Waking Dream – Mystical Vision

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If one was to imagine someone having a waking dream or a mystical vision it is unlikely that you would picture an unshaven white man in his sixties dressed in a white t-shirt and army surplus combat trousers who had been around the block a few time. That person would not be technically obese nor skilled in the art of high resolution laser spectroscopy. He would not be a grey. There may be a tint of eroticism to your imagination of a visionary. The person having the vision would either be young and “attractive” like Joan of Arc or Joseph with his groovy coat. There would be some kind of glow or aura perhaps. There could be some CGI graphics and perhaps some pointy elven ears. They could be a Russian mystic blinded at birth. They could be misshapen. They would have some cool sounding foreign name. They would not be called John Smith.

Either that or they could be in a secure psychiatric ward having avoided taking their medication by hoodwinking the staff.

People are likely to have prejudice about how they might imagine a visionary / whacko.

Last night whilst watching a fly on the wall crime drama about crystal meth in Norfolk I had a tremendously strong vision of the Dalai Lama and one other senior figure in Tibetan / Bhutanese Buddhism. That subjective observation has persisted on and off since then. It interfered with one of my normal nocturnal, pre-sleep meditations. This morning I have that subjective experience conflated with people at Stanford university. {They may be inquiring about Phowa practice – my guess.}

There is no logical reason why out of the blue I get a strong visual image of the Dalai Lama to mind and in mind. There is no effort for/by me to have it there. In fact it would be more convenient for it to fade. I can type, do the shopping and in a few moments, I will make a sandwich with these “visions” at the periphery of consciousness.

In the context of my normal CV and life experience it does not make sense. It is illogical and irrational. I have not exactly hung around with Tibetan Buddhists on a regular basis. Nor have I been brooding on either Tibetan or Buddhist themes of late.

After lunch I will start to sugar soap wash the wall by the log burner, then begin the chore of sizing the wood in the garage so that it is ready for use post operation in autumn-winter. We have about ¼ of the mass needed in the garage.  Once tided up, we will order a couple more cubic metres this month before the price goes up.

It is a bit odd but for me not unusual as Mr Jones might sing.

A Fly in the Ointment  – ECG ST Segment Depression

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Earlier this week we learned that the specialist machine doing CT angiograms is very busy at the big hospital in Saint Brieuc. They are backed up and will not be able to do the study before the date upon which my hip operation is scheduled. This means that the risk is less quantified. They are possibly worried a little about how I might respond to being hacked open and losing a few wine glasses of blood while someone saws off the head of my femur and whacks in a Titanium implant.

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The added concern comes from my recent resting electrocardiogram (ECG) in which the ST level was depressed below the isoelectric point.

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The ST segement is seen as potentially diagnostic for a number of conditions, lowering is correlated with these things.

Causes of ST segment depression:

Myocardial ischemia

Hypokalemia

Digoxin

Cocaine

Left ventricular hypertrophy (with concurrent T wave changes)

Bundle branch blocks (with concurrent T wave changes)

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I can exclude the three middle suggestions unequivocaly.

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The depressed ECG ST wave form is characterised as above into three basic types. My ECG has a lowering of  about 1 mm and is most like the horizontal depiction above

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Bearing in mind that I have spent decades looking at spectroscopy traces on chart paper, oscillosocpes and computer screens it is easy for me to spot “anomalies”.

Whenever I see ECG traces the first thing which comes to mind is, “why is the data so shite?”

Is the test human not grounded, is there a floating earth?

Can’t they do better, develop better machines, improve protocol?

Verbally the cardiologist wanted to check for myocardial ischemia or ventricular hypertrophy. The latter can come from being overly athletic in which case it is ok or it is simply that the heart if gettting old. Back in the last century I had strong athletic tendencies.

He has propsed a so-called cardio stress test. They asked me if I could pedal. Maybe enough to raise the demand on the heart…we shall see.

Going left to right the power output by the human hamster wheel rider increases by 50 watt quanta B-C. This data shows the depression of an ST ECG trace as incresing demand is placed upon the heart.

“Reversible ST-segment depression is the characteristic finding associated with exercise-induced, demand-driven ischemia in patients with significant coronary obstruction but no flow limitation at rest.”

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The jury suggests that this methodology could tend the “diagnosis” either towards or away from ischemia or blood supply insufficiency. The guess was that my aging heart was just as bit too big and aged. The holy trinity of fat, fags and booze have given me their sacred blessing.

If I am losing blood during the operation the heart will pump that little bit harder.

All the articles suggest that when a stress test is done there is a medic present who is cardio-trained in case the stress test causes a heart attack…

It was mooted that an appointment for this stress test may also not be easy to come by. The pre-op anaesthesia meeting is scheduled about 1 month out before the operation.

If the ST depression is unexplained, will they go ahead or will they insist upon more data?

There is a potential fly in the ointment.

We have found that in general the French are more keen on lastminute.com than we are…I foresee a mad clustering of yet more medical appointments early autumn…

Can a Jaguar Changes Its Spots?

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People can have very fixated images and perceptions of others. They may shoe-horn others into well out of date perceptions. How they remember them can be stuck in a time warp.

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We are watching a TV programme with Eddy Redmayne acting as The Jackal. Even though he is not the same actor, I keep wondering where Wellard or Well Hard the dog is. At the moment in the series  highly armed MI6 agents have just been engaged in a  massive shoot out near Budapest. The sort of thing that is likely to be an international incident but which serves for dramatic purpose.

Not everything makes sense.

It is very easy to get typecast in the eyes of others. There could be a wildly inaccurate narrative circulating which sticks like glue. Once a visiting Japanese postdoc. famous for his drinking prowess back home decided that he wanted to out-drink me competitively because he had heard my legend. We started drinking after I had already had six pints of Stella unbeknownst and unrevealed to him. I stopped drinking a bit before him and he claimed victory. So there may be a story back in Japan of how he beat a champion drinker in the UK. Not all stories are true but it does not stop their circulation.

People can have their perception locked, very locked.

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Many are not a lot like they once were. Some people change. It is said that the warrior’s path is one of transmutation,  transformation and transfiguration. This suggests that the change may be more radical than a cosmetic tinkering.

I’ll wager were I to meet people I was acquainted with two decades ago they would initially interact with me using that out of date context, if they even remembered me at all. There is and was a whole side of me of which most were completely unaware. One student thanked me for my 9 AM winter morning lectures because they gave them a chance to catch up on their sleep in a nice warm lecture theatre. Others have told me that they doubted that boring dead-pan me could be any use to them when they were unwell. After half an hour of quiet chat they were off to see the GP for a mental health consultation and had provisionally booked a session with the on campus councillor.

Few would imagine that I have had dreams of shaman and Jaguars.

Jaguar Dream Link

People struggle to a) notice and b) fully accept change in others, particularly those who they think they know well. Radical change is considered impossible. After all a leopard cannot change its spots.

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Fate or Self-Determination?

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Many imagine that they have partial control over their lives, their circumstances and the trajectory of those lives. I have used the plural lives here which might be a moot choice for those who do not believe in reincarnation. Already people might want to debate singular or plural. Their own minds may not be certain, “do I cark it and that is it, or am I reborn?” This is quite fundamental in terms of outlook. They don’t imagine that the entire trajectory of life can pivot on a few tiny things.

If those marking my undergraduate exams in 1985 had given me one more mark and Sue one less. We would have tied for the last remaining SERC Ph.D. quota studentship. The organic section already had a lot of applicants, the inorganic chemistry section less. The decision would have been to grant the supervisor of my third year research project the studentship and I would have done a Ph.D. in the synthesis of Pt and Pd mixed valence compounds with X-ray, FTIR and Raman. I would have become an inorganic chemist of sorts at UCL and not gone to the Royal Institution nor helped moved the group to Imperial College. At some stage down the line the UCL trajectory could have led me to doing coherent Raman spectroscopy of GaAs growth at UMIST. Here the two possible trajectories could have remerged. This could have led me to the Interdisciplinary Centre for Electronic Materials and to Imperial.

But my life would have been markedly different in the meantime. I would not have formed the same “relationships”.

When Sue transferred to UCL part through her degree I helped her catch up on the course. In effect sealing my own fate by an act of kindness. Without my intervention I would have “beaten” her. Of course I could also have smoked fewer spliffs and not gotten so pissed on a regular basis too.

Seemingly innocuous happenstance can nudge life trajectory more than you imagine. Is it down to fate or is it down to the integral over all the decisions we make? I prefer the notion that fate has a considerable hand. Others do not like the idea that some external force has influence and control of their lives.

BUT.

If you choose your incarnation then you have in a way self-determined your fate by the choice of vehicle into which you incarnate. There may be a fate but it was caused by your choice.

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At the moment the residual fate in this life looks pretty simple. No big deal, no big external dramas and marginal significance to the world at large. I am very unlikely to have much ongoing wider significance. If it is fated there is no intervention required of me. If it is fated otherwise something might happened outside the compound to change things. I don’t have to be in any way proactive in this respect. If it is fated, it will happen.

Tomorrow, I have a urology appointment to follow up on my elevated prostate specific antigen (PSA) test. I don’t have cancer yet according to the guidelines of how these things are assessed. But the way the PSA numbers are going it will not be long before I fall into the right numerical regime to mean that I have cancer or at least warrant another hour long session in the high resolution MRI machine or an invasive biopsy. I may get a prostate exam. The trajectory of our lives might take another turn, if it is so fated.

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There are many who really don’t like this notion of relying on fate. It is core belief and orientation for me. My dreams help me evolve my fate in accordance with what I, the indwelling dreamer, planned at birth. I have made huge life changing decisions based on dream interpretation. Some of which were very hard with difficult consequences. I was fated to dream and fated to use those dreams to guide this life.

Of course I may seem like a complete nut-job to some. But if so, it was always fated thus.

I am open to the fact that there is not much left fated for me to do in this life. Why would one not accept one’s fate? Even were my life entirely governed by self-determination there is precious little that I can do to alter life circumstance as it stands. It looks like fate has me “cornered” so to speak…

Shit happens… you may as well relax into it…take a deep breath… this will only take a few seconds…

Discuss or Claim – Shoot Down in Flames

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I’ll start into this with some statements, see if you agree with them.

  • It is easier to discount than to prove.
  • There is a section of humanity that has a very negative mindset and is personally insecure. It is sceptical and seeks approval by negating everything and disproving it, thereby showing just how very clever it is while claiming kudos from other negative peers for its I-told-you-so cleverness. There is an element of look-at-me to these behaviours. Strangely people seek to be both smug and clever, which at first pass seems contradictory.
  • It is easier to disprove than it is to prove.
  • People derive a great deal of seeming pleasure from shooting others down in flames and arguing the toss so as to apparently “win”.
  • They are stuck in their ways, primitive, possibly bigoted and old-fashioned.

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In writing this blog I have chosen a largely discursive approach and have been fairly careful to not make any claims, profess said claims or adamantly proclaim accuracy. I have been careful in my use of language to avoid dogmatic assertion.

This dogmatic assertion habit is perhaps a bane of our times.

Were I to make claims there is a danger that people would prime their Gatling guns and take aim. Many like an assertion to aim at, particularly ones with numbers in so that the petty can nit-pick.

“You said you would limit immigration to 200,000 in fact we had 215,000 last year, you did not do what you said you were going to do. You lying bastard!!”

This pseudo-journalistic mentality is pervasive and makes arguments out of petty trivial stuff. Comparison mind never strays too far from the adolescent urinal pissing contest.

In approaching this blog I had one question, “What is the best way to approach closed concretised mind insistent on proof where none may exist?”

The answer I came up with was to adopt a discursive approach in the vain hope that these might at least stimulate some thinking. I am aware that the human mind is bullet-point and sound-byte, click-bait oriented these days. It is easy to gain wide publicity by making outrageous claims.

“Tariffs are already bringing trillions of dollars into the US treasury!!”

{US GDP ~ 30 trillion dollars, Federal tax revenue ~ 5 trillion }

Tariffs then {according to Trump} must already account  for more than 20% of the annual Federal income by use of the plural “trillions”. This statement cannot yet be factual.

It is the easiest thing in the world to make wild assertions, to gob-off and to make outrageous claims. Even were these factual it would be straightforward to find some way of discounting, casting doubt upon and otherwise undermining any claim. People love to find fault and pick holes in things.

Most people are already finding fault before they have reached the end of a sentence or heard what someone is trying to communicate. They can place so much stock in arguing the toss and dissing others. It can make them feel big.

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Do you like to shoot people down in flames?

Does it give you a boner or make you go damp?

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Destined to Occur

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The prophet is not diverted by illusions of past, present and future. The fixity of language determines such linear distinctions. Prophets hold a key to the lock in language. The mechanical image remains only an image to them. This is not a mechanical universe. The linear progression of events is imposed by the observer. Cause and effect? That’s not it at all. The prophet utters fateful words. You glimpse a thing “destined to occur”. But the prophetic instant releases something of infinite portent and power. The universe undergoes a ghostly shift. The wise prophet conceals actuality behind shimmering labels. The uninitiated then believe the prophetic language is ambiguous. The listener distrusts the prophetic messenger. Instinct tells you how the utterance blunts the power of such words. The best prophets lead you up to the curtain and let you peer through it yourself.

– The Stolen Journals [1]

Frank Herbert “God Emperor of Dune” Gollancz, Orion Publishing, London. Page 297 ISBN 0 575 07506 6

Novel Conductors – Counts of Penthièvre – Tapestry Dream – 03-08-2025

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Here is /are this morning’s dream(s). Had between 5 and 7:20 AM. The juxtaposition is notable.

The dream starts in abstract space. I am viewing a three dimensional crystal lattice, a molecular / atomic model with atoms as small, coloured spheres and “bonds” as lines. The model is not space filling. I can see a cage structure made out of group 1 metal ions which extends in a quasi-one dimensional linear fashion. Inside the cage are molecular halogens chlorine, bromine and specifically iodine. There are / can be different variations of group  1 and halogen. The halogens carry a negative electronic molecular charge and are in an extended multiple electron delocalisation brought about by the confinement caused by the ionic cage. There are Cooper pairs. Outside the cage are several strands of the charged delocalised halogen thread. Outside of this are more metal ion cages with halogen conducting cores. The whole is entwined like threads in a heavy duty wire with the halogen “fibres” providing electrical neutrality for the positive metal ionic cages. I know that the material is a very good conductor in one dimension as a wire. This is a new and revolutionary type of material yet to be made.

The scene changes and I am in the kitchen of a tall thin building. It has an “Amsterdam” or Dutch feel. The kitchen is on the ground or basement level. I am looking out the back window onto a small, enclosed garden / courtyard. The kitchen sink is in front of the window. The wife comes in dressed in the light green yukata. I ask her what she has been doing. She has opened the door to the “secret” room on the top floor of the house. It is the fourth floor at the very top of the stairs. I say that I didn’t know there was a room / floor. She say that yes there is, it is a bit messy and I should go to look for myself.

Wearing a white waxed paper disposable overall and with safety specs and small respirator, I go into the room at the top of the stairs. It opens up into a couple of rooms painted white with an open door into the second room. I run my hand along a small white painted beam which forms the strut for the roof. Some paint flakes off. There are some wardrobes in the far room otherwise the floor is empty.

I go down stairs and just as I near the front door an old style bell on a pulley door bell rings. I open the door and it is Elizabeth Hurley. I invite her in and usher her to the kitchen. It seems that we know each other from before. We go into the kitchen and the wife greets Elizabeth. They sit next to each other at the kitchen table, sink side. I ask the wife if there are any clean towels. Yes, in the bathroom. I go up to the bathroom and take the overall off wrapping a light blue towel around my waist with a white t-shirt on the top.

I go back into the kitchen and Elizabeth and the wife are wrapped up in luxurious rich fabric tapestry. One side is vibrantly embroidered and the other is of a very rich creamy-white velvet like support. The tapestry is several metres long and they are having a cwtch together like long lost sisters under the tapestry as if to keep warm on a winter’s night.

Elizabeth says that she has been investigating her forefathers some of whom were biologically related to the Counts of Penthièvre. I say that when we first moved here to Britanny, I looked into Breton history going back to the founding Welsh saints and St Illtud in particular. I say that the history of the Counts of Penthièvre is tied closely to that of Eleanor of Aquitaine. The times relate to my priest – crusader life in some way. We have been to Fontevraud Abbey where she, Eleanor, is said to be buried.

The scene changes and I am being ushered into the drawing room of a very plush mansion like house.  Very Brideshead. I am meeting a tall quintessentially English man. {Imagine Charles Dance as a movie villain.} The man is expensively dressed and is standing by a fireplace which is black metal enamelled and shut. There is an ornate flower pot with dried flowers and potpourri. There is also and old fashioned radio with a wooden outer cover and extendable aerial. The man welcomes me in and we are talking about funding some research into the Counts of Penthièvre. He is concerned that I am a gold-digger and in some way after his estate. I reassure him that I have no biological connection to his family. As we are talking a programme comes on the radio which is talking about the Counts of Penthièvre and Breton history. He sees this as a good sign and is well disposed to funding.

The scene changes and I am on the driver’s seat of an open horse and cart with a dark haired Greek man. It is sunny and cobbled. He has the reigns and the whip. We are going to meet some of his family down at the port. He reminds me to be Greek because that will help with my inquiries. I playfully gesticulate and grimace. He smiles and says that already I am perhaps a bit too Greek. We are like bothers who have known each other long. My antics make us both laugh.

The dream(s) end.

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From Wikipedia

In the 11th and 12th centuries the Countship of Penthièvre (Breton: Penteur) in Brittany (now in the department of Côtes-d’Armor) belonged to a branch of the sovereign House of Brittany. It initially belonged to the House of Rennes. Alan III, Duke of Brittany, gave it to his brother Eudes in 1035, and his descendants formed a cadet branch of the ducal house.

The geographical region of Brittany that constituted the holdings of Penthièvre correlate closely with the territories that constituted the early Breton kingdom of Domnonée.

The history of the title Count of Penthièvre included frequent dispossessions and restorations. Henri d’Avaugour, heir of this family, was dispossessed of the countship in 1235. The Duke of Brittany, Pierre Mauclerc, founder of the Breton House of Dreux, gave it as dowry to his daughter, Yolande, on her marriage in 1238 to Hugh XI of Lusignan, Count of La Marche. John I, Duke of Brittany, Yolande’s brother, seized the countship on her death in 1272. After the Breton War of Succession the title was dispossessed twice by the reigning Dukes of Brittany, once by John V and another time by Francis II.

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Eleanor of Aquitaine (French: Aliénor d’Aquitaine or Éléonore d’Aquitaine; Occitan: Alienòr d’Aquitània ; Latin: Helienordis, Alienorde or Alianor; c. 1124 – 1 April 1204) was Duchess of Aquitaine from 1137 to 1204, Queen of France from 1137 to 1152 as the wife of King Louis VII, and Queen of England from 1154 to 1189 as the wife of King Henry II. As the reigning duchess of Aquitaine, she ruled jointly with her husbands and two of her sons, the English kings Richard I and John. As the heiress of the House of Poitiers, which controlled much of southwestern France, she was one of the wealthiest and most powerful women in Western Europe during the High Middle Ages.

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Ildut (forme bretonne courante) ou plus correctement Iltud (d’après la forme galloise), ou Iltut ou encore Elchut (voire Ideuc), est le nom du moine breton (soit insulaire, soit armoricain) Illdut de Llantwit, devenu saint.

Considéré comme le père fondateur du christianisme celtique, saint Ildut est fêté le 6 novembre.

Origine du nom

Le nom breton Ildut se retrouve dans le nom de lieu Lanildut, et le nom de l’Aber-Ildut, tous deux situés sur la côte nord du Léon.

Le nom gallois Illtud, parfois transcrit en anglais Illtyd ou Eltut, est associé au monastère de Llanilltud Fawr, au pays de Galles, lieu anglicisé sous la forme Llantwit Major qui est le nom de la ville qui s’est développée autour.

La forme latinisée du nom est Hildutus de Iltutus qui évoque qu’après la baptême l’enfant est ainsi appelé car protégé, en sureté, mis à l’abri (cf. tutus).

Coming Home to Roost Dream and Preparation 02-08-2025

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Last night in the twilight between sleep and wakefulness, in the cusp between here and yet to come, I had yet another coming home to roost “slide show”. In that, things come home to roost for some people whom I once had acquaintance of. I take no joy or glee from these happenstances, these scenarios, rather a tinge of sadness at folly and adamant folly to boot. For example if you falsify any official document there is a chance down the line that it could come back to bite you on the arse like a rabid chihuahua. If you succumb to temptation and allow the tendrils of evil to find purchase, they rarely let go and your relationship becomes symbiotic. Without knowing it you supply the food. Short of a full blown exorcism it is game over in terms of liberation for this lifetime. Nobody involved in such a symbiosis will ever believe or accept such a statement.

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Everything seems normal to them. Their playbook seems to work and they have success in the world and among peers. They can handle whatever mini-crises are sent to them. Or so they think.

The thing about karma is that it can be subtle. People who believe they are thoroughly entitled do not imagine that it exists. When something happens that is “bad luck” , “unfair” and not an effect which they have had a hand in causing. One day, perhaps in a lifetime to come, people get to have the penny drop whilst incarnated and they see with irrevocable clarity the outcomes and consequences of their actions, their emotionally charged bile and punitive vengeful thoughts. Theory has it there is a review at the time of death too. I witnessed bedside my father struggling with his. It was not pretty.

I have started mentally preparing for my operation and other commitments later in the year. It has become reasonably obvious in the twilight that I need to return to the A-U-M meditations and revisit Phowa practice just in case. I probably need to start doing more stretching exercises and work at building back some muscle in my legs and hips. At the end of the month I start a new birth-year, leading me further into my final pinnacle. Who knows what is in store aside from some hippie action in the operating block.

My understanding is that when people incarnate, they choose all the circumstances of their birth to enable them to learn from a “lesson plan” that might help them best evolve and work at karma. They made this plan themselves. For example I was born into a family in which the education mantra was strong. I was sent to boarding school in another country, education was more important than any close familial relationship. I subsequently ended up working  in “education” for a couple of decades. I planned this before birth.

In the birth lesson plan trajectories of whom you are “meant” to meet are bullet pointed. The possibilities exist. These individuals have the wherewithal through which you might learn. Human choice must be allowed. Thus it is possible to completely screw up the lesson plan which you yourself wrote. Literally miss the boat by miles. You can fuck up a life and badly so, through your own arrogance. The moot point is were you always destined to fuck up or did you simply act that way out of bloody-mindedness? Did you cut off your nose to spite your face or had you zero choice in the matter? In the grand scheme of things learning will inevitably ensue. But it may be many lifetimes later that such a great learning opportunity re-presents. People learn painfully yet effectively through loss.

It is the karma of snakes and ladders.

The thing about dreaming is that timing is never atomic-clock accurate. But when the dreams increase in frequency it does mean that the event is getting nearer in time, it will happen sooner. It also means that the likelihood or probability is increasing.

Dreaming by its very nature cannot be an exact science….

Philosophy at the OU?

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Yesterday on a whim I looked at the Open University web site thinking about doing some study. I wondered about doing some courses in Philosophy. Because of my relatively poor ability in Maths I think it unlikely that I would pass any degree course in Physics. Though there was a time when I was a jolly good member of the Institute and officially qualified as a chartered physicist. That qualification is lapsed and cannot be resurrected.

I wondered how any tutor might mark / respond to my efforts. Clearly, I would be very undisciplined. When I looked into the possibilities, I foresaw problems.

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It occurred to me that the course was not Philosophy per se, rather the history of human ideas dressed up as Philosophy. I never liked the part of science that gave personal names to equations, like the Clausius-Clapeyron equation. That method was a sure way of encouraging me to forget. The hagiography of dead people has never really lit my candle. A little closer look suggested that what passes as Philosophy contains a lot of discussion of socio-political interaction and social conditioning.

I reckoned that were I to proceed there would be disagreement. The strict definitions would not work for me under the umbrella of Buddhist impermanence and non-attachment. Arguing the toss for arguing the toss’s sake seemed to be a core part. Anyway for France the prices are not low, around four grand a module. It suggested to me that what I think I know is not suitable for the normal Venn diagram discussions of traditional ways of thinking. It does not fit to that socio-political framing which seems to be a big part of a philosophy degree.

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“Block 3: Philosophy of Mind
Humans and other animals have minds, whereas sticks and stones do not. But what is it to have a mind? The brain seems to have something to do with it, but is it the whole story? In the distant (or not so distant) future, might there be robots, or other artificial intelligence, capable of thought, emotion and experience? The block explores these questions.

Block 4: Ethics
This block looks at three philosophical answers to the question of what it is for our actions to be right or wrong. Are the right actions simply the ones with the best consequences? Or do we have ‘moral duties’ we should fulfil regardless of the consequences? Or perhaps we should simply focus on being good, virtuous people and then the right actions will follow?

Block 5: Epistemology
Epistemology is the study of knowledge. How do we know about the world? One obvious answer is by using our senses. Do our senses supply all that we know? Even mathematics? Don’t we, in fact, also acquire knowledge from listening to other people and reading what they have written? But how do I decide whether to trust other people? Do we all have equal access to knowledge, or are some groups better ‘knowers’ than others?”

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The conclusion I came to was that it would be better all round not to apply or try to start a course. I don’t think that the contextual setting would sit well with me. I would become a problem.

Yet I do consider myself to have some kind of a philosophical approach to life.

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Is a mystic different from a philosopher?

What is the difference between wisdom and knowledge?