riches

eyes turned upon me
— friendly, expectant — shall I
give them Art, Science
or Spirituality?
— Whatever I have is yours

What a very weird little poem! By the time I’d got to the point of having only the last line to write, I felt convinced I was going to come up with something ironic, pessimistic, self-deprecating. Some kind of backtracking on the idea that Art, Science and Spirituality were mine to give. But all those options seemed to require too many syllables to express the thought, and what emerged was something much simpler and more positive. Clearly I am still processing Wednesday when I told my story in front of a group of about 20 prison staff from around the capital, during a training provided by Mind in Camden. My dreams were quite long and involved last night, and quite poorly recollected upon waking. There was very much the sense of belonging to a group of people, and trying to play my part as usefully as possible. At one point it became my turn to share my opinion or my point of view, and I stood on a chair to address everyone. I initially wanted to write a poem here about Alfred Hitchcock and try to explore the idea that his films might have a spiritual content. That would have been challenging, although it was an idea lifted more or less verbatim from what I found myself considering within last night’s dream. It’s curious I think that we do turn for spiritual nourishment (spiritual in the broadest sense) to the most strange and unlikely and worldly things.

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