by Jane Rutherford

For Mum, who taught me everything I know and how to learn what I don’t.

For David, who understands.

For my Daughter, whom I love and want to give the World to.

For Dad, who could have been there.

And for everyone else who made this story possible (names and places all changed - safe).

‘nuff said, read on…

CHAPTER ONE

‘I stand up next to the mountain…’ and then I play Voodoo Chile for the fiftieth time that morning, hogging the Radiogram (I’m allowed, ‘cause I’m the eldest daughter and already have an eccentric fascination with electronics and chemistry) and dream of making music like Hendrix.  I mean, it touches your soul man.

I feel the emotion, the Mojo, and take off!  I only found out about the Acid-induced reality much later on.  So here I am, four years old and living in 1968. 

And boy, do I remember.  I’m lucky to have vivid memories of my very early years – at age three years, getting mum to check under the bed for Dragons (not your usual childlike monster, but I was learning to be eccentric from a very early age, remember!) and then refusing to allow my feet to reach the end of the bed just in case the Witches got me (Ha! Little did I know!).

And then there was the Dragon that used to arrive every morning in the alleyway at the bottom of our garden – or so my big brother thought.  I knew better! See, it was the Milkman.  Silly, really – just milk bottles rattling in crates along a bumpy path.  I knew the difference between milk bottles and real Dragons!

There was also the stranger stuff, like putting my arm in a hand-turned clothes mangle to find out what happened to the clothes as the water was squeezed out between two iron rollers, as well as to figure out the mechanics of the machine...Well, I had to know how it worked inside and out, didn’t I?  And not a broken bone in sight!

So, here I am at four years of age, chillin’ to Jimi, which was my first Single 45 Record (OK, it was my Dad’s, but I got to keep it) and grooving and stuff like my Mum and Dad would. 

It’s the late 60’s man, and I am a Flower Child!  Which means cool.  I didn’t think it was so cool later on. I thought we were normal, and that was weird.

Let me explain.  Kids in them days were supposed to be good, quiet, well behaved, well spoken, polite children.  I hope I was those things, I did try my best, but I was growing up in a Hippy ethos, where you learned how to just be, and grew the way a child should grow – uninhibited and open to knowledge.

Like having those childhood dreams of flying and talking to 'Invisible Friends' and not being told it was just my imagination. Acceptance of what I could already see beyond seeing.

You could say I had one-up on the other kids at school.  I never really found out if I was right, ‘cause I was the quiet one in the classroom.  I was the one who you’d call a book-worm, a geek, teachers pet, the boring brainy one etc, etc. 

No problem.  I was there to gain knowledge!  Learning stuff you didn’t know before was the best thing since Dr Who and the Daleks!

So kids who couldn’t get their head round that, weren’t where I was at.  There are those that did, ‘cause they’re the one’s who (I hope) are saying – Yes! I know that! That was sooo happening!  And another thing.  I also had to learn how to hold it down.  I mean literally.  I had so much energy that I needed grounding. 

I had to learn how to be a proper young lady who did not exist at a million miles per hour, twenty four seven. So in came the dancing lessons, the guitar lessons and being sent to stay with my Aunt and Uncle in the Forest of Dean for weeks on end with NO TV!

Mm.  Rather a lot going on, wouldn’t you say?!   Hey man! It was just sooo brilliant!!  What a mix-mash of cultures to be a part of and explore!! Life was Hendrix, man.  Solid Gone!

So, let’s skip a few years, and see what’s happening…

I was raised as Church of England by the most wonderful Grandpa any child could wish for.  It was the way of things in our family.  It was proper.

And then there was Dad’s absent-influence in my last years of schooling – Catholic-style.  Now that was interesting!! I soon learned the conflicts of sinning and how to get away with them – very contradictory and very hypocritical.

But the best influence through my Mum was how to be yourself Spiritually – to start the very, very, very long path to remembering what we have all forgotten – what we are all born to be and inherently are.

Theology has since become a love of mine.

Can you see what is beyond seeing? Can you hear what is beyond hearing? Can you feel without touching? Do you know without knowing why?

This was all as natural to me as reading and writing, living and breathing.  I just had to learn the way you would anything else as you’re growing up – being taught by my Mum and exploring myself.

When you where told 'here's some knowledge for you', boy, did you listen up!  This was the juicy stuff that kids love to learn, told in such a way that you felt you had access to the Cosmos!

There’s also the downside too – not all groovy you know!  Like some things in life, there are times when you just don’t take heed and learn the hard way.  It got very scary at times – imagine being able to see ‘things’ without the assistance of hallucinogenics…figure that out when you’re going through puberty – is the whole damn world out of sync or is it just me?!

It didn’t take me too long to be quiet and listen.  Unfortunately, the hardest lesson for any child (or adult, for that matter) is Patience.  I’m still learning that one, even now.  A long and winding road, it is.

Karma.  That’s the meaning of life.  Well, it should be.

You see, there’s one thing that everybody in the whole wide world has in common – and that’s life.  All the beliefs and religions and laws and legislations come down to the same thing – a set of rules on how to live a good and fruitful life.  It’s just that there’s always someone who wants to be the one that controls it.

Take responsibility for your actions. What goes around comes around.  And it so does.

More to come...