It’s a drizzly day. Yesterday I watched Coach Carter -thanks Kate x – it couldn’t have been better, I was reminded that the only reason I play small is from fear – not fear of embarrasment, but fear of all that I am.

Sitting now in Divan once again, smiling and drinking long black coffee I vow silently to myself. I will be differently. I will be here more fully. I vow to have fun over the next 20 days. I commit to being, not trying to be. I commit to being all that I am every moment over the next 20 days.

Of course I know there will be times when I find myself no longer there/here, aware of my breath. There will be times when I’m no longer being fully me – and in those moments I will just resume. So much is going on – the last 2-3 days seem to have seen an influx of opportunity / possibility. I have become aware of just a few of the multitude of possibilities that like ahead. Always.

A trip to the toilet here at Divan triggers thoughts of physical space. Orange walls – I feel automatically as if I should be meditating – meditating more, or at least I could be. Not for a long time have I thought about creating a physical space to dwell in. I have lived the last 2 years in others’ spaces, mostly Cari’s and now for the last 6 weeks I’ve been in my son’s and Kate’s home. I think about the construction of a space – my space and I wonder what I would now put into it.

A very simple space, and within it a quiet orange place – a sanctuary, an inner retreat. Hmmm, it is attractive to me, it feels right. I am not sure why and I do not pursue the answer to this question, I just finish my business and get back to my coffee.

Perhaps this is part of an answer to Cari’s reoccuring comment, ‘it didn’t have to be this way’ (in regard to my leaving, coming, departing and arriving). Perhaps part of this is resurrection ( a word that comes to me from my days on retreat).

resurrection

I am happy to be writing – to feel the pen slide across paper, to watch as words pour out. This is a process, a moment that relieves me, that relives me.

I no longer read, I write

Wow! The very same expletive that marked the beginning of my TESOL course! Then it was “Wow, this is exciting, challenging’! Now it is “Wow, this is intense, full-on, challenging!” And even that seems an understatement. Today was the first day of my CELTA course – a crazy ride, papers piling, tasks, assignment, and students – real live students, 15 of them, from Japan and Korea, with names I have heard and not remembered. Meet the students on the first day and be prepared to teach them tomorrow. That’s right, I teach a 20 minute lesson tomorrow.

So very different in pace and priority than the TESOL course. There are other differences – here at CELTA we use the coursebook whereas TESOL emphasises creativity in lesson planning. 19 days to go and I know they are going to be very full, very tiring, very intense. So be it. I can do it.

x bhavatu sabbe mangalum x

‘Is that such a bad thing?’

‘WAIT!’ A black voice cut right through everything. The third policeman stepped out of the shadows. Everything in that moment held it’s breath as he walked so slowly across to our table, leant down between us. Split the closeness that we had begun to develop. He was huge, frightening, tough and mean looking. A broken nose, bald scarred head. Tough. Real. Real tough.

He just looked into my eyes and I knew he knew.

And then it happened.  A detachment. A calmness that simply folded in on itself. Like an origami house of cards.  In it’s place, headiness.  A lightness of being, that very lightness that occurs just before unconsciousness.

That moment when we forget ourselves.  And Gabby never really understood that about me.  I was young, she was young, and in that crowded hazy bar that was what I though I saw across the room. Truth, absolute truth. The eye of the hurricane.

I wanted to be blown away.

There was a long silence. The menace retreated back into the shadows. I looked across the table, searching for a safe haven and saw myself reflected back at me and I KNEW before he spoke. I knew before the words came, that he had done it again. That somehow he knew what I meant. Somehow he understood me. I waited.

‘Yet she was not crazy enough. She was enamoured, as they all have been, no?’

What is it about people who know our truths? I looked at him sitting across from me, so calm, so at ease, and part of me wanted to just reach across, grab him by the collar and SLAM my head against his, smashing his nose to pieces with such force, such violence that he catapulted out of my hands, out of his chair onto the floor.

A smile creased my face as I though that if only I knew that that was what would happen, the whole complete sequence then perhaps I would do it.  I wanted the full effect. It was a fantasy, a perfect fantasy, and to remain exactly as it was, it had to remain a fantasy.

Anyway I was strapped to the chair.

And beside that, part of me LOVED this guy. I loved his ability to be right there, under my skin, in my face, like a liverpool kiss.

‘It’s a half-truth’ I said slowly as it dawned on me. Sure she was not crazy enough to bring me all the way here, to this place. She was crazy enough though, in her own way. She was crazy enough to take me on, crazy enough to love me and strong enough to watch me change. From a handsome Dr Jekyll to a cold and cruel Mr Hyde.

‘Not really’ he said, and I thought how little he knew.  And I thought, once again, what the hell am I doing here? How did I get here, from there? I knew. That was the thing. It was in that moment long ago that the true abstraction began. The split.

‘It is never simply a taking, never one-sided’. He continued talking, over me, over my thoughts, over my being. You are part of that split. You are the other. I looked at him with eyes anew. I felt lightheaded, as if my head was ever so slowly floating off

He leant forward and whispered, ‘You gave her something in exchange, before you killed her’. The silence underneath filled the room before he added ‘What was it…’

 to continue …

take me to the beginning …

…yep this one’s for you Kate, bless you.

I have recently finished reading ‘The Holy Grail’ (quite enjoyed it, and can understand why it was so popular) and while talking with Cari last night I recalled that in that book (page 410 to be exact) the main character, Langdon, discusses the notion of “orgasm as prayer”. Quite an old and respected concept it would seem, and I quote;

‘ Physiologically speaking the male climax was accompanied by a split second deviod of thought.  A brief mental vaccum. A moment of clarity during which God could be glimpsed. Meditation gurus achieved similar states of thoughtlessness without sex and often described nirvana as a never-ending spiritual orgasm’

Now this very concept is one that some many months ago I was rather ridiculed about by my good friend Kate (who thankfully happened to also transcribe it from my oral ramblings into text – thanks Kate), so now I feel totally legitimised, and in fact almost encouraged, to go against Kate’s wishes and reveal my orgasm theory to all. Here it is then:

It’s the urge for intensity that drives us, subterranean often,  this urge drives us as human beings - to experience intensity- we seek it out- and that’s why the orgasm is what it is, because in that moment of orgasm, it is the total letting go.  The intensity of the moment is overwhelming, and what does it overwhelm?  The moment overwhelms an understanding of self, a self conception- that’s what it feels like, I am not there- we can try as hard as we can (why we would bother I don’t know) but ’we’ can’t actually be there and be orgasmic- it’s intense, it’s overwhelming, it’s obliterating.   I guess that’s why it’s called little death in Japanese or somewhere (French?), because it is a little death, it’s a moment of death.  We all seek that, and it’s not a sex thing, it’s not a power thing, it’s an obliteration thing.  The desire to expand on that, to experience an extended moment of intensity with somebody else, and believing and knowing that what the experience is, is not simply orgasm- orgasm is simply a pathway.  It isn’t the only way, there is no one way.  There are many, many ways.  The orgasm gets us there because it’s a gift- sex, that’s why sex isn’t just about procreation- sex is also about orgasm.  God is showing us what’s possible, God is showing us that it’s possible to be alive, to breathe, to exist without a concept of self- and we have the orgasm, the gift of the orgasm to show us the way.  Which is not to say that you’re meant to run around trying to have orgasms all over the place, it’s illustrating a point, and it’s understanding that it’s what happens in that moment, it’s not about getting there through sex, or the sexual aspects of it- the sex is simply a passage.  A passage to the Intensity, being present to the point where you don’t exist.  There is simply the moment.

So there you go, I could have written that best-selling book, well page 401 anyway. Oh, and don’t get me started on ‘The Matrix’, I had pretty much half the novel written when that came out. Nevermind, I’m not bitter and twisted, there is a good explanation for this phenomena, (and thanks Phil for drawing it my attention to it) – here it is…

x bhavatu sabbe mangalum x

change nevertheless

There sometimes seems so much to say and do and be, and remember, and…. and… and….and anyway I’ve come to realise that that is just a feeling (albeit often a panicky and frantic feeling) and ultimately it all boils down to here and now.  I guess that modern sage ‘Nike’ was right when she said ‘Just Do It’.  Forget the rest, forget the backlog, let it go and just get on with it – ENJOY, BE, LIVE LIFE TO THE MAX

So that’s where I’ll start with this post – I’ve just become a deviant (aka new member) at deviantART – don’t get too excited or curious just yet, the main motivation for my deviancy is to keep in touch with my son Max who is already a well known deviant with a journal etc etc (see link under ‘family and friends’ in the menu). So in this wonderful technological and telecommunication age I have decided the easiest way to keep in touch with Max is through me leaving comments on his posts and….. well that’s it really. For anyone interested (although there won’t be much there) follow this link – simon’s a deviant

I stopped smoking on 30th July – the day of my interview, although that was a mere coinicidence (or not?).  I am not usually one for broadcasting, particularly in such a way as this, that I have stopped smoking – and I have done so numerous times in the past (and obviously started again). It’s just that this time …………….. something feels different – the moment feels different. Small change, big change. Change – the moment tastes of change.

Before I go – hi Marney and thanks for the post! Great to hear from you, I was thinking of you a few days ago. There are a raft of billboards up over here advertising a new movie starring Mike Myers – ‘The Love Guru’ – made me think of you, and me, and Al, and all the stuff that goes with it. Thought it could be worth a looksee – and hopefully have a few laughs at my own expense – ha. I hope all is going well, I know at times it can be difficult, what Cari seems to do is ‘get in my face’ (in the nicest way possible) and I love and need her to do that – to bring me back home, to open my eyes once again to that which is right in front of me.

And lastly, because I do…..

Thanks to usaguichan for the vid – excellent work man – check him out on You Tube

x bhavatu sabbe mangalum x

I was planning to write more about mindfulness and magic, and perhaps I still will, however I have leapt, as I am wont to do, to Truth (thanks to Phil’s comment on the previous post). So obviously I am grateful to Phil for that – thanks Phil for leading me somewhere – you do that, have always done that ever since I have known you, and while that may not be long in days and weeks and years, that is not what is important in our friendship.  It is not measured by how long we have known eachother, but by how well we know eachother.  For me all friendships are about intensity rather than longevity, and you are intense, thank you so much for that.  You are a seeker, a passionate searcher – you are someone who is not ashamed to be so.  I love your desire, your longing to know, your willingness to extend, expand, enlarge – to envelop and embody more and more of that which we lies just outside of our reach.  I love your ‘dottiness’ as you call it – for me it is part of your practice, is part of the way that you reach beyond.  I love the way in which you teach our children – and I love the way in which so much of the time, you do not seem to realise what you are doing – the knowing that you are imparting – and the way that you do it, through music, and art, and words.  Thanks Phil – thanks for being who you are, thanks for being in my life. I love you x

So, Truth.

Cari and I went and saw ‘The Oxford Murders’ last night. It begins with the central character (a philosopher) expounding that truth does not exist, and therefore all that remains is to be silent.  Well, having been meditating for some time now I can’t argue with that – after all that is one of the key goals of meditation – that it is through the silence and the stillness that we may get closer to the ‘truth’ (or to be buddhist for a moment – ‘non-truth’). 

And while for me it was not a planned way forward, my introduction to meditation was very much a response to the same dilemma as that expressed by Seldom in the movie.   I was paralysed – I had come to know through many years of academic and intellectual pursuit, that Truth did not exist, and equally that multiple ‘truths’ did, that is that everyone has their own truth. We all see and hear and understand and interpret that which we experience differently, even if we are experiencing the ’same’ thing (e.g. multiple witnesses to a car crash  or robbery- the same incident, yet when providing statements, details differ - times, directions, sizes, ages, colours).  Multiple truths, and no one Truth.  And I was paralysed because words, language was inadequate – even, as “The Oxford Murders” articulates, mathematical language -  supposedly the purest form of symbols there are.  

I realised that as soon as any of us give voice to our ’truth’ we are limited by the symbols we use – be they mathematical, linguistic, artistic – no matter. We have become the finger pointing at the moon (to get buddhist again) – that is we are not articulating our ‘truth’ (the moon) but rather are providing directions (the finger) for others to perceive our truth.  And of course, as we all know, directions are open to (mis)interpretation.  No matter how well we may feel we are giving them.

So, paralysed – unwilling to speak, write – to use language, further intellectual study was futile.  And then I found the silence.

Well there I go again – I wasn’t even contemplating writing about that at all when I started this post.   What I was going to write about was the letting go of  ‘Truth’ and our acceptance of ‘truth’ – that is our own acceptance, all of us, everyone of us, that we have something to say. The acceptance that our view, our truth is worthy – as worthy as anybody elses.   And of course in doing so, the acceptance that anyone else’s view is as worthy as our own.  Bottom line – learning to LOVE ourselves, learning to LOVE how and what we know, learning to LOVE who we are – and in that all that we have ever been.

I hope by now, those of you who have read a few of these things, are starting to understand (and be ok with) that way in which I can hop quite tangentially from one idea to the next (and back again). I’m kind of getting ok with it myself – and anyway, you can always take me off in any direction you want, just leave a comment.

x bhavatu sabbe mangalum x