My interest in self development has always been about finding inner peace.
Then a couple of years back, I started to get frustrated about the way I handle money.
I looked at money and money gurus.
I realised I hated people with money. They were bad people. Then I looked at a list of the richest people and found out the people I hated were doing a lot of good in the world. It was a nice thing to find out, though nothing changed in my personal circumstances.
I was in the bath earlier listening to an audio book. The author suggested we form our opinions when we are little children (by the time we are six) and they stay with us for life.
Great, I thought. So how could I apply that to money?
As I lay there in the bath an image popped into my head of me sitting on a swing in my childhood garden with a tin box on my knees. I am six years old. It is an image I have often recalled when trying to decode money issues.
In the box I have some money. A ten shilling note and a fifty pence piece. I am wondering over the shape of the freshly minted coin. It is not a hexagon or an octagon, it has seven sides. I often tell people the story. It’s quite a magical memory. But wait, I have left something out.
In the box is a book. The book has printed columns and I have carefully worked out how much money is in the box. The columns relate to pounds, shillings and pennies. I am the ONLY boy in my class who can do this.
There are twelve pennies in a shilling and twenty shillings in one pound. I had also finally figured out the meaning of a guinea, twenty one shillings. It had taken a long time to learn all this and it is very complicated. I even knew the relationship between crowns, half crowns, florins, sixpences and threepenny bits.
As I recall all this I am aware of a huge and overwhelming disappointment. It lives in me now like a “what’s the point” an absolute hatred, like a “have to” do. And I don’t want to, it ruins everything!
With pounds, shillings and pennies (L s d) I got to be brilliant. And here was a new shiny fifty pence piece. And with it, a new system. A hundred pence in a pound. Ten shillings (one hundred and twenty pennies) equals fifty pence. No more “If Tom buys five apples for threepence and Mary has a shilling, how much change will Jack have from a crown?”
I hated the new system, plain and simple. I had spent hours on the old system and now it seemed I had completely wasted my time. What was the point?
I was a very clever boy and could show how clever I was with money. Nobody else understood it. And THEY had ruined it!
Any idiot can add up base 10. Really!
What’s the point!!!
THAT feeling, associated with money?
I got…
I HATE MONEY
See you on the other side of the looking glass,
Dear Reader;
So I want to create in language a new opportunity for you, my reader, to be inspired by this blog.
I usually create this space like I am broken and I dump my crap here. I apologise, I am not broken!
To date, this blog has been about as inspirational as dog sick, even my Mum unsubscribed. Really!
I just woke in a cold sweat – 03:40am
It’s all about me, all of it.
Everything in my space, has been put here by me.
I’ll hazard a guess and consider for a moment the Aspergers, the anxiety, they are just stuff I made up.
Not like in reality my brain does not work differently. It does.
More like, I chose it, then I made it a problem.
Imagine the value to science of someone who clearly distinguishes and notices everything about everything.
Then focus this mind on trivial nonsense and have it tell everyone it is broken (and broke – believe me without my credit cards I am pennyless right now).
Do you think Einsten was worrying what the other parents thought about him in the playground when he dropped his kids at school.
Did you see his hair?
I promise not to do that any more, like it matters.
I took a MENSA supervised IQ test last week, then pretended I didn’t.
I failed to make MENSA by a point (because I was busy sabotaging and believing my own crap).
Next time I take the test I will be aiming for the maximum score, 161.
This is not the Mark Ty-Wharton (aka Tinley) you came here to read about.
Did you know, everyone on this planet has a unique place here?
Did you know I am letting hundreds of adults with Aspergers and other disabilities down if I fail to open my transport museum?
Did you know my book has the power to really change lives? (people are telling me their experiences and I am not telling you because it is marketing).
Did you know all the best Internet markters hate me.
I just jibed at them like a jealous kid, then told all my friends EVERYTHING is a con.
It can’t ALL be!
The only real con artist here is me…
Not like my book isn’t great, it will change your entire life.
Like, there is so much more of the amazing Mark Ty-Wharton to give and so much more for you to get.
So what is the Landmark Forum?
Is it a con?
No way!
I have been reading Werner Erhard’s material prior to attending this course.
Werner created EST and the conversation is alive in Landmark’s courses.
The man is BRILLIANT. Not like I am trying to impress him if he reads this brilliant, like pure GENIUS.
The course is BRILLIANT.
You KNOW from reading my work (even my crap) how intelligent I am.
And from my razor sharp focus and from the paradigm of problems, I’ll dig one up if there is one.
So what am I saying?
I am saying I am no longer going to waste my time and yours by writing crap.
I am not saying anything else unless it is worth saying.
I am telling you right now DO THE FORUM. Google Landmark Education. No links, you’ll figure it out.
and I am requesting, if you get this, pass it on and ask someone to read my blog. Not just read it though, please register via Feedburner so I know you are here.
I already told you there is another side to the looking glass,
This is it!
Thankyou for listening
Mark
Over the course of the past two years, I have been reading at an increasing distance.
About two years ago I had a horrific virus in both eyes and at the time was tested and shown to have 20/20 vision.
I now hold books at mid arm length to have the text in focus.
I decided to book an eye test.
I was a little shocked to find my eyesight has deteriorated by a full point in the elderly direction.
Even more shocked to find it is an age thing, that at age 45 eyes start to change.
I just invested £180 in my future clarity of vision.
My glasses will be ready in a week.
Time to book another photo shoot with Tim Rosier perhaps?
See you on the other side of the looking glass,
Literally perhaps?
mark ty-wharton
I have been writing about my mood swings of late. Actually, they are nothing new, I have just noticed them more in the past few weeks.
Often awareness gives us the power to change, by whatever means. However, looking back at my posts, I decided to delete them.
While it is a severe situation, the posts were not a report of the facts, they were a complaint.
Just because I have the technology to type, even when I don’t want to get out of bed, doesn’t mean I should.
I justified my posts by telling myself, “if I am authentic about my experiences, it might help someone else”.
But what if, a problem shared is a problem doubled?
I am not saying people shouldn’t seek help, I am saying help should be sought from an appropriate person.
I think the analogy is “only complain to someone who can do something about it”.
Except this is where it falls off. When there is nobody prepared to do anything about it, who do you turn to?
FACT 1: In the UK there is no treatment available for autistic adults (unless they have some other condition).
FACT 2: Autistic adults with mental health disorders are generally treated using the same basic criteria that would be applied to a neurologically typical adult.
I don’t need to spell out the pitfalls of that one!
FACT 3: Many doctors still believe “there is no such thing as Asperger Syndrome”.
Because they have a different style of communication, autistic adults need a different route into the system.
At least one doctor at any practice could be trained to understand autism. Doctors with a partner with an interest could display a sign.
After forty odd years of appearing to be OK, I pretend to fit in.
It takes a person with considerable skill and understanding to get that I don’t.
So who do I complain to?
I don’t want to set up a campaign to deal with the issue. However, if you do, I want to speak at your events!
See you on the other side of the looking glass,
mark ty-wharton
Long ago in a cave not too many miles from here, lived a man and his name was…
He spent his life in meditation, believing he was connected with the Universe.
And while of course we all are, this man was in no more way any more connected than you or I.
He chose to live his life, addicted to his own inner processes.
He chose to live his life *thinking* endorphines into his bloodstream.
He was a self absorbed junkie.
Nothing more.
By NOT thinking, he simply became a vessel for his own natural drug and became a slave to it.
What are you going to experience today?
Meditate, by all means and enjoy it.
We are gifted the bliss of deep relaxation by the Gods – a free high, like sex – it has purpose.
But DON’T get lost in it.
What are you going to do when you wake up?
Tell me a story about when meditation changed the world…
Now tell me a story about when it didn’t…
Are you thinking now?
See you on the other side of the looking glass,
Mark Ty-Wharton.
I have been reviewing music I have written over the past four decades.
I recently released a piece of music called 220/2 Hz transformation which you can buy from my LULU store here
I am pleasantly surprised at how successfully it is selling. I wrote the piece c.1983/84 and though I re-recorded it recently, the song remains the same.
I am therefore compelled to add fuel to the fire so to speak, with another piece of music I have always considered really important in my evolution as a musician.
This piece of music changed everything.
It marked a departure (for me) from song based programming, to programmed loops and patterns and switching and manipulating the machines in real time.
I can never recreate this piece of music. Beyond the mechanics of performance, it has an emotion, captured in time forever.
In a sense, it is live. A human being furiously spinning knobs on primitive analogue machines.
And from that whole fashionable scene, the first realisation (for me) that I was in some way different.
My friends buzzing with kinaesthetic energy, while I…
Pondered why I didn’t really have a full range of definable emotions.
The story goes…
In 1988, my friend D handed me a pill and said “We are going to a night club to find out about acid house”
We weren’t on the guest list, our free entry had something to do with ticket stubs or a drug deal.
We arrived outside TRIP at the London Astoria and there was a massive swirling crowd of people trying to get in.
Around fifteen of us linked arms and snaked our way through the crowd, where a grinning bouncer just opened a door and let us in.
It was really surreal.
For a while I walked around the club listening.
My girlfriend J shouted “Did you take something”
“Yeah” I replied “I don’t feel very well, do you feel hot?”
“Not really” she replied, then as my legs buckled from under me, I sat for twenty minutes or so feeling sick and weird.
Just as suddenly I was in a space of total clarity. I was enlightened!
“This is f*cking brilliant” I screamed and started to dance.
J was bewildered.
A few days later, I wrote this…
The drum machine used on this track was later made famous by my brother Adamski.
See you on the other side of the looking glass,

Mark Ty-Wharton, author of The Logic Of Attraction.
Get your copy now: http://stores.lulu.com/logicofattraction
Listen to my podcast: http://podcast.aspergineering.com
Schedule me to speak at your event: http://www.aspergineering.com
Tweet with me on twitter http://twitter.com/mark_tywharton
I am sitting in the hairdresser with my daughter.
There is an atmosphere in here.
Feel good music plays in the background, a track from the eighties that would have been on the radio when I was a few years older than Cloud is now.
And overlaying that the hubbub of friendly chatter.
The clack of a flip flop.
The sweeping of a broom.
The building seems silent, content.
Nothing terrible has happened here as far as I can tell.
Cloud is sitting in a shower of hair.
Occassionally we exchange glances.
The hair dresser talks of feathers, razors and blends.
After a while I read ‘Woman’s Own’ and catch up on the plot of Eastenders.
What I feel is that it is hard to occupy my mind with anything serious here for more than a few seconds.
I could not work through, or solve a problem in this atmosphere by any means.
This is a place where women escape.
While this place is about defining looks, it is all about feelings or the plain simple lack of meaningful thought.
So what am I picking up.
In general, a group of people who seem happy with their lives.
People willing to let conversation flow where it needs to go.
Like a bubbling brook.
Clear, sparkling, fresh, bright.
She can speak Spanish.
Do you.
When did you find out.
Aww.
See you on the other side of the looking glass,
I just dreamed that I was at the top of a huge tower (like the Blackpool Tower) and I had to move from one side of the tower to the other by climbing through the the red oxide lattice wrought iron work.
Now normally, you wouldn’t get me to the top of a ladder without some level of complaint.
I was terrified, locked rigid to the spot, looking down.
In my dream the World was ending.
So, I simply thought “What is the worst that can happen?”
I could die!
Then with the realisation life is about to end anyway, I simply CHOSE not to be scared and started to move across the tower, looking down in awe of the height.
The significance of the dream is, we ALWAYS have choice.
Having participated on courses like Landmarks Forum and Essence, I have direct experience of real life changes I have made.
Fear is actually one of these, in my book The Logic Of Attraction I explain how to overcome it.
Once down from the tower I found myself doing other things differently as well.
I somehow found myself running a Duran Duran show from a Yamaha QY20 and Simon was singing through an old spring reverb (so much nicer than auto-tune).
He started to look annoyed as one of my sound engineer friends took centre stage and mimed the sound samples he had played on the record.
I wonder if Frank Sinatra is getting his royalty from Electric Barbarella!
I reminded Simon the world was ending and suddenly he was on stage surrounded by chocolate gateaux and Becks.
He looked at me and said “fuck it” then threw down his microphone and started shovelling cake into his face.
Andy was guzzling beer.
They reminded me of Ed and Oucho!
Next I was on a motorcycle avoiding a war zone in a desert (not dessert, Simon was already doing enough of that).
The complexity of the plot at this point is too jagged to recall, however my bike did turn into our family car and it ran out of fuel.
At the petrol station a queue formed miles down the road.
A man offered to sell me organic deisel and gave me a cup full to get me to his house. It looked like cooking oil to me with something horrid floating on top of it. He poured more of it on Gina’s silver fur coat than into the car.
I kept thinking “I can bloody well make this stuff, why buy it from him, when I can do it myself”.
I personally almost never know if I am making the right decision, for me, till after I am done with it.
I may spend a considerable amount of time and energy seeking something, only to find when I get it, it is not what I wanted at all.
I almost beleieve the things we truly need in life, come to us in random, inspired moments.
So what is the significance of this?
Time to do things differently?
Time to give up accountability in fear and choose again?
Time to take my first step along the high wire perhaps.
See you on the other side of the looking glass,
I am a virtual participant on Todd Silva’s http://giveawayadollaraday.com program.
However with the resulting disruption of moving house, I haven’t been doing it as often as I need to.
With the additional expense, I have also been a more reluctant participant.
This afternoon I went to buy some rawl plugs to put up a blind.
I went to a local shop which I really enjoy, because it has all these overpowering smells.
The smell of garden chemicals, polish and creosote, pans, oil, stove blacking and the like.
A real old fashioned hardware store.
The guy has to be lucky to be there.
The DIY giants have almost definitely killed his trade.
But he is still there, closing for an hour for lunch and carrying on a tradition of putting screws in brown paper bags.
To meet my request, he handed me a lump of yellow plastic and asked for 50p
Then I asked for two stainless 10mm blots, something I need for the motorbike I am building.
He disappeared and rooted around out back for ages.
While I waited, I hid a pound on top of a jar of beeswax.
When he came back he handed me the bolts.
“That’s four pounds and fifty pence” he ventured.
I looked at him quizzically ‘are you fcuking crazy’ I thought. ‘I could buy these for 10p on eBay.’
I turned up my nose, flicked the bolts back at him and even though I was holding a sizable mass of change declared I did not have enough money.
He looked at me disgusted and literally THREW them in a drawer.
I walked out.
As I walked away I started to think.
‘How does this fit with my ethos of supporting that shop?’
It simply didn’t.
‘I just LEFT a pound in his store, so what if I were to consider the extra cost of the bolts as an unspoken gift to him?’
I turned on my heels and went back and told him I had just found change in another pocket.
To his surprise, I bought the bolts.
I had a slightly strange feeling as I left the store.
He KNOWS he is overcharging for the bolts and KNOWS I wasn’t too happy about it.
He has no idea why I went back and bought them though.
I have counted him into the program as a few lost Give Away A Dollar A Days.
I am now considering shopping with other more expensive vendors and supporting the stores that light me up by integrating them into my tithing process?
But, do you think I should tell him?
See you on the other side of the looking glass,



