Today, up on the plateau of the skylark, I walked through the sky. The hills up here are devoid of anything that might identify you as a standalone entity. The only screens and mirrors up here is Nature and the locomotive body. As such, when one is up here Oneness (and not fracturedness) is reflected back. It's all this heather and sameness, not to mention the vastness that holds it all together. Down there in the city - in the torture chamber - it's the opposite. Everything reflects back your distorted self because the scene itself has been distorted. That's what a city is: utter distortion if not utter perversion and utter pollution, the perversion being the natural (uni)version that has been forced through the medium of waste, murder, and rape (of Nature). Thus, in the hills, and with continuous practice, one has visions of the infinite because that's 'who you hang about with'. Conversely, down there in the manky city (and Glasgow is nowhere near as manky as some cities), you don't have visions at all because you cannot see anything except your own distorted and polluted self.
Just a few images from the past week... (Kilpatricks, Campsies, Lochwinnoch). Every week I fill my boots with the infinite, and every weekend I levitate.
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