What’s in a cage?

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What’s in a cage,

and what is a cage?

Are we trapped in a net,

or free?

Are we birds in cages

or enclosed by space?

How big is your cage?

Can you walk across a room?

Are their bars on your window?

Is there no way out.

No bus,

no car?

Are you stuck in your mind?

Many cages exist,

some are visible,

some are in your mind…

 

How do I know what I know?

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Stuff is in my head. Stuff that I learned at school, or from my parents and family. From books I have read, from things on the TV and radio. From things I have experienced, felt, seen, heard.

The mind is a wonderful thing if it is allowed to learn. An empty vessel waiting for millions of little facts and ideas to inhabit it. General knowledge, science, literature, music, ideas, so much! I know things I didn’t think I know. Except about pop music! That’s what I really don’t know. I don’t claim to be knowledgeable about everything and anything. But I know a bit about quite a lot. But then am I a jack of all trades and master of none. You can see my grammar is not brilliant, I can’t do complex maths or calculus, but I know they exist…

The mind should be kind, I think. To be flexible and fluid. To try and understand other peoples minds and ideas. To care about things around you.

The mind can be beautiful. You have to try and make it that way.

We do not see ourselves

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We don’t see ourselves as others see us. Mother, father, sister, brother, everybody has an opinion of you, but no one can know what’s in your heart.

Imagine a world of telepathy where everyone can read your mind at will. They can see your triumphs and tragedies from your perspective. But most people’s minds probably don’t have clear concise thoughts. If their mind is anything like mine it can be full of confidence at one minute and then dispair the next. You don’t get a blueprint when you are born of how to think. We all need to cut each other a little slack sometimes.

In my friends garden

I took these photos in a friend’s garden 6 years ago (they came up on my Facebook feed) I am a nut about colour and some of these just zing!

I think I used a little digital camera with no added features to take these. I was just amazed how the reds and oranges stood out in the green.

I wish I could time travel back to those simpler times. But time flies, tempus fugit, and before you know it you are 6 years older and perhaps not wiser!

But in the meantime I’m going to enjoy browsing through these again…

Cheers x

Names?

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A name just came spiralling out if nowhere into my head…Archibald Cotton…

I dont think I have ever met anyone by that name, but it sounds friendly. I imagine him as a Victorian pottery worker. Stuck in a hot bottle kiln, walking up and down ladders with boards balanced on his head. The boards would have saggars filled with pots on them. Men would carry  heavy boards up into the kiln to load it. The saggers were pottery boxes that had  ware (pottery) put into them, to protect the pottery from the intense heat and smoke from the firing.

I imagine Archibald working as a child or older youth as a sagger makers bottom knocker. If I remember rightly they put the bottoms on the saggars, one of the lowest paid jobs in the pottery industry.

Archibald would have progressed to one of the other jobs in the potbank as he got older. Maybe a fettler, a sponger, lithographer, warehouse man. Maybe he left the potteries and became a miner, or worked on the railways or in the shelton steel works

When I remember the Stoke-on-Trent I came to live in a few decades ago, I think of the old empty pot banks, warehouses, derelict buildings. An industrial archeologists dream. Archibald might have done archaeology…a fitting name for that profession. He might have investigated the ruins of the 13 th century Hulton Abbey, in Abbey Hulton.

Perhaps this name conjured from my imagination really existed. I wonder if I would have liked to have met him?