Observing

Thinking humanity 2

It is he: the Observer

Without him, I would be unable to measure my true worth.

His omnipotence is the catalytic spark that births the creative force that I am.

He is the aethereal power whose presence coalesces my spirit into the physical being that is me.

 

It is I: the Observed

I am not a singular linear self-contained happening. I am like a mote of dust in a swirling desert sandstorm, a minuscule reflection of a multi-faceted field of existence and creative expression.

I am a microcosm that unwittingly mirrors the vastness of the universal whole as my own small reality.

As small as I am, I am an integral part of an intense, non-localised field of creativity that is here, there and everywhere, all of the time.

When my small seeing eye observes the patterns of this quantum sandstorm of which I am part, I localise into my ‘time and place’ frame. The dust settles and my life takes form, but I am still of the non-stuff of a creative universe.

That is when my Soul energy will birth my kind: be it a rebirth of my own being or a new birth of a child, or an act of loving kindness unconditionally given.

Allan Taylor, author Luanshya musings

 

Inner space

Jacon Oster Mursi girl Ethiopia

                      Jacob Oster Mursi girl Ethiopia

Just as I can describe the relativity of my time as a hollow rubber ball, so can I describe my Soul as being the sole owner of my gawky mind and body.

Inside my time ball there is an apparent nothingness which defines the outside circumference of my outer oneness. My life, like a rubbery skin, passionately wraps itself around this mysterious rounding force of nothingness; which in turn defines my physical wholeness, my rounded permanence, which in turn is my creative potential for being. I call this inner space of ‘nothingness’ my Soul.

Allan Taylor, author, Luanshya musings

Wadi Halfa

Wadi halfa

When going to England for our two-month holidays, we finally abandoned taking the boat train from Ndola to Cape Town – a 1000-mile journey to catch a Union Castle passenger boat to South Hampton on the English coast. Instead we flew to London from Ndola via Entebbe, Wadi Halfa, and Benghazi. The Vickers Viscount plane flew high enough to be a professional airliner, but not so high that I couldn’t make out things on the ground below. It also had large oval windows designed for little boys to look out of. Remote clearings in an otherwise seamless mat of thick forest below ripped at my curiosity, and I had a longing passion to visit every one of them right across Central Africa. Who had cleared this small piece of ground below me? Who was down there? If there was a vlei, what secrets did it hold? If there was a clearing, who lived in it and what were they doing?

Author, Allan Taylor, Luanshyamusings

Love

Unconditional love African Soul

Love is a building block of an awareness that we ‘are’. We would not build upon our conscious awareness without the focused desire to be ‘one’ with someone – those are the mechanics of attraction that we loosely call love.  Without the first grain of love to build upon, our awareness, which is a wide open facet of our Soul, would drift quietly away from us in haphazard detachment and indifference. In such a vague state of existence we would not be given the chance of physical and cognitive growth in the swirl of universal happenings.

Allan Taylor, author Luanshya musings

My Soul is not mine

The boldest step I had to take in putting this book together was to totally accept my inkling that my Soul was not a possession of mine.

It is difficult to place a finger on my Soul; and it would seem that I have no jurisdiction over it to do so. My Soul has to be the better part of me; it is far more than I will ever be, either cognitively or physically. If ownership had to be attributed to either one of us, I would say the rest of me belongs to my Soul. If I were to describe this lofty proprietor of my being, I would say that it is the permanence and consistency that gives my day-to-day existence its relevance; but that the force it exerts, is difficult to describe; its actions equally challenging to define.

Allan Taylor author of Luanshya musings

African Soul

                         African Soul

Luanshya musings

Luanshya musings

A timeless story that hovers between how it should have, would have, and could have been. An imponderable story:

How it ended, if it at all did, is of no importance in how everyone saw it in the ‘Now’ moment of their timeless sight. It was a Soul in full flight, for everyone to observe as the all-encompassing testimony of their own Soul purpose.

Allan Taylor. author Luanshya musings

 

 

Unconditional love

Refractions of inner light – unconditional love

Unconditional: the state of cause and effect whereby a happening is neither affected by the past nor the future. It has escaped the threads of time-bound reasons for its being. Anything unconditional is in the state of the ‘Now’, a free zone in time, the only place where magic and miracles take place.

Unconditional love is a heartfelt expression of the miracle of oneness, a reunification of the mind and the body with the Soul. It is God’s greatest gift to man. It is his greatest miracle, the only miracle – the rest are repeated reflections of the original light of true love.

Allan Taylor Author of Luanshya musings – a boyish peek at an earth traveller’ Soul in full flight

 

An overbearing darkness

Evening going-homes as a small and only child, on the back seat of a fifties British Austin car, were frightening.

The n’anga’s, witchdoctor’s, drums were calling, they were always calling … I couldn’t hear them … they tapped a call of anxious urgency in my veins and on my mind. Happily relaxed after sundowners at the club, my parents couldn’t hear them: they weren’t meant to hear them…only I was.  Hugging my knees on the back seat, I tackled them alone in the colour-faded dusk, which turned forest shadows into canyons of fear. My thin frame, in high-waisted grey shorts, black lace-up shoes and three quarter socks pulled up to my little knees was a poor defence against the overbearing spread of spiritual dark that crept up on me on those vulnerable journeys home. ‘No we can’t drive with the interior light on,’ said my father with a slight beer slur of words.

Luanshya musings

Cambridge

Confusing sensuality with spirituality

Because I have the tendency not to want to distinguish between the philosophical, sensual and the spiritual, it is unavoidable that personal philosophies surface within my story: It also seems that emotions and their sensual and supernatural origins are easier for me to recall than the salient facts of my past. In writing this story, my memories hardly seemed to settle before drifting off again, leaving a smudge of philosophical mention between the lines as proof of their brief visit. They did, however, leave a common clue; they were always drawn to the familiar unknown: an enigmatic force which pulled at my awareness of things.

Luanshya musings