Scouring of the Shire

It is near the end of the question-and-answer session in the 'Unfoldments, Secrets and Synchronicities' workshop that Neil Kramer talks a little about 'the power of the land'. When I first heard this expression, I sat bolt upright in my chair. My jaw dropped, and my eyes nearly popped out of my head. 'The power of the land': yes, that's it precisely.

Kramer discusses the topic in the context of the life and work of Tolkien. One of Tolkien's main concerns, it appears, was the loss of the land in England through encroaching industrialisation during his lifetime. He was very passionate about the Earth - not as conservation, but more as the power of the land, the connection with which has almost been completely severed in modern-day England. This destruction has consequences, not only for the human, plant and animal kingdom, but also the elven and other realms that may inhabit the Earth. This in turn will affect their relationship and disposition towards humans, destroyers of their home. There is a chapter at the end of 'Lord of the Rings' entitled 'Scouring of the Shire'. In it our hobbit heroes return to their homeland, the Shire, only to find it has been laid to waste while they have been away, the power of the land destroyed. This scene does not appear in the celebrated film version of the story, speculatively because it does not fit in with the notion of a neat and tidy happy ending.

'The power of the land'. If it still exists as a force in Britain, one of its major locations is the highland areas of Scotland, I would suggest. And it is this which is at the bottom of my own impassioned pleas against the industrialisation of these regions with wind farms. It is not energy efficiency, damage to tourism, subsidies to fat cats, not even aesthetic considerations strictly speaking. These all play their part, but the prime mover and shaker for me is the power of the land. We sit in high-rise office blocks and centrally-heated houses, conversing on mobile phones and watching television. But still we have a vital connection with the land, a connection we ignore and sever at our peril. Politicians and nasty little bureaucrats stuck in London or Edinburgh have no respect for the land - probably no cognisance of its power and importance. So they draw up twisted policies and make foolish decisions based upon an essentially cut-off, alienated twilight experience of life. They are creatures with blood different to that which courses through my own veins.

Should we so wish, we can get conspiratorial about the matter: the paper trail is not difficult to follow on this one. Club of Rome, Rio Earth Summit, Kyoto Protocol, subsequent Climate Change Conferences; the hijacking and distorting of officially-sanctioned so-called environmental charities and organisations; Agenda 21 ( of focal importance) and the adoption of state-defined environmental awareness as a sign of the responsible citizen; the introduction and implementation of climate change targets around the world, centred on reducing CO2 emissions.

Do not imagine that our vacuous Prime Minister and the succession of empty-headed dark buffoons who have inhabited the Department of Energy and Climate Change (a nifty move, that, bringing the two together under a single umbrella, not a bad attempt at mind control) have a clue as to what they are doing, or have even heard of the power of the land. They are merely carrying out policies and protocols put before them by upper echelons of Orcs, who assure them that 'this is the thing to do'.

I am sure that the former inhabitants of the islands of Britain knew only too well the power of the land. Megaliths, stone circles, etc are only one manifestation of their wisdom. We can surmise that they were able to use their knowledge of the workings of this power in their everyday lives, in terms of planting, rearing animals, healing, decision-making, spirituality. The Romans, on their arrival in Britain, were intent on cutting this visceral connection; the destruction of Druidic culture was a vital aspect to their successful take-over. Still later, the early Christians quietly recognised the power of the land. This manifested in the location of many churches, which were built on the sites of pre-Christian sacred places. This served the double purpose of eradicating the old culture and religion, while building their own places of worship in spots divined by the ancients as connected with power.

I know personally of this power that can reside in wild and mountainous places. You can utilise charts of ley lines and dragon lines I am sure, but best, from a personal perspective, is to rely on an open and receptive mind, with its intuition properly charged. There are places that I will go if I am in need of assistance, inspiration, or energy. Similarly, I have visited mountains that I consider I do not resonate with; these I may not visit again, or if so cautiously and circumspectly. This 'power' is not good or bad as such: it is simply part of the interconnected world we inhabit, and can be utilised should we so wish, as a reflection of a symbiotic relationship. Cutting us off from this energy is one ploy used to render us docile and idiotic. It is to be ignored at our peril, however, and messing up the world of elves and others with monstrous turbines is no joke. Maria Wheatley, a real expert and treasure trove of information on earth energies, states that some mountains shoot energy up through them; I do not find this notion fanciful. Without a connection with this power flowing through the natural world we are weak, alienated. Is it any wonder that those whose dreams consist of power, or forcing twisted ideology upon the world of humans at large, view it with indifference or outright hostility?

P.S. While I noted the mind control association of energy and climate change in the government at Westminster, this is less bizarre than the Scottish counterpart. Here we have Fergus 'Mr Windfarm' Ewing as Scottish Minister for business, energy, and tourism. What dark magic is at work in this surreal concatenation of portfolios?! I may as well proclaim myself Minister for intergalactic travel, plankton preservation, and sausage rolls....





 


 

  

Tale of a Troll

High up on the moorland above Aviemore, far from the nearest human habitation, can be found this delightful little bridge. Spanning a narrow stream and nestled in a shallow valley, it sits in a location that can provide welcome respite from the rigours of the heather-clad, windswept moorland all around. Several times I have passed this way, en route to somewhere or other, and sat beside the singing brook for rest and refreshment. The charm of the location, its contrast with the surrounds, belies the fact that the arch beneath the bridge houses a space that is long, dark and narrow, with barely room for the waters to squeeze themselves through. There is another notable facet to the life and times of this characterful little bridge. It is the birthplace of Troll Salmond. It's a little-known story, but it goes like this......

Once upon a time, a family of trolls lived beneath our little bridge. They were proud rulers over the entire area. Little son troll was due to inherit the whole fiefdom. However, due to his excessive petulance and inability to get on with the other members of the family, he was disowned of his inheritance, thrown out from beneath the bridge, and banished from the trolldom. Full of bitterness and resentment, he made his way down the long winding track towards the lowlands, vowing as he did so to wreak revenge on this treacherous, wicked troll family of his.

He travelled far and wide. Eventually he arrived in the vicinity of the distant township of Aberdeen, where he saw his chance and grasped it like a succulent moorland herb. One evening, while supping ale in a local pub, he overheard two local fellows discussing wind farms. This, he realised, was the way in which he could take his revenge upon those who had rejected him so callously. He would destroy their homelands with wind turbines. Orwellian newspeak and doublethink came naturally to this newly-energised troll, and soon he was going about the nation with his wonderful message of saving the environment by destroying the environment. Such was the energy, charm, and charisma that he was able to convey through his persona that soon droves of people were flocking to hear him speak, and to back his grand plan to destroy the land and thereby save it.

One day, he saw his dreams coming true. A large multinational corporation forwarded their proposals to build a goodly number of wind turbines not five miles from the bridge and former home of Troll Salmond. This, surely, would bring misery to his disloyal family and force them from their peaceful home beneath the bridge not far from Aviemore. Many folk cried out in horror at these proposals, pointing out that these hills were places of great tranquility right on the edge of a national park, no less. The plans were last heard of being mooted by various minions of Troll Salmond down in the lowlands. Trolls leave no stone unturned: Troll Salmond has these minions well-versed in his ways, and is hopeful of success. Meanwhile, following his failure to establish his personal fiefdom of the north, he has headed south of the border to wreak havoc and confusion on the streets of the Big City.

Thus ends this chapter in the life of Troll Salmond, and how he is taking revenge on his homeland....



          

Please Release Me

This week our friends at the Department of Energy and Climate Change announced that they will be stopping those stupid subsidies to onshore windfarms a year earlier than originally suggested: April next year, to be precise. This news was heartily welcomed at Pale Green Vortex. But then a most interesting thing happened.....

Eager to find out a little more about the precise implications, I took the unusual (for me) step of checking out half a dozen or so mainstream 'news' outlets on the internet. What I found was that they were all saying precisely the same things. Often to the letter. There were quotes from the normal suspects about how this was very bad for 'the industry', very bad for the economy, very bad for the environment, and the end of the world was pretty nigh. Fergus 'Mr Windfarm' Ewing was predictably up in arms about how it was going to destroy the hopes and dreams of the Scottish people. But nowhere did I read a word about the thousands of people around Britain who must have been given a little hope that their local environment might not, after all, be destroyed by these industrial post-apocalyptic monstrosities. Not a word about the people who have campaigned for years with logic and reason against the march of the turbines. You need to go to the 'comments' sections below the articles to find these folk out in abundance.

The uniformity and one-sidedness of the mainstream reportage points to one thing: the importance of the press release. Organisations promoting these forms of sometime energy, notably renewables UK; so-called environmental and charitable organisations that have been hijacked by political causes, notably Greenpeace, F of the E, and the WWF; not to forget our upholders of righteousness in the Green Party. All these are specialists in self-publicity and the art of the press release. Publicity and propaganda, moulding their self-image and public opinion, are their main stock in trade. While increasing numbers of people are wising up to the dynamics of 'the news', still these organisations remain remarkably successful in their strategy. Hit people hard enough and frequently enough with the same half-truths dressed up in moralism, and sufficient people will eventually succumb for you to be able to claim success in the opinion wars.

I have mentioned before the research carried out by Nick Davies in 2008. In his investigations of four 'quality papers' he discovered that 80% of stories were wholly, mainly, or partly constructed from second-hand sources: press releases from news agencies and the public relations industry. 'Facts' provided from these places were being checked in only 12% of cases. In the case of the windfarm subsidies, it seems to me that the figures are closer to 100% and 0% respectively. This is the way that public opinion is fashioned - that is to say, people are treated like pawns on a chessboard and manipulated to serve the often nefarious purposes of others. Pale Green Vortex has waved this flag before, and will do so again, I suppose. Passionately. Don't be suckered by the mainstream media. Give it a wide berth. Visit its toxic outposts as rarely as possible. Over-exposure inevitably leads to personal delusion. It is frequently nonsense, and frequently dangerous. It is after your mind; don't give it away......





      

Zen, Drugs, and Rock 'n Roll

Theresa May takes some drugs

Part One

I've never found Zen a particularly attractive manifestation of the sacred path. Classic Zen stories typically involve the student spending years staring at a wall, or wrestling with an apparently insoluble riddle called a koan until he (it's normally 'he') feels on the verge of total madness. Then, one fine day, unbidden and unexpected it seems, something happens. The student experiences 'satori', a kind of deep spiritual insight and/or release. Typically, this is put into words (if that is indeed possible) in the realisation that 'everything is just as it is', or 'everything is exactly as it should be'. The student relaxes, releases the mountain of pent-up energy that has accumulated within, and gets on with life.

I used to find these Zen satori people irritating. It's OK for them, I would think, mindfully raking the stones in their pretty little Zen gardens. Some of us have jobs to go to, bills to pay. People are hungry, dying of cancer, for crissake. Just recently, however, I've been wondering whether this Zen style has something valuable about it after all.

'Everything is just as it should be' is not a moralistic statement; this is the most important thing to realise. It is an expression of an existential, metaphysical even, experience. It is saying that everything in the world we inhabit is reflecting perfectly what it is, who it is. Everything and everybody, including ourselves, is in the right place at the right time, manifesting its own unique state of being. In fact, things could not be any other way. This is what we see when the veils fall away, and our hopes, wishes, views, judgements and preferences go into temporary abeyance. This is it, folks, miraculous in its manifestation is the Zen way. Shut up, quit complaining, get over it, and go and have breakfast.

Taking 'everything is just as it should be' as a basic underpinning of perception changes everything. For myself, it helps me cut through a lot of inappropriate and not very helpful responses to the world around me, especially the crappy bits. Notions such as justice, equality, rights, can be jettisoned into the wastepaper bin of abstract fantasy, created by the human mind but with no existential reality. 'We are all one' is another blanket base attitude that is found wanting (it is the New Age nightmare). Similarly the sense of total alienation and disconnection that comes from feeling completely different (the dark conspiratorial nightmare). No need for all this stuff, Zen seems to say. Take a good, long, stripped-down look. Everyone, everything is manifesting perfectly its own being - its own level of consciousness, if you will. Putting down its own marker on the path of life.

Zen satori and the 'everything is as it should be' does not imply passive acceptance of whatever's happening, however - an error which I used to make. It doesn't imply anything, really. Somebody doing their level best to provoke change is as it should be, as well. Now, having cut through a lot of the perceptual distortion, having opened up the channels to more appropriate responses, we can turn our attention to those antitheses of Zen wisdom, the dark forces of behaviour control......

Part Two

The brave new Brave New World UK Tory misgovernment has prepared its draft bill for what it calls 'a blanket ban on legal highs'. In the early days of Pale Green Vortex I wrote about mephedrone ('plant food'), a pioneer example of these mind-altering substances. Things have moved on rapidly since then. Researchers developed the irritating knack of discovering new mind-affecting substances very easily: tweak a molecule here, a molecule there, no problem. No sooner did the government issue a loud 'no' to a substance than a new one would appear to take its place. This game of cat-and-mouse made the misgovernment appear like a troupe of bumbling village idiots (not difficult, actually). So now we have the official response to this control freak's nightmare: a blanket ban.

I urge anybody reading this to take a few minutes out and check out the wording of this proposed piece of legislation for yourself. It is a remarkably inept piece of work - maybe this is deliberate. A primary school kid would see how stupid it is, taken at face value. It focuses around banning any 'psychoactive', barring the few control-system-approved substances such as alcohol and coffee. But almost anything can be a psychoactive i.e. influence our state of mind and mood. In principle, the UK misgovernment is granting itself carte blanche to ban almost anything it cares to.

'Legal highs' need to be banned for the sake of the children, so the story goes. Protecting children - from pervs, paedos, mind alteration, camping gas - is a favourite theme of our current Westminster chums in their bid to exert control over more and more of our life. It's a good ploy: you can't knock family-friendliness, can you? Proposals to introduce age restriction verification on internet pornography is another obvious example of 'looking after the children', while in reality setting up the conditions for more general internet restrictions. Probably nobody thinks it's a good idea for thirteen year-olds to spend all afternoon watching porn on the internet. But, hold on a minute: isn't that what parents are for? To look after the kids? So this is the serious side of the thing. Removing power from parents and granting it, instead, to the state (which always knows best). You wll find that Cameron, May and buddies have a special predeliction for control of the internet (all in the name of protecting us from various types of nasty people and things). This is not surprising, since they must be terrified about access to real information through the internet, which threatens their entire game.

It is a necessary shift in perception to recognise that ISIS, terrorists, paedophiles, producers of heroin, drug dealers, are the government's best friends. They provide the pretexts needed for yet more legislation of control, which actually applies to the population at large while the real criminals go their own merry way. Without this little insight, anyone wanting to get at what is really going on will remain in confusion, I feel.

Applying five seconds of rational thought to this 'protecting the children' stance of the misgovernment will immediately make this clear. Should it be sincerely concerned about reducing harm experienced by children, it would overnight completely change its policies on 'drugs'. One feature of many of these 'legal highs' is that they are physically far more dangerous than the illegal drugs they replace. Many of them attempt to mimic amphetamine or ecstasy-type drugs in particular. Ecstasy, as pure MDMA, is statistically among the safer of psychoactive substances, yet is classified as a Class A drug. Its 'legal high' equivalents are far more dodgy. It is no exaggeration to state that every emergency hospitalisation, or untimely death, from legal highs is blood on the hands of the Home Secretary. I mean this perfectly seriously: it is a direct result of the stupid criminal policies on drugs for which she has to take responsibility, in wilful ignorance of other more intelligent approaches.

As far as stopping younger folk watch pornography, teenagers will be far more capable than their parents in busting any access-limiting internet features. If the misgovernment were at all serious about protecting children from undesirable material, they would ban all those magazines to be found at supermarket check-outs, detailing stories more sordid and perverse than any porn company has ever dreamed up (long-term incest is a favourite in these happy family mags).

There are those who can find nothing better to do with their precious human lives than try to control everybody else - tell them what to do, or more often, what they can't do. They have a well-defined box into which people are being squeezed - or unceremoniously jammed. There is no other rational way to read the evidence, and this is not a state of affairs that I want to see. In Cameron, May, and the rest, the higher echelons have found a bunch of rather sad control freaks who are more than willing to act as agents for a dark agenda. As emissaries of darkness (witting or unwitting) on a path leading far from the Zen garden, they are behaving just as they should. And us, Brute?....







         



      

Climate Change - the Solution

What Antarctica will look like in 2050

Here on Pale Green Vortex we've decided it's time to get tough on climate change. No more political pussy-footing around. We need to be serious and act now, before it really is too late. Having looked at the problem from all angles and considered all the available options rationally, we have come to the sober conclusion that there is one, and one only, way forward. We need to prepare to invade China.

China is responsible for far more carbon emissions than any other nation. It is still building more coal-fired stations as if there is no tomorrow, spewing noxious CO2 into the atmosphere in a most irresponsible way. Once we have dealt with China, we can turn our attention to India, which is hardly any better and is only across the border. Then, with the sweet smell of carbon-free victory in our nostrils, we can have a go at Russia. Not particularly about climate change, but because the nation's government has the effrontery to routinely stand against NATO, the EU, and USA policy. Really bad form on their part.

Meanwhile, in tiny places like Scotland, where no matter how much CO2 is chucked into the atmosphere, it will make little difference to global totals, a different  approach can be taken. We can dispense with unreliable, expensive energy from wind farms, and instead reopen all the coal plant closed down at the end of the 20th century. This will provide cheaper energy, thus permitting these little nations to produce items such as synthetic underwear and plastic garden gnomes at low cost, thereby relieving reliance on China and India for these important goods. Not to mention reducing greatly transport distances and costs, once more helping to reduce carbon footprint and save the planet.

The sensible, rational implementation of the modern scientific approach can be relied on to find solutions where otherwise none were to be seen. As they say in the Department of Energy: 'Job's a good 'un.' See you in Beijing....





  

Thought Crime, Extremists, and the Dark Sorcerers

Part One
                       
It's a book that I might well have read long ago, but didn't. So it is only recently that I got hold of a copy, and made my way through the enthralling prose of '1984'. During the first few chapters especially, where Orwell lays down the bones of his dark vision of the future, shivers went down my spine as I saw how precise his crystal ball had, in many ways, turned out to be. I mean, he could see all that, way back when. That in itself is worthy of serious contemplation in regard to how history unfolds.

Not all of Orwell's predictions were spot-on. In particular, his vision of deliberate abject poverty for the masses and overt, vicious brutality towards large sections of the home population have not come to pass. Control System has become more clever than all this. Murdering your own kind in large numbers is not likely to be a successful long-term strategy. And it is the continual creation of material goods - consumerism - that provides the ongoing fuel necessary for Empire's well-being, not utter deprivation and poverty. In other respects, though, 1984 is 2015. I could do worse than quote from the wikipedia summary of the book: '..... perpetual war, omnipresent government surveillance, and public manipulation, dictated by a political system euphemistically named English Socialism (or Ingsoc in the government's invented language, Newspeak) under the control of a privileged Inner Party elite, that persecutes individualism and independent thinking as "thoughtcrimes".'  That's a long sentence, the type I try to avoid writing myself nowadays. But sound familiar? Perpetual war (anyone who thinks all these wars are still 'necessary' in our modern day and age I would kindly request to think again); government surveillance; discouragement of thinking and living 'outside the box'.

It is in the region of language that I wish to focus a few thoughts. Orwell is chillingly strong on the importance of words in his vision of 1984. They stand peerless in the weaponry of those who would control us all. In Chapter Five, Winston Smith, the 'hero' of the book (should be there such a thing), meets Syme at lunch. Syme is busy at work on the eleventh edition of the Newspeak dictionary. Newspeak, so goes the vision, will eventually be the only language spoken; and, as Syme points out, the vocabulary of Newspeak becomes less by the year. Nuances of meaning are not needed. Syme explains concisely the aim: 'Don't you see that the whole aim of Newspeak is to narrow the range of thought? In the end we shall make thoughtcrime literally impossible, because there will be no words in which to express it. Every concept that can ever be needed will be expressed by exactly one word, with its meaning rigidly defined and all its subsidiary meanings rubbed out and forgotten.'

'Rubbed out and forgotten': take away the means to conceptualise an idea, and the idea eventually goes away. Though obviously not presented in this guise, the notion of 'thought crime' is more and more a feature of Control System strategy nowadays. More and more things are not permissable to express; and if you can't express them for long enough, the thoughts will disappear, and it's as if the entire thing never existed. Much modern thoughtcrime manifests under headline terms such as 'sexism' and 'racism' these days. Nobody wants 'sexist' or 'racist' on their CV, do they? They are the worst things possible. So you'd better be extremely careful about saying anything about perceived differences between people. Certain groups of people are especially sensitive subjects: Zionist Jews, for example.

A look at humour is instructive in seeing the advance of thoughtcrime policy over the decades. Watch almost any comedy programme made for British television before 1980, and it's full of stuff that just wouldn't get written today. People wouldn't even think about writing it (you see, that's how it works). A lot of it is awfully 'sexist' and 'racist' by the standards set by some people today, believe me. About three years ago I managed to offend a woman I was working with by imitating a person from China, Japan, or Korea (I can't recall which) speaking English. Now, I spent more than a decade as a language teacher trying to teach people from across the world how to speak and write English. Begin to study English language, and you begin to realise what a difficult language it is in many respects. Some nationalities - Swedes, Italians, Brazilians, some Poles - manage to grasp English relatively painlessly. But for some people, from Eastern Asia especially, it is a truly monumental task. Grammar, syntax, pronunciation, are all very foreign to them. So it is hardly surprising that their efforts to speak the Queen's English are sometimes less than perfect. Now, when I did my imitation, there was no malice involved whatsoever; if anything, it was a recognition of their genuine difficulty with this thankless task. Should I ever decide to learn Chinese, I hope I would provide a good laugh for some native Chinese speakers. But no. You just didn't do that any more - apparently. It is no longer permissable to communicate the truth - in this case, the realities of language learning. Thoughtcrime, reality control.

Part Two

The question of thoughtcrime is uppermost in my mind at present as I consider the Extremism Bill, the draft form of which was proposed in the Queen's Speech this Wednesday, all part and parcel of the Brave New World package of the new British conservative government. Measures include closing websites, prohibiting people from speaking at public meetings, and the like. "Plans have been introduced in the context of increasing Islamic extremism, but cover the 'harmful activities' of all extremist individuals - including those that pose a risk of public disorder or a threat to the functioning of democracy." (The Independent) "For too long we've been a passively tolerant society, saying to our citizens 'as long as you obey the law, we will leave you alone'" said David Cameron, referring to the good old days, when obeying the law meant that you could be left alone. This is all due to change, he implies. So, get this: it's not gonna be good enough for government for the nation's citizens to obey the law, They want more now. And it ain't pretty....

At the same time, Home Secretary Theresa May assures us that "(The measures are part of a) bigger picture, a strategy which will also have as a key part of it actually promoting our British values, our values of democracy, rule of law, tolerance and acceptance of different faiths." (The Independent)

Now let's get this clear: Cameron says that obeying the law isn't enough, while May says we are promoting rule of law. Cameron says that extremist individuals, whatever their form of extremism, should not be tolerated, while May says we are promoting tolerance. This is not a metaphysical exercise demonstrating the paradoxical nature of existence. It is linguistic black magic with a dirty stink about it, of the same kind as the three great slogans of the Party written on the face of the Ministry of Truth in 1984: 'War is Peace; Freedom is Slavery; Ignorance is Strength'.

Another spell cast by the dark magicians is that of changing the meaning of words. We've already seen this in the case of 'racism', 'sexism' and 'discrimination'. So get this. Quote again from the Independent: "At the National Security Council today (May 13th) Mr Cameron unveiled a series of measures that he said would crack down on people holding minority 'extremist' views that differed from Britain's consensus". (italics mine). Now, get this. Britain's consensus. 'Consensus' means 'general agreement, unanimity'. But black magician Cameron is changing it to mean 'anybody who doesn't buy into my own version of reality; anyone who disagrees with me.' Minority extremist views are out, it seems. Extremists are people who don't go along with Cameron's version of a democratic society, which is not actually democratic at all. Minorities are out. Remember the wikipedia summary: '....an Inner Part Elite that persecutes individualism and independent thinking as thoughtcrimes.' This is, 101%, what is being attempted at present. A momentous shift under the false guise of 'combating terrorism'. Hey, what happened to that tolerant pluralistic society?

To get another thing clear. By the new definitions that our lords of darkness are trying to push through, Pale Green Vortex, and me personally, can well be classified as minority extremists. Most of the basic assumptions of mainstream Control System life are questioned and rejected on this site. I will be, by the new Orwellian definitions, what Niall Murphy/Opaque Lens terms a non-violent extremist/domestic terrorist. So, for that matter, will be many of the people alive on this planet who I most respect and admire. All excellent people, but extremists through their questioning of the mainstream narrative (this is the new definition of 'extremist'). I urge anybody reading this to kick up a real stink as the Extremism Bill comes closer on the horizon. As Niall/Opaque points out on his fine programme on the subject, there's a point where the Control System inadvertently poos in its own pants (my image, not his....). It is not all-powerful; it just wants us to think it is, A plan can be so stupid, so extreme, that the population at large says 'no'. Poll tax is an example. So I hope that masses of people are going to object to this creeping totalitarianism, and hit its perpetrators where it hurts. Inaction hands consent to those who would be overlords of darkness.

I recommend a listen to the podcast on the topic on 'Shamanic Freedom Radio'. Heartfelt, and an excellent demonstration of how humour can be the best of weapons. Follow the link on this page.



       

              

Cairngorm Spring - Part Two

It's five weeks since my last visit to the Cairngorms (see April 18th post). During this time the seasons do not appear to have advanced very much. Large snowfields are still in evidence. There is a fresh dusting of snow over the summits, and bucketloads seem to have fallen recently over Braeriach (or Mighty Braeriach, as it is called by those in the know).

I climb, initially steeply (an appropriate shock to the system), the path leading up the left flank from the ski centre in the direction of Cairn Gorm summit. Cairn Gorm itself is a bit of a mess. Its surface is littered with bits and pieces that constitute the skeleton of the winter skiing industry. The path I am following weaves in and out of wooden fencing that is falling over; the general scene suggests neglect. I cast my eye towards the funicular railway that plies its way up the hillside towards the Ptarmigan restaurant high up on the slopes of Cairn Gorm. It has its vocal detractors; for myself, I remain agnostic on the subject. It is far less intrusive than a windfarm, and at least serves a purpose, to introduce people to the mountains who otherwise may never go. Plus, it grants access to those whose bodies are too frail to get up there under their own steam. I may be grateful for its services myself one day.

When I stop for a breather and to take in the scene, I am conscious of the grandeur and spaciousness of my surroundings (photo one, above). The funicular might slide up and down the hillside, the ridges might be plagued by industrial junk, but still the mountain wind blows, the ptarmigan scuttle and squawk, the rarified air of the hills invigorates.

I spot a small party of people ahead, slowly climbing the upper slopes of the mountain, and Mallory and Irving pass through my mind on their fated climb into the mists of Everest, never to be seen again. OK, Cairn Gorm in the middle of May doesn't hold quite the same epic quality. Yet there is something of Himalayan magnificence about the day: the electric blue of the sky set against the newly fallen snow; layer upon layer of cloud scudding at different speeds across the sky. And as I pass the Ptarmigan restaurant (photo five), now small and insignificant in the vastness of the landscape, I am reminded of chortens, stupas, Tibetan prayer flags rattled by the wind.

Onwards, upwards; and I am at the summit of Cairn Gorm. This is another thing. In all the shops and information centres in the area you can see the term 'CairnGorm Mountain'. I even have a cap boasting this title. Purists - or even semi-purists- will point out the linguistic nonsense of this appelation: Cairn Gorm translates (most likely) as 'Blue Hill'. So here I am, standing at the summit of Blue Hill Mountain. Redundant or wot? There is a meteorological station on top (photo two), recording the bizarre phenomena of Cairngorm weather. Today it manifests an extraordinary variety of windblasted snow and ice features on its metallic framework. Today, also, the summit weather measured by this apparatus is in serious wind mode, and I do not linger long at the top before heading on, away from the fiercest gusts at any rate.

The scenery as I leave the summit inspires awe (photo three). I am now in stravaiging 'let's-see-what-happens' mode, and wander vaguely downhill, away from the affairs of humans and towards Coire Raibert (coire: 'a steep-sided glacially excavated hollow in the side of a mountain'). At first the going is easy, over vegetation stunted by the constant winds and general lack of warmth. Near the bottom of the coire, however, I encounter a wide morass of spongy stuff, made spongier still by snowmelt. One false move and you're up to your knees in icy water mixed with purple-yellow-green spongiformity. Having negotiated the morass more-or-less successfully, I now need to cross a considerable snowfield, criss-crossed beneath its uniform surface by a network of underground (or undersnow) streams. I am pleased that I don't weigh 100kg as I tread gingerly yet rapidly across the snow, trusting in its compactness.

When I finally slip over and onto my bum, it is a sign that a proper break is needed and that lunch should be eaten. Fortunately, I am close to the spot I've located for a rest. I perch myself on the rim of the great corrie that has now opened up below me. I can only look down, down, down, into the depths of Loch Avon, gleaming turquoise in the occasional flashes of sun (photo four). I am staring into the sometimes dark heart of the Cairngorms. It is a privilege to be in one of the places in Highland Scotland; anybody wishing to recapture the true meaning of the word 'awesome' should pay a visit to the cliffs above the great trench cradling magnificent Loch Avon.

I scramble down onto some rocks right on the edge of the great precipices. There is just enough space for me, my rucksack, and my sandwiches. Immense snowfields are banked up at the head of the coire and on the steep mountainsides above. I make out avalanche debris, recently fallen, and look in amazement at other places where huge cracks have appeared in the surface of snow, ready to jettison their loads into the valley far below. A corner of this planet that escapes the records of the affairs and goings-on of humankind. A place with its own rhythms, its own comings and goings. Snow, ice, avalanche - all this in the middle of May....

I sit in silence. It is, indeed, silent, as rocks afford me shelter from the scouring wind. I eat, then look, attempting to embody a little of the majestic stillness radiating from the mountain at this moment. Then I arise, adjust my rucksack, and begin my return, in a wide circle, back to the peculiar affairs of humankind.