Response to my reviewer

 A review of my book "Yoghurt Weaving in a Nutshell" appeared in an obscure church newsletter in rural Switzerland. Here is my response to them:


Dear Mrs Wells

I hope you are well. I am writing in response to a review of my book which appeared in the march-april edition of your newsletter "Contact". I was not sure exactly which of the contributors wrote the piece, so I selected yourself as being, hopefully, the best person to direct my query. If I am wrong, please accept my apologies, and I would be grateful if you would forward this to the author of the review.

Since the purpose of my book was to generate debate, I am keen to enter into discussion about the comments made.
In particular, the reviewer appears to disagree with my assertion that spiritual healing of the planet is possible. I ask, are there any examples that may be cited where spiritual healing has ever actually brought "healing" to the earth?
Also, the reviewer only mentions one of my articles, and there are more than 30 in the book. I am very interested to hear what a Christian would answer to my views on Astral Projection, for example. Is it possible for the spirit to leave the body at will?

Finally, I am most intrigued as to how a copy of my book ended up in Switzerland in the first place...
I wish you all the best

Many thanks

John Broken Willow

Twilight Eyes - Book review

Dean Koontz's Twilight Eyes is brilliant!
A novel set in a world where some "humans" are in fact strange otherworldly goblin beings, invisible to most of the population but visible to our hero Slim.
From an early age he has embarked on a one man war against these strange creatures, who seem only interested in slowly wiping out humans and thriving on our suffering.
Slim has a variety of psychic powers, as do some of the other characters he meets along the way, so the book is packed with visions, prophecies and other psychic phenomena.
Warning to anyone who is a little sensitive - this is a dark book and there are lots of grim gorey bits. It is not light reading.
The only real problem with this book is that the main character is a little unbelievable. He's only 17 yet appears to have the wit and intelligence of someone in their mid-30s. This discrepancy is commented on in the book, alluding to his very unusual childhood and goblin war maiking him "grow up fast" but this can't explain how he seems to have the vocabulary of an Oxford professor.
Nonetheless a brilliant story that will appeal to anyone interested in the powers of the unknown, alien races and fans of the show Carnivale.

Author blog awards

Hi all

Please vote for this blog in the author blog awards, by clicking on the link (big orange square thingy) on the right hand side of the page. Here's what you will be voting for:

"The Author Blog Awards aim to honour the best blogs by both published and unpublished writers. They will recognise the writers who use their blogs to connect with readers in the most imaginative, engaging and inspiring ways. At the same time we hope to attract new audiences to these blogs and help readers find out more about the authors they love, and new authors too. "

Altered States - film report

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0080360/

This film spins off from the psychedelic revolution in the late 60s, from the perspective of a slightly mad scientist who is trying to push the boudaries of human consciousness and knowledge by getting fucked up on hallucinogens. (Sound familiar?)

There are a lot of scenes with people madly talking at breakneck speed about bizarre metaphysical concepts, that would not be out of place in the Illuminatus.

Starting with early experiments using DMT the Scientist (William Hurt) then gets hold of some Fly Agaric concentrate from some Mexican dudes, and very trippy shit happens.

It is classic yoghurt weaving from beginning to end and what's more, when the really crazy stuff starts to happen, all the equipment blows up so once again there is no proof of the yoghurt!

Well worth a looksy if you are interested in altered states of consciousness. Definitely not to be taken seriously, unless you are the kind of person who is constantly in an altered state as it is....

Quote from my next book (3)

His office was in the spare room of his house, and of course there was no electronic kit. The layout of the office, equipment in it, and even the furniture, would not have looked out of place in the 19th century. Well, except for the tape player. The walls were lined with dark wood pannelling reminiscent of some stately home; there was an ornate picture rail below which hung mostly rennaissance paintings (though there were only two modern pieces: a large photo of Blackpool taken from offshore somewhere, just before the bombing), and another photo of the current President of Europe, Bearnard Cody, which he would throw darts at when he was feeling frustrated. He had filing cabinets (for storing the few things he really did need to write down) that were wooden, with old fashioned locks to which he kept the keys on his person at all times; a large oak desk with Gillow chairs, salvaged from some of the wreckage of the bombing, and an ornate standard lamp that ran on paraffin.
All in all he had a plush office that, in times gone by, would have been favoured by the elite class that he now sought to destroy. He was pleased with the irony of this. Queen Victoria had once sat in the chair he now slouched on. She would meet with the judges and the lawyers in Lancaster castle and help preside over cases, and help direct the future of the law in England. Her legacy was to bring England struggling from the Industrial Revolution into the beginnings of the information age that had now gone so wrong. Could she have envisaged this world, Boon wondered? She reigned during the time when the telephone was invented; now there was instant video and voice communication all over the planet. She ruled over the British Empire that. despite its faults, brought so much prosperity to the third world. Now, Britain was no more, there were only five countries, that same spirit of imperialism brought war and suffering all around the globe and Boon longed for a more localised world. Victoria's age invented the car, and aeroplanes were the stuff of science fiction. Now even the poorest had cars and the richest had cars that could fly; 12 hours was all it took to get to the other side of the world. Coal and oil production begun to really take off under her leadership, bringing an unimaginable energy revolution. Now there was nuclear fusion energy that was millions of times more powerful. The Victorians started the process of running censuses and monitoring the population, but they knew almost nothing about the lower classes. Now, governments could know anything about any of their citizens in an instant, including their genetic code and hiding from this was almost impossible.
Did she know where all this was heading? Did Queen Vic look out over her realm and wish she knew every tiny detail about her people? Did she want the Empire to just grow, and grow, and grow? Did she wish she could talk to anyone in the world in an instant?
Of course she did. The elite ruled the world from way back before her day. She was just the latest in a long line of rulers of England who joined the ranks of the elite. For centuries the world had been controlled by small groups of very powerful people, having secret meetings in very plush houses. "The only difference now", thought Boon aloud, "is that they have nothing to hide any more. All the cards are on the table. We citizens are actively 'subjects'. We do what they want and they watch us to make sure we are doing it. That's not a secret anymore. It's very difficult to hide. every time you go outdoors, log on, get on the telephone, use any kind of machinery, they are watching, and they're ready to dock you a week's pay if you do something minor and have you shot if you do something major. And in the meantime the wars rage on all around the globe and the only winners will be the elite themselves, from all the five sides, who have probably planned the whole thing together secretly since the war."
This was the mantra of the Freedom Party, and not the first time Boon had spoken it aloud to himself, but in light of his recent experience the words seemed more real to him. He felt a release from the harrowing tribulations of earth-bound life that he could not possibly have imagined before, the notion that he had the power to depart from his body. The perpetual sadness that had gripped him since the bombing, that relentless feeling of powerlessness and resignedness to a dreadful fate, had lifted a little. He was feeling positive, he could see his work really going somewhere, and for the first time in years, he really had the notion that his work might make a dent in the elite and bring a little more freedom for the ordinary people. This made him smile, and he pressed play on the stereo to be met by a wall of sound: hypnotic techno beats that sped up his mind and reinforced his rebellious, cunning nature.

Quote from my next book (2)

Cannabis smoke filled the recovery room of the large house. Shane Boon's body had been on the sofa there for exactly one hour. Shane Boon's soul, well, that was a different matter. He couldn't be sure. He felt sick and somewhat disorientated. He didn't know how his body had got from the ritual room to here, his memory of returning to the house was somewhat hazy; so he was quite confused as to how long he had been back in his body. In fact he was only about 70% sure that he was in his body even now, though to imagine otherwise seemed laughable. He saw that his body was, indeed, laughing.
"What are you laughin' about my friend?" enquired a light-hearted voice from the other sofa. Boon looked over. He was sure that only a few moments ago he knew who was on the other sofa and he had in fact been having a conversation with them, but now it seemed that information had gone. He felt extremely guilty at this apparent failure to socialise properly. He sat up, squinted a little, trying to focus his gaze on the person who had spoken. It was Lizzie. Rowena sat next to her. Both seemed to be smiling. Rowena's hand was extended towards him, with something white between her fingers. He could not make out what it was, and scrunched up his face at her hand in confusion, before burping. He laughed again, at which Rowena and Lizzie collapsed into fits of giggles.
"Mate, mate, I'm saao glad ye came round here, this has been a right entertainin' evenin'! Lizzie'ere's telled me all sortsa funny stories! Saahnds like ye've done yeself praahd mate! Nice one!" Rowena's accent was much more London than before. Boon struggled with this concept as well, was with really the same person he had met earlier? He squinted at her some more. Then he realised what she held in her hand, which was a spliff she was offering to him, and that she held a bottle of beer in the other hand, then he realised that there were empty beer bottles everywhere and that Rowena and Lizzie were quite drunk as well as more than a bit stoned.
Boon laughed again and took the spliff from Rowena's hand, taking a long, deep toke on it before finding an ashtray by the side of him and sitting back again on the sofa. A flood of increased consciousness swept through him, like the spliff had literally topped it up. Suddenly he was becoming more aware of his surroundings and his mind. He was in a brightly lit room with a large window in the ceiling. There were three large sofas, a couple of coffee tables in the middle, a fridge, tea-making equipment, drinks cabinet, and a small stereo with old-fashioned CDs strewn around it. Some sort of slow-beated ambient music gently oozed out of the speakers. The tables, as mentioned before, were littered with beer bottles. They also harboured a box containing weed, various other potions and powders. The only people in the room were himself and Lizzie and Rowena.
"Are you happy, Shane?" asked Lizzie, more seriously. He gave serious thought to the question, which was both very simple and yet extremely complex.
"Yes," he replied. Then he burped again and the three of them creased up with laughter once more.
Coming to, a moment later, Lizzie explained: "We are still heavily under the influence of the psilocybin. It has been three hours in the normal world since we took the drug. You will be tripping for quite some time yet. In the meantime: sit back, get high, enjoy the ride baby. You have passed your initiation test with flying colours. Congratulations my friend! You have left your body and found your astral consciousness. And you have seen how our group does its work."

Homeopathy (part 2)

This week there will be an imaginitive action regarding homeopathy, called the 10:23 campaign. It has the slogan "there's nothing in it" and activists will be deliberately overdosing themselves with homeopathic remedies.

The campaign will be taking something of a swipe at the retailers Boots, who stock some homeopathic products. The campaign feels that Boots should only be selling stuff that works. I'm not too sure why they feel that, I mean Boots have, for years, stocked thousands of hair and skin products that do absolutely nothing, whilst claiming to enrich our souls with pro-vitamin nano-complexes.

Homeopathy

System of complementary healing where substances are diluted to a huge extent then given as medicine. The substances are typically (but not always) poisons such as arsenic, foxglove and snake venom. The principle is that the essence or character of the original substance is retained in the solvent (usually water or alcohol) when the liquid is diluted (or “potentised”) and shaken (“succussed”). Substances that are insoluble in water are first mixed with lactose powder and ground with a pestle and mortar for a wrist-aching three hours, in a process called trituration. The practitioner can then potentise and succusse, safe in the knowledge that the trituration has made bugger all difference to the solubility.

Homeopathic medicines are prescribed, (by practitioners who train for years and have exams and certification before being allowed to practice), for a large range of physical and mental ailments, including shock, apprehension, fever, pleurisy and psoriasis.

Speaking purely in the realm of modern chemical understanding, homeopathic remedies are diluted so greatly as to render the probability of one molecule of active ingredient being present as distinctly unlikely. In other words, scientists reckon that there is nothing but water in one of those little bottles. Ideal, say the health and safety people, since prescribing of the original substances, that were used to make the original solution, would involve mass poisoning on a global terrorism scale.

This begs the question of how homeopathy works. Some homeopaths, when asked how it works, tell you that the essence of the medicine is retained by the water. A typical conversation with one of these people follows:

“So, how is the essence retained?”

“Water is the universal solvent. It has spawned life. It remembers what has been in it, that's how it can retain the character of a medicine without the molecule being present. It is far more intelligent than you or I.”

“So how is the essence retained?”

“You do not listen. The water has a memory.”

“Science does not really have an answer to how this works. According to science, a homeopathic remedy contains nothing at all but the solvent. Scientists can only speculate as to how the character of a medicine can be retained by water that it has been in. What would you say to that?”

“It is not a question of science. Homeopathy is a holistic subject. Its answer lies not in rational thinking but in a spiritual, compassionate and round-thinking view of the patient.”

“The goal of science is to understand all phenomena in the universe. Why shouldn't that include medicine?”

“Science is limited. It can only explain certain things. Taking a holistic view of the world, one can expand ones perspective and perceive more about the universe....”

“The process of diagnosis and selection of medicines, surely that process involves scientific, rational thought? Surely if you renounce science then you are shooting yourself in the foot? And surely there is no homeopathic remedy for that?”

“You take a patient history and consider current symptoms yes, but this, I insist, is a holistic approach!.....”etc.

The problem with this whole argument is that the homeopath refuses to accept that there might be a rational, easy to understand answer to their art. If there were, it would take away the mystical idea that people have about homeopathy being this amazing exotic force. These type of homeopaths do not want there to be an explanation because they enjoy being wishy-washy and hippified.

More honest homeopaths will explain that they do not know the mechanism by which it works, but point to numerous satisfied customers who have been healed by it's practice, and their hope that it is better understood in the future.

Some more imaginative scientists propose that the so-called memory displayed by water in the homeopathic process, could potentially be explained by the notion of short term cohesive structures that form in liquid water in a very small time scale: water molecules clump together into all manner of shapes, driven by the forces of hydrogen bonding, but also influenced by substances dissolved or suspended in it. The fluid dynamics of water are still poorly understood and there is not the technology to prove or disprove this hypothesis.

Some less imaginative scientists think that homeopathy can best be summed up using the term “hippy bullshit.”

Despite all this, many thousands of people in the UK visit homeopaths regularly for all sorts of complaints, and much holistic healing ensues. The sceptics point to numerous studies that disprove, using clinical trials, the healing benefits of the drugs, but this information is ignored by followers of the practice, who point instead to healing, ancient vitalogical recipes, holistic perspectives of the self, and yoghurt.

One other thing about homeopathic practice, that you need to know before trying it out – a homeopathic remedy will provide medicine for the higher self of a person. The healing and nurturing needs of the higher self are usually in common with those of the conscious, everyday self. This, in itself, is a great thing and is how most complementary medicine works. It aims to heal the whole person and not just the current symptoms.

The only problem with this is when the person is close to death. At such times, the higher self and the physical body can be in conflict. The remedy can cause the physical self to pass on, such that the higher self, or spirit, can be free of the shackles of the physical realm.

Put in non-yoghurty language, if you take a homeopathic remedy when you are close to death, this means that the remedy can kill you. When visiting a homeopath, make sure you ask them if this might happen with your particular medicine. I have heard that they are sometimes prone to not telling you otherwise.

Quote from my next book

To start off this blog, here is a small quote from my next book, which is a novel. Boon works for an organisation called the Freedom Network, and he has met the others today, they are a political activist group who specialise in taking out surveillance equipment.

Boon found himself sitting cross-legged, on a cushion, in the middle of a room in the house he had not seen up until now. The walls were mostly purple, with strange symbols painted on them. No shrines here, no pictures or sculptures...apart from the symbols, the room seemed almost devoid of form. The only exception was some low tables with candles on. There were five of them arranged symmetrically around the centre of the room and some sort of star-shaped pattern was painted on the floor, with the tables at the apices. The four of them were sitting in a square - he was facing Lizzie, Paul was facing Ellie. All were cross-legged and had eyes closed. They had sat like that for several minutes, quietly, relaxing. Boon was having trouble relaxing as he was full of anticipation, but nonetheless the soporific mood of the room was making his mind slow down gradually.

Lizzie began to speak softly. Her voice assumed a more monotone, dramatic style. First she snapped her fingers, at which, as if by magic, music began playing. It was slow, with rhythmic drumbeats and small, subtle flute noises, seeming to come from some distant mountain village ceremony. "Now begins the ritual of initiation. By the powers of the ancient earth, by the powers of the human spirit, and with the assistance of the pixies of psilocybe, we initiate Shane Boon into the Astral consciousness. By these powers shall he be brought, with humble spirit and wonder, out from his body to the astral realm. By these powers shall we show him the eternity of consciousness, the infinity of existence and the enormity of his potential as a human being." As these words were sinking in, Boon was wondering whether this was really a good idea.

Lizzie then took a small box, and some strips of cloth, from under one of the tables and placed the box, open, in front of her. It contained four syringes, a selection of injecting needles, and a vial of clear, colourless liquid. "We will now each inject ourself with the psilocybe." 

Not thirty seconds after injecting, the hit started to swathe over his mind. This was definitely something different to the few times he had eaten mushrooms picked in the Yorkshire Dales. Time began to slow down. Light coming towards his eyes, which normally behaved so well in the way it stuck to travelling in straight lines, decided to start making slight curves in its journey, so that everything around him began to blur slightly. His hearing was heightened such that the breathing and heartbeats of the others in the room suddenly became obvious, and the hustle-bustle of people moving about downstairs, talking and laughing, became clearer. He could hear a moth flapping around in the corner of the room and wondered if it was happy. His skin became very sensitive, he could feel the press of his clothing on some parts and the chill of the air on the exposed parts, yet he did not feel cold, as there was a kind of fire building up inside him, as if his spirit was rising up from some hidden part of his body to consume the existence of his being, which he realised in an instant was usually shrivelled in a corner, hiding from reality. He felt ashamed that his spirit was so closed to the world, angry at himself that he was missing so much of life, and full of wonder at this whole new way of experiencing things. Since the injection, he realised that he had opened his soul.