Next he'll be noncing without a trench coat. Sick!
I find this fascinating, assuming we have the same thing in mind. How mental abstractions seem to be congruent with elements of your physical environment you detect visually.I think I visualise quite strongly. Sometimes with eyes closed I feel i can literally see things I imagine, but I think a lot of people get that. I have astigmatism in one eye and I often think how things like that shape your perceptions of the world beyond just forming an image of the immediate environment
That sounds incredibly heavy. It reminds me of footage of some of Werner Erdard's EST sessions - some of which made it into Adam Curtis's Century of the Self. The context is different but the physical expression sounds similar.The year of the Iranian embassy siege, my catholic school took volunteers to Lourdes to support and assist disabled people from the local church find whatever it is you find in a bunk shrine.
One specific Mass stood out. We’d just done the stations of the cross walk, pretty knackering for a primary school kid. You walk past these tented baths, choc full of the dying, cuing in line to be immersed in a watery cure. Proceed to cathedral for the big off. Every conceivable form of catholic style and imagery was present that day, but the most unnerving was the extremely heightened state of emotion among the throng outside waiting. You could feel it in the air, crackling, merciless abandon.
When they started the service, the biggest swaying incense orb imaginable was swung black and forth from the ceiling in front of the pulpit. I can still smell it. Then about 2000 people, everyone apart from myself and a few other confused souls, spontaneously started crying. And not just any normal form of emoting. I mean hysterical, unannounced, heaving, snot-heavy, air-gulping tears of something I’ve never come close to understanding (or wanting to understand). If there was a cue, a trigger, or whatever, for this I definitely missed it. The epitome of manipulation of the weird imho.
When I got home never went to mass or confession again, got into a secular comprehensive school asap. Ritual has a place, but, just leave the kids at home eh.
Lots of the hoodoo stuff is like this (hoodoo being American folk magic, that survived in black communities, post-slavery). Floorwashes to sanctify the house. Wash all the bad stuff out first, washing towards the door, chuck water away at a crossroads, don't look back. Wash again with blessed water to bring in blessings, money, luck etc. The water might have herbs, holy water etc added and appropriate psalms said over it.Once on acid, down at floor level, I thought housework properly conceived is a kind of ritual to household deities
i felt like a kind of Grand Director of Reality usually too self-important, vainglorious and preoccupied to notice and concern my lofty self with the lives and concerns and hardships of the little ones who share the house with me.I like it 'cos it's use of the domestic sphere, its everydayness.