Adventures in Metaphysics

After hermitting myself away for the past few weeks, neglecting my bloggy blog, going to work, getting home and working my butt off editing The Guru’s book, (while suffering from preggers-induced fatigue and evil heartburn that would make the fiery flames of hell feel like a balmy breeze ) I am delighted (and relieved) to say I’ve done it! The Cranky Guru – Adventures in Metaphysics by Paul L Bennett is just about ready to unleash itself on the world.


Tutti and The Guru dressed for a black-and-white night on the town, on Saturday.

It’s never easy working on a project of this magnitude with a parent (especially when you live with them and there’s no escape from the constant barrage of “How are you going with the book? Are you going to finish it tonight? What? It will take two weeks? But I want it done in one! Are you working on it tonight? Good morning – I know you’re still snoozing and it’s 6.30 on Saturday but I was just wondering how the book’s going. So about the book… is it finished yet? Yes I know you’re on the toilet but perhaps we could have a meeting now through the keyhole.”) but we got there in the end.


And even though I don’t agree with all of the Guru’s esoteric philosophies, I’m pretty proud of the fact that he’s managed to write something that is warm, funny, candid and engaging.


I can’t wait for you all to go out and get your hands on a copy, but in the meantime, I shall tantalise you with the back cover blurb.

Are we merely victims of circumstance, or can we actually create our own destiny? Does time exist? Are past, present and future happening simultaneously? Are dreams real? Do our beliefs create our reality? The answers to these eternal questions and many more can be found within. Merging humour and real life anecdotes with esoteric philosophy, this book has evolved over thirty years of study and deep contemplation. It has been a journey of discovery unlike any other, offering assistance to all who seek  answers to living effective lives in ‘Earth School’.

Metaphysics, or the art of ‘Acting As If’, is the universal tool of creation. Its mastery, achievable by anyone with an open mind, will open doors you may not have previously imagined. Whether you want to be the master of your own success, heal past hurts, improve your relationships or simply find a greater sense of inner peace, one thing’s for sure: this book will defiinitely change your perspective. It might even change your life.

Love and light, bitches!

Ceci xx


A Jewish Mother’s Lament

Morning loyal followers (er, hi Mum, hi Dad!)

You may have noticed I gave myself a week-long blog-break last week, mostly because I was HYSTERICAL and beside myself after adopting another staffy (now I’m mother to Tiggy and Sherman – so named because he’s built like a tank).


Sherman and Tiggy, my devil-children.

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Different Dimensions

You know how sometimes you have those days where you want to scream ‘Fuuuuuuck Youuuuuuuuuu!’ at the mundanity of life? (No? Just me? That was awkward!)

Well, you will be heartened to know that according to The Guru you are a ‘multi dimensional being’, living an experiential existence wherever you are right now, while other aspects of your personality live in different countries and centuries simultaneously.
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Tutti and The Guru get it wrong. Again.

I asked my parents for a ‘baby book’. That in itself is an ambiguous request and one that I clearly didn’t articulate well.

I can still vividly remember what I was hoping for. I must have been about 12, and Tutti’s friends were having babies. One of them had this amazing book about birth. Graphic pictures of foetuses in utero, at different stages of incubation. I was fascinated by these pale pink, beady eyed aliens. Fascinated.

I asked for a baby book.

I wanted this:


From ‘The Facts Of Life’ pop up book by Jonathan Miller and David Pelham


From ‘The Facts Of Life’ pop up book by Jonathan Miller and David Pelham

Instead, I got this:


Yes, it’s ‘Where Did I Come From’ by Peter Mayle, illustrated by Arthur Robins


Not quite what I had in mind. But very educational.


“Your body is refreshing itself” and other Guru-isms

Hello gorgeous people of the internet!

Apologies for missing not one but TWO posts, and eternal gratitude for sticking with me. The sad part is, I don’t even have an excuse. Not a real one anyway. I should have posted… but I didn’t! Forgive me please!

Now, I’m going to go all philosophical on your arses today, by quoting a recent teaching, courtesy of The Guru’s facebook page. I found this one particularly interesting, since I’ve been feeling pretty exhausted lately. And especially since I have absolutely no idea where his esoteric thoughts come from. It is so intriguing. He is a Guru through and through. (Sometimes, he is a cranky guru – *Flashback to Guru ROARING “GET OUT OF MY OFFICE”, at Tutti, when her paper-rustling interrupted his train of thought* – but he is a Guru nonetheless).


The Guru, with his safe full of wisdom

He says:

Now here’s a little tip for when we’re feeling tired:

As we know, our bodys’ atoms and molecules have ‘intelligence’ and collaborate to retain balance as much as possible. If we think, “Gee I’m feeling really tired!” they’ll respond, ever ready to do our bidding! NO. Instead, say, “my body is refreshing itself” and you will notice immediate results! Our minds create everything, even our physical condition! Believe and it will be so.

These energies, together with our imagination and emotions manifest our physical wellbeing (or not, if we’re thinking negatively.) Now, every aspect of the body has its own ‘sound’, every atom and molecule, every organ etc.

When we are well, the combined notes are melodic, but a cacophony ensues when we are tired or unwell. ‘OM’ said silently and slowly can assist our physical condition by smoothing out these combined sounds, so let’s add this today and may our bodies ‘sing’ with beautiful healthy energy. O-O-O-O-O-M-M-M-M-M-M.”

Readers, I’d love to hear your thoughts on this. Do you think telling your body to refresh itself is enough to feel rejuvenated? Or are you more of a hot shower-and-a-massage, a-run-around-the-block or an 8-hour-sleep individual?

P.S. I would also like to draw attention to two more of the Guru’s observations that have caught my eye lately:


“As I walked to the shops this morning for a coffee, I encountered a derelict man violently kicking a bin as his unfortunate partner begged him to stop. I didn’t intervene as the situation was so volatile. But on my way back, I saw him sitting on the footpath and stopped to speak with him. He found me calming, and told me his story of anger and booze and living rough, with his poor partner in absolute despair. I told him I could see the good person inside and encouraged him to listen to his partner (who held three degrees! ) and seek help. He thanked me and said after meeting me he would no longer be angry. The world is full of good people who just need a little understanding and support.”


“Note: Italian men are so ‘uber macho’, I feel like a cross-dressing transexual beside them! HAHAHA! Nothing wrong with that of course!”

The Guru sees the world from a different perspective, that’s for sure.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that, either.


The Guru Saves a Bee (or does he?)

The Guru, as you probably already know, prides himself on his Buddhist-like approach to all creatures great and small. He would do just about anything to save a life, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant.


The Bee Whisperer in Ravello, Italy

He never fails to elicit shellackings (well-deserved, in my opinion), when Tutti shrieks at him to dispatch one of the revolting, bush cockroaches that scuttle through the house now and then in summer, and rather than stomp it’s lights out – or spray it with the trusty Mortein, he ferries it onto his palm as if ushering a cute, fluffy hamster, and sends it outside into the garden (after which it inevitably finds its way back in). Cue more shrieking, more shellackings and so on, and so forth.

I’ve written about The Guru rescuing bees before, and here he goes again. My sister Fluffy recounted this story to me just the other day. It’s a true Guru moment, too good not to share.

If you’ve ever been to Oxford Circus, you’ll know that it seethes with people. There are pedestrians everywhere, jostling and shmostling, everyone in a hurry, going about their business, not giving any consideration to anyone else. If you’ve lived in London, you’ll know the true meaning of ‘pedestrian rage’; fast-rising blood pressure and fantasies about kicking slowcoaches in the shins. You have to move with the tide, or risk being trampled.

On this particular day, the Guru was at Oxford Circus with Tutti and Fluffy. They had just emerged from Topshop and were crossing the road. There’s an island in the middle of the crossing so you can cross halfway. Tutti and Fluffy made it the whole way across, then realised The Guru was nowhere to be seen.

The reason they couldn’t see him, is because he was crouched down on the ground, in the middle of the sea of people, in the middle of the road. What was he doing there? He was rescuing a bee of course. What else?

The Guru crossed to where Tutti and Fluffy were waiting, then stopped. He had successfully picked up the bee, which was in his hand, happily waggling its little bee bottom. “Wait,” thought The Guru. “What can I possibly do with a bee in the middle of Oxford Circus?” After all, there aren’t any lush gardens, or welcoming trees that might allow the bee to continue living the life The Guru had decided it deserved. So what did he do? He walked to the nearest garbage bin, and tried to wipe the bee off his hand onto the rim.

Well, the bee wasn’t having a bar of it. Being chauffered around on The Guru’s warm, pudgy hand was a luxury it hadn’t been expecting – and now that it was there, it had no intention of moving on. ‘A GARBAGE BIN?’ Shrieked the bee, disgustedly, “WHAT DO YOU THINK I AM? A FREAKING COCKROACH? TAKE ME SHOPPING GODDAMIT! AND THEN TO FORTNUM AND MASON FOR AN ICECREAM!”

But the Guru, a long time tinnitus sufferer, misheard the bee’s demands as crickets in his ears. Unable to smear the bee onto the filthy, dirty garbage can, he instead took a few paces back and FLUNG his hand in the air. “Fly little bee!” He said. “FLY!”

With a flick of his wrist, the bee was gone.

Where, you might ask?

I suspect it ended up under the wheels of a bus, or at the very least, on the sole of someone’s shoe.

So, was it the thought that counted? I’m not really sure.


The upside of adversity

I read a fascinating blog post last week about the epidemic of dissatisfied Generation Ys (the short answer is that they’ve all been told by their parents they’re special, and amazing. The sad reality being that if everyone is special and amazing, then no one is).

It got me to thinking about my own childhood. I was lucky enough to grow up with parents who loved and supported me (still do) and who instilled in me a belief that anything is possible and that I could achieve anything. That not only am I amazing… but I am INCREDIBLY amazing.


Forget wanting my life to be a green lawn, which bloomed with flowers, upon which unicorns would prance. Nay, I wanted my lawn to be lush and luxurious, for the flowers to be only the most exotic and fragrant. One unicorn? Perish the thought. I wanted a freaking herd of unicorns, with silver manes and candy coloured horns. And they wouldn’t prance. Pah! They would gallop majestically, and, on their backs, they would each have a purebred white miniature poodle wearing a top hat and holding the reigns from aloft their butter-soft leather saddles.


I’ll admit, it hasn’t always served me well. I left school (where pretty much every teacher I ever had told me I was amazing…. I mean, I once got 40 out of 20 for a highschool assignment) and entered the big old world, where you might as well throw your rose tinted spectacles on a gum-stained concrete pavement (no flowers – just weeds growing up through the cracks) and have a big, ugly, braying donkey smash the shit out of your stupid pink lenses with its big, ugly, dirty hoof. Then kick you in the guts for good measure.


Reality can be such a bitch, can’t it? In my early 20s, I used to believe that I would get every job I ever applied for, even those for which I was wildly under-qualified.

And then came the rejection letters. Masses of them. Every single one suggesting that I wasn’t nearly as amazing as I’d been led to believe.


Original drawings by Cecily-Anna Bennett. Aka: me.

It stung like a thousand paper cuts, splashed with fresh lemon juice. And yes, there were tears. There was incredulous wailing, and slammed bin lids. But in the end, it served me well.

I’m 32 now and in the last 10 years I have worked my butt off. I have experienced disappointment, disillusionment , dissatisfaction and other words that express various levels of unhappiness, which for alliterative purposes, should start with the letter ‘D’. And I’m grateful for that (for the tough times, not for alliteration – though I enjoy that, too). Because if a unicorn had given me the great job I have now, ten years ago, I doubt I would appreciate it nearly as much.

So, I can confirm: A little bit of adversity is good for the soul. Just don’t tell the unicorns, those snooty, smarmy, smug little bastards.