November 21, 2008

An amazing vision of the future reported

Brothers and sisters, stop what you are doing and listen please!

I have just had the most amazing vision - a vision of the future!

And do you know what? It doesn't exist! Not even in weak pencil outline !

Well it's a sort of revelation...

Posted by Mr Bojangles at 03:10 PM | Comments (0)

November 17, 2008

things we shall not get used to

Sometimes on blogs, there's a bit of a lull. It can happen. No one seems to be around, and the tell tale signs are the milk going off in the fridge, and the bread in the bread bin going slightly green.

But I'm back now, with fresh milk purchased - and the green bits cut off the bread. I've been away leading a retreat in Glastonbury, and though I do not seek your applause, a good time we had of it amid the rich autumn colours of Somerset.

And what did we discover? All sorts. It was Dostoyevsky who defined humans as 'beings who can get used to anything' and we certainly discovered this to be so. So many of us had 'got used to things' that were killing us. So they were duly left behind with the rotting leaves - because there are some things we should just never get used to.

And I'm now thinking of Victor Frankl, after the allies had liberated his concentration camp. A few days after the liberation, he walked from the camp to a nearby village. Brutalised and numbed by his experiences, he was only slowly getting back to human feelings. So much lost; so much to be recovered inside. But as he walked through the fields, he had only one sentence in his head: 'I called to the Lord from my narrow prison, and he answered me in the freedom of space.'

The freedom of space - it's what retreats are about.

Posted by Mr Bojangles at 11:55 AM | Comments (0)

November 05, 2008

Bus Shop!

Now I just love shopping and find it impossible to buy anything until i've looked at all the options in the shop just to be sure i've made the right choice, unlike my friend Lisa who knows what she wants and chooses to get to the shops when they open and prides herself on being home in under an hour before any of the serious shoppers are out of bed.
But even she'd be impressed at what I saw this morning.
I was on the bus going to work when the driver stopped beside a clothes stall, he negotiated and brought a nightdress in about three minutes flat without even moving out of his seat.
Now that's impressive!

Posted by Shelliz at 09:05 PM | Comments (0)

Indestructible

It's hard losing your alter-ego. Certainly not to be tried at home, folks! Indeed, it can feel like your own personal annihilation.

This has been my experience anyway. Since my alter-ego of the Bojangles Mattress Bank sadly passed away, I have been truly wondering 'What's left?' I've been drinking my coffee and cleaning the sink, sure - but wondering if I still exist.

Terrible terrors flood over me and through me, unbidden and unwanted. At one point I was sat on the sofa, convinced that if I changed channel I would disintegrate. Mad! (Especially as I was watching 'The X Factor' which no one should stay with for too long.)

But you know what? It seems I'm fine, and have not been annihilated. Whatever has died was clearly not essential to me. Indeed, my psyche feels rather fresh and envigourated this morning. The energy of life flows through my body and soul, cleansed in some way, from absurd imaginings.

I exist. I'm substantial. And - I strongly suspect - indestructible.
I'm back - so expect fireworks!!!!!!

(Discerning readers will note I haven't lost any of my pungent topicality. 'Expect fireworks'...wonderful stuff...edgy...so, like, now...that sort of thing...)

Posted by Mr Bojangles at 11:13 AM | Comments (0)

November 02, 2008

Our sun is sinking from us..

Upon my word we passed a most agreeable Hallowe'en at the Knights' Hall. 'No fine silk or bonnets to be worn' it said on the invitations written in the elegant cursive script of Sir Cum Locution. We arrived shortly after sundown. Drab Eileen and the Grim reaper came along with me on Dick Thresher's wagon. The road is a sea of mud and village flotsam I hoped that Gwen the one eyed widow was taking a ride with Mr Kipling in the Child Catcher's barouche.
We were ushered in to the Great Hall, and bear with me, dear reader, but I could not but feel a smug glow of satisfaction seeing the golden tones of the Round Table radiating mahogany in the candle light.The work with the beeswax has paid off, and no mistake.
We began with a game of apple bobbing in the scullery. Now you will see why bonnets were forbidden though the mob caps we had fashioned to preserve our modesty were quickly drowned and with our hands behind our backs and our heads in the tin bath we were a sight to raise a laugh from all but the glummest. Then with our faces dripping we had to remove the ring from the bowl of flour in our teeth. It seemed that only half of us had teeth and Sir Lee de Meanour was not amused at this sport, nor at our titters of amusement when he rose from the plate, his face white enough to frighten the Archdeacon and no mistake.No one can accuse us of not being edgy and contemporary in this village.
So now to All Souls day and a precious gleaming of sunshine as the leaves tumble. The healer in Oat Cottage is stacking a log pile and still offering cabbage leaf healing to the passers by. Mrs Spittle had her apple press ouside her door and there has been a good deal of running hither with the apples and thither with all manner of quaint containers. The Rector caught a chill,I'm not saying that it was the night of the apple bobbing but he staggered home looking most bedraggled and conducted Matins in full Muffler this morning. I'll take him a bowl of poached sweatbreads if he's no better tomorrow.
The village is preparing itself for the rigours of Winter. Have we salted enough pork belly? Are there kippers still for tea? Will the Bracombe Ouse rise above it's banks and drown us all? Are there enough rafts of measures? So many questions to perplex us as the light leaves us with shorter and shorter days.
I might seek solace at the Frog and Ferret this evening and share a Gin and It with the ratcatcher's mother.

Posted by Martha at 04:45 PM | Comments (0)

November 01, 2008

My Joy

I am currently in a state of happiness which has lasted for two weeks and is continuing. At times I cannot help smiling to myself and feel like I may burst with joy.
After 18 years of being asleep to the world and trying to avoid my pain, six years ago I was offered a job that would shape my future from then on. This job would lead me to discover who I was and teach me to love myself. Unknown at the time, this job was also going to take me on a journey of personal development and show me my passions and my gifts.
Since that point, I have realised my calling and feel so relieved to find it. Everyday I learn a little more and I shall keep on doing so on this wonderful journey of self discovery.
I have a glowing bulb of happiness alive and glowing inside of me ready to take on the next challenge.
I am now ready and if I ever go back it will only be for a brief and true visit until I return to my present which is my home.

Posted by Russell at 02:24 PM | Comments (0)

October 27, 2008

Discard the Mask

Learn to be still
Quiet and strong
Let yourself cry
When you sense something wrong
Open your eyes
Be ready to see
Respond to the dance
And learn to be free
Accept you're not right
Accept you're not wrong
You're fluid and changing
And moving along
Feel what you feel
And then let it pass
Be true to yourself
And discard the mask.

Posted by Shelliz at 06:45 PM | Comments (0)

R.I.P - The founder of BOMB

We hereby announce the sad passing of Mr Bojangles' alter ego - founder of the highly successful Bojangles Mattress Bank.

He died in his sleep, surrounded by those he loved - both notes and coins.

He wrote a final message, however, on the back of a cheque for half a million pounds. At last, a use for it!

'No flowers, please, my friends.
Let them stay where they are; grow where they are.
Let them flourish in their own soil, all rooted and fine.
And I wish the same for you.'

X

Posted by Mr Bojangles at 05:31 PM | Comments (0)

October 23, 2008

End things at BOMB

I'm lying here, spent, (unlike my money) and waiting for the sunrise.

I can still just see the eastern skies through a hole in my piles of cash. And I'm looking forward to the lightening glory. It'll more than make up for all those I haven't seen or noticed down the years. Each day is precious - and every day a prize, as they say.

The postman is leaving the cash outside the door now. He can't force anymore in. I am bloated with currency, almost literally. I woke a couple of times last night with £2000 in my mouth, which may be hard to swallow, but is true. It was eye-watering more than mouth-watering.

But don't cry on my account. I'm crying on yours - safe here at BOMB, but not helping me greatly. As I watch the eastern skies, waiting for my last sunrise. And it's true, by the way - it is darkest just before the dawn.

Cheque it sometime...they say that the ability to make puns is the last function the human loses....so goodbye,my friends...I'll see the sunrise, and then take my leave...I'm looking across the river of death and looking to the bank on the other side...

Posted by Mr Bojangles at 05:26 AM | Comments (0)