I have lost my Way —
or (if you like) I have lost
my simplicity

Yet another night’s dreaming pervaded by a profound unease, a total dissatisfaction with myself. a feeling as though my entire character is shot through with moral degeneration because of the pornography problem. I feel a little as though, in my life at the moment, I’m grappling with some kind of state of damnation, and would say the poem I’ve written this morning is, in effect, seeking to define damnation as whatever leads away from simplicity of spirit. In my dream, I was dead. I found myself searching for an axe with which to split the boulders which were lying around everywhere. It felt like the whole situation had been set up as some kind of test. Maybe as to how I would survive under stone age conditions. The afterlife seemed, in the later part of the dream, to be something like a cross between a monastery and a mental hospital. There was plenty of opportunity for studying Chinese philosophy and Chinese culture (reflected needless to say, in the capitalised Way, referring to Tao, in the poem), but I felt I ought to be pursuing my own Western tradition. Eventually it transpired that although my 90-year-old father and I had both arrived in the afterlife at the same time, he had been chosen to return to the land of the living, while I had been condemned to remain here in the land of the dead. In that moment, I strongly felt the reality of Divine Judgement, and that I had been found wanting.


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