Tag Archives: colchester

2016 New Beginnings

Second day of a new year, and I wish all my followers of Liberated Way abundance, health and happiness in 2016.

This blog is retired, but the occasional post like this will appear.

2016 stands before me like a freshly ploughed field, a fresh opportunity to harvest something through choices and deeds that I will feel good about.  People at this time make new year resolutions, often too many, too ambitious and without sufficient motivation to carry them through to completion.  I shall make three resolutions as follows:

mother_tree

This is the Mother Tree of my oak saplings.  It fell in a storm in 2013.  The tree lives on in my memory as a symbol of my dream to find personal happiness, motivation and serenity through my choices and deeds in life. 

1. Planting trees.

I have found homes for my eight oak saplings in their third winter of life. My largest oak sapling “Branwen” shall in the autumn be planted in Stanway in Colchester in a parish council graveyard, whilst its sister oak saplings will head to a wood on the opposite side of Colchester near Greenstead.  My business will fund a tree planting scheme during 2016 in the “Greenstead Wood”, which is now held in a trust so that nobody can sell it if the owner dies.

2. Selling a board game.

After gaining my first orders for an interpretation of a game found in a possible Druid grave in Colchester, and positive support from local archaeologists, residents and media, I will begin marketing the game locally in Colchester.  When I moved seven of my oak saplings to the Greenstead wood, I also took my a game board with me, which we played in that wood.  The game I believe is the same one as the Celtic storytellers call Fidchell or Gwyddbwyll, which means “Wood Wisdom.”

3. Building an artificially intelligent entity.

The film Golden Compass describes a world where people have companion animals called daemons, which are manifestations of their inner selves.  I have a deep desire for my own daemon like those of the Golden Compass, which might be possible through artificial intelligence.  Many frustrations, needs and ideas converge in my desire for daemons, which no doubt will alarm some people with vested interests in the toxic paradigms that infest this world.

  • websites coded and run by daemons.
  • elephants, rhinos and refuges for wildlife watched and protected by daemons.
  • the deaths, injuries and suffering inflicted upon patients in UK hospitals due to negligence and bad administration prevented by daemons who can monitor everything, and run all administrative processes, leaving staff to care for patients.
  • daemons working alongside human counterparts to manage projects.
  • specifically children, a totally loyal daemon that can protect their privacy, security and interests.  The age of corporations such as Google that can snoop on the personal information of individuals would be ended by the daemons.
  • replacing left-brain approaches with right-brain processes to AI.
  • challenging the obsession of developing AI based on humans and animals, with one based upon plants and eco-systems.
  • exploring ideas in nature, philosophy and animism such as the concept of genius loci in AI.
  • changing the rules to focus human society on sustainability (action in harmony with nature); experience (mother of wisdom); senses (mother of knowledge); creativity (right-brain focus); and reason (conclusions based on senses, experience and the common patterns of nature.)
  • wiping out top-down, centralised, command-and-control systems with a decentralised, localised and independent thinking set of systems.

Nothing big you understand, but rather a personal exploration of ideas I have through AI daemons.  To me, the greatest thing I could obtain is happiness, motivation and serenity, which would come to me in abundance from exploring AI daemons, but the implications for human history and society might be profound.

Thinking across time

 An ancient game board helps me think long-term.

Today I observe living creatures benefit from my oak saplings, I would like living things benefit from them hundreds of years after my death.

Today I observe living creatures benefit from my oak saplings, I would like living things benefit from them hundreds of years after my death.

My oak saplings are two years old, the cat and a ladybird in my photos today benefit from their existence.  My dream, many hundreds of years in the future a child will benefit from shelter or play in the oak trees that my oak saplings will become.

My strategy in business and life is like a game, the oak saplings are parts in the greater game I play, actors that play out their parts hundreds of years after my death.  I recently abandoned a plan to situate these oak saplings in Pitchbury Wood in Colchester when the new owners of that wood revealed their stupidity and lack of care for the living things of that wood.  The new owner, like so many in the modern age, pursue short-term goals, turning the wood into a shooting venue, their conversion of the wood already inflicting great damage to the harmony and life of the wood.  Where I finally locate my oak saplings is part of the long game, one that will see those oak saplings thrive and benefit people hundreds of years from now.

I am the inventor of my interpretation of rules for a game board that was dug up by the archaeologists of my town, a Romano-British strategy game.  I think the game is the same one as described by the Celtic bards known as Fidchell or Gwyddbwyll, which means in the Celtic languages “wood wisdom.”  In the Celtic stories the game is one of the Thirteen Treasures of Britain, a game of destiny, a game played by princes, kings and heroes, that also features in the grail quest.  The archaeology suggests my ancestors  buried the game with a druid in Colchester.

This game board was dug up in a possible druids grave.  The people who play this game no are linking to a common thread of connection between their ancestors and their descendents, who may also play this game.

This game board was dug up in a possible druids grave. The people who play this game now are linking to a common thread of connection between their ancestors and their descendents in Colchester, descendents who may also play this game hundreds of years from now.

I feel like the Celtic hero in the story, I have taken something from the Celtic underworld, this game, something magical that links the past to the future, which unleashed for me a rollercoaster of challenges and opportunity, including this Liberated Way blog.  I am the custodian of a game played by my ancestors, the rulers of Colchester and Britain, a magical treasure; a game that I will bring back to life amongst the living, after hiding in the grave of a highly ranked druid of the first acknowledged King of Britain for two thousand years.

Again, I am thinking hundreds of years into the future, how to deploy the game of my ancestors that my descendents generations from now will continue to play in Colchester.  My Celtic ancestors lived outside of time, past, present and future linked in an unbroken living thread.  It is because of this game I no longer think short-term, and why my strategies build bridges between my ancestors and the future descendents in Colchester.

A love of revolutionaries

 Revolutionaries change the world.

This swan was happy to express its revolutionary nature against humanity by attacking a group of canoeists infringing its territory in Colchester.

This swan was happy to express its revolutionary nature against humanity by attacking a group of canoeists infringing its territory in Colchester.

Two thousand years ago a woman called Boudicca became a revolutionary, leading the people of my town of Colchester in a full revolt against the Romans that burned London to the ground.  Over a thousand years later a priest called John Ball, who lived in Colchester, became the spiritual head of another revolt, leading revolutionaries from Essex and Kent on a march on London that nearly brought down the corrupt English king, church and aristocracy.  John Ball led the revolt in relation to an unfair tax called the Poll Tax.  Margaret Thatcher, who at one time lived a few streets away from where I live in Colchester, forgot her history, introduced the Poll Tax again, and the people of Colchester rioted along with most of the British nation, causing her downfall as Prime Minister.

I love revolutionaries, the people who lead movements against injustice.  An inspiration to women everywhere is Joan of Arc a peasant girl in France who against all odds convinced the French that God sent her to help defend the French against the English.  Joan appeared when the French was facing total defeat, with one last city about to fall to the English.  Joan of Arc rallied the demoralised French, showed tactical genius, and defeated the English in battle, setting in motion events that resulted in the French recapturing France from the English.  Captured, Joan of Arc defended herself on her own against a biased judge and jury with eloquent grasp of law and argument getting all but one charge thrown out against her.  The English tricked Joan in her prison cell on a legal technicality that resulted in her being burned to death for wearing male clothes.

The ancient Greek philosopher Heraclitus was a revolutionary: he rejected the Greek gods and superstition; he publicly condemned his own people; he abdicated kingship in favour of philosophy; he attacked Homer, so beloved of the Greek people; he publicly revealed Eleusinian Mysteries, an act that should have had him executed; and right to his death he expressed his opinion the dead is no better than being thrown out as cow dung, covering himself in the same and dying.  Even today, Heraclitus in my opinion is the best of the philosophers in the West of this world, equivalent to Lao-Tzu the founder of Taoism in the East of this world.

Revolutionaries are brave, they lead by example and create new paths of thinking and doing against conformity and opposition, breaking the boundaries of injustice liberating others to follow in their footsteps.  A hundred years ago women in Colchester and other towns took on the establishment in the Suffragette movement against the social and political barriers of their time to win the right of women to vote, and won.

Communities are becoming empowered

There is a revolution against globalism and central control.

Darth Vader outside an Apple store last week in Colchester was a character in a story of an evil centralised empire.  The rise of localism will see the end of central and global authorities,  which will include global brands like Apple, replaced by smaller localised brands.

Darth Vader outside an Apple store last week in Colchester was a character in a story of an evil centralised empire. The rise of localism will see the end of central and global authorities, which will include global brands like Apple, replaced by smaller localised brands.

The United Kingdom of Britain is on the verge of ending; there is panic in the British political establishment; a world revolution is coming; I am excited, as I sense history in the making.

In less than ten days Scotland will vote on independence, a bloodless battle of words and crosses on a piece of paper, a distant memory of tens of thousands of Scottish that died on the bloody battlefields in the name of Scottish Independence.

I support independence for Scotland, but a month ago I thought the vote for independence would fail.  In the last week, in the face of hubris and a patronising fear promoting campaign by the political rulers in London the Scottish Loch Ness monster is awakening, sending the political establishment into a panic.  A set of polls indicate the YES vote for independence is edging ahead of the NO vote.  Such is the panic that the NO vote politicians have called on the British Queen to break her lifelong political neutrality and publicly intervene to retain the Union of Scotland and England; the Queen refused.

If Scotland chooses independence, then Europe and the world will face a major revolution as communities revolt against globalism and central control.

It is a bad time for the current government in Britain as in Clacton, a town near Colchester, a by-election has been called as an anti-European nationalist resigned from the Conservatives and joined the nationalist party UKIP.  The United Kingdom Independence Party (UKIP) is a rising movement that is reflected across Europe that desire their nations to leave the European Union.  UKIP is likely to have their first member voted into Parliament at Clacton.

My town of Colchester in medieval times had special privileges that allowed it to be an equivalent of a self governing city state, even organising its own defence.  Non-Colchester residents in official documents were recorded as “foreigners”, and one had to be a resident to even be a licensed beggar.   I feel an independent Colchester might be a good thing.

Roses and Memorials

A tragic stupid war that should never be forgotten.

I placed a rose down at the Myland War Memorial.  The First World War should never be forgotten.

I placed a rose down at the Myland War Memorial in Colchester. The First World War should never be forgotten.

In 1909 my town of Colchester declared its own holiday as everyone indulged in a pageant celebrating the history and stories of the town.  One of the young pageant performers was Jack Clarke aged 14 who I randomly selected as a subject of research into his historical era.  Jack and the pageant was a small part of a society ended by war.  Jack died in the First World War.  An attempt to hold a pageant in 2009 failed for lack of community interest and money, a far cry from a hundred years before.

It was for people like Jack Clarke that I yesterday purchased dark red roses, something living yet temporary and fragile like the lives so easily extinguished by machine gun and explosive shell.  Colchester has many memorials to the fallen, I visited seven of them, placing one rose at each of the memorials.

There was no ceremony or words as I placed each rose at each memorial, I let action speak for me.  I placed a rose in the Colchester Town Hall war memorial, the building where the elected rulers of Colchester make their decisions.

I walked a few miles to Myland which has a war memorial opposite a church.  A bunch of flowers was already placed at this monument, ribbons trailing down the edges of the memorial.  I placed my one rose upon the memorial.  I sat a while at a nearby bench.  It was tranquil. The church clock struck twelve midday, I had no watch and I left my cellphone at home, I wanted to step out of time for a while.  I notice the names on the memorial: four Wheelers; three Munsons;  many names repeated; many families of this parish were hit hard by this war.  An elderly woman came, placed her flowers on the monument.  I said how stupid this war was, she nodded.  A dozen laughing children walked past, always the hope for a happy bright future.  Each rose I place has a little note attached, my hope that some might read, this war should be remembered.

The day the lamps went out

The hundred year anniversary of the First World War.

Colchester War Memorial of the First World War.

Colchester War Memorial of the First World War.

One hundred years ago today Britain declared war on Germany.  As the airwaves drowned in telegrams of nations declaring war on each other, the lamps of the world said a newspaper had gone out.  Church bells rang throughout Europe, no weddings or celebrations, the harbinger of war, mud and death.

The rulers of the time said the war would be over in weeks, at worst by Christmas.  In my town of Colchester they marched to war, the drums and marching feet echoed in every other town and village in Britain, and across every hamlet in Europe.  Those happy optimistic faces fighting for their king and country, the memorials of their passing stand tall and silent in every corner of Colchester, many of those laughing faces never came back.

The rulers gambled like drunks in a casino, millions of lives like little poker chips on the table.  At the head of the table was Death, his perpetual grin marking the only winner in this game.  The casino always wins, the harvest of dying empires like butchered cattle hanging on meat hooks.

Verdant green grass cover the angry fields of agony; crimson-blood coloured poppies replace the dying men;  the sweet singing sky lark drowns out the explosions and screams amidst a thin wall of time.  All the players in the Greek tragedy of human stupidity are gone, death takes all.

The last ancient soldier who marched and came back home nearly alone.  Today on the hundred year anniversary of war he would hear a British Prime Minister calling for increased military spending, NATO armies deployed to Russian borders.  The soldier might question the sacrifice.  In their casino the rulers gamble; in austerity the Colchester town lights go out again at night; the grinning man smiles.