Root Brain/20thcentury: Medulla Oblongata Remix for Aristophanes

Archetypes - The End of the End and Beginning of the Beginning Affecting Us All in April, May, and June 2009

by Robert Wilkinson

If you're wondering why you need to finish up any backlog and still feeling like something BIG is happening, welcome to what's happening to everyone. It's the end of the end for us all. Many who are prepared and ready will be moving into newer, better things, while others are probably feeling like they haven't a clue what's next. Welcome to where we ALL live.

Venus is now stationary direct at 30 Pisces, with Mars rapidly converging on its conjunction, fusing many things, creating a thought form that will impact us all for years to come. This is a degree of Archetypalization, where our thought forms can be shaped in ways that if we're willing to put our heart behind our mind's form, we can see it made manifest in the months to come.

Be thoughtful. Be considerate. Say goodbye. Bless the passage.

Wherever 30 Pisces falls, we'll see the fusion of the areas ruled by Aries, Taurus, Libra, and Scorpio. This unifies a third of our life (4 signs) in a life area (the house where 30 Pisces falls) where we are given the chance to practice our thought form building capacity. We will know how expert we are by what shows up in the next two years.

Venus is quickening, and conjunct Mars for weeks to come. Welcome to a great fusion, where several areas of our lives will come together to manifest the dream we've dreamed, the ideal we've declared we want to be made manifest.

Breathe deep, meditate and go deeper, and move into the vast ocean of the end of the end of Pisces, the last sign of the 360 degree archetypal span of activity. The end of Pisces is the broadest, vastest field of feeling experience anyone could imagine, where our separate self can dissolve into the vast Self.

Both Venus and Mars are now in an area where we all can sense the vastness of the totality of human experience, where we all share deep feelings with us since the beginning of time. For the next week, embrace the deep compassion where we all come together in the common human experience, forgive much, open to a wider compassion for yourself and all others through all time, and relax. The future is already on the way, like an express train.

Copyright © 2009 Robert Wilkinson

April 19, 2009 | Permalink

Standing in Southwark in Standing

As the post from Here led me to Here and then to Here led me to observe no embedding permitted I went here and then here before I found a stall where I could acoustique. It was a nice day, as the photographs show, although I couldn't help but feel all black and white about that period in history before the advent of colour. Am I the only one who needs to look again at all black and white photographs ever seen with the new colour of life added in, doesn't it add to our perception of continuity as opposed to disconjunctive break with the past (a past not truly, properly conceived?). I like sitting in front of Traci too, always a pleasure to see her face, this still I thought particularly fetching and evocative.

Of course if you stand around a lot, like I do, then you get to see things a lot as well; any sketcher will tell you that it's why we drink coffee; why we pause at all.

Anyway, at that time, just after the conference alerted me to the new speculative realist perspective (with the ontology of objects not yet quite clearly formulated in my mind, and without the benefit of Latour's remarks about the lack of play that critique supposes, and in fact as I was then also without mentor or any guide whatsoever in the annals of Diogenes there had never been such a Lampostier professor as I, all talk and no grab, all silence and no lingus. 

I was not sure if THESE were or were not, are or are not entities anything less than works of art in themselves. Everyone knows I love books, but not how much. I secretly stow into the New York Public for a donut and a fizz, spending ages outside eating pretzels afterwards looking through the plants and biosigns for parkage I stumble into Pierspointe's Morgans place and stand around there for a while, thinking of ole Blighty, and the years before ponting round the Thames.

Shelby shows me her video from the iphone and I say, "Look, that's exactly what I'm talking about. It's black and white and yet, we know, we know for sure that it was all experienced in colour. It occludes our perception. I know it does."

The swarming flies around the side of the Thames; the stunking rat sewers of accelerated origins brought to a halt with the tides slippage. Spat stank shower muffin?

A stranger strange hands me a Muffin, con blueberries. I think about the time. And off round the corner, Hammersmith and Windsor. "I can't really tell what that one's of. I like it tho. Do you?"

It's a weird one, conic and irregular. Forshortened by something. A occult of the eye?

'Ere mate. Can you juggle four?

Geezer hands me his balls and I spy they are MSX c5's, and yeah, I do wanna have a feel of those. The juggling takes my mind off Southwark and Traci's art. My mind changes gears into something that isn't yet performance, but not just practice either.

There are dogs. Tourists. Pedestrians. Peter's mother Brenda and her little dog. A mobustier pushing for attention in the breeze. And a birds eye view of yesterday's event, proliferating in the breeze. So this is London eh? Peter Ackroyd's London. Blake's London, and Wordsworth London. Smithsonian. London New York Museum. I step out of the way of a cunning downslider as the pattern goes off and I drops.

Hands the balls back to im. "Nice. I like those. Garfield rekomend em?

Harfinkle.? Jason...I turn round, thames. Nile. southbank...festival. I hear: 

 'Here mate. Over here."

Took a Good lO at this whilst standing outside a Metroa Paris this morning Monde

This other geezer leans on his post. It's all post post post this morning. A shovelling donut passing by, a sliding ferret. What;s tha?

Shelby says its Jurassic. To me its just an icecream. A fine tongue. Possibility of tetech here. Look. The iphobe she says, and this is my phone. The long winded ski jumpt down her throat is a feindish repriece from some of what I jsut heard. Talk talk talk talk talk. Here I stand.... so it's a not as good as yesterday already. I just can't get into their argument, that's why I was pleased to greet Mr Latour this morning. I think I've made about sixty sous this morning; there's still the washing up to be done at Joes Pizza. I crush my ecologic packaging into my handsome palm tree. To her I am man sans telephon. Ici. She lips her licks: 'it's not real, see?" She licks again.

Funny what some people think of as a joke. I think it's amber juice. Quie c'est? What's that?