This is the final article in the series inspired by Joyce Collin-Smith’s autobiographical work Call No Man Master (1988).
In this book she describes her 50-year search for a genuine guru, a real spiritual master. She didn’t find one, but she encountered many unusual people of various religions and disciplines and learned a lot along the way.
This article highlights some remaining material of particular interest. There is a little more to say about cults and the damage that they do to their members, about the Maharishi Yogi and about the feeling of being alien to this world.
As I have described in one of the basic cult articles, anyone who gets involved with one is in danger of being left stranded. They may also have been encouraged to burn their bridges behind them, which gets them into double trouble.
There are some examples of this in Call No Man Master.
The summaries of what Joyce Collin-Smith tells us speak for themselves.
Tuesday, 19 November 2019
Wednesday, 13 November 2019
Joyce Collin-Smith: imagination, alienation, and an imaginary friend
Novelist and journalist Joyce Collin-Smith’s autobiographical work Call No Man Master has inspired many articles to date, and there is still a little more miscellaneous material of particular interest to come.
This article covers some of the attributes that Joyce Collin-Smith had in common with other writers mentioned on here.
The article about Stella Benson’s imagination and the one about her imaginary friends spell out what life is like for someone who is very good with words, has a very vivid imagination and feels alienated from the real world.
Joyce Collin-Smith is another example of such people.
Joyce Collin-Smith’s childhood
There are some very familiar elements here.
Joyce Collin-Smith tells us that she was a thin, ailing, solitary, excessively shy and nervous child. Fearing rebuffs or incomprehension if she voiced her thoughts, she busied herself with private activities, including writing or imagining stories.
This article covers some of the attributes that Joyce Collin-Smith had in common with other writers mentioned on here.
The article about Stella Benson’s imagination and the one about her imaginary friends spell out what life is like for someone who is very good with words, has a very vivid imagination and feels alienated from the real world.
Joyce Collin-Smith is another example of such people.
Joyce Collin-Smith’s childhood
There are some very familiar elements here.
Joyce Collin-Smith tells us that she was a thin, ailing, solitary, excessively shy and nervous child. Fearing rebuffs or incomprehension if she voiced her thoughts, she busied herself with private activities, including writing or imagining stories.
Wednesday, 6 November 2019
L. M. Montgomery on Rudyard Kipling and writing to order
It came as no great surprise to learn recently that L. M. Montgomery was familiar with the works of Rudyard Kipling: as mentioned in previous articles, she was a great reader.
What was unexpected was that she singled out Kipling’s Barrack Room Ballads for special praise - perhaps this was because she was given the poems as a Christmas present.
Her actual words about the poems surprised me too:
“They are capital — full of virile strength and life. They thrill and pulsate and burn, they carry you along in their rush and swing, till you forget your own petty interests and cares, and burst out into a broader soul-world and gain a much clearer realization of all the myriad forms of life that are beating around your own little one. And this is good for a person even if one does slip back afterwards into the narrow bounds of one’s own life. We can never be quite so narrow again.”
From The Complete Journals of L. M. Montgomery: The PEI Years, 1900-1911
I certainly know what it is like to be thrilled and taken out of myself and swept into another, wider, world by certain poems, Rudyard Kipling’s in particular, but the Barrack Room Ballads are not among them. They have on the whole a negative effect.
This enthusiasm was so surprising that I went to Project Gutenberg to refresh my memory of the Ballads in the hope of understanding why L. M. Montgomery felt this way about them.
What was unexpected was that she singled out Kipling’s Barrack Room Ballads for special praise - perhaps this was because she was given the poems as a Christmas present.
Her actual words about the poems surprised me too:
“They are capital — full of virile strength and life. They thrill and pulsate and burn, they carry you along in their rush and swing, till you forget your own petty interests and cares, and burst out into a broader soul-world and gain a much clearer realization of all the myriad forms of life that are beating around your own little one. And this is good for a person even if one does slip back afterwards into the narrow bounds of one’s own life. We can never be quite so narrow again.”
From The Complete Journals of L. M. Montgomery: The PEI Years, 1900-1911
I certainly know what it is like to be thrilled and taken out of myself and swept into another, wider, world by certain poems, Rudyard Kipling’s in particular, but the Barrack Room Ballads are not among them. They have on the whole a negative effect.
This enthusiasm was so surprising that I went to Project Gutenberg to refresh my memory of the Ballads in the hope of understanding why L. M. Montgomery felt this way about them.
Thursday, 24 October 2019
L. M. Montgomery on the value of words
I knew almost nothing about L. M. Montgomery at the time I produced the article about the value of words. I had always assumed that there would be very little of interest and relevance to this blog in her life and works. I couldn’t have been more wrong!
I eventually got around to reading some of her books and letters, and found a lot to comment on.
She wrote a letter in which she says much the same as I did about the lack of respect for words; it supports what she said in another letter about talking to non-creative people:
"I’ve done a lot of "gadding" this summer, and it was really a horrible waste of time because there was no pleasure in it. Had there been, I’d have considered it a very wise use of time. I had to go out to tea and attend garden parties galore and I was generally bored to death, especially when people thought themselves bound to say something about my book. They all say practically the same thing and I say the same thing in reply and I’m tired of it. Then I talked gossip and made poor jokes and altogether wished I were home in my den with a book or a pen.”
Many other creative people feel the same way, and have, quite independently, said as much.
I eventually got around to reading some of her books and letters, and found a lot to comment on.
She wrote a letter in which she says much the same as I did about the lack of respect for words; it supports what she said in another letter about talking to non-creative people:
"I’ve done a lot of "gadding" this summer, and it was really a horrible waste of time because there was no pleasure in it. Had there been, I’d have considered it a very wise use of time. I had to go out to tea and attend garden parties galore and I was generally bored to death, especially when people thought themselves bound to say something about my book. They all say practically the same thing and I say the same thing in reply and I’m tired of it. Then I talked gossip and made poor jokes and altogether wished I were home in my den with a book or a pen.”
Many other creative people feel the same way, and have, quite independently, said as much.
It is better to be alone than with incompatible people.
Reading, writing and learning are much more rewarding and make better use of one’s time than listening to platitudes and unoriginal drivel and spending time with people who never think about what they are saying and have no respect for the English language.
There is little point in just going through the motions of interacting with such people if there are no benefits at all. It is like asking for bread and being given a stone.
Reading, writing and learning are much more rewarding and make better use of one’s time than listening to platitudes and unoriginal drivel and spending time with people who never think about what they are saying and have no respect for the English language.
There is little point in just going through the motions of interacting with such people if there are no benefits at all. It is like asking for bread and being given a stone.
Friday, 11 October 2019
Napoleon Bonaparte and the crumbs of hope
Napoleon Bonaparte must be one of the most written-about people on the planet. However, although he got a brief mention in an article about Benjamin Disraeli, who was a great admirer of his, I would not have expected that he would ever be the subject of an article on here.
I was reading about Napoleon recently, and I unexpectedly came across some material of interest.
I was surprised to learn that after his final defeat, Napoleon had wanted to come and live in the UK. In exile, he even learned some ‘Englich’ in preparation for the life that he still hoped to have.
He pinned his hopes on various members of the royal family in turn, only to be disappointed. He may even have lost the will to live when he realised that he would never return to Europe.
I never thought that I would have anything at all in common with Napoleon, but there are some familiar elements in a few of his letters. I know what it is like to live for some years on crumbs of hope, clutching at straws and desperately casting around for possibilities in the form of anything or anyone that might help to provide a way out of an unacceptable situation.
Wishful thinking predominates, and ‘what if’ and ‘if only’ become major preoccupations.
Living in such suspense is very painful; it is even worse when the last crumb of hope disappears.
Hope, the loss of hope and the absence of hope are major unseen influences in some people’s lives.
I was reading about Napoleon recently, and I unexpectedly came across some material of interest.
I was surprised to learn that after his final defeat, Napoleon had wanted to come and live in the UK. In exile, he even learned some ‘Englich’ in preparation for the life that he still hoped to have.
He pinned his hopes on various members of the royal family in turn, only to be disappointed. He may even have lost the will to live when he realised that he would never return to Europe.
I never thought that I would have anything at all in common with Napoleon, but there are some familiar elements in a few of his letters. I know what it is like to live for some years on crumbs of hope, clutching at straws and desperately casting around for possibilities in the form of anything or anyone that might help to provide a way out of an unacceptable situation.
Wishful thinking predominates, and ‘what if’ and ‘if only’ become major preoccupations.
Living in such suspense is very painful; it is even worse when the last crumb of hope disappears.
Hope, the loss of hope and the absence of hope are major unseen influences in some people’s lives.
Friday, 4 October 2019
Violet Needham, Pandora, and Mr Papadopoulis
Violet Needham wrote some high-quality books for children. They were published between the years 1939 and 1957.
Apart from a brief mention in the article about Anthony Hope, whose fictional country Ruritania may well have inspired her fictional Empire and surrounding countries, Violet Needham has not previously been featured on here.
Some of her books, the Stormy Petrel stories in particular, are full of exciting and romantic adventures in glamorous settings and some even have supernatural elements, but most of them are not relevant to this blog.
While working on articles about John Buchan's books, I was reminded of some characters and scenes from one of Violet Needham’s books. I decided to take another look at Pandora of Parrham Royal (1951), which I last read many years ago.
I bought a copy online and renewed my acquaintance with the material that I vaguely remembered. In the light of what I have since learned about unseen influences, parts of the book seem much more significant now than they did when I first read it.
Pandora of Parrham Royal may not be one of Violet Needham’s best books when it comes to the characters and storyline - I much prefer the Stormy Petrel series - but it has inspired an article because it has some elements in common with John Buchan's books and it provides yet another example of someone who uses occult powers to get what they want.
Apart from a brief mention in the article about Anthony Hope, whose fictional country Ruritania may well have inspired her fictional Empire and surrounding countries, Violet Needham has not previously been featured on here.
Some of her books, the Stormy Petrel stories in particular, are full of exciting and romantic adventures in glamorous settings and some even have supernatural elements, but most of them are not relevant to this blog.
While working on articles about John Buchan's books, I was reminded of some characters and scenes from one of Violet Needham’s books. I decided to take another look at Pandora of Parrham Royal (1951), which I last read many years ago.
I bought a copy online and renewed my acquaintance with the material that I vaguely remembered. In the light of what I have since learned about unseen influences, parts of the book seem much more significant now than they did when I first read it.
Pandora of Parrham Royal may not be one of Violet Needham’s best books when it comes to the characters and storyline - I much prefer the Stormy Petrel series - but it has inspired an article because it has some elements in common with John Buchan's books and it provides yet another example of someone who uses occult powers to get what they want.
Much of the plot and most of the characters in Pandora of Parrham Royal are not relevant to this article.
The main character of interest is called Themistocles Papadopoulis.
He has attributes in common with some really horrible black magicians who have been featured on here, although, unlike Stella Gibbons’s occultist Esmé Scarron and Robin Jarvis’s appalling warlock Nathaniel Crozier, he is not really evil nor is he involved with black magic as such.
About Mr Papadopoulis
Mr Papadopoulis has a touch of the typical Luciferian hero/villain about him. He is a man of mystery. He has dark hair and melancholy black eyes that sometimes smoulder with passion; he sometimes gives an impression of great power and arrogance; he is magnetic and charming; he smiles ironically and has a compelling gaze; he also hypnotises people. He makes people like him whether they want to or not.
The main character of interest is called Themistocles Papadopoulis.
He has attributes in common with some really horrible black magicians who have been featured on here, although, unlike Stella Gibbons’s occultist Esmé Scarron and Robin Jarvis’s appalling warlock Nathaniel Crozier, he is not really evil nor is he involved with black magic as such.
About Mr Papadopoulis
Mr Papadopoulis has a touch of the typical Luciferian hero/villain about him. He is a man of mystery. He has dark hair and melancholy black eyes that sometimes smoulder with passion; he sometimes gives an impression of great power and arrogance; he is magnetic and charming; he smiles ironically and has a compelling gaze; he also hypnotises people. He makes people like him whether they want to or not.
Thursday, 26 September 2019
More magic and witch wisdom from Terry Pratchett
Terry Pratchett’s comic fantasy novels about the Discworld are a goldmine when it comes to definitions of and ideas about magic and witches.
The points he makes and the warnings he gives have a much wider application than just to his imaginary world and characters.
What he says is not always what some people expect or want to hear, but it is all worth considering and putting to the test.
Material from his books has appeared in several articles, and I have found a few more wise words to quote.
Using magic
Miss Tick gives more lessons to the young witch Tiffany Aching:
“’But can’t you use a keeping-warm spell?’ said Tiffany.
‘I could. But a witch doesn’t do that sort of thing. Once you use magic to keep yourself warm, then you’ll start using it for other things.’
‘But isn’t that what a witch is supposed to--‘ Tiffany began.
‘Once you learn about magic, I mean really learn about magic, learn everything you can learn about magic, then you’ve got the most important lesson still to learn,’ said Miss Tick.
‘What’s that?’
‘Not to use it. Witches don’t use magic unless they really have to. It’s hard work and difficult to control. We do other things.’”
This is not an easy lesson to learn. It may not at first make sense; it may not be acceptable. Despite that, a wise person will take it to heart. The senior witches in Terry Pratchett’s books know what they are talking about.
The points he makes and the warnings he gives have a much wider application than just to his imaginary world and characters.
What he says is not always what some people expect or want to hear, but it is all worth considering and putting to the test.
Material from his books has appeared in several articles, and I have found a few more wise words to quote.
Using magic
Miss Tick gives more lessons to the young witch Tiffany Aching:
“’But can’t you use a keeping-warm spell?’ said Tiffany.
‘I could. But a witch doesn’t do that sort of thing. Once you use magic to keep yourself warm, then you’ll start using it for other things.’
‘But isn’t that what a witch is supposed to--‘ Tiffany began.
‘Once you learn about magic, I mean really learn about magic, learn everything you can learn about magic, then you’ve got the most important lesson still to learn,’ said Miss Tick.
‘What’s that?’
‘Not to use it. Witches don’t use magic unless they really have to. It’s hard work and difficult to control. We do other things.’”
This is not an easy lesson to learn. It may not at first make sense; it may not be acceptable. Despite that, a wise person will take it to heart. The senior witches in Terry Pratchett’s books know what they are talking about.
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