Norman Allan
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Norman Allan : the story
for Ezra...            
book two: secrets
chapter 5: spring 2015

Spring 2015: turning to summer. Ezra is due back in toronto in a month. I should bring hiom up to date.

Norman Allan: the story, for Ezra
Book Two:
Chapter 5: spring 2015

Chapter 1: Maybe Cynthia                        Chapter 6: the substance of life and painting the city
Chapter 2: Past Lifes                                    Chapter 7: Three Portraits of Lucky
Chapter 3: Stoner                                          Chapter 8: Creep
Chapter:4: the Sacred                                   Chapter 9:The Psychic Lover
Chapter 5: Spring 2015                                Chapter: 10: the Devil's Story


Chapter 5: Spring 2015
thwarted genius, ultradilution update, TAiS update,

molestation, sacred circles, books and other stuff...


I was going to write an update about my art in a chapter on "wrestling with genius" ~ but Paris has brought things to a head...

I wasn't invited to the prom! to his show...
          Well, I was, but just two days before. Too late to ...
          Paris had a show with a dozen artists. Some very accomplished: some rather ordinary (I hope that's not unkind). And at the last moment emailed would I like to hang a couple of pieces. I could come in and do so the evening of the opening: just before the opening. And after a brief, oh, can I get that together in time? I found myself brooding and then writing (poor me) (in this note book) "If you hadn't paid me so little respect. I wouldn't know how low you rate me." (Oh, maybe it's just scatter-brainness.... don't be cruel...)

Meanwhile, I've been rating myself with Tom Thompson and Arthur Shilling: forgetting Norval Morrisseau! Thompson and Shilling are wonderful impressionistic, expressionistic painters, and I am perhaps over-reaching to compare my body of work to theirs... But Morrisseau is World Class! He has innovated a whole new genre.

and see larger below
My new friend, Linda ~ who I am slowly discovering is a truly awesome poet ~ has wonderful wonderful art work on her walls. Among the pieces, several Morrisseaus, one of them absolutely charming...
  The only space left in her appartment was behind the study door: but I am... I am now hanging in the company of Norval Morrisseau !  
Oh, and some wonderful work by Cathy Boudreau, who I knew in my teens (see footnote 2 : for the secrets) - [two takes/photos of the ink blot cow]
  So let me show off my favourite paintings of Paris (the rat-bag).  

Oh, okay: on my Paris page there are now 29 paintings (and a couple of drawings), and the 29th of them (in my esteem) just doesn't work. ("It's wally," we would say in England.)
It's titled, "What does this mean," and it seems to be Paris giving me the finger!

Alright: onward...



Homeopathy / ultradilution

You may recall that the theme of Book One: Beyond Substance, or at least a theme running through chapters three to ten, was the

science, the mechanism of homeopathy and the ultradilution phenomena. During the winter, through my association with Riverdale Homeopathy (where I am now working) I have become aware of several developments. So, I have written of them, and of the IgE and DNA ultradilutions phenomena in a very condensed paper, hopefully, for the attention of the homeopathic community...  

A discussion of the mechanism of "ultradilution" / homeopathic "potentisation":
oscillating dipoles/quantum coherence domains, nano-particles, and such
Some Key Points

Do take a look, for what it is worth. It is a succinct account of the state of the science.
          Of particular interest is the work of Emilio del Guidice: you may not recall (from Book One) that after this quantum physicist met Benvineste (and Pomeranz) he went back to Milan to ponder what might carry the signal (in water, for a specific IgE !) and wrote a paper (for the top physics journal) about oscillating dipoles. Del Guidice went on, over the decades (he died last year) to explore how water interacts with the stuff it is in contact with (the stuff in it, and the stuff it is in) ~ it vibrates, oscillates in sympathy (as it were) setting up "quantum coherent domains" in which quasi-free electrons and protons vibrate as a plasma... : OMG, we are full of a quantum electrical plasma vibrating in sync with everything : and these vibrating things are broadcasting/radiating e.m. fields!
                                                    (and those myriad crystal chips in the bone, in their collagen lattices are echoing and reiterating, iterating, iterating...


and the cortical neurons, the charges flowing along their membranes are echoing in the crystal dome of the skull!


I think it was Eccles (one of the first great neurophysiologist - but if not Eccles, then perhaps it was Bruce Pomeranz) who spoke of the cortical neurons all facing up to the sky (to the skull, actually) like trees... {and there's all those billions of little crystal chip in there collagen lattice : reflecting...
reiterating... }

But I also spoke about taking a remedy, a homeopathic remedy: lac lupinum - wolves milk. Were it only a placebo, what a wonderful talisman. Ah, but...


  Remember in the stoner chapter, I   spoke of the wonderful mural in the Christie Pits? Someone has recently  defaced it! Looks like they stuck a  canvas up against it and spray-painted  some abstraction.




TAiS: I think I have to update Ezra on the fate of TAiS:...

You will recall that the first sentence in Norman Allan: the story for Ezra ran: "I'm jumping up and down because I've just finished writing a tasty little novel, Ted Allan in Spain: the movie, (TAiS) which is the most interesting and exciting story, starring Hemingway and Bethune and… and my father, a story that should be told, and I think I have an agent! but I'm sad, because it's raining, and cause sometimes I'm just a lonely old man, without a dog: but this afternoon I'm with Ezra..." and then chapter two continued with not having an agent but: "I've got an illustrator, and that's a start…"

I meet Mark Mandel through Ezra. What a strange brilliant man Mark Mandel is. Val Peter (who made those wonderful videos of me - TTI:tv and WNN - also has another marvelous video of Ezra and Mark, The Happening. But to continue with the story...

I wrote TAiS in the spring of 2014. However, Julie had asked that I sit on the Gerda story for a year, which was until her birthday in February 2015. So when Ezra introduced me to Mark, and when I saw beyond Mark's "crude doodles" (3) to his fine design, I invited Mark to work on illustrations for TAiS. Mark loved the story...
                 Long story short... we were approaching my "let's get it out there" date, Feb 2015, and Mark was slowly slowly getting our "package" for publishers together... the cover was amazing, the lay out for the text superb, the vignettes delightful, the "spreads", the full page illustrations were... fashionable...
        Oh, a tease more background... the deal we had, cause I'd no idea how much Mark would actually end up contributing to the product was that he get between 0 and 50 percent, and he would decide what that percentage was. Then, on several occasions Mark reassured me that he had no claim on the film rights, and that if we found a publisher and they didn't fancy his work, well he'd just walk away.
         So comes February and Mark, who now has a big list of connection we should approach, Mark starts lecturing me that, before he can approach his connection, I have "nail down the ownership" of the project vis-à-vis myself and Ted's estate.
          I emailed Julie,"Does the estate have an interest in TAiS?" She emailed back "Of course the estate has an interest in TAiS."
          Mark went squirrelly. "I can't believe you haven't tied down the property! Once there's a sniff of a deal, a hint of money, it's sharks in the water. You have to get a lawyer. I really shouldn't be talking to you until this is all nailed down." Oh, twenty minutes, half an hour at a time harangues harangued. I had a coupled of troubled nights, and then Julie clarified that, as far as she was concerned, as far as TAiS as a literary property was concerned, I spoke on behalf of the estate.
          But now Mark advised me that he had been advised that he should have film rights, dramatic rights, in the project. "Hmm. Mark, that's a deal breaker."
          There are a couple of reasons this was a "deal breaker." Firstly, Julie has been working on overlapping material as a film project. I cannot risk screwing, compromising her project. Secondly, though its really just another take on the same: when I speak on behalf of "the estate", I would be trying to speak in part out of Ted's head/heart space, and Ted's number one concern (as he had explicitly let me know) was, in all things, for Julie's welfare.

So, I wrote Mark a letter saying how I could see there might be circumstances in which he would be entitled to some share in the dramatic rights of TAiS, but there were also possible scenarios where he might merit little or none, and in the circumstances, just as I had left it to him to decide how much he thought he merited of the book as a project, of the literary rights, the only way I could see this working for me is that I would have to be left to decide how much of the dramatic rights he might merit.
         And he never responded to this proposal.
         A couple of months past in which we were civil to each other, but didn't speak of TAiS. Then a week ago Mark came into the cafe, sat down across from me and railed against my, my, my everything. How I'd (duplicitously) gone on about TAiS would be the most beautiful book since Beardsley's Morte d'Arthur, and ... (never mind). And I realised he had probably never gotten my proposal! (The you might have a legitimate claim, but I'll have to decide, proposal.)
         So, Ez, I got his new email address, re-sent the proposal. There are smiles: I gather it is of interest... but we are waiting, on what?, to discuss it further. Possibly on your return to T.O., Ez.

Meanwhile, 1: I have taken down the "Trailer" for TAiS I had posted with a sample of Mark's illustrations; 2: I have posted a page with provisional illustrations (of my own); and 3: I have self-published/POD the text of Ted Allan in Spain: the movie on Amazon/createspace. (Published two months ago, and barely any sales!)

There is a scene in Lies My Father Told Me where Harry, Ted's crazy father, is moaning, bemoaning : he had invented "movable cufflinks" with a little spring and coloured buttons : and Harry is distraught, depressed, and bemoaning, "Nobody is buying my colored buttons!"

Did I write that Julie, when I sent he the first draft of TAiS emailed back: "I don't understand it. Bite the bullet. Write the script."
         A short while ago I was bemoaning that no-one was buying my colored buttons. And Julie bought a copy from amazon, and her partner, Peiter, read it, and likes it! And who knows, perhaps I'll find myself with a film deal. Inchallah. (A film deal would bring a book deal!)

  And, meanwhile I'm almost overwhelmed by little everyday things - and my health - I'll need to write of my health. But first, now, I must search for a patient's file that a lawyer 's seeks a copy of. And such things do overawe...



I'm going to have to tell of my experience of a "false memory", relatively ordinary and boring(?) as that may be ...

I was in this horrible crash... woke up in the hospital half a day later. I could remember events leading up to the accident, but not the last moments. The police charged me with driving without due care and attention. But, because I came over to T.O. to do my post-doc, the trial was delayed a year. The night before the trial, however, I thought, and "visualised"/"experienced" a "What if my foot got caught under the brake!" - and that was sort of a memory: OMG, my foot got caught under the brake!
         The trial was at the magistrated court in East Grinstead, and before the trial, the inspector from the Ministry of Transport approached me and asked me how I was pleading. I said I would plead not guilty because I didn't really remember what happened. "That's good," he said, "because your suspension snapped, and that's what caused the accident." Further, there was an old break improperly repaired: and the vihicle had been certified roadworth just a few days and a few dozen miles before the accident!
         The foot under the brake was a false memory spawned by anxiety and "what if?"

Mad Mary came to my door, the chiropracter's. I was doing craniosacral... which is hard to distribe... I have written about CranioSacral Therapy. It's very relaxing.
       Mad Mary knocked my door.. I opened... to a startling woman: young, neither plane nor fair - not unattractive - but a distraught figure, distressed face... proclaiming "I am the face of horror. I'm channelling Christ. And I need an adjustment."
           I stepped out and closed the door. "I can see you in fifteen minutes," I said.
          "I need an adjustments now," said the woman.
           I put my hand, gently. to her shoulder, just to steer her. to turn her towards the outer door. "Ask Jesus," I said.
          "I'll wait," she replied.

To begin with I saw Mary three times a week. There is a point right at the top of the head, the "vertex", the midpoint between all the hairlines, called Baihui (the "hundred meetings" or Governor 20) that is profoundly relaxing when needled. Jayasauria calls it the "valium point".
          In three weeks Mary was down from her mania. The story Mary told her childhood... monsterous abuse. You don't want to know. (I'll put it in a footnote: ... 4.)

Over time Mary's sort of put her life together. I've seen her less and less. Ah but something I did came back to haunt me.

When I met Mary she was doing tricks, seeing Johns... the only other thing I remember her speaking about about her present sexual "activity", the only thing I can remember is that she told me she was troubled with, that she peed herself (and whomever) when she "came"... could I help? Oh, you do have to read the footnote (4) to know, to understand the context.


There is a maneuver for the bladder in "Visceral Manipulation" (which I was just then learning), a procedure for the bladder. The bladder is tucked in just behind the pupic synthesis: so it is close to the obturator foramina, that little window between the pubis and the ischium (the bone beneath and lateral to the pubis). So in that foramina (lateral to the pubic synthesis) you can approach the bladder (from an anterior lateral aspect).
          There are also three suspensory ligaments to the bladder (a medial and two lateral). They run from the umbilicus to the bladder.
           So, in Visceral Manipulation, to treat, say an "irritable bladder", you would place the thumb and index fingers of the hand (at the lower/inferior aspect of the patient) either side of the pubic synthesis, in contact with the obturator foramina (through clothing - in the whole umbrella of the Upledger "cranio" work, patients do not disrobe), with the heal of the upper/superior hand at the navel and the middle fingers lying along the path of the median ligment, the second and forth finger along the path of the lateral ligments... one "feels", "senses" the tensions in these structures and fascilitates the relaxation of the bladder. (That's the rationale).
        Does it work? I've done this with very few patients, but if I remember, it did help Mary some, at the time. However... there is caveat!

Caveat : I would say (in retrospect) there is quite a strong counterindication to performing this proceedure on a patient who is a survivor of abuse, has PTSD, is prone to manic "psychosis": you'd think, yes?.

Well, over the years I saw Mary less and less. Now and then she'd come in for some chiropractic work. At the end of each session she would shyly ask for "her hug" - "Can I have my hug?"
           Mary was putting her life together. She changed her name to "Topaz". (A way of taking control of herself and her destiny.) Several years, when she had a dog - was it Samantha? - and she'd bring the dog along when she'd visit. And these fifteen years or so that I worked with Mary, Topaz, mine was the hand she held (as it were).
          Oh, one little wrinkle. Over the years I may have done $5,000 to $10,000 dollars worth of therapy and counseling with Mary, Topaz, and never saw a penny. And later when Topaz would speak of seeing this "Raiki Master", and that "psychic healer", I'd be a bit chagrin that such would get remunerated, but not I. Ah.
          And then, fifteen years on from the visceral work... about five years ago...

Topaz came storming into my office loudly denouncing me: I had molested her. I don't know whether it was a "memory"that came to her on her own, or in counseling. But I can imaging her thinking back on the Visceral Manipulation bladder procedure and wondering "What was going on? What if?" and coming up with a troubled "image", and taking that for a memory: (like my car-crash foot under the brake) : and given her experience of abuse...
          But then nothing further came of that... for about five years. (Once, once in the ravine, walking the dogs, I past her (with a young man) and we exchanged a nod.)
          Then, a few weeks ago, Topaz turned up at Linda "Vina Rosso" poetry and music event - turned up with a friend, talked to a mutual friend. We had no contact. And then two days later, Topaz turned up at Danny Beaton's healing circle. And we will need a little background here...


anny Beaton: I've known Danny many decades. Danny is a Mohawk, an activist, and now I would say an elder. Danny leads a healing circle at 6 St. Joseph's : The Yellow Door...

I've known Danny since the eighties, our paths cross : and his articulation of a prayer of gratitude has stuck in my mind, stuck with, though I've never remembered it as he has spoken it. It goes something like ..

."As I travel on this sacred mother earth, on this new day, this new morning, I look arround me, and I see that it is a beautiful new day, and join my mind to the spirit of the people, to make our heart as one, and I give a great thanks to the creator for all his gifts: and I give thanks to all the plants, the vegetation, the foods that feed us, the medicines that sustain us. A thanks to all the grasses, flowers, shrubs, trees, and I give thanks to all the vegatation...   megwetch, megwetch... colaval, colaval... gnauwae!
          And as I walk on this beautiful, sacred mother earth, I look arround me and I see that it is a new day - it's a beautiful new day, and I lift my voice, and my spirit, to the creator, and I give a great thanks for the gift of that sacred blood of my mother, the earth, that sacred drink, the waters. And I give a thanks to the waters, the aquafer, wells fountains springs, the rills, creeks and streams, the rivers, puddles ponds and lakes, the seas and oceans, the clouds, the rains,. For the this sacred blood, the waters, which sustain us, which bed of our being, this sacrd water
, our mother's blood, I give my gratitude and thanks: megwetch, megwetch... colaval, colaval... gnauwae!
          And as I wander on this sacred mother earth, on this new day, I see that it is a beautiful day, and I lift my voice to the creator to give thanks for companionship of all my relations, to the four-legged ones, the winged ones, the invertabates, to the fish people, to all my relations: I thank them for their gift of companionship. And so offer my thanks to all my relations: megwetch, megwetch... colaval, colaval... gnauwae."


And so on: a thanks to our mother, the earth; to our eldest brother, the sun, whose warmth sustains us; for grandmother moon; for the stars; for the elder/the leaders; for the thunder- beings; the winds of the four directions; for the four protectors ...   
and for the creator. for all his gifts, Shinwadushae Shinwadushae Shinwadushae: all my relations: gnauwae."(G)

  So, this winter I meet my friend Danny, again, through my good (new) friend, Linda, and with Linda have been attending his healing circle - drawn there by his prayer of gratitude, which I have tried to remember, and have used as I'm able... and here, two days after seeing Mary, now Topaz, at Linda's monthly poetry event (and there was another links and then, two days on) Topaz came to Danny's circle, and I felt I could not sit down with her there without saying that the last time we had shared any words, oh five years back, she had accused me of molesting her!



Surely you've more to say about the accusation of molestation? Well, what? It's very awkward. It's not something I can easily actively persue - that would be "inappropriate". But "shit sticks". And stinks. And, and ... it is bad karma for poor Topaz, and sad. Sad that I, who was the "good parent", the healing care-giver, for so many years should be conflated (through her "false memory") with her abuser.
        Ah well, would that the spirits bring a healing        however.

oh and if you haven't read NAstfE: book two, secrets; chapter one, maybe cynthia, I would suggest you do... it'd give you perspective on the doctor... (and if i ever get round to writing chapter "creep"...



Spring is drawing to a close, and I have so much left to say...

          Yesterday, after the painting session, I met up with DoeDee, who talked my ears off, for hours. (So that's how that feels. It's usually me doing the jabber. And it's okay!)
          At the restaurant (Dee was hungry), waiting for Dee (as we were leaving), there was a huge aquarium, with a large carp-like fish, oh, maybe eighteen inches long, and it took an interest in me! I'd swear. We spent some minutes eye to eye, yes, and it followed...
(My guy was half the size of whose-it's fish here, and not quite the same head shape, but very similar scales/colour).
           Then we went down to Cherry Beach, and we met a border collie/healer cross, who was a little shy and skittish, but quite wanted to meet me, and he took to dashing off away and circling back passed, and then back, and a play invitation (the bowing thing), and then a repeat run, and again, and again. I was quite feted.
            And why I mention this at all is because later, when I went to see the gurus, Mangala Anshumati, in Hridaya Yoga's new space on Queen Street: in the talk, the satsang, Mangala asked who, in the small gathering, suffered from jealousy. Only a few of us raised our hands. And the guidance? Whatever it is that you want, wish it for the others! And I tried this: I wished enlightenment to my fellows in this small gathering (two dozen?) - and - there is this altered space that I associate with experiencing "presence" : an expanded visual field and three-dimensionality. It is something I have tended to experience when talking (intensely) about things "spiritual": but yesterday, with Mangala, sending my love, good wishes, outward, to others, it was totally "trippy". I must work on the knack! (Putting others first (not in a self-depricating way: just in sending the "love" to them) may just be the secret. I'll get back to you.)

  (And a note on photos, perhaps worthy of a footnote: 5)  
I composed my epitaph a few days ago:

Norman Allan
           beloved of cats and dogs
           clever at much       effing genius really
           almost alright as a father
           (rubbish grandpa)
  I sent it in an email to Linda, so Linda gave me permission to stay, to stick around awhile  
  then Seth said that
Sorin said...

maybe Seth was telling Leo that something was "the norm", was normal...
and Sorin said
"I love Normani."

so there you go

Linda says she was unhappy untill she me her teacher,


and then she was happy.

Linda gave me permission to be happy
     and not to suffer       like the Buddha said
           be happy

and she asked, "Bliss is not enough?"


and she asks isn't bliss enough

meanwhile: footnote (southerland and




look what I found, just down one block from the yellow door..

Where Danny holds his sacred his gratitude circle.


Wellesley and St. Nicholas Lane,
just west of Yonge
on the (outside) wall of the shop...
" Native Canadian Art"



Danny writes how Norval was a healer (link?)


  Spring, 2015. Money is getting tight.
Norman is getting despondent.
therefore painting larger see below
and publishing

i (self)published a fine selection of my poetry : Just Testing

and/but my dreamweaver program, in which i am writing this, just changed itself so that I do not know how to use it anymore! (I can no longer manipulated the tables)



It is the solstice: it is time to publish Spring 2015, and fix it later...
(I was going to have a whole chapter on TAiS, and tell the story of Ted and the Bethune film and Donald Southerland... perhaps here as a footnote, to follow, or or or....
    meanwhile.... post!

And finally, for now, I realise that I have been getting (nearly) everything backwards.

the quantum thing and energy
the pattern mate

backwards every thing (quantum energy vibe)





if i understand it      quantum is thus

Planke found that energy was quantal
in discret steps
so there is a minimum energy
(like it's pizellated
pizellated pulse

then maybe Einstien thought
what did he think (go look)

  i have some pictures to show
  this could be topaz (though it was from a picture of gerda  
  if I were to finish this chapter with a poem it would be...
the battle of grovernor square
cause I left it out of Just Testing


The Battle of Grovenor Square
Which was March 17th. 1968,
but call it winter


the rider turned his horse
vaguely sternly
and then mean extravagant
he started his return.

no straight and narrow path
but the freedom
the soft yoke
of havoc.

no malice or sadism
but the joy
of cold destruction

he did not wish a victim
as he swung round
and started to hunt
moving as a lion begins its kill.

the way the pattern singled out its course
two girls like gauche grazers
began to feel isolated
in too much space

they moved to change
- this awareness that they stood
in the unfolding pattern
as victims -
they moved as cattle begin to move.

fate focused
the pattern fixed

- that they are alive today is luck
and not your bourgeois nonsense
'bout the serve and protect police
what nonsense you can speak -

as I saw things unfold
it rolled
the horse upon them
their run into a fall
- one outwards, one forwards -
the horse over fallen body
- at a canter -
horse's legs and hooves
in movement
- only a camera could ever say -
but flurry
fury over body
hoofs in that beautiful bent rise
- that I saw -
hooked like saplings.
flurry along the back
and where is the egg-shell skull

I became part of that image
an actor
as fury ground the instant
into a scream of outrage
I was not watching.
I was flowing too
into lion
and for no reason but to flow
- you don't like heroes do you
that's just penis envy
and testosterone can groove -

yes I said I saw
the girl trampled under hoof.
I saw no woman trampled.
then why did I say so
I said what I thought I saw

now why trampled
because the instant
was an instant
and in the instant
that is what I saw

I say
I saw
my words
I called it
as I saw it
- were the hooves on her back or not
would I have seen different -

why say trampled under hoof
to say what I saw

but why do you create such a commotion
it feels like you're always down after my balls
are you a jealous frozen old lady dear
fighting to maintain your portion
of the pie

and why do you deny
the blood outside your door
Mrs. East India Company
and the death and despoliation
it couldn't be quilt now
could it



(When I told Caroline Nicholson about my day at the demonstration, she challenged my use of the word "trampled". I got defensive, and I'm still not sure about, even till today, the nice usage of the word and whether I was right to use it.

Oh, and Mick Jagger was there, in Grovernor Square
Does/might Street fighting Man allude to Grovernor Square?)






Chapter 6: Summer 2015





Chapter 6: Summer 2015

at work pertains to chapter 6:
though much of a first draft is on line
(I'm sort of writing it (and posting) at the moment



  oh, and do visit : the website