The Earth is a garden. But if God cannot tend it, then we must. There's a Larch at the bottom of my garden. Except that I don't have a garden. But anyway, it's out there. It looks like a lyre, or some kind of a cock-eyed angel with its wings raised. I put food out for the birds, who gather in its branches, twittering and scattering about, all chaotic activity, squabbling amongst themselves. There's a number of Magpies who visit it regularly, and a Blackbird or two who fix you with malevolent glances. And a Robin. Jolly Robin.
Do you know that you can train Robins? They're the least fearful of all the wild birds. Leave food regularly in a trail to your window. Eventually it will wait on the sill. And then you can open the window and lead the trail indoors. Be patient. In the end it will eat from your hand and shit on your carpet.
"Jolly Robin in the wood. Waiting for the gift of food..."
I spend alot of time looking out at that tree. I do a lot of thinking. Sometimes I think about Time. I think of all the time that is gone. All those countless hours, what were they for? And all those days and months and years. All those centuries. All those Eons. An immensity of time. An ocean. We think we can count time. But how do you count an ocean?Do you know that there are dinosaurs still on the Earth? They were not reptiles, they were something else. When the cataclysm came and ripped out the belly of the Earth and with it all those lumbering monsters, the little dinosaurs grew wings and became birds. Little twittering things, living time on another lifescale. Echoes of the past. Ripples in Time's ocean.I think about reincarnation too. Not that I remember any of my past lives. Somehow I can't imagine that I was ever a Pharoah or a Buccaneer, or any of those other things. I expect I've always been as I am now, the son of a Birmingham carworker with a strange, speculative imagination. I imagine that all through the immensity of Time I've always come from Birmingham, and have always been sitting here like this, looking out my back window.What are we? Our bodies grow rigid and cold, and we all die. But we are electromagnetic beings. We live on the interface between the synapses of our brains. In the arc of energy. And energy does not die. Our brains are Quantum computors and we leap in Time and Space.Time is a product of the Universe, like matter. As the Universe unfolds, so Time unravels. Onward and outward. But come the time the Universe collapses, drawn by the inexorable weight of matter, the pulsing heartbeat of Gravity, then Time will reel back again. And we will live these moments over again. Backwards. And who can say if at this moment Time is running backwards or forwards? Whichever way you are living, Time will always be running the right way.But when I think about reincarnation, the nature of the Universe changes for me. It means I've been here forever. That we've all been here forever, since the beginning of Time. That we are part of the process. That we are It.And it also means that Mozart is still amongst us. That he was always amongst us. And Einstein, and Marx. And I expect that Mozart is sat in a bedroom right now, a weird genius with a DAT and a computor, making house music. Altering our perceptions as he did the first time. Messing about with our melody-lines.Moments are like atoms. Parcels of energy. When we split the atom we unleash the Universe. When we look into the immensity of the moment, all time is there for us to see. In the infinitesimal, infinity is unfurled. The outer reaches of the Universe warp in the smallest particles of matter. Boundless moments expand. An ever widening circle. Ever circling Time. Revolution of the Spirit. Reincarnation.
"Jolly Robin in the woodWaiting for the gift of food.Be he humble or be he boldHe'll turn a tumble, and then grow old."