Dark Night and the Soul

There are some who believe that the cognitive functions of the brain can somehow be abstracted out to computational processes, that science can define the activity of thought as sets of sequential effects. That this is a good measure to explain our experience of life.

But is it?

The model of the brain as a biological computer fails to account for certain states of being that people appears to be subject to (or the subjects of). The reductive arm of science might have us take the experience of love for example as a sequential mode of bio-chemical and bio-electrical stimulation.

“But I love her.” I say.

“It’s your neurochemestry, besides, she’s just a canvas of your projections.”


But is she more than that?

What about my experience?

Is anything ever just ‘just’.

The soul of a person is as much a product of the physical world that we sense as it is the thing that does the sensing. For what would we be without that which we observe in the world. Without it we would be void, would we not?

And this thing that senses being, this thing we call ‘I’, the totality of it; remembered, recalled, forgotten, embedded – this is what I mean when I say  Soul. This totality of being has it’s own agenda, it is the  you behind the mask, the you who you do not always see, that sometimes your forget, but that always walks beside you. You can never see it’s entirety, but it whispers to you, it drops hints. Sometimes it creates a crisis to try and wake you up to yourself.

Also, I believe, it carries with it something within the code that seeded us, as it did our predecessors, spiraling back through generations. Diluted? Yes. Determined? No, but impelling.

Our Souls fill the gaps between the world we perceive and the internal dimensions we create to make all the disparate aspects of it appear as a coherent whole.

More than this, because, like Venn diagrams, there are areas where our souls overlap. Areas where we share interpretations and perceptions. Whether these exist in an  etheric medium, or whether they are the consequence of the structure of the way we organise information in the brain I’ll leave for you to decide. But the effect is there. Myth is one of it’s evidences. And if you begin to look for your soul in the soul of the world then be prepared for what you might find looking back at you.

As a final note I’ll share an example:

The sun, the solar deity, the eye of Horus (the eye of god – the sun of god – the son of god), father of all things, bringer of life, upon returning to the underworld that is night, steals our ability to see the world.

Without the sun we are left in the dark.

While the sun rules earthly affairs the night holds an alternate truth for our senses.

“Here you are.” Says the silent vastness.

“This is where you really are. Look.”

And the depth of night stare back. At least it did. Once.

When the sun returns at dawn we return to the day with new found knowledge; new understanding of the world and our place in it. The routine of the day continues, as it must, but our place in the world is now shaped by our perception of the world’s place within the cosmos. We have returned with a deeper understanding of both the world and of ourselves.

The sun, often connoted with the ego, represent earthy concerns, principally  because it’s light gives shape to the mundane world and obscures the stars. In the same way our own concerns can obscure our ability to comprehend the scale on which the concerns of our lives are conducted.

What happens to a culture and the psyches, the souls, that inhabit it when the night is stolen by artificial suns. What happens to people when they loose the memory of the true brightness of the stars. What does the world become when it’s darkness is taken from us?



Mr X



                        all material © 2014


There is a world behind the world, full of forgotten absence and undesirable presence.
A recognition of this inhabits some. Their task:
To smooth the creases,
To unfold the folded,
To return the measureless to the measured.

There is no charge for this service.
Other than you sacrifice your beliefs on the altar of yourself.






Yours Archetypically,

Mr X



                        all material © 2014

The Quantum Santa Claus Theorem

Just to be clear on this, when someone tells me that they don’t believe in Father Christmas what they are actually saying is that they don’t believe that there is a single person called Father Christmas. This is akin to saying that one doesn’t believe in money, or liberal democracy, or Christ, because they are all just concepts. They may not be real in the physical sense but they most certainly exist. They exist because people invest belief in them. So much so that in the case of Santa (and Christ for that matter) people will dress up in a manor that manifests the archetype in physical reality. But this is just a canvas, archeplasm onto which one can project our own inner Santa Claus, with greater or lesser success

So thank you, Father Christmas may not be real but he does exist.

Now please stop trying to convince me otherwise.



Yours festively,


Mr X


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The Universe is everything there is.

The Archeverse is the bit that is responsible for imagining the you that is imagining the Universe.







Mr X


                        all material © 2014




The Magic of Film: Children of the Tide

Back in 2005 I became involved in a collaborative arts project with Phil Smith and Maggi Squires located at Shaldon Primary School, which sits at the mouth of the river Teign in South Devon. We worked with them for a week running a series of workshops that included a mythogeographic survey of the village, the creation of a puppets from gathered materials, poetry making and the creation of a piece of music. These creative explorations culminated in a ritual act of performance which saw 130 children process their puppet avatars to the sea shore and set messages, folded into paper boats, afloat on the waters for the tide to take away to the waiting world. Sadly, due to a omission of planning on our part, the tide, which was coming in, washed straight back onto the red sand in waterlogged clumps, but the sentiment was there, and the rest of the day went as smoothy as these things can.

My role, in part, was to provide a document of the performance in the shape of a film. Of course, I declined to make this a straight forward affair and attempted to integrate as much of the process into some sort of narrative, shaped by the general theme,  described by the children narrating the film.

One month later we returned to show the finished film at the school. We drove through torrential rain to get there, only to discover that the school and much of the village had been evacuated due to a freak flash flood combined with a high tide. Once you have seen the film you will be better placed to understand why this felt quite so significant. It was not until we collectively viewed the film a couple of weeks later that the significance of the films theme came home. It felt  as though we had collectively, albeit unintentionally, designed a magical act that would summon the sea to us in an act of unity.

Of course the whole thing was just a coincidence. Yes, of course it was. Cinema is not a magic act. There just happened to be a high tide combined with a flash flood on the day we planned to show the film. Nothing strange there. Nothing strange at all. Other than the film perhaps. I can’t remember what the children thought of it. I seem to remember a lot of fairly blank stares. I do remember one of the parents telling me that they felt it was a cross between a David Lynch movie and the Blair Witch Project but I can’t remember whether is was supposed to be a critique or a threat. I took as a compliment and have kept it to this day, to share it with you, here.



Yours dubiously,

Mr X



                        all material © 2014


The Great Walk: Conversations

It was one of those party’s that started in the middle of the afternoon. One of those parties where those attending are old enough to know how to pace themselves to make it through to breakfast the following morning.

We were in costume; a future imagined by imaginary Victorians – steam powered, tea driven, opium crazed adventurers, delighting in the whimsicality of the post colonialism of it all. Or at least I was.

At about six in the evening that an attractive aviator handed me this…

Map Tube

“Read the label.” She said.


…it said.

She smiled as I un-scrolled the contents of the tube.


“That is Fantastic!” Was my response.

Those who have seen the film will get the joke.

She then ordered two more copies of the film, we talked for a while longer and then parted.

Suffice to say it was an interesting trip home.


Two days later I received a text from her.

It said: ‘Retraced Anton Vagus walk in Exeter up Prospect Steps.’

This is a level of engagement with the film I had not expected but absolutely delight in.


My current definition of art is this:

That it speaks of a soul, or it speaks to your soul.

I am beginning to think that this might be because, in what each of us calls art, we recognise a soul; a complete experience, one that might be changed or altered by it’s context but retains something that withstands relocation; it can stand by itself.

The Great Walk appears to be just that for some people. There are people who appear to be in conversation with it, beyond any relationship they have to those of us who made it.

I like that.

In fact I think it’s rather great.

So thank you all for playing.


Mr X




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Q: What is an Archenaut?

A: An Archenaut is the name given to one who explores the Archeverse.

Q: What is the Archeverse?

A: The Archeverse is the subconscious of the Universe perceived though the filter of you.

Q: Oh. How does that work then?

A: Easy. Just let your imagination use you to experience the universe. Then you’ll realise it is the universe that is imagining you.

Q: Huh?

A: Quite so.


Your dualistically,

Mr X




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