It’s the experience that counts… isn’t it?

For our readers who didn’t get the reference, the title of this post was also the title of Georg’s Dissertation (or FRP for some).

For my FRP I wrote about haitian and african trances and the methods of entering them, without ever actually doing the mantras being part of a ceremony or ever actually entering trance (apart from the trances we go into everyday). Lately I have been working with a Zimbabwaean theatre company called ‘Theatre Under Fire’ and have been incorporating alot of their singing and dancing into the story of Macbeth, and as a result I have been learning to Sing and Dance with them, this consists of an awful lot of breathing from your diaphram and stamping, and changing directions very suddenly, and also it flows quite easily so you can easily get lost in the rhythm of it, especially if there are 3 guys drumming along in the background. I finally fell into trance, over a year after writing a paper about it, and had I done it before hand I never would have written about it, because no amount of words can describe the myriad of things going on, the sensation of being ultra aware, of being completely out of control of your facilities and yet feel like you can control everything, the flying sensation when you let it go and then when I realised that I was in trance I was already out of it, because you cannot be selfaware in trance. Just as amazing as being in the trance feels being out of it feels like waking up from a nightmare, you jerk forwards and inhale simoultaneously and then have to just stop moving, catch your breath, and try to piece together the events of the past minute, (because it feels as if it has been hours). Even this does not even scrape the surface of what the experience felt like, and that is what made me think of this title.

The second of the two things that links in with this topic; I was in Liverpool last night (in fact im on the train back to Manchester now) I visited some friends I haven’t seen for a while, and I was reminded that what endears Liverpool in my memories was the experiences there, not the city. I have this revelation everytime I return to Liverpool… but it still bears mentioning.

And Finally, I am sitting on a train travelling at (relatively) high speeds through british countryside, and regardless of what yesterday brought that tomorrow may reclaim, the experience is here and now, and that can never be taken away from me.

“Only the person who has experienced light and darkness, war and peace, rise and fall, only that person has truly experienced life”         Stefan Zweig

So I would say, yes, it is the experience that counts.

Experiencing lIfe


P.S Mr Administrator, WordPress would like me to notify you that version 2.8 is available 😛

Madonna pt3 Just Jules

I don’t know whether I should tell you this… Jules would be annoyed at me. I’m going to tell you anyway… you know how it used to be, Madonna would shock herself Bzzt ‘BAA and Jules would run outside and shout “DAMNIT MADONNA!” It was their thing that they did every morning. Now, yesterday morning was no different, Bzzt ‘BAA‘ “DAMNIT MADONNA!” and then Jules went back to sitting by the phone like usual, but what was unusual was that at about midday it started to ring, Ring Ring now Jules isn’t used to this to tell the truth he only bought the phone to speak to Chris… who never calls so had never recieved a phonecall before. Ring Ring He looked panicked, what if it was Chris, what if he did the wrong thing and couldn’t speak to him and Chris thought he didn’t want to and never called again. Ring Ring. He grabbed the reciever and shouted down one of the ends the only word that he could. CHRIS!?. I’m not sure what the phone said back, but I do know that it wasn’t Chris… Jules’ face dropped in an instant.



‘… how?’

‘When did this happen?’

‘When is the……’

The phone went dead. Jules didn’t understand, he began shouting down the line. ‘HELLO?’ ‘WHERE WILL IT BE?’ ‘WHEN?’ Then when he realised what had happened he just shouted ‘I HATE YOU’ over and over again while slamming the reciever into the base, I thought he was talking to the person on the other end but he was infact talking to the phone. He shouted and his hand now punctured with shards of plastic was bleeding and he was crying. A lifetime seemed to pass before ran out of energy to shout and ran out of phone to beat into the table, it was just his hand against wood, and he slumped back in his chair. I didn’t know what the phonecall was about, but I have a feeling Madonna did, Bzzt ‘BAA‘… Jules was just staring right ahead his eyes glazed over like he has lost all concept of the outside world. Madonna tried again, Bzzt ‘ BAA’… he blinked, though im not sure if it was in reaction to her or not. Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz




Several minutes later you could smell burning, then the fuse must have tripped because the buzzing stopped albeit too late.

A few year ago it was Jules and Chris, then lately it was Jules and Madonna, but now, now its Just Jules.

Madonna pt2 Aka Contacting Chris

Jules often jokes that were he to have any more children, Chris would no longer be the favourite. When Chris was a child this made him cry, then when he was a little older he found it quite endearing, but lately he finds it just irritating. That isn’t the reason he left although in heated moments you will hear him declare that it was, the truth is Chris left because he doesn’t want to take care of the farm for his whole life, and who could blame him? Who wants to look after a farm with only one old slightly masochistic sheep. Although in the days Chris was here that farm was a different place, I don’t think he knows that there are no animals left, maybe if he did he would come round. Jules never admits it but he misses the kid around the place, actually Jules always mentions it, the thing he doesn’t mention is the reason why he never actually invites Chris round. But it seems lately Jules has been leaving Chris an awful lot of messages… and I’m worried, because even a Son’s stubborness can only last so long. So in all of the phonecalls and letters Jules has sent, we are wondering what has happened to Chris. But Jules doesn’t concern himself with such thoughts, he just sits close to the phone because it’s where the most comfortable chair in the house is (not coincidentally) and only gets up to eat, or shout at Madonna.

Madonna the Masochistic sheep

She used to be called Esther, but Jules decided that since Madonna had decided to change her name, he would even the world out by renaming Esther, Madonna. And we would like to think that she took it quite well, or at least thats what we tell Jules. The thing about Jules is that he has alot of time on his hands, when he’s used to having none. Ever since the farm went bust and his son moved out, slowly slowly the animals started dying out one at a time. To tell you the truth (and don’t tell him I told you) Madonna/Esther actually died a long time ago, but we pretend it was a different sheep and carry on, but we won’t do that again, firstly because this madonnna is a bit strange… she seems to like the electric fence. Every now and then we’ll hear her shock herself and then bleat loudly and Jules will run outside and shout at her. Its like they’re an old married couple, its their routine. Oh I forgot to mention the other reason we won’t name any other sheep Madonna, there are no sheep left. In fact there are no cows, geese, pigs, horses or chickens either. There’s nothing, actually, just Jules and Madonna.


Part 2 coming soon…

You can’t play on broken strings…

… that is certainly true. When you have a guitar and the strings are broken it becomes rather difficult to play a tune – or at least to play an harmonic one. My guitar is my life and the strings are all broken. I was never very good at playing before they broke, but since they are broken, the tune that I can manage to play is everything but pleasant.

I am so fed up with it all. Where the hell is my place in this world? When will I find it and will this ever happen? Somehow I missed out on a real and proper life over the past 25+ years. And now? I am hunting behind it every little second. Always getting myself in my own way. Nothing works, nothing shows its truth and I have no idea how to go on. In any way. Always sensible, rational and calm. Blabla…

I am standing at the loudest place in a crowd, the music cannot be any louder. Me, the person who always had problems with loud music simply because I cannot stand it… I find myself looking for the one place where it is louder than anywhere else. I keep myself awake for hours and hours only to know what it means to feel something. I was wandering around today in the heavy rain we had for over 12 hours. I went from one place to the other, not knowing where to go. Sat alone watching the other people go by. Having fun. I drank too much. And it didn’t help. I tried to reach some friends and all I found was superficial advice and rejection. Wow. How great it all is.

For god’s sake! This is so annoying. No purpose, nothing to look forward to, no aspiration. I am screaming at the top of my voice – only that you cannot hear me. I don’t want any of this any more. But where is the emergency exit door? It probably didn’t get built in at the beginning. And now? Do I need a sledge hammer?

I was wondering how long it actually takes for one to climb out of the valleys of life back up the hill. But I realised as it never rains – it pours, you can actually climb but still dig yourself deeper into the ground. How amazing!

Get away bloody lighting gels! Leave me alone moving lights! I don’t wanna see a CAD drawing any more! Leave me alone loud music and party people! Leave me alone pride! Leave me alone rainbow colours and everything that comes with it! Leave me alone Europride! My memories: leave me bloody alone and let go on things you cannot change! Leave me alone and accept that there are things that you cannot change, bring back or fix! Some things are lost for good! Leave them alone! So why the hell does it not work? Why why why…? I just wanna have peace from myself! Not to think about it all. Not to miss what you cannot have. Not to worry about tomorrow. Not to sit here alone. I just want to be happy for once. For one simple moment. I wanna be able to say: This is my favourite moment. And if I can only have one moment it should be this one.

Fuck off destiny and faith. I lost the believe in everything I ever believed in. There is no light at the end of the tunnel. There is no predetermined path we walk. It is all just a lot of crap.

Holidays of Life.

I am…

… my mum, who always showed me the way
… my brothers and sisters… we conquered the world…
… all the people who believed in my crazy ideas…
… and all the ones who didn’t…

This is an excerpt from a recent commercial campaign of a mobile phone company here in Switzerland. I always liked the commercials. In the cinema, on TV or on the radio it kinda made me think into the same direction as Eyal pointed with his post. What they say is that we really are shaped because of all the people we meet, the people we are with and the people that influenced us the most.

Of course, we are different depending on who we meet and with whom we spent time. It makes sense. Some people are our friends, and with them we share different memories and they know us differently than someone we just have our first date with. And parents are the ones who brought us up. They taught us most of the thinking patterns and ways of living we now follow. We are aware of this and therefore know the expectations of them as well, thus we behave differently than we would with our partner and friends.

What I think is interesting in this discussion is one point: Does the fact that we do in fact behave differently mean, that we cannot really determine who we are? It is just logical that if we wanna impress someone we hold back on certain things and try to shine the best light on us whereas this is not really necessary with our close friends. But I think, as long as we are true about ourselves we will always be the person we are when there is nobody around. An example: My favourite colour is blue. Now… I can be with my parents in the city and we talk about our favourite colour and I will tell them mine is blue. Another time I am with you guys and we talk about the same thing and I also tell you that it is blue, the same with my boss or on a first date. My favourite colour is blue and as long as this does not change depending on the people I am with at a certain point, I will always know who I really am. Because my personality does not change. People only see different parts of it and I think this is a good thing…

Raining at night in Switzerland…

The roles we all fall into

From the largest organisation (all the people of the world for instance), down to the smallest, (a relationship), and all the social & professional systems inbetween, we fall into preset roles, and are often different for every one of them. The person I am with my family, is different to the person I am at work, to the person I am with my friends… in fact the person I am with one friend is different to the person I am with another… and when I’m with both at the same time I become a third person. So here comes one of the two points of this post. The first is to put the question of the social paradox to you (you’ve heard the first part before). What makes us the people we are? Do we mould to fit the role thats missing, or does the group seek out their missing part. On a professional basis the answer is obvious, both, the company is missing a manger so they advertise, and an employee who has the ability to act as manager is seeking out work, so joins. But in social systems, what dictates the people we become? To quote a line from Heroes ‘Be the one we need!’ Are we all the people that others need? Or just some of us? I would like to think that we are all necessary. For me, ALL of the people in my life are the people I have needed to be where I am now. I would have said ‘who I am now’, if it wasn’t for the question I am about to ask.

Who are we? I realise I have asked this question many times all with different justifications, all with different arguments, and resoning and all with different results. But if I am one person now, and another writing on a different blog (I don’t) then which one of these people is more me? I know what you’re thinking, you’re thinking both. So I’ll develop the question a bit more, I write on this blog like this because that is what this blog is for, I would write on another one is a different way, for the same reason, and a third and a fourth and so on until I have written a hundred posts all different. (We are of course now imagining that the blogs are the only things that exist in the world for clarity of argument.) Another person, upon making use of all the different blogs could write 100 different posts all with the same intonation as mine. What makes us different? We were both the people the blog’s needed us to be, and have emerged identically. So the (second) question I am posing is, are we all just a unique set of circumstances? All different because none of our experiences are the same, yes merely circumstantial none-the-less?


Ever Interested