STOP

Reading the back, sides and front of a cereal box. Opening the plastic wrapping to liberate the free gift which serves to distract for a few moments. Wondering whether to add more milk or more cereal and round and round until I draw a line and STOP.

Climbing a tree, getting higher and higher, holding onto thinner and weaker branches until I eventually draw a line and STOP.

Enjoying the craft of spliff-rolling, curling the Rizla paper around the evenly-spread tobacco and cannabis mix, smoking yet another one until I draw a line and STOP.

Picking another book off the shelf and perusing its pages, I embark on another mission of info-injecting, followed by the inevitable process of processing, digesting and sifting the wheat from the chaff, until I draw a line and STOP.

Entering into a new relationship, getting closer and closer, deeper and deeper, drowning in the waters of disclosure and bodily fluid, until I draw a line and STOP.

Within the beats of the rhythm there are hundreds of pauses, each of which is a STOP. Reality is a flowing set of traffic lights, a car with a hand-brake, a house with a bed, a computer with a shut down function.

STOP to GO.

Take a break. Then make a break.

STOP.

We are dream

The pace of the rat-race pits different races against one another (there is no race but just genetic expression but hush....)

So fast that class distinctions get mixed up whilst asserting themselves still.

The agenda of gender politics gets subsumed into the chase - whether sexualised or chaste, feminists and the old-school are all on the ride, running away from the incoming tide that wants to suck them back into the sea. Do you see? The stakes are high. Our dreams cast in visions in the sky, as we build castles from the sand to make them manifest, to pass the test, to become dream.

Do you want to become dream? Is this what the rat-race is to overtake rape and hate and all these things we don't like?

The race leads people in different directions according to their interpretations of what it is to win. And their results are framed in the picture-gallery of eternity which is heaven and hell, until which time they change the story and rewrite the image. Or not.

So the sea, the beach, the ground - the firm ground of society, so they say, from which we move into dream and the unity of the sun, that is everything, draws us in. We are One. Being beyond all we've left behind, being all we have become. No longer alone and rats in a race we don't fully understand but all One. The great big fat Circle of life holds us like a cosmic hula-hoop, spinning all those willing to dance within its loop. And our dance keeps the Circle spinning. We need each other.

So escape the sea, see the dreams of the sky, make models on the beach and then create architecture on the ground from which we ascend, into the deep blue dream sky of mysteries and be forever Unity, as the sun shines and we shine and we are dream.