SHERINGHAM DIARY No 84 - Semantic Understandings

Monday 15th May

Last week was a challenging week, one among many, interspersed with clusters of good days. Painfully poor days in the shop followed what was the Coronation Bank Holiday weekend bonanza. Then an OK Friday and a brilliant Saturday, the best trading day of the year so far. Thus concluding on a high our long stretch of work, where both of us being in the shop part of every day for thirteen days in succession. Hopefully we wont have to do that again for a while. It was unexpectedly more grueling than we had envisaged. 

Though the half days make it easier to manage emotionally, it does mean when you need to be open 6-7 days a week, you never get a full day off or time away from it. I find this means progress on my making becomes fractured and slow. Without some adjustment, this will not be a sustainable working schedule over the high season months June - September.  

Sunday and Monday were our first full days off together for over a fortnight. What a relief it was to just go out, relax and let go to a degree of shop related things. Sunday, a cold damp start. Stopped off at Stiffkey Stores for coffee and a slab of their excellent Peanut Blondie. By the time we reached the Farmers & Makers Market at Raynham Hall it was glorious and warm sunshine. As we'd donned our winter coats, we were over dressed and over heated. The craft fair looked like the sort of thing we might easily do well in. The genuinely artizan rubbed along with the handmade, but sometimes village craft fair level of stallholder, plus a smattering of mass produced stuff being misrepresented as craft. So, no one vets or curates the stalls I expect, they just sell you the pitch and you turn up. Good food area, short on seating, rubbish bins and loos. It was set up inside what would once have been a walled garden, but this makes for an easily self contained trading arena away from the hall.

In my search for apt business names, I sometimes am taken entirely by surprise standing at a road junction waiting to cross a road. A blue estate car pulled up in front of me. It's livery informed me they provided professional mobile foot care and that they were called - Momentoes.

Wednesday 17th May
There is as I speak a rather alarming event going on in London. Its a series of conferences run under the banner of National Conservatism in European capitals. Now no one appears to know how this thing came to be, nor how it turned up here. Its  American Fundamentalist Christian based, and funded by The Edmund Burke Foundation, but what sort of individuals provide that financing would be interesting to know.  But we have former and current members of the Conservative Cabinet falling over themselves to give speeches at it, as if this is all totally legit and above board. There have been some speeches which were frankly barmy and insulting to ones intelligence, which if you stop and give what they are saying any thought whatsoever, you will find simultaneously laugh out loud ludicrous, whilst also being deeply worrying. This seems the beginning of a further raising of the far right's profile and presence in this country. The very far from honourable David Starkey gave a speech on the last day, in some respects this is the sort of party he loves to go to, frothing and angrily fulminating at the mouth.

The Tory party, obviously concerned about its future post the next election, is already sniffing about in this particular trough to see if any of its pig swill will save them from themselves. As a group National Conservatism has already been abbreviated by mischievous elements in social media to The Nat C's, so you can see how this development is being viewed and where it is ultimately pointing. This is where the Conservative Party, like The Republican Party has already in the US, totally loses its brain and all sense of being in touch with sane reality. If this hasn't already happened.  Pritti P and Nadine D, in the same week have been speaking at a newly formed sub group of Tory MP's, The Conservative Democratic Organisation. Roughly speaking its Bring Back Boris on hallucinating steroids. These groups are just the beginning of a scrabble to find a new soul for the Tory Party, and the right and far right wings are making sure they are the first to lay out their stalls.

Another roadside revelation happened whilst I was walking home to the village. Just about to turn the corner into Upper Sheringham itself when a van drove passed me offering - a range of stair lifts, care services and mobility aid products, called  n-able.

Thursday 18th May
At the Coronation Makers Fair we were approached by a guy wanting to set up a regular Makers Market in Sheringham, Initially, once a month on a Wednesday when there is already a traditional, but small market. With ambitions to develop it into being on Saturday or Sunday at a later date. At the moment it is still in the planning stage, but this is quite an exciting development if it happens. There is no idea, as yet, about how much this will cost in site fees. Hubby has also been in touch with the woman who runs the Raynham Makers Market. And we've been booked for future fairs, one in August another in November.

Whilst wandering around the Farmer's & Maker's Market at Raynham Hall, we bought food from a trailer. They were selling 'Buddha' type poke bowls, offering - rice, chickpeas, edamame, mango and red cabbage with delicious chilli flavoured vegan mayo sauces. Very appropriately called - Poke-Nom

Friday 19th May.
At present I don't feel I'm sufficiently on top of the work I'm doing, it is on top of me. I'm always seemingly playing catch up. No sooner do I complete one job I'm back making more of something I made barely a few weeks ago. Larger jobs like furniture upcycles, or mirrors, are not getting a look in at all. Ditto book keeping, website photography etc. My frustration descends into a disinterested apathy. But more concerning is there not being sufficient time for projects that are just for my own enjoyment. I finished last week a shrine project for Our Lady of Walsingham that I've been working on fitfully over the last eighteen months. I'm satisfied with the end result, but the process of getting the thing finished has been more testing to my engagement than enjoyable. Work- Life balance is a bit out of wack, and I don't currently have a way forward in the adjusting of it.

Stupid Politician Opens Mouth Speaks Stupid Idea

Anne Widdecombe still full of practical, patronisingly insensitive suggestions, but totally batshit now, has told hard pressed families not to put cheese in their sandwiches. If you haven't got the money for food don't buy it! You are supposed to just bare with the starvation I suppose. I bet the Cheese Marketing Board, if it still exists is thrilled about that. 

Its the War on Cheese next chaps!  

PEACEFUL PROTEST - Slogan No 4

 Apparently..........

Man
Discovers
Peaceful
Protest
Had
Been
Going
On
In
Garden
Shed

SHOPPING AROUND - A Little Bit O Red

As is always the case with high street retail, there comes the time to hold a Sale. To be rid of all those stock purchasing mistakes, left overs, end of lines and odd hangers on, you are thoroughly sick of the sight of. We have found from experience that in Sheringham, its best to run our Sale in the Spring. Not in January when there is no bugger about. And so after all the kerfuffle of the Coronation weekend, and the Makers Market - which went very well 'thank you kind sir'. we put up our Sale after the second Bank Holiday weekend of May. To run until? Well, to whenever we think its not worth pushing it anymore.

The week after the Coronation was like death warmed up.  All our Bank Holiday visitors scarpered on Monday. Leaving us at the perilous unpredictable mercies of coach parties and the few who'd stayed on because they'd nowt better to do.  I knew the signs were bad on Wednesday as I walked across the car park, on my way to do my afternoon shift. There was a coach parked from Barnsley whose eventual destination was Great Yarmouth, which is the definition of the kiss of death for us. Had they been from  the Home Counties or North Yorkshire heading towards Holkham Hall, we'd have be on the money. As a consequence we had one of our worst days take this year. 

In our Sale was a small decorative glass panel with a wire hanger, made by the same makers as our range of very successful glass cards. Reduced from £6.95 to £3. A bargain you would have thought. A lady and her husband came in to the shop, they spotted the glass hanger. 

'You've not got anymore of these 'ave yuh?

'No, that's the last one'

'Only these are a much better idea than the cards, cos you can hang em up after'

'Well, yes, we thought so. But they weren't as well presented as the cards, so they didn't do very well'

'Oh..... mebe we'll av the cards then'

The husband went out to give them a second look, only to return empty handed.

'Ave just discovered they're made in Wales'

'Yes, they are'

'We like to buy stuff from where we been'

The wife returned to the glass hanger, picked it up and muttered disconsolately

'Pity its not more red though, I like red things, see.' 

She brought it over to the counter and sighed, stroking it gently as it lay there as thought it were an ailing animal on its last legs.

'If only it had just a little bit o red on it......  These ud make really good fridge magnets you know'

'Maybe, as they're transparent you'd have to find a way of fixing the magnet so it didn't show'

'Oh Yeh,..... I suppose so.

Followed by a very long pause, then another deep sigh.

'If only it had a little bit o red on it just here, or somewhere on it.......... I suppose I could buy it for miself '

She gave me three pounds, pushing them towards me with a slightly resentful implication. as if I'd made her buy it. I put the hanger in a paper bag. And she and her husband left, leaving behind a dark cloud of feeling that I and the shop, had somehow failed them in their not unreasonable expectations of us.

PEACEFUL PROTEST - Slogan No 3

 Apparently..........

THE
ONLY
TRUE
PEACEFUL
PROTEST
FALLS
ASLEEP
ON
THE
SOFA

GNOSTIC OPTICS - The Filthy Coat

'Such is the habit,
the filthy coat you've put on,
that is yours, 
for it suffocates you and drags you down
into its cruel self, into the gutter.

Otherwise, through aspiration and seeing
the beauty of Truth and the Good
that dwells in you,
you will come to despise this vile enemy
who plots to destroy you.

It ruins the mind and pollutes the senses
by muddying them with gross materialism,
filling them with disgusting lust
for inane pleasure,
to prevent you from understanding
what you should understand.

And what is worse,
it will stop you from seeing forever
what you should really see.'

Taken from Forgetfulness of God
Translated by Alan Jacobs
Published by Watkins Media Ltd 2006

MY OWN WALKING - May Journal 2023

I recently visited our local Men's Shed in Sheringham, thinking it might be a useful place, for doing something outside of shop related stuff. There is nothing wrong with what they are trying to do, in fact it is quite admirable, but it just wasn't for me. It also threw up a lot of uncomfortable associations I have with being in quite 'blokey' environments. I feel unwelcome, like I'm on the outside of such situations. I think this is a learnt wariness, ' a being gay thing' of not feeling fully accepted here, and hence uncomfortable, in such overtly hetrosexual male contexts. It was a drop in morning workshop session. An extremely well equipped set up where you can take a personal project and make it. In a context of other men doing similar things, and sharing skills. Anyway, in the end this just began to feel like more of the same sort of work I'm doing every day.

This has thrown up questions of what exactly I am looking for with this extracurricular activity?  There is also another issue, with the type of things I tend to be interested in, it may not be easy to find kindred spirits here in such a conventional small town like Sheringham. I may have to face up to that, though I'm not giving up yet. I've experienced a bit of a set back, and I'll have to give this a bit more thought. The Exchange men's group I've started going to I fit into very easily. Though I can feel a bit of a fraud, because any 'issues' that I encounter with myself, can seem minor in comparison to other guys there, many of whom are getting over major addictions and loss. In many ways I am a more resourceful and together person than perhaps I realised. But that could be what I contribute to the group. And 'my issues' well I still need a context like this to talk them through in.

It is interesting to reflect on contexts where I have or have not felt comfortable being openly gay, or been able to just be me unconstrained by labels. Certainly a Buddhist Sangha was one. I didn't need to define myself in any way there. Which explains why I clung on to the idea of Sangha, even after I left Triratna, making a subsequent search for a new Sangha to join. Which, though understandable, was some what futile. I guess we all need some place we feel we belong to. For some its in there national identity, for others their church, even in more secular contexts like politics, sports clubs, choirs or pubs and clubs. We seek out contexts to commune in, mostly based on a shared interest or enthusiasm. Its a context within which to relate ourselves to others, and vice versa.

In a socially conservative area like North Ñorfolk it can be hard to judge quite how open one can be about who you are. I find I am not always comfortable to refer in the shop to 'my husband', sometimes using 'my partner' because it feels safer to hide behind its ambiguity. The need to self censor in this way makes it harder for me to relax into being fully me. I think we'd both be quite surprised how well we are known in the village - 'the boys' And for them that level of knowing is fine. But whether or not I am going to be courageous and open in a context, depends upon how well I read the room, so to speak.

But there are other ways in which we all self censor our openness. When one encounters someone mouthing off their political or moral opinions for instance. Do you open your mouth to challenge or correct them? Or do you chose to divert or ignore the conversation, or move entirely away from the offending individual? We partly do such things out of cowardice, from fear of provoking anger, antagonism or violence, or simply wishing to keep the peace, not to publicly rock the boat. Never to mention your difficulty parking in town ever again in their presence. Even within our own families there can be no go areas. Freedom of speech, paradoxically can also mean the freedom not to speak, to withhold your opinion. To judge when or when not to speak. When you feel you are being bullied or deliberately provoked into making a response. Or its not the right time to tell so and so your opinion about them, their decision, or their behaviour. There is a need to be appropriate and timely.

WATCHED - The Worst of Eurovision 2023

This year there have been teenagers and man child's performing and you would be hard put to tell the difference. Their vocal prowess often severely limited in range. Some can really only bellow from the top of their larynx and are utterly lost to an asthmatic whisper with anything requiring greater subtlety or sensitivity. It is worthy of note that these are all gentlemen, with somewhat enfeebled singing voices and presences.

DENMARK - Reilly

You would never guess this guy was twenty five years old,  knock ten years off and call him a 'twink'. If 'he' is indeed the preferred pronoun here. Like the song itself, there is a degree of ambiguity surrounding Reilly. But for all his moving around and through the stage set, lying prone on the floor appears to be a preferred singing position. Either he couldn't firmly hit the right notes, or the tune itself was actually so intrinsically vague and elusive you have to assiduously hunt it down. There was only the merest suggestion of a melody being wafting through his vocal chords. I waited and waited for something to catch my ear, a hook line or a beautiful ascension of notes. But nothing happened. This was just as pink gem splattered aural void.

GREECE - Victor Vernicos

Now this young chap was indeed sixteen at the moment of this his first musical offence. But no one has yet arrested him for it. But boy does he need to return to drama school and learn how to sell a song. Here he is dressed in kakhi coloured gym wear, bobbing up and down repeatedly, or jumping in the air, as though someone has taken his trampoline away. Poor lad doesn't know quite what else to do. The boy either cannot hold a note, is under rehearsed, or doesn't know the song at all. There is, of course, the outside possibility that there actually is no song to be learnt. Poor Victor having to resort to coughs, whines and muttering phrases under his breath. Hoping to get to the end of this nightmare without anyone clocking that they had only a phantom song all along..

SERBIA - Luke Black

And so we go from underselling to overselling. Performances far far too high in concept and far far too low in song quality, are no strangers to Eurovision. Quite what this one was about I could not fathom. The least they could do was to make it obvious, you would have thought.  It is however presented with such great solemnity and an implication of a profound, if not revelatory, meaning. Here is Luke in his new romantic blouse without a shred of a tongue in cheek, lying on a loosely formed white dental palate. Surrounded by a gaggle of subhumans with no facial features who pull and writhe in torment until Luke relieves them of their vacuum cleaner pipes. Portentous? No, say not so!

WATCHED - Eurovision 2023

The BBC's presentation skills on this show, in this year, are so finely attuned. Ensuring that it is both located in the UK but reflects the Ukraine through it, and the country of each entrant. Not an easy thing to do at all. The three presenters Alisha Dixon, Laura Pausini and Hannah Waddingham are extremely competent and fluent, they don't fall into the usual stilted Euro tropes, badly timed jokes etc. So everything runs smoothly, but with maximum theatricality. No cringing. Oh except for when Alisha Dixon did a rap. That was truly awful. No person with a bow on her dress that size should ever rap, its just inappropriate.

A bit of a fashion this year for either lying on the floor singing to the lighting rig, or directing your vocals bent over as though vomiting, screaming and bellowing to the stage floor, or doing thrusting dance breaks squirming erotically all over the floor like a floundering koi carp. Beyonce really should get this sort of thing copyrighted The staging though unfailingly dramatic, does not distract from the songs which are quite noticeably weaker this year. Some of them are mere whisps, so softly sketched you can hardly discern a tune Denmark. Others have a quite contrived outrageously bonkers style to them that it quite diverts your attention away from the feeble nature of the song.  Serbia and Croatia being the best/worst example. Some songs are simply lazily written and performed so feebly you come away feeling angry and despairing - step forward Greece. Some appear to think they are writing a mini operetta with many abrupt changes in tempo - Armenia. 

Every year you look out for the out and out banger or something so bonkers you just instantly love them. But this years entrants are relatively tame. Songs, real songs, are in very short supply. But anyway here, nonetheless, are my favourites in no particular order.

FINLAND - Cha Cha Cha

There is at the beginning of this song a huge sense of something menacing being unleashed. It has the simplest catchy verse of the contest - Cha Cha Cha Cha Cha Cha. He gives it all great gusto. The song is, however, inherently weakened by its structure. It builds up very nicely, then two thirds of the way through it changes tone entirely. When normally you would step it up a gear to something louder, crazier or even more magnificent, it turns the dial right down to Eurovision Gooning Normal. Unsurprisingly struggling to regain the momentum thereafter. 

SWEDEN - Tattoo

You have to hand it to Loreen she has probably the best vocal chops on show in the entire competition. Given a song like Tattoo she extracts every ounce of drama possible out of it. Accentuated by the compressed nature of the staging. She is, however, blessed with a well written song, unlike some we could, and have already, mentioned. Currently the bookies favourite, there is a bit of traction developing behind making this her second Eurovision win. Having won with Euphoria in 2012. Also there is a distinct shortage this year in the histrionic power ballad arena.

ISRAEL - Unicorn

Very slickly performed, this sort of corners the Dua Lipa end of the market. The chorus reminds me of The Spice Girls for some reason. She also does a dance break where she writhes with great pelvic floor gusto all over the stage. I mean really, does she have to? This is all Spain's Chanel's fault who did a much better, and hence, storming dance floor routine in the 2022 final.

AUSTRIA - Who The Hell Is Edgar?

A song about being inhabited by the ghostly spirit of Edgar Allen Poe. Catchy repetition of Poe Poe Poe. Its really about the paltry payment rates for music streaming. In a crowded market this competes well for the most off beat witty song of the competition. Not quite the clincher though. It loses its mojo, and doesn't quite know how to conclude its premise by the end.

BELGIUM - Because of You

In the straightforwardly camp department this fits the bill. We have Gustaph dressed in white jacket and voluminous pink shorts with an out sized white hat. A conventional dance tune, his voice is a bit like Mick Hucknall crossbred with Sam Smith, he has great backing singers and a pet trans dancer called Pussy. 

Runners up who - Failed To Qualify

MALTA - Dance ( Our Own Party ) 
Otherwise known by the sillier alternative title - I Feel Better In My Sweater. Probably suffered from utilising an old Euro trope, one already used by Moldova twice over in previous competitions - the catchy saxophone break. Inexplicably changing to glittery sweaters half way through brought them no extra devotees.

GEORGIA - Echo 
Dramatic staging and probably one of the most adventurous musical arrangement of the competition. Unfortunately won not enough fans. At least she wasn't trying to channel Beyonce. 

PEACEFUL PROTEST - Slogan No 2

 Apparently............

THE
ONLY
TRUE
PEACEFUL 
PROTEST
NEVER
GETS
OFF
THE
TRAIN

CAVE NOTES - To The Very Limits Of Suffering

'God is the trauma itself'

You're going to have to explain that one. What do you mean by 'God is the trauma itself'?:

That grief can be seen as a kind of exalted state where the person who is grieving is the closest they will ever be to the fundamental essence of things. Because, in grief, you become deeply acquainted with the idea of human mortality. You go to a very dark place and experience the extremities of your own pain - you are taken to the very limits of suffering.as far as I can see, there is a transformative aspect to this place of suffering. We are essentially altered or remade by it.

Now this process is terrifying, but in time you return to the world with some kind of knowledge that has something to do with our vulnerability as participants in this human drama.Everything is so fragile and precious and heightened, and the world and the people in it seem so endangered, and yet so beautiful.

To me it feels that, in this dark place, the idea of a God feels more present or maybe more essential. It actually feels like grief and God are somehow intertwined. It feels that, in grief, you draw closer to the veil that separates this world from the next. I allow myself to believe such things, because it is good for me to do so.'

Taken from Faith, Hope and Carnage
a series of conversations between Nick Cave & Sean O'Hagan
Published by Canongate 2022 

 

FINISHED READING - 1000 Years of Joys & Sorrows by Ai Weiwei

Two remarkable lives are bound together in this book, two different artists from different eras, but the same family  Who both suffer at the autocratic hands of the Chinese Communist Party.  Ai Qing, was Ai Weiwei's Father, an internationally renowned poet, whose political opinions would mean the CCP would stop him from being able to write, and be published. Then to be sent into exiled isolation, with his family barely eeking out a living in a hovel dug into the earth. Accused by Mao Zedong of being a rightist he became a non person. Ai Weiwei can remember the cost, the sight of his own Father being prevented by his Mother from taking his own life. In many ways this half remembered biography of his Father is more deeply affecting because it is seen from one remove. For though Ai Weiwei was occasionally present in this story, much of his Father's life has been researched. It comes second hand. Ai Weiwei admits there was an emotional distance between himself and his Father, and this is certainly communicated in the recollection of it.

The second half of the book is Ai Weiwei's autobiography. His own lived experience of the devious machinations of the CCP. It therefore bares a different emotíonal signature, because it is more deeply rooted in his experience. Recounting the repeated attempts to silence him, and the infamous eighty one days under arrest. He tells you all that led up to it, that time under arrest and its aftermath. The affect it had on his family. His son Ai Lao turning out to be preternaturally sage like in his utterances. 

Ai Weiwei does comes across as quite a tough cookie, very persistent, and really astutely nimble in his responses to tricks in his interrogator's questioning. Sharply aware of the consequences in saying or not saying, in agreeing leading to the wrong thing. But then he has incredible integrity, courageously brave in his artistic practice, with his online campaigns to highlight the hypocrisies, corruptions and various oppressions of the communist governmernt. His compassion for others is also hugely admirable, coming across as a quite ordinary, relatable figure. A fascinating, often horrifying, yet salutory book to read. As we too appear incrementally to be heading in a similar authoritarian direction.

CARROT REVIEW  - 7/8

 

SHERINGHAM DIARY No 83 - A Decorative Companion.

I had Elon Musk down as the one man in the world who'd insist on calling a spade a spade, but no, he does employ spin doctors. So the complete destruction of his SpaceX Spaceship rocket, in a catastrophic explosion, gets described as - A rapid unscheduled disassembly.

So, someone in Liberty's product development department came up with the idea of this pocket mouse. A 'head turning home addition'. Probably shocked themselves at their own asking price of £85 Liberty sent it to a copywriter with a note to really do a number on it to make the price seem eminently reasonable. So the firming sawdust stuffing becomes a 'shredded pine wood interior'. Just imagine how it will transform your life, enhancing your 'lack lustre living spaces' or best of all becoming your 'decorative companion'. With its 'patina that grows and evolves over time'. I mean, everything ages? I have a wonderful mottled patina. We laugh, but this is utterly ridiculously nonsense.

I'm currently half way through Ai Weiwei's autobiography ( 1000 Years of Joys and Sorrows ) which is a pretty grim representation of what an unrestrained authoritarian government can act like. It does have its lighter moments. After ten years in USA he returns to China and begins organising provocative exhibitions of highly unconventional Chinese artists, including himself. One such exhibition he calls  FUCK OFF! which was translated into Chinese as - Uncooperative Attitude.

Apparently, though I have not viewed this for myself yet, there is a new game show on ITV called In With A Shout, whose premise is so simple minded one wonders which boy genius came up with it. They show you pictures of things and you have to name them. That's a K for carrot.

Mostly we are still doing half days between us to minimise the stress of the shop. We are on day seven of a thirteen day stretch of working everyday part of the day. With two bank holidays in this period, one being the Coronation weekend. In the middle of this we are also doing an Artisan Market in Sheringham as part of the town marking the crowning of Chas3 & The QC.

Setting up a craft stall and running a shop alongside it, makes for a very full day.  It's not without its unpredictable aspects, one being the weather. In this case it also raises concerns over how many folk will turn out. Personally I'm tired, my back has been bad all week,  I've also been having a poor run of sleep, a combination never good for my mental states. I become emotionally tired of making all this effort. Two days off together with Hubby are actually a precious resource that helps keep both of us sane. So this Sunday morning, is marking the rough halfway point in this extended period of work stretch, and, well, my resilience is wobbling more than usual.

In the end it did prove well worth the effort, concluding a week of our best takings this year,so far. But boy has it been full on. Lots of pre planning is required for a stall, making sure we have enough stock, cash for a till, signage etc. Then on the day, off early enough to pack the car, go to the shop to fetch stock for the craft stall, take this to the fair site, unpack it all, erect the gazebo, the tables, the stock, then merchandise. I return to the shop, open up and spend the first hour moving the remaining stock around so it doesn't look gappy or empty. There then follows a full day in the shop or on the stall. The day concludes with all of this in reverse. By the time we get home we've been full on busy for a solid nine hours plus. A Chinese takeaway for tea, sit down, exhausti-pooped. Went to bed early, woke up wired during the night.

QUESTION - When is a peaceful protest not a peaceful protest? No placards? No Shouting of slogans? No inconveniencing of anyone?  Apparently now it is simply to turn up for one.

PEACEFUL PROTEST - Slogan No 1

Apparently..........

THE
ONLY
TRUE
PEACEFUL
PROTEST
IS AN
INVISIBLE
ONE

                       

GNOSTIC OPTICS - Feed The Famished

'Feed the famished,
grant peace to the fatigued,
raise up all who wish to arise,
awaken all who wish to awaken.'

Taken from The Gospel of Truth
Translator by Alan Jacobs
Published by Watkins Media Ltd 2006