Thursday, July 18, 2013

Subtle Notes

In Brighton, where I have been intensely occupied listening to seagulls.  They have been in full voice here, even at midnight, when the ululation bears no resemblance to the cat's mew or querulous chatter one sometimes hears in the day.

Attending to these has not really left room for much else, but yesterday I found myself (don't ask) sitting in a white room with a psychic medium who claimed to have a message for me from a dead relative whose name began with B.  If there were any possibility of finding a connection I would have done so, even with going into second and last names, but of B there was no-one I could bring to mind, nor of the colour orange and pots of marmalade which were manifesting somewhere in the astrality.  I would very much like to have heard from my communist/atheist father-in-law who made a promise that when he passed over and if the possibility ever presented itself then he would communicate, with a very particular message that we agreed on.  But his name began with O and we never touched on the subject of marmalade, though he did eat it on toast every morning for breakfast.  There was another message for me - not from B but a different entity - which was a suggestion that I take my aged mater to tea.  Joke?  Mater did actually ring me a couple of days ago to say that her deranged spouse ("he's nuts") had gone out and so the coast was clear for a visit - but there wouldn't have been time for me to get there before his return.  The seagulls have been talking endlessly about all this, debating between themselves about the best way to proceed, but so far there has been no consensus.

Went to my first ever proper wine-tasting last week - arranged by the Signs children as a post-birthday treat for their dad.  I am not a wine sophisticate.  All I ask is that my whites are crisp and clean and my reds are smooth and mellow, and I seem to miss the subtler 'notes'.  Perhaps it is something like being colour-blind or tone-deaf, I just don't get the essence of berry, leather or earth that the others picked up. The exception is perhaps Rioja, which to my mind tastes of my dad because it was his favourite wine.  I couldn't drink much and didn't feel like availing myself of the spittoon, so took a couple of sips and shared the rest out - apart from the dessert wine, which I loved because it tasted of honey.  Even so it was enjoyable hearing our Guide talk us through the various wines.  I love an Enthusiast and it almost doesn't matter what the subject is, though tasting as one goes along does give substance to it.

The real question, when all is said and done, he said as we neared the end of our session, is: does this wine make my life better?

A first response might be that this is a big ask of a bottle of wine.  But what a fabulous question.  And how might it be if one applied this to almost everything?  Obviously the morning cup of coffee would get an unequivocal thumbs up, but the cigarette begins to get complicated.  Yes - but then again possibly no.  And when applied to human relationships - where to begin?  There are, as I am sure the psychic medium would agree, a whole tangle of karmic as well as emotional cords that bind us to each other and every grown-up fule kno that "life isn't all ha ha hee hee".

I am prepared to compromise.  If not actually life-enhancing, then at least it has to be quaffable or at any rate not downright unpleasant.  Anything sour and toxic?  Spit it out and don't have any more of it.  And finish up with something that brings a taste of honey.


'tis I said...

I seem to remember (from a at-least-partially-faux) dramatised biographical film of Harry Houdini that he, too, had a pact with his wife that involved a message no crank could make up. And I'm thinking that if there's another side, your father-in-law would like to tell you, that "there's no way of getting word to the other side".

However, that's maybe a bit bitter that mater rang that the coast was clear (and oh how that "he's nuts" must hurt - and be atrociously funny, perhaps, too, given all the eventualities, which makes it, if anything, more hurty). I wish there were magic wands that friends could just wave and, whoopee, things would just magickally turn better.


I think crisp and clean and smooth and mellow are pretty good things to ask of wines, you know. Other things too, perhaps. Sophistication in the matter of wines sometimes, sadly, smacks of snobbery. Experience may bring the ability to say things like, "hey, hang on, I suddenly see what they mean by a wine tasting 'leathery', coz this one actually does, dude". Of course, if experience breedeth sophistication, then there's no need to be all snot-faced-snobby about it; one might just as well say "I've drunk more wine than you". Which, you know, is a good thing, but not necessarily one to get all snobbish over. However, Enthusiasm is another thing, and we encourage it (we of course hold power over the Universe and Everything).

The question he asked is, of course, brilliant, and, like you said, applies (or can/should be applied) to everything. However, I think maybe the biggest problem before answering is defining "better". You have a pretty good start there with spitting out the toxic stuff and going for the honey aftertaste.


(PS You could try a good Gewürztraminer – Lind does a nice eco-produced one. A white that I have taught myself to appreciate (through lots and lots of trial and error, right). The Gewûrztztztzttzttztraminers tend to have a typical floral fragrance that particularly appeals to me.)

Reading the Signs said...

Ah yes, Gewürztraminer - I have heard you speak of this before! Floral fragrance sounds perilously close to sweet, which though I might appreciate in a dessert wine would not be acceptable in a plain White. Where wine is concerned I'm a bit like those 'plain meat and potato' people who don't go in for anything fancy. But hei, I'll give it a try.

Pater-in-law was so completely horrified by the notion of there being any after-life or any anything that wasn't strictly visible or measurable that he would probably rather stay stumm than admit to being a walking/talking entity in the spirit world. But he was also a man of his word and so would definitely have come through with our agreed message.

Nuts and bananas, my dear. Very nearly, but swimming in the sea hath restored my soul. And friends do wave magick wands. They might not realise it, but they do.


Anna MR said...

Ach nein, Gewürsztztztztzs can be got in totally dry or semi-sweet (possibly even semi-dry, if that's an expression, and maybe even fully sweet?), but I am almost always a dry person (this everyone who knows me has already noticed, right enough, and applied it to me in social settings, what-what).

Swimming in the sea is muchos goodos for sure. I have only managed lakes this summer. Shame on me.

Waving, not drowning…wands, that is.


Fire Bird said...

'does this --- make my life better?' is a marvellous rule of thumb for living...
and I love that you're so busy listening to the seagulls...

Montag said...

Wow! I am impressed by this, I can tell you.

You have a B, an O, and T ("tea" which could be mixed up with "tee")

This gives t+o+b which recommends an interpretation as "Tobit", the book in the Septuagint.

Tobit has a run-in with some birds (don't be too literal in reading, if you chose to read Tobit), and an episode with the sea, wherein some medicines are derived from a fish......

I like it.

Montag said...

The "bird" part refers to the immediately preceding post.

Montag said...

Sorry. Forget there were birds in both posts.

Very significant stuff here.

Reading the Signs said...

This sounds auspicious, Montag I will look into it and see what Tobit might have to say to me. Do you by any chance have some skills in psychic mediumship? If so, please keep me informed of any communications pertaining to me from the Other Side. With thanks :)

Montag said...

Now that I have read your reply-comment, I suppose I shall have to let you know of anything.

However, I thought the seaside and Tobit augured good things.

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