Labelled
And those who were seen dancing
were thought to be insane
by those who could not hear the music.
Friedrich Nietzsche - 19th Century Philosopher
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
In 1978 at the age of nineteen I worked as a chef at St George's Hospital, Tooting, South London. During my employment I experienced a sudden, dramatic shift in consciousness that changed the way in which I apprehend reality. I remember clearly the specific point this shift took place. I was sitting in the staff room reading a newspaper with my colleagues...
I stood up and announced: ‘It is all wrong.’ ‘What is all wrong?’ The head chef enquired. I responded: ‘The world!’ Overcome with emotion, a flood of tears fell from my eyes. I left the hospital that morning after collecting my wage packet, leaving my career as a chef behind. I walked bare-footed to Balham where I was living in a flat. On my way, I plucked £10 notes from my wage packet and released them one by one into the summer breeze; I watched them flutter through the streets of London like paper butterflies. Money had become completely irrelevant.
Arriving at my flat, I was instructed by a voice, to wrap myself in a white sheet and walk to Tooting Bec Common which was situated close by. It was a glorious Indian summer afternoon, the scent of new mown hay hung heavily in the air.
On the Common, the voice told me to pick a single acorn from an old oak tree. I did so, and after charging the acorn in my hand, it was placed in my mouth and swallowed whole. I had eaten from the Tree of Knowledge. This was the catalyst that created in me an exquisite sensitivity and psychic awareness. After eating from the Tree of Knowledge on that same afternoon on the Common, I found the trunk of another oak that had been felled. I stood on the cross-section of this tree in my white shroud and outstretched my arms emulating crucifixion.
I entered a trance state, the sun caressed my face. I seemed to have access to a cosmic secret. My trance state was broken by a man with an Irish accent who approached me, and addressed me with the words:
‘You know something, don't you?’
‘Yes I do.’
‘Can you tell me what you know?’
‘I know everything there is to know about not knowing.’ I responded.
‘Well then, can you tell me how to improve my golf?’
I must confess, I think I was of little assistance.
For a period after this, the most extraordinary and profound perceptions ensued. My relationship to time changed; a day seemed like an aeon;
I experienced what I can only describe as The Eternal Now.
Touch, taste, smell, sound and vision became acutely sensitized.
I attained Christ Consciousness and sensed a spherical energy field around my head. I felt a deep reverence for the sacred in all creation. I felt as if I were at the centre of the Universe. I speculated, maybe every point in the Universe is also its centre.
The voice persisted, increasing in frequency and clarity, communicating in a reassuring tone the words: ‘Everything is going to be all right.’
My flatmates became perturbed by the sudden transformation from the person they once knew, to the new me, and the consequent changes in my behaviour [my actions had become ritualistic]. They contacted my family to take me from London back to Birmingham where I had lived in my formative years.
My family also, understandably, found it difficult to equate with the change in my persona and eventually called for a GP who arrived with four additional clinicians.
They interviewed me. I had been finding it very difficult to sleep. My dream world had encroached into daily life and my energy levels were excessively high. I requested an oral tranquiliser. Soon after I was pinned face down by all four clinicians and forcibly injected, needles inserted into each cheek of my buttocks. It felt akin to being crucified.
The syringe contained an extremely potent concoction. When I regained consciousness I found myself, undressed in a bed on the ward of a psychiatric institution. My clothing had been confiscated.
I rose disorientated, walked naked through a corridor and approached a psychiatrist in an office who sat behind a desk. He informed me that I had been admitted as a ‘voluntary patient’.
I said: ‘if I am a voluntary patient then I am volunteering out!’
I was told that before this could granted I would have to go before a panel of clinicians to be ‘assessed’ to determine whether I should be kept in for ‘observation’, and was promptly handed a pair of threadbare pyjamas. On reflection it is more than probable that my nakedness was recorded as a symptom.
Come the designated day and the appointed time, I entered a room with about ten seated clinicians forming a semi-circle armed with pens and note books, some pompously plumed with bow ties. I was placed in the centre of the semi-circle facing them. This was evidently intended to be intimidating.
They proceeded to test my reality. I am aware of the crudity of these tests; they do not take into account cultural differences, education, personal interpretation, the meaning of metaphor or even a sense of humour:
‘What would you say to us, if we were to say to you, people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones?’
‘There is nothing wrong with throwing stones as long as you are careful.’ I answered.
Immediately there was a frenzy of scribbling pens.
The Thought Police probed further:
‘Why do you think you should be released?’
‘Because I am strong.’
‘We hope you are not too strong.’
‘I am strong enough.’
‘What will you do if we release you?’
‘I shall join the Labour Party and fight the National Front.’
Again, pen was put to paper. It was at this point a diagnosis of ‘Paranoid Schizophrenia’ was imposed upon me!
were thought to be insane
by those who could not hear the music.
Friedrich Nietzsche - 19th Century Philosopher
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
In 1978 at the age of nineteen I worked as a chef at St George's Hospital, Tooting, South London. During my employment I experienced a sudden, dramatic shift in consciousness that changed the way in which I apprehend reality. I remember clearly the specific point this shift took place. I was sitting in the staff room reading a newspaper with my colleagues...
I stood up and announced: ‘It is all wrong.’ ‘What is all wrong?’ The head chef enquired. I responded: ‘The world!’ Overcome with emotion, a flood of tears fell from my eyes. I left the hospital that morning after collecting my wage packet, leaving my career as a chef behind. I walked bare-footed to Balham where I was living in a flat. On my way, I plucked £10 notes from my wage packet and released them one by one into the summer breeze; I watched them flutter through the streets of London like paper butterflies. Money had become completely irrelevant.
Arriving at my flat, I was instructed by a voice, to wrap myself in a white sheet and walk to Tooting Bec Common which was situated close by. It was a glorious Indian summer afternoon, the scent of new mown hay hung heavily in the air.
On the Common, the voice told me to pick a single acorn from an old oak tree. I did so, and after charging the acorn in my hand, it was placed in my mouth and swallowed whole. I had eaten from the Tree of Knowledge. This was the catalyst that created in me an exquisite sensitivity and psychic awareness. After eating from the Tree of Knowledge on that same afternoon on the Common, I found the trunk of another oak that had been felled. I stood on the cross-section of this tree in my white shroud and outstretched my arms emulating crucifixion.
I entered a trance state, the sun caressed my face. I seemed to have access to a cosmic secret. My trance state was broken by a man with an Irish accent who approached me, and addressed me with the words:
‘You know something, don't you?’
‘Yes I do.’
‘Can you tell me what you know?’
‘I know everything there is to know about not knowing.’ I responded.
‘Well then, can you tell me how to improve my golf?’
I must confess, I think I was of little assistance.
For a period after this, the most extraordinary and profound perceptions ensued. My relationship to time changed; a day seemed like an aeon;
I experienced what I can only describe as The Eternal Now.
Touch, taste, smell, sound and vision became acutely sensitized.
I attained Christ Consciousness and sensed a spherical energy field around my head. I felt a deep reverence for the sacred in all creation. I felt as if I were at the centre of the Universe. I speculated, maybe every point in the Universe is also its centre.
The voice persisted, increasing in frequency and clarity, communicating in a reassuring tone the words: ‘Everything is going to be all right.’
My flatmates became perturbed by the sudden transformation from the person they once knew, to the new me, and the consequent changes in my behaviour [my actions had become ritualistic]. They contacted my family to take me from London back to Birmingham where I had lived in my formative years.
My family also, understandably, found it difficult to equate with the change in my persona and eventually called for a GP who arrived with four additional clinicians.
They interviewed me. I had been finding it very difficult to sleep. My dream world had encroached into daily life and my energy levels were excessively high. I requested an oral tranquiliser. Soon after I was pinned face down by all four clinicians and forcibly injected, needles inserted into each cheek of my buttocks. It felt akin to being crucified.
The syringe contained an extremely potent concoction. When I regained consciousness I found myself, undressed in a bed on the ward of a psychiatric institution. My clothing had been confiscated.
I rose disorientated, walked naked through a corridor and approached a psychiatrist in an office who sat behind a desk. He informed me that I had been admitted as a ‘voluntary patient’.
I said: ‘if I am a voluntary patient then I am volunteering out!’
I was told that before this could granted I would have to go before a panel of clinicians to be ‘assessed’ to determine whether I should be kept in for ‘observation’, and was promptly handed a pair of threadbare pyjamas. On reflection it is more than probable that my nakedness was recorded as a symptom.
Come the designated day and the appointed time, I entered a room with about ten seated clinicians forming a semi-circle armed with pens and note books, some pompously plumed with bow ties. I was placed in the centre of the semi-circle facing them. This was evidently intended to be intimidating.
They proceeded to test my reality. I am aware of the crudity of these tests; they do not take into account cultural differences, education, personal interpretation, the meaning of metaphor or even a sense of humour:
‘What would you say to us, if we were to say to you, people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones?’
‘There is nothing wrong with throwing stones as long as you are careful.’ I answered.
Immediately there was a frenzy of scribbling pens.
The Thought Police probed further:
‘Why do you think you should be released?’
‘Because I am strong.’
‘We hope you are not too strong.’
‘I am strong enough.’
‘What will you do if we release you?’
‘I shall join the Labour Party and fight the National Front.’
Again, pen was put to paper. It was at this point a diagnosis of ‘Paranoid Schizophrenia’ was imposed upon me!
