we are fantastic yet extra ordinary whilst well you get the gist please continue on through you day eat it for breakfast for all is neither then yours nor then is it mine

Life's fragments

Who can really make sense of life's fragments? Not me for seems forever n all of my short life I've so tried What is love or a nest that is worth remaining and playing with fragments of sticks leaves n flowers and grasses should tenderness hide behind pride? Love is two birds and a collection of pieces two make sense of together recognizing something mutual they both feel deep down inside yet as they look past their beaks at each other blinking two tiny black dots that are eyes two gether to gather and make a mutual jigsaw yes for one another and the whole of creation besides for they needs must be a light not only then for one another but for the broods of children they love so dear darling decide whether th love that old jim 's feeling for you you'd dig a pit for and bury for ever denied.

How to reachings and why to reachings

mmmm still like the line from a Bowie album ...might be Hunky Dory 'we were so turned on by your lack of conclusions.' My mum seemed to have a mental cog that sought to blame 'who did this?' Admittedly she also had a compassion seeking to forgive line 'Jimmy always leaves his mark,as if he wants to be found out'. Anyroda....when setting out to do some pondering n musing the upshot seems to be a game of 'my idea is best'. Morning pages is Julia Cameron's invitation to mine the mind and just pour out words.yet we are so or I am so unaccustomed to ' jamming ' and letting the sugar in the fruit of the words just bubble up sweetened to spread on my joy that instead I try to have an intro and a three point 'argument and a conclusion. the thrust seeming to want to arrive at the station of conclusion because all else ...i.e. the flux of just 'being' has been directed through synaptic gateways like sheep to a pen that says 'profit' 'benefit' 'wisdom' 'epithet' 'novel'... so if the words are a conveyor they are on the cliche belt and cogs of heading towards the seen before known and verifiable product piles compartmentalized and ready to be utilised functionally. Not mindful Pooh like joys of musing mindfully glad that thunks chunks floated past n through and around toes up noses through blood stream and offering little boats in a river and a bit of paddling sand pit and wood shed tinkering. Mmmm what happens if and having ideas by playing with materials. Thankfully Klee Lear Clued Oldenburg and Alexander calder pondered not jst with rhyme but colour wire and cloth and instead of making sense made senses taste sounds sift grins of sand and poured fuel into the wonder 'So turned on by your lack of conclusions.' I'm okay you're okay was a lovely little Monet noticed as plausible and joyful whether child to child adult to adult or parent to parent by a book entitled the Games people play by Eric Berne M.D Imagine all was heaven. my spin on John Lennon's song for he than asked us to imagine 'all the people living life in peace' Be like a flower a bird a child be like one of these mmmmm the young Arthur in the sword and the stone enjoyed his meditations sadly he didn't get to stay in Eden as he was apprenticed to rule. An error I feel insomuchas these conclusions of grandeur are handled well with Cordelia's unconditional love of her dad the king mmmm i can feel myself reaching a conclusion for the less than comical Lear seeks to share out his kingdom to those poisoned by the Trump Farage win at the expense of all others unlike them expense Winning and owning and me me mine are crap tune a lousy conclusion and really crud lyrics hence Syd Barret is a joy Nick Drake is a fruit tree showing the truth in 'fame' and the reason that Tom Bombadil didn't develop the plot but was a bit like Tolkien and Lewis's own worlds of dwelling in an impressionist Pacem in Terris. perhaps Dylan's asking 'what are you saying?' with the lyrics that snapped the Beatles from 'love love me do' to 'gona start a revoluion-count me in /count me out' wasn't the best invitation and though he enjoyed having a band and going electric he too prefered the love love me do of sitting on this bank of sand and watching the river flow dock of the bay direction.... see how conclusion come to grab one and pull you down with them its why iam seeking to crochet knit and tinker with bits n pices fro the playing with colour allows the Eden like childhood of wonder to offer me the flowers and the myriad fruits of ...mmmm wel wells of water full of potential and Tove is good too at not reaching conclusions but somehow mysteriosly steaming a thought in a musical way that feels like a good ponder with shape unpredicated unpredicted mmm a window

flying solo duo and group

At present after realizing my single-hood is going to be prolonged I have nevertheless also accepted and pro actively sustained a life time's dynamic of transformation and change. Soloists and single flyers include St.Francis of Assisi Amelia Earhart,Antoine De Saint-Exupéry's Little prince Mother Teresa .Herge's Tintin,St.Paul,Jesus Yet some people i.e solo artist's are not un-partnered. Even in fiction Tintin has Snowy.And in Little prince the solo pilot is a meditation on another who is from another like Bowie's major Tom . In my child's mind I always hoped to be Adam in Eden with an Eve who a kind author brought into the garden where I had been planted. When there was no girl there was instead paint pens and paper and later the lady was a musical instrument from harmonica to ukulele to guitar violin. Yet despite some lovely God given Eve's who walked into and out of the Eden I shared none stayed. Just reflections projections hopes dreams and traces in lyrics riffs doodles and melodies and movies. Each Eve imagining her ideal Adam and each manifestation of being their Adam proving not to be not for me an Eve of something lovely and lasting. The solo flying of harmonica has always enjoyed the sky provided by other musicians skies often duets...with various friends Steve,Simon,Jim and David often to some heartfelt song about losing the lady or the loneliness of Eden or the sky to fly in over and out of it as with praise in the altar with Simon or rock n roll with Steve,Jim or Dave of course there is even then the splitting oneself into sky and bird and author as one takes a string instrument in one's arms a harmonica in a cradle lyrics in one's mouth and flowing heart becoming a pretend duo group or momentary movie romance of reflection. This is like doing a mural or a commission for another always best when for a couple for then like a midwife of emotion one gets to record their flight with the wings of imagination God gave you this is I feel like being a hymn writer God takes on a shared group reality and mutual reverie when a church is lifted by a praise 'group' groups then are concerts i.e concerted mutual efforts to provide the flowers tress and ground and sky for each other's comfort whether it be illusion or reality is of no matter just as when two lover's spill all they are into the common shared river of their mutual lives Pacem in Terris may be found whether it be Wirral Ukulele Fanatics Beatles Jimmy Rae and the Moonshine Girls Pink Floyd or the wise decision of Bob Dylan to work with a band or John Martin or Van Morisson to be tempted towards orchestra yet one's mind and theirs too in the case of John Martin and Roger Waters a deep and loving empathy and reverence for the lost sheep soloist who give their sermon's on the mounts like the fools on the hills they are Nick Drake-living on solid air- a tough flight that one Syd Barrett -piper at the gates of dawn-wish he was here and when he was flying solo Bob put it well the answer is still 'Blowing in the wind like that harmonica Bob borrowed that plane from Woodie there's a star man waiting in the skies well if there wasn't prayers would be just thin in and not so solid no one to pipe in the dawn no fool on any hill to play day after day no sermon on any amount of mounts the front line is either an Eve or a few disciples on an Emmaus Road hoping they walk with Psalm 23's shepherd neath Psalm One's trees beside The River man