Seemingly Impossible Situations

It is oft stated that the INFJ Myers Briggs personality type is the rarest of them all. Others say that they have a dolphin like radar, and that they rely on their often-accurate intuitions. The Tibetan talks about cultivating, intuition and soular intuition at that.  In general, intuitive types as per MBTI are less common than sensing types. Humanity is evolving and I will make a prediction; the percentage of people testing positive for an intuition preference will increase.

For about eight years I taught high school chemistry and physics privately. For about 30 % of the students, I helped them adapt their intuitive orientation to deeply sensing exam papers. Only one answer allowed and that must match exactly the expected parrot response. A number of times I was shown homework marked as wrong when in fact the answer given was simply better and more comprehensive than the REQUIRED one. My exam grades at school had also suffered from my non parrot status. I said to these high school students, wait a couple of years and your approach will be better!! By year three or four at university you will come into your own. I taught them to mind map instead of list and flash card. I taught them how to build circular revision maps based on themes. They were a bit freaked out when I read what was going on for them and then realised that they were a bit like me, they relaxed, and we had fun. If they needed a good old tangent, off we went, and I guided them back to subject.

I have long held an interest in seemingly impossible situations, the “you can’t have your cake and eat it type”, the catch-22, the conundrum and of course good old Zen koans. “What is the sound of one hand clapping?” Some of these are just plain stupid, others are profound.

I have mentioned that I had some seemingly telepathic conversations with members of the second ray ashrams. How does one view this?

Yes, telepathy is possible and an INFJ might just the sort of weirdo who could do this?

Or one could imagine that I simply did too many mushrooms and weed when I was a student and a consequence, I am deeply delusional.

Or is it simply my glamour, my wish to be important bringing out the inner Walter Mitty in me.

Each of those beliefs has a consequence. Unless you sat down and chewed the fat with me over a period of many weeks or months there is no reliable way of knowing. The Tibetan however suggests that we rely on our intuition. What does your intuition tell you?

The implication of my telepathic conversations with my telepathic friends is that I am an initiate of some degree. So, if you are pooh-poohing my imaginary friends what in effect are you doing?

Are you demonstrating your omniscience or are you demonstrating your dogmatic insistence on being right, oh you marvellous font of all wisdom?  All hail the mighty!

What would be the consequences of believing that I am indeed a high degree initiate, especially given how you are currently behaving?

Now If I am a nutter / Mitty, what are the consequence of that belief. There are not many if it is true, more if not.

What are the consequences of an ex-academic being a nutter / Mitty in his old age?

Way back I did know quite a few proper scientists at pucker universities. I doubt many of them would believe in telepathy unless they had good data. They live in the world of proof. If I  was to say in the absence of theory, there is no such thing as proof. Is that a seemingly impossible situation? Proof is only a human mental construct and is impermanent.

Trouble is you cannot test telepathy with boring geometric cards it does not work like that. There cannot ever be a six-sigma test, sorry! {J, I, D, B, – R, D, J, -M, A, – T, J}

 I like seemingly impossible situations; they can be fun thought experiments.

Parallel Circles

exclusive worlds

our parallel circles

that never converge

nor touch

yet somehow entangled


no leakage of events

or spilling of words

a sensation conjoined

not separated

a tissue of shared karma


thousands of miles

tickled by a butterfly

winging its way

here over the ocean

a kind of magic


please finish it

cut that dangling thread

and let me go

our parallel circles

somehow entangled, entwined


undo that knot


Inside the bubble

Perhaps this has a different meaning now that some encapsulated RNA has caught all our attention.


Looking out

on the madcap


all penguins at the zoo

when the Herrings come


Perceptions flicker

fanned with fear

licking in the flue of time

craving worms

around the nest, chirping hungry


The membrane

stretched tight

to repel random arrows

pressing against it



Serenity abounds

cushioned plastic

far from the world

snug and cosy

quiet and calm


A brief incandescence

brings a flare

shooting distress in the sky

a needless panic

is no panacea


The stress bunnies

multiply like rabbits

in their covens

hoping their feet

will bring luck


Inside the bubble

eyelids heavy

looking out the iris

the reticent retina

counts photons


Out there

in the storm

the ships

batten down

and wait the passing


Inside the bubble

he writes babble

for the shop window

but these days

no one passes


No foot fall

not even a mouse

each word

costs only a cent

here inside the bubble


in that spinning asylum

of explanations

and oh, so justified



 an eccentric grain

cut with the wrong jigsaw

a scandalous anomaly

does not belong


forbidden even to exist

exiled and adrift

it does not look good

shame on a spin


a rogue narrative

who refuses to die

the severed marionette

must not haunt


he is just an illusion

a folly in passing

an itch of a glitch

on the outside edge


not real

not possible





Dorian’s Advocate

“Spieglein, Spieglein, an der Wand

Wer ist die Schönste im ganzen Land?”

In last night’s dream, whilst I am fully conscious, a surgeon disembowels me and washes all my guts under a tap to see that which it is I am made of while I look on.

{This is an old piece written when I was contemplating sense of identity.}

Through the speculum

of a woodland pond

he saw his Doppelgänger

at his shoulder


And asked him to be advocate

on his washing basket life

where The Actuary might count

all his emanations


To judge the burlesque Ersatz

which he showed the world

and not the picture of Dorian,

the one hidden in the attic


In the algebra of life

he balanced equations

knowing that he might

be cancelled or substituted


Beyond the membrane of the mirror

he saw all the ectoplasm

of the caricature of a man

which he had become


And with scalpel sharp

he began to disembowel

before them all

for the Vardøgers to take stock


How he had wanted that

crystal slipper

to fit his feet

but midnight always came too quickly


The Soviet frowned his fancy ways

when even Caravaggio is unwelcome

and the commissar always takes notes

on her jail ringed pad


another vainglorious proem

one last act before epilogue

caught at the very periphery of life

before his Soul’s last egress


What lies beyond the magic mirror

after that apple bite

a slumber party

which lasts centuries?


Now to take a match to Dorian

and at last be rid of

those eyes they haunt him

under every street light


And so through the speculum

of a woodland pond

he saw his Doppelgänger

at his shoulder


And asked him to be advocate

on all the brass rubbings of his life




Vardøger, also known as vardyvle or vardyger, is a spirit predecessor in Scandinavian folklore.

Stories typically include instances that are nearly déjà vu in substance, but in reverse, where a spirit with the subject’s footsteps, voice, scent, or appearance and overall demeanor precedes them in a location or activity, resulting in witnesses believing they’ve seen or heard the actual person before the person physically arrives. This bears a subtle difference from a doppelgänger, with a less sinister connotation. It has been likened to being a phantom double, or form of bilocation. In Finnish folklore, the concept is known as etiäinen.


Vardøgr is a Norwegian word defined as ‘‘premonitory sound or sight of a person before he arrives’’. The word vardøger is probably from Old Norse varðhygi, consisting of the elements vǫrð, “guard, watchman” (akin to “warden”) and hugr, “mind” or “soul”. Originally, vardøger was considered a fylgja, a sort of guardian spirit


Over the last few days or so I have had a feeling of something “incoming”  from off world.  There are two events upcoming there which may trigger this incoming. It is extraordinarily difficult to capture this feeling with words.



Tendrils of fate

Floating in the aether

Start to coalesce

To a single point


A singular dimension

With a potency sublime

Unthinkable, unplanned



At this nexus

This node

A binary


It might

Or might not




A converging

Of divergence


And after that

Nothing will


Be the same


Or a nascence


By reason

And excuse


A pivot

In space-time

A crunch

Or a squib