Thursday, June 21, 2007

Mournful Trumpet

Can that be the sound of The Last Post?

Well, maybe or maybe not. Kapila's helpful research has found a way to set up a discussion forum that is easy to use and free. You can find it here: http://kaiwalya.hyperboards.com/

Having reflected on the many useful comments under the preceding post, I think it is time to expand the conversation to a more appropriate format. Others appear to agree with that.
With more space to breathe and move, we can be a broader church. I have come to believe that the blog format is limiting us in a number of ways. I don't regret what I said in the previous post about the blog losing its focus and getting distracted, but perhaps that is more to do with the nature of a blog than anything else. This conversation is getting too big for my online living room, if you see what I mean.

It's an experiment - let's see what we can make of it. We can always come back here if it's not a success.

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Thursday, June 14, 2007

200th Post

As the title suggests, this is the 200th post on this blog (thanks to Laura, Son of Moses, Kapila and others who have contributed to the total). Maybe this is a good time to reassess.

When the blog started as "Free the Teaching" last April, I was personally motivated to make a nuisance of myself. The "whyaretheydead" message board had forced St James and the School into positive action, and having participated on that board for about 3 months, I had had enough. Being an "out" member of the School on there was no fun at all, unless you're one of those people that enjoy sports like urban hang-gliding, traffic-dancing or javelin-catching. Even so, it seemed absurd that it was the only place to discuss the School openly and honestly.

I also had the view (which I still hold) that the School's problems are not due to mystical blockages in the divine ether, or demonic evil-doing behind the scenes, but because we are not getting things right. The reason we are not getting things right was that we have not listened properly to the Shankaracharya and, instead of that, interpreted his words in a special way that was less threatening to us. I believe that is the real reason why the School has been so reluctant to release the Conversations to its own students before they have heard them several times in a group context. By restricting access to the Conversations except via the tutorial voice, the School has been able to control our understanding of the Conversations. By the time a student gets a copy, his understanding of their contents has been thoroughly prepared.

This is not sinister or dishonest. It is human nature, expressed in a rather paranoid way. I've detailed extensively elsewhere my views on this, but to give you an example, the School has traditionally had a very possessive view of its members. It was a jealous god, and anyone who left the fold was to be regarded as 'fallen'. Someone trying to be associated with the School without being an active member was believed to be benefitting from the sattva of others without doing the work. Friendships within the School were based on truth, and so if someone left then what would that friendship be based on, except a lie?

All of these ideas are plainly ridiculous, as well as impractical. It creates paranoia and shame among the members, and anger and bitterness among the "leavers".

But even if we were disposed to ignore the evidence of our own eyes, we could have listened to what the Shankaracharya told us about the two kinds of disciples at the ashram. The first kind ("inmates") remain there, working all the time under discipline; the second kind live their lives and only attend when they feel the need to do so. There is no distinction in what he says between the two. It is a matter of the needs of the disciples, and not of the needs of the ashram.

This issue has been raised with our leader and he has responded. The parties earlier this year were generally felt to have been a success, and no doubt over time the old scars will heal and a proper relationship with our members past and present will be established. Other initiatives have appeared in the past year and are under way that will fundamentally alter the way the School functions, and I believe that on the whole these changes are for the good.

It's not relevant to wonder whether the existence of this blog has made a difference. The question now is whether it has a place in the present situation.

It has seemed in recent weeks that the blog has begun to lose its way. Discussions about the merits of "other paths", have not, to my mind, added a great deal. Those that have chosen to go elsewhere are welcome to it and we wish them luck, but this blog is not the place for them to advertise their new affiliation or to compare it to the School. It's a bit like a discussion forum on the future of the Church of England being taken over by people who have left its gentle bumbling behind and converted to something more radical and uncompromising, let us say Islam. Maybe the grass is greener. As I am sure you have heard,

There is a happy land far far away,
Where they have ham and eggs
Three times a day.

But this blog is, I am afraid, about the School.

Those that believe, on the other hand, that because this is all a dream there is therefore nothing to do or discuss should perhaps not take part in the discussion. This blog was created with the view that there is work that needs to go on (aaargh ... language becoming more impersonal ... and ... dead ... must avoid ... linguistic elephant-traps), all right - I believe we need to do some work - no-one will do it for us - to clear away the obstacles. If you don't share that view, fine. Just don't use this blog to tell me off about it.

Another thing the blog is not for is providing 'inspiration'. Reading this blog will, regretfully, probably not help you to become self-realized. It will never be the group evening you wish you had. Group is for self-realization. Blog is for exploring how the School is, and how it should be (based on philosophical principle), and how the gap can be closed. It can still be fun, of course, but let's not forget why we are bothering.

Am I being unreasonable or preachy here? I probably am, but I'm just doing my best. I'd rather be a Socrates-type mosquito, irritating people into life a little bit, than persist with habitual error. The School is very good at continuing in a straight line, and unfortunately it does tend towards tamasic repetition unless someone breaks ranks. That means someone has to play the part of breaking ranks, for the good of the School. While remembering that it is just playing a part.

Again, I feel that after 200 posts the blog has somewhat lost its way, and we need to have a think about it.

Should we:

(a) stop, given that the School is changing rapidly and radically?
(b) replace the blog with something less personal to me, such as a bulletin board, or an edited newsletter which seeks contributions from interesting people?
(c) replace it with, say, a monthly or bi-monthly informal meeting?
(d) try to replace it with an official regular meeting?
(e) your suggestion here

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Wednesday, June 13, 2007

A (w)hole to look through


Seen at a sculpture exhibition in a garden last weekend in Norfolk.

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Saturday, June 02, 2007

Evolution

Just back from a residential week, which was remarkable in a number of ways.

Leaving aside my own personal experience of it - this blog is not really about me, but about the School as a whole - there were a number of welcome 'firsts'.

Dress Although some streams of the School appear to have adopted a policy of "carry on regardless", ours has definitely embraced the new freedom. Plenty of trouser-wearing women of course (they broke that taboo a few months back), but also some of the men have stopped wearing ties in the evening, unless they wanted to. It was just a handful, but the others will no doubt get used to the idea.

A 'Lucca' day We were divided into six teams, with tutors mixed in (first names in use). Some people were a bit cynical about the whole "team-building" idea, but speaking for myself I thought the 'experiential learning' was brilliant. My favourite bit was trying to build a bridge across a 'river' - it sounds like a nightmare corporate day out, I know - in which I discovered a lot about my own personal approach to teamwork, leadership and followership. Also very good was coaching, which differs from teaching in that the coach cannot tell the 'coachee' anything, either directly or in the form of rhetorical questions.

Meeting in a circle Never thought I would see this happen in the Ballroom. What I noticed - apart from the very intimate conversation that developed - was that it changed my attitude to what I was supposed to be doing in a meeting. I wasn't a passive viewer at any stage. I noticed that when everyone is in view of everyone else, I felt more responsible for myself and for others. No smart remarks out of the corner of the mouth or raising eyebrows at one's neighbour. The circle (or large oval - there were a lot of us) seemed to reinforce what we were about.

There were a number of other minor changes - tutors were swapped for the week; private study sessions; a panel discussion on other paths, people or organizations (Hare Krishna, Deepak Chopra, Eckhart Tolle, Sufism); presentations on exciting new developments being pioneered by people present on the week (Just This Day, an online Sanskrit dictionary).

Maybe the best moment for me was when an impromptu game of rounders started up on the front lawn, with men, women and children (yes - people had brought their children!) all taking part. I suddenly thought - this is the first time I've ever played sport with a woman here. It was great fun.

That would be my overall impression, I think: great fun, real philosophy. Not such an unusual combination, after all.

To anyone who might be in an area of the School where things have not started to move forward, I would say - hang in there. It's worth it.

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Tuesday, May 22, 2007

Rostropovich and the Six Blankets

I am not what anyone would describe as a musical conoisseur. Not that I can't enjoy it; I hope I can just about escape Shakespeare's devastating remark

The man that hath no music in himself,
Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils;
The motions of his spirit are dull as night
And his affections dark as Erebus:
Let no such man be trusted.

— The Merchant of Venice V, i

It's just that it's not easy for me. I can happily spend 20 minutes looking at a Velazquez painting, but the same time listening to a complex orchestral piece would be tough going.

I've recently been listening in the car to a CD a friend gave me of the great cellist Rostropovich playing Dvorak's Cello Concerto (plus Tchaikovsky's Rococo Variations, which I was recently informed was not the 4th movement!) and after about seven or eight listens I am really starting to enjoy it. There are passages I still can't follow, but gradually I'm beginning to get the idea. A couple of weeks ago I heard that Mstislav Rostropovich had died at the age of 80, and last night I happened by accident on the last half hour of a TV tribute to his life ... click "Read more"
It turns out that this was not just a great musician, but a great man. Miraculously talented as a cellist, he was also by the by a concert pianist and one of the greatest conductors. He commissioned works from all of the best composers of the 20th and 21st Centuries, championed the cause of Shostakovich and Solzhenitsyn (for which he was eventually exiled), played an impromptu concert to celebrate at the Berlin Wall when it was torn down, and stood shoulder to shoulder in the Russian parliament with Yeltsin and the others when Gorbachev was overthrown in a military coup. He was also fantastically generous with his time and money, leading a campaign to vaccinate millions of Russian children against hepatitis, and supporting from his own funds dozens of young musicians too poor to pay for their own education. He said "friendship is the most important thing in the world".

He told a story of how, as a young musician he had been travelling with five others in a train through the night in the Russian winter. Each of them had only one blanket and Rostropovich was so cold that he lay down to sleep, with only the sincere hope that he would never wake up. Some while later he opened his eyes to find that all of the others had piled their blankets on top of him. He was visibly moved at the memory: in all of his life, he said, he had tried to emulate this act of kindness; but nothing he had ever done came close to those blankets.

The programme closed with a film of Rostropovich, at the height of his powers in 1974, playing the final movement of ... Dvorak's Cello Concerto. It was tremendous to see him play - so big and forceful, and yet so light. I felt that he was giving of himself, just as in his life he had given to others so freely, conscious only of the music. At the end, clearly exhausted, he embraced the conductor and some of his fellow players, as if they had all come through a long, dangerous ocean voyage together.

I'm sorry if I don't have a point to make here. This was just something that inspired me and I wanted to write it down.

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Friday, May 18, 2007

Abandoning the story

Yesterday evening I went to the Gangaji meeting near Waterloo. It was, in its way, quite a revelation. Her short exposition of how she came to her teacher and found the freedom and fulfilment she was looking for, was simple and clarifying. Her subsequent handling of people who came to the front to talk to her was exemplary. But her voice! And presence. This is an extraordinary woman.


She spoke of silence and demonstrated it. She spoke of letting go the story of her life - and encouraged us to do the same as a necessary, if alarming, step towards fulfilment. Her words and manner acted as a very gentle cut.


Her teacher, a disciple of Sri Ramana Maharshi, whom she met in Lucknow, sent her back to teach. He said she had 'the purity, nobility and satvic nature to carry this transmission to the West' (Wikipedia).


Be that as it may, I walked out into the dusk to Waterloo Station on my way home and never have I found a railway station more beautiful and welcoming.


Today has been very quiet and reflective.


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Monday, May 14, 2007

Quote ... Unquote

I very much enjoyed the responses to the "Golden Rules" post a few days ago. I think that what happened was that we stopped thinking about the problems as being about "them" and started to look at ourselves, with humour and humility. Maybe we could do more of that. The blog is useful to chivvy along the pace of change, I hope, but the real change is within me and you.

Another thing I would like to raise is the way we use quotations.

I often think of a wise quotation that I might use to contradict what someone else says, but I very rarely use it. It always feels like using a hammer to crack a nut ... and maybe the nut one is talking to is a human being, after all! ... click "Read more"

This blog is 99% made up of the words of its contributors. Why is this important? Because I believe that we in the School rely too much on the words of the wise, and need to learn to stand on our own two feet. The wise are constantly contradicting each other, anyway. The Bible is self-contradictory, if one is literal about it. Shantananda contradicts himself. So if we are going to rely on the wise, we need to place more emphasis on our own understanding. If we regurgitate partly-digested wisdom at each other, this is not communication.

There are blogs which are the exact opposite - a collection of wise quotations, with maybe 1% original content. I would not disparage that at all, but this blog has a different function.

Shantananda told the translator at the first meeting: "don't listen to my words; listen to my meaning, and translate that". On another occasion he said, "no-one needs to bind himself to a word". He also said that the quickest way to self-realization is to speak from the heart, and act on your words, without worrying too much about whether you've made a mistake or properly understood the teaching.

These principles of his have been honoured almost entirely in the breach.

There have been too many wise words from India and elsewhere, and too little understanding. We need to start to discover our own voices. Some (I know) will say that this is the route to egotism, but I can only respond that if that is what is in my heart, then "better out than in"! We cannot purify what is hidden, but only what is shown.

So I would propose this rule:

Never use a quotation to dismiss someone else's words, or when you have words of your own, however poor.

Responses?

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Sunday, May 13, 2007

Show, don't be

there are two kinds of actors: introvert and extrovert. The introvert plays on the back foot, assumes character and attempts to 'be real'; the extrovert plays on the front foot, demonstrates and presents a character. As a generalisation, the extrovert actor flourishes at The Globe, the introvert does not. 'Show, don't be' is the rule.

- Howard Brenton writing about the Globe theatre in the Guardian, 12th May 2007

This comment interested me greatly, and I think it's because it reminds me of the School's founder. I remember he said that Christ on the cross was "putting on a show". However repugnant such a view may be to orthodox Christianity, it says a lot about the style and verve with which McLaren went about things. Surprising then that so many of his acolytes lack any sense of theatre. They are people playing on the back foot, 'attempting to be real', with the justification that "simply being" is where it's at, looking nervously down their pale noses at those who appear different.

(I recently spoke to two senior and very bright people in the School who had each decided to stop giving public talks because of the flak they got from fellow group members.)

What these people forget, of course, is that if there was an exam for "being" we would all get 100%. "Being" is not an aspiration, but a reality. Philosophically we can accept that life is a play, but how many of us know how to enjoy it?

How many of us can show that it is a play?

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Friday, May 11, 2007

Why We All Have a Novel in Us (And What To Do About It)

Last night I gave a 20-minute talk at the Catalyst Club in Brighton. The club is a very interesting idea - a night club where people get up to talk on any subject they feel passionate about. This is the text - it's not a polished article but just an aide memoire, so please don't take me to task over grammar or particular expressions!

The title of this talk is “Why We All Have a Novel In Us (And What To Do About It)”. I would like to state at the outset that this talk is not an encouragement to anyone to show me their unpublished manuscript!

I used to love novels. When I got a job in publishing a few years back, I used to read a couple of novels every week. In a way it was my ideal job, and I really enjoyed the reading. After I left that job I did freelance work reading the ‘slush pile’, and after a few months of this, I found I couldn’t take any more. It would be all right if I were the kind of reader who can pick up a book and put it down two minutes later … I have to spend time with it.

And the thing is that when I start to read a novel I feel a kind of obligation to the writer to keep reading. I’m very conscious of how much work has gone into it, how much of themselves the author has put into it, and if I put it down after a couple of pages I feel guilty, as if I’ve invalidated that person’s efforts. That’s why I’m unwilling into pick up a novel these days. It’s such a commitment.

Slide of: Novels published by Michael Palin, Melvyn Bragg, Julie Walters, Alan Titchmarsh, Katie Price (Jordan)

Everyone wants to write a novel these days – comedians and light entertainers; glamour models; journalists; MPs – the novel is a kind of badge of honour. We haven’t seen the footballer novel yet, but it’s going to happen. What writing a novel says is “I’m not just a pretty face, I’ve got substance and soul” or, in the case of someone like Melvyn Bragg, it says “I’m not just a po-faced egghead: I’ve got humanity”.

It is almost as if we accept that to write a novel is truly to be ... click "read more"

The question I’d like to look at with you this evening is, WHY? Why is the novel given such importance, such credibility?

Novels and Romances

The technology that made the novel practically possible was, of course, the printing press. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that this was the only cause, but without it we would not have had the novel as a mass literary phenomenon. It made books cheaper to produce and therefore to buy, making books available to a much wider audience than before. When Caxton built his first printing-press in 1475, one of his first books was Sir Thomas Malory’s Le Morte D’Arthur, a collection of Arthurian romances from which we draw a lot of our stories about the Knights of the Round Table. Some people think this was the first novel, but I think this kind of collection of stories is better seen as a bridge between the oral culture and the new emerging literary one.

Nouvelle

The word “novel” was first used in England and France in the 17th Century. It was usually used to describe a cheaply-printed romance. The word derives from the same root as “news”, and it seems that the early newspapers and novels were circulated together, and they shared the same relatively low status. A lot of people attacked the newspaper writers and the novelists for not writing the truth, but it might equally be said that they represented a democratization of knowledge. The same kind of thing is happening today with the rise in blogging and camera phones. These innovations represent a liberation of the media from its traditional custodians, and they also raise concerns about the quality of what is published.

During the 16th Century the wide publication of the romances, together with rising literacy, meant that a whole new class of people were able to read books for the first time. And these romances were what they read.

Don Quixote

Don Quixote, the hero of the first ever true novel, is one such reader: a poor down at heel gentleman from a backwoods part of Spain called La Mancha, who fills his head with ideas about chivalry that he gets from his collection of romances, and convinces himself that he is a knight-errant. The humour of the book comes from the gap between reality and what Don Quixote believes and sees.

Cervantes’ book distinguishes between the ridiculous fantasy of the romance tale and a new, more probable form of fiction. Don Quixote is not literally true, of course, but nor is it a fantasy. It allows us to reflect on the actions and motivations of the characters in the book, and to enter into their world in a way not possible in a book before.

The book was written in two parts (1605/1615) and in the second part, the author Cervantes has great fun with the idea that the first part has been published and read by many of the characters in the book. Aware of Don Quixote’s affliction, some of them dress up as knights and squires and construct elaborate practical jokes to play on Don Quixote and his faithful “squire” Sancho Panza, in effect becoming part of Don Quixote’s imaginary world. As Cervantes remarks, it is hard in the end to decide who is more deluded, Don Quixote or his tormentors.

As he was writing the second part of Don Quixote, Cervantes heard the bad news that someone else had already brought out a sequel. Rather than complain about this, he simply incorporated the spurious sequel into his own. Don Quixote and Sancho Panza come across someone who has a copy of the sequel and they hear that it tells how they went to Saragossa to take part in a joust. They are indeed planning to do just this, but they immediately change their plans and go to Barcelona in order to give the lie to the sequel. Later, they meet one of the characters from the false sequel, who agrees that this Don Quixote and Sancho Panza are far superior to the ones he previously met, and must therefore be the real ones.

This is the kind of literary game that people today like to call “post-modern”, and I think it’s fascinating that the very first European novel is full of self-referential post-modernity. I think that what it shows is that our ability to be aware of ourselves as we write, to be unreliable narrators, to write books that are about writing books and reading books, has very little to do with how clever we are today, and everything to do with the act of writing a novel.

Novels, ‘Realism’ and Ordinary Life

Don Quixote is a startlingly modern (or post-modern) read, and it’s maybe not too surprising that nobody wrote anything like it, despite its huge success and the numerous imitators, for another century. Cervantes was way ahead of his time, but there were huge changes happening, most of all the great shift in religious life caused by the rise of Protestantism.

Protestantism was in tune with a move away from the hierarchical society of the past towards one in which ordinary people and ordinary life became significant. The Puritans said, “God Loveth Adverbs”, by which they meant that it was not what one did that was significant, but the spirit of faith in which one did it. A Puritan preacher like William Perkins (1558 – 1602) shocked his listeners with his radical views. He said that from the point of view of God, there was no difference between washing dishes and preaching the word of God; that if they spring from faith, “deeds of matrimony” – that is, of sexual intercourse – “are pure and spiritual”; and that even acts such as wiping one’s shoes “howsoever gross they appear outwardly, yet are they sanctified.”

This new form of spirituality had a profound influence on our culture from the 16th Century onwards, as it turned attention on to the spiritual quality and meaning of ordinary life. When ordinary life – even down to washing dishes and wiping one’s feet – became significant and worthy of attention, the way was clear for the realistic novel. And these are just the kind of details one finds in Don Quixote.

Novels and Self-Examination

Protestant sects such as the Puritans also placed great emphasis on self-examination. They taught that God had chosen certain people to be his elect, and that it was necessary to examine one’s soul to discover the evidence of the grace of God working within. Most of the Puritan Founding Fathers who emigrated to America kept a spiritual journal, recording their daily innermost thoughts and experiences. In 1678 John Bunyan, an English Puritan preacher, published the first part of The Pilgrim’s Progress, which was a book half way between a spiritual journal and a novel.

This is, I think, one of the reasons why the novel exerts such a powerful hold over our imaginations. It is a kind of pilgrim’s progress: not to the hereafter, but into the inner self. When I sit down to write “my novel”, I am simultaneously exploring and revealing my inner life. Only in a novel do we get the promise of, as the title of a recent book by Tom Wolfe has it, “A Man in Full”.

This, at least, is the aspiration. But there are dangers in this kind of journey, as we shall see.

Robinson Crusoe: Getting Lost in a Book

Daniel Defoe, author of Robinson Crusoe (1719) was the first English novelist in the modern sense. Like Bunyan, Defoe was a Puritan who wrote books of spiritual instruction. It appears that he set out in Crusoe to write an allegory similar to that of The Pilgrim’s Progress, based on the Biblical story of Jonah and the story he had heard of Alexander Selkirk, a Scottish sailor who spent four years alone on a desert island.

Robinson Crusoe runs away from his father’s house in York and gets on a ship in Hull to take him to London. In an explicit echo of the story of Jonah (in which Jonah goes to sea to escape the command of God) the ship is beset by storms and the sailors speculate
that Crusoe is the cause of the trouble, although they don’t throw him overboard. Nothing daunted, Crusoe sets off on another voyage and this time he has another Jonah-like warning when he’s captured by pirates and sold into slavery. He escapes, and goes into the slave trade himself, and this third time he finally meets his Jonah-like fate when he is shipwrecked off the coast of Brazil and finds himself at last on the famous island.

At this point, Defoe forgets all about his apparent intention to write a cautionary tale. Instead, he becomes fascinated by Crusoe’s efforts to build a shelter, domesticate animals, till the soil, and so on. By the end of his exile, Crusoe is the triumphant ruler of the island, the master of all that he surveys. The early moralizing forgotten, Defoe tells us how Crusoe returns to civilization to find that he has become rich in his absence due to some investments he left behind. So much for Jonah: running away from Dad is now just the beginning of life’s great adventure.

What is so interesting here is the way that the novelist, ostensibly in control of the book he is writing, quickly loses control. To some extent this can happen with any book, but only in a novel can it happen so dramatically.

The Pilgrim’s Progress intended by the Puritan writer turns into something quite different. It is no longer clear by the end whether it is a pilgrimage at all, or if it is a pilgrimage then Crusoe has traveled to a quite different shrine. Defoe lost interest in condemning Crusoe’s folly, and became filled with enthusiasm for the idea of being a castaway.

It seems that Crusoe represents a kind of ideal of isolation and individualism, one that the modern world finds attractive. When the book came out there were examples of people who actually voluntarily marooned themselves on desert islands, and today we still have this fantasy. One day, if we win the lottery, we’ll buy an island and live in isolation from the world.
But for the rest of us, there is another way to escape.

Reading in isolation

Slide of: Silent Reading: Vermeer's Lady Reading a Letter

There’s a fascinating passage in St Augustine’s autobiography in which he described St Ambrose reading: “When he read, his eyes scanned the page and his heart explored the meaning, but his voice was silent and his tongue was still”. Augustine speculates as to whether Ambrose didn’t want to disturb those around him with the obscure things he used to read, or whether he was trying to save his voice, “but whatever his reason, we may be sure it was a good one”. Evidently in the 5th Century, it was an extraordinary thing to read silently.

Following the Middle Ages, silent reading became more commonplace. Again, Protestantism was an important motive force, as it moved us away from the old communal forms of worship and culture, and towards new, private and personal forms. The Bible was translated for the first time from Latin into the vernacular languages, allowing ordinary people to read it. Whereas before the word of God was received orally in public, it could now be studied silently and in private. People were encouraged to learn to read so that they could study the word of God for themselves.

Of course, this also meant that they could read other things, and the ready availability of lengthy works of fiction in the 18th Century meant that one really could become immersed in privately reading a book in a way that was never possible before. These new reading habits provoked a great deal of protest, because while people could now read and reflect on religious doctrine within their hearts and minds, they could also reflect on other things.

Whereas other books might be a source of edification, the novel has always been inherently enjoyable. We get lost in a novel, and forget where we are. Dr Johnson remarked in the early 18th Century: “Was there ever yet anything written by mere man that was wished longer by its readers, excepting Don Quixote, Robinson Crusoe and The Pilgrim’s Progress”.

One of the most controversial books ever published came out in 1740. It was written by a printer, Samuel Richardson, and it was called Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded. It was one of the first novels to feature a female central character and it dealt with questions of love. Pamela is a young serving-girl whose wealthy employer takes a shine to her. His attempts to seduce or rape Pamela fail, and in the end he is converted by her unassailable virtue to the path of righteousness, and marries her. This new kind of novel proved irresistible to readers, especially women. Serving-girls and others who longed to climb the social ladder saw in Pamela not only a paragon of virtue, but a dream of advancement.

Interestingly, the explosion in romantic novels in the 18th Century coincided with the arrival of a new piece of furniture in fashionable drawing rooms: the sofa. Ever since, the novel and the sofa have been inseparable.

Writing in Isolation

But if reading a novel is a delicious isolation, how much more isolated is the author while engaged in the long labour of writing? When I was studying English at university I was struck by a curious fact about the early novels. So far as I am aware, no-one else has noticed this.
All of the early writers of the novels and the proto-novels – Malory, Cervantes, Bunyan, Defoe – had spent time in prison. Malory and Bunyan actually wrote their books in prison. Defoe had been in prison for debt. Cervantes, like a real-life Robinson Crusoe, was sold into slavery in North Africa for five years, and much of this time he spent in jail.

These were men of action – an adventurer, a soldier, a rogue preacher and an entrepreneur – who suddenly found themselves unable to do anything. There is no such connection between later novelists and prison, suggesting that the early period of the novel required a kind of crucible of intense isolation, in which the energies turn inwards and create a new world of the mind.

Cervantes seems to have had reservations about the validity of this: as he remarked in the preface to Don Quixote, his book was “the story of a dry, shrivelled, whimsical offspring, full of thoughts of all sorts and such as never came into any other imagination – just what might be begotten in a prison”.

The novel is a work produced in isolation, and consumed in isolation.

Novels and the Written Word

The other major literary forms, drama and poetry are essentially oral, public, shared experiences. People do read poetry by themselves, but this is a recent innovation. The expectation has always been that poetry was a performance. That’s why poems have metre and rhythm and rhyme: firstly because it makes them easier to remember, and secondly because it makes them more enjoyable to listen to.

Even novels were until the 19th Century often enjoyed in this kind of situation. There’s a story of how the people of Slough listened to Pamela being read publicly in the 1740s, and when the book concluded with her marriage, they rushed with joy to the church and rang the bells to celebrate. Dickens’ novels were similarly shared by large groups of people, and he used to travel the world giving public readings, which were apparently as much theatre as literature. Book-readings do still go on, of course, but perhaps the most hopeful development in recent years has been the rise of the book-group. Most book groups concentrate on novels, but by making the novel the excuse for a social gathering, I think the book group breaks through the isolation and individualism of novel-reading and gets the reader off the sofa.

I don’t have any evidence to support this, but I’d like to end by stating my belief that the shared experience of words is inherently more healthy and positive than the private one. That’s why it’s so good for me to be able to speak to you in this way. The Catalyst Club is a place where people can speak to each other meaningfully, enjoyably and seriously.

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Wednesday, May 09, 2007

Ich-Du

An excerpt from the Shankaracharya was heard recently (from memory):

“Devotion leads to direct relationship”.

This is a theme that has been appearing in a number of synchronous guises on this blog & elsewhere. Recent discussions on the blog re-evoked a memory of the name ‘Martin Buber’. I haven’t ever gone deeply into his work but, on review, I have found the essence of what he is saying about ‘meeting’ or ‘not meeting’ to be rather profound. So I hope this brief excerpt from Wiki is of interest to others.


The generic motif Buber employs to describe the dual modes of being is one of dialogue (Ich-Du) and monologue (Ich-Es)…

Ich-Du ("I-Thou" or "I-You") is a relationship that stresses the mutual, holistic existence of two beings. It is a concrete encounter, because these beings meet one another in their authentic existence, without any qualification or objectification of one another. Even imagination and ideas do not play a role in this relation. In an I-Thou encounter, infinity and universality are made actual (rather than being merely concepts).

Buber stressed that an Ich-Du relationship lacks any composition (e.g. structure) and communicates no content (e.g. information). Despite the fact that Ich-Du cannot be proven to happen as an event (e.g. it cannot be measured), Buber stressed that it is real and perceivable… Common English words used to describe the Ich-Du relationship include encounter, meeting, dialogue, mutuality, and exchange. ... click "Read more"

One key Ich-Du relationship Buber identified was that which can exist between a human being and God. Buber argued that this is the only way in which it is possible to interact with God, and that an Ich-Du relationship with anything or anyone connects in some way with the eternal relation to God.

The Ich-Es ("I-It") relationship is nearly the opposite of Ich-Du. Whereas in Ich-Du the two beings encounter one another, in an Ich-Es relationship the beings do not actually meet. Instead, the "I" confronts and qualifies an idea, or conceptualization, of the being in its presence and treats that being as an object. All such objects are considered merely mental representations, created and sustained by the individual mind… Therefore, the Ich-Es relationship is in fact a relationship with oneself; it is not a dialogue, but a monologue.

In the Ich-Es relationship, an individual treats other things, people, etc., as objects to be used and experienced. Essentially, this form of objectivity relates to the world in terms of the self - how an object can serve the individual’s interest.

Buber argued that human life consists of an oscillation between Ich-Du and Ich-Es, and that in fact Ich-Du experiences are rather few and far between. In diagnosing the various perceived ills of modernity (e.g. isolation, dehumanization, etc.), Buber believed that the expansion of a purely analytic, material view of existence was at heart an advocation of Ich-Es relations - even between human beings. Buber argued that this paradigm devalued not only existents, but the meaning of all existence.


“Egos appear by setting themselves apart from other egos.”

~ Buber


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Martin_Buber

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Monday, May 07, 2007

Three Golden Rules

I'd like to propose some positive principles for the blog. I would ask that everyone who participates is prepared to say, when necessary, these three sentences:

"I'm sorry, I got that wrong"
"You made a really good point there"
"What do you think?"

I've mentioned these before - my father learned them on a management course in a slightly different form - and at that point I applied them to the School. I said that the School needed to learn to say these sentences: to admit error and the possibility of error, to praise individual students, and to ask non-rhetorical questions with real curiosity. I still believe that that is correct.

But maybe a function of the blog is for us, as members of the School (or perhaps in some cases "Honoured Alumni"!), to learn how to be the change we want to see. We need to learn these conversational skills and use them. In addition to this, if we have disputes in future, we can refer to these sentences for a way out.

They're just short-hand, of course, and need to be interpreted intelligently. If I genuinely believe that what I am saying is right, then I should not say "I'm sorry, I got that wrong". But I might say, "I'm sorry that we're having this argument. Perhaps I've misunderstood your position. Can you explain it in different words?" Or I might say, "I've often found your remarks helpful in the past, but this appears to me to be wrong, because ..."

There may be those who cannot agree to these sentences. If so, now is the time to argue the case!

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Tuesday, May 01, 2007

Satyakama & The Truth

Essay Question:

Q. In the following excerpt from the Chandogya Upanishad (Part 4, Ch 4) how is 'truth' defined?
(Not more than as many words as are necessary)


(Satyakama) came to Gautama the son of Haridrumata and said: "Revered Sir, I wish to live with you as a brahmacharin. May I approach you, as a pupil?"

Gautama said to him: "Of what ancestry are you, dear friend?" Satyakama said: "I do not know, Sir, of what ancestry I am. I asked my mother about it and she replied: ‘In my youth I was preoccupied with many household duties and with attending on guests when I conceived you. I do not know of what ancestry you are. I am Jabala by name and you are Satyakama.’
I am therefore, Sir, Satyakama Jabala."

Gautama said: "None but a true brahmin would thus speak out. Fetch the fuel, dear friend; I shall initiate you. You have not departed from truth."

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Torches of Freedom

This is the blog's first venture into video - a clip from Adam Curtis's 2002 documentary, The Century of the Self. I'm presently reading Edward Bernays' classic book Propaganda.

Edward Bernays was Sigmund Freud's nephew, "the father of public relations", the man who invented "bacon and eggs", toppled the democratically elected government of Guatemala on behalf of a banana corporation and, as this clip shows, persuaded women to smoke.

He did so with the advice of a Freudian analyst who said that ... well, I won't spoil it for you.

In five minutes this clip lays bare the truth about what Bernays calls "the new propaganda ... the executive arm of the invisible government".

To view, just click on the video. You might need to click pause and wait a couple of minutes for the download if your connection is slowish like mine.

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Sunday, April 29, 2007

Zing

The other day I saw some results of a survey of early-part philosophy students. Without revealing anything confidential, it was pleasing to see how positive people are about the course and the tutors.

I reflected that I would have wholeheartedly agreed with them when I was at that stage in the School - for example, that the tutoring was inspirational; sadly however, I can't say that I feel that way now. I would now be far more likely to agree with the very few negative comments.

This is not a comment on any one tutor, but on my own needs as a student. What was once compelling is no longer so, not because the tutors have got worse but because the group set-up no longer addresses what I need. It has done its job, I believe, and moved me on to a stage where I can and do decide things for myself. If being tutored is a "thorn to remove a thorn", I have been saying for quite a few years "honestly, the thorn is out - can I please not be poked any more?" I am not, of course, saying that I have reached any pinnacle of enlightenment; just that no-one else can take me any further. Unfortunately the School has no way of dealing with this eventuality.

The problem that now faces the School is not getting new students in, but revitalizing the existing ones. When the senior people in the School get their 'zing' back, we won't have any problem with recruitment. No matter how much variety is introduced into study days and weekends and group nights, it won't ultimately help. People are bored not by what is being given to them, but by being given things.

This is why I stay: because it has become once again a place where I can do spiritual work. I am responsible for a group of students, and also engage in a number of other activities that are challenging, rewarding and (I believe) of use to others. I don't have to pretend to be someone else, or kowtow to anyone: it is a place where I can discover myself, and be myself, and be connected to the self in others.

It would not be difficult to bring about a change so that others could find the same benefit, if only the nature of the ailment were understood.

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Wednesday, April 25, 2007

Eco... er... balls...


Had to start a new post to get you this lovely image of eco-balls which will revolutionise your washing while giving you a warm but very clean experience (see Gaia post).

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Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Modern Art I Can Appreciate


A bit of enlightened grafitti in response to Kevin's "Respecting Gaia" thread.

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Respecting Gaia


I've just finished reading James Lovelock's Revenge of Gaia, and it was a hair-raising experience.

We hear this or that theory in the press, or watch documentaries such as Al Gore's An Inconvenient Truth or the recent Global Warming Swindle on Channel 4, and in general the lay person is at a loss to know what to believe. Maybe this is a case where we have to rely on the testimony of those that know - the scientists.

The problem that I have now is that I believe in James Lovelock. He's the last great independent scientist, and it appears now that his Gaia-theory has gained general acceptance among the scientific community. So far as I can understand, it says that the earth (or at least the living part of it, and its environment) is best understood as a single self-regulating organism. Until recently Lovelock believed that Gaia was much stronger than man's ability to harm it, but in the last few years he has changed his mind ... click Read more

Although the sun is now considerably hotter than it was when life began, Gaia has maintained temperatures at more or less the same level through a set of negative feedback mechanisms. For example, warmth causes evaporation from the oceans, which causes clouds, which cool Gaia. The overall temperature of the globe does vary over time, oscillating between ice-age and "interglacial" period. We have been in an interglacial for thousands of years, but according to Lovelock this is not the optimum state: Gaia likes it cold.


Look at a picture of a sun-kissed Caribbean beach, with its pellucid blue waters and white sands. What you are looking at is a sterile environment. I was in Cuba last year and tried to go snorkelling: the sea is empty. By contrast, the murky slate-coloured seas off our own coasts look like that because they are teeming with life. 80% of the surface of the world's oceans is essentially empty, which is not good news for Gaia because its regulatory systems rely on things like algae (such as seaweed), which weirdly but wonderfully help to create the clouds. So, according to the latest science Gaia is not ideally prepared for global warming generated by mankind. Gaia would much rather be in an ice age, with 3 km of ice covering Britain and most of Europe.



Lovelock now believes that there are a number of positive feedback mechanisms that are getting under way, including: the melting of the ice sheets of Greenland and Antarctica; the progressive death of the algae; and the defrosting of the Siberian tundra, which threatens to release vast quantities of methane into the atmosphere (24 times worse than CO2). He says that we may well have passed the point of no return.



The worst-case scenario is probably not the death of Gaia, nor the destruction of life or of human life, but the end of civilization. Gaia will give up the effort to maintain temperatures at the present level, and the temperature will leap to a new level at which Gaia can again find equilibrium. Impossible to predict what temperature this would be, but we could see a return to the hot desert world of the Eocene period, which lasted 200,000 years. In that event, the seas would rise to their maximum level, 80 metres above where they are now, leaving most of the population of the world to fight for the remaining highlands.


Lovelock is not some crank, but possibly the greatest scientist of our times. His view is now pretty much supported by the science community. He believes that this nightmare scenario is not just possible, but probable.


We may have already gone too far to reverse the process, but we may not. What Lovelock is saying is that we need to immediately retreat from our present way of life. "Sustainable devlopment" is a lie, and "saving the planet" hopelessly arrogant. He says we need to convert our civilization to nuclear power (he kindly offers to store one year's nuclear waste from a power station in his garden, to show how convinced he is of its safety) to buy ourselves some time.


All of this might appear to be off-topic, but this is at least in part a personal blog. Also, the School is supposed to be about practical philosophy and economic science. If civiliation survives, it will no doubt look back with the brutal clarity of hindsight and judge those that preached complacency, with no more mercy than we now afford to Neville Chamberlain or to the bureaucrats of Nazism.


What will WE have done in the face of danger? What will the School have done?

Lovelock blames our problem in part on the scientific philosophy created by Descartes, which takes everything apart and then reassembles it: a philosophy that cannot understand complex systems in action. This is the philosophy of modernity, and there is a need for a better philosophy for our time. The Upanishads were not written by people who lived today, and if they were more concerned about chariots and cows than we are, it's because of that. The perennial philosophy needs to be rewritten in every age, and for modernity. Are we going to rise to that challenge, or will we, like Arjuna in his despondency, put down our weapons and renounce the painful actions we see ahead of us? Will we leave the work to others, and order in new carpets for Mandeville?


I strongly recommend that you read this book. An article about it was recently published in The Independent.

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Monday, April 23, 2007

Bananas: His Holiness’ Words as a Tutors’ Capping Kit.

Have you noticed how His Holiness’ conversations can be used as a tool for making the world narrower, rather than what they were intended for, namely to break open our narrow vision to reveal the infinite spaces of the universal reality?

What do I mean? Let’s take a hypothetical example: bananas. In the conversations, His Holiness might have said something about bananas, perhaps as a diversion from the main thread of conversation, or to illustrate something else, or as part of a story, or whatever. It will rarely be a definition or an attempt to say the ultimate and last word on the subject.

Unfortunately, however, in the mind of the unimaginative tutor - unrefreshed by study of the conversations as a whole, or of the other works of the Vedic canon, or of the history of thought, or the lively global conversation of the early twenty-first century - this statement on bananas from then on becomes the entire truth about the subject ... click "Read More"

And so, if the student should say something about bananas that does not quite resonate with the context and content of His Holiness’ offhand remark, then the student’s comment will be ‘capped’ by the jubilant tutor: ‘You’ve got it wrong, lad. Let’s stick to the teaching. His Holiness says this, that, or the other.’

In this way the tutor retains the upper hand and the conversation is stymied. It may be that Shankara says the very opposite somewhere, or Plato, or Vasishtha, or Alasdair McIntyre. It is not well understood in the School that the Vedic tradition allows for many views and does not append the labels ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ to ideas as we tend to do in the West, and as our founder was wont to do.

This crass illustration, of course, is just an imaginary example of a general trend. The remedy, however, is not obvious. It would involve widening the education and cultural outlook of the average tutor. It might involve the unthinkable decision to choose tutors who, rather than being ‘safe pairs of hands’, would be ‘loose canons’. It might involve having a rotating tutorship each week within each senior group.

It would certainly involve moving outside of the comfortable, endlessly-repeated habits of group practice and settled dogma, and letting into the School the fresh air and unlimited possibilities of the present.

Can you see this happening?

Posted on behalf of Son of Moses.

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Wednesday, April 11, 2007

Who Is The Teacher?

The following gem might just possibly free up considerable 'baggage' for both teacher and student. What do you think?


The work of the spiritual teacher is like the
work of Cupid. The work of Cupid is to bring
two souls together; and so is the work of the
spiritual teacher: to bring together the soul and
God. But what is taught to the one who seeks
after truth? Nothing is taught. He is only shown
how he should learn from God. For no man
can ever teach spirituality; it is God alone who
teaches it.

-Hazrat Inayat Khan

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Tuesday, April 10, 2007

Kindness

If there is one thing we need to learn as a School, it is how to be kind and compassionate to each other.

Fortunately, things have improved a lot over the past 15 years or so, at least negatively: there is less of the cruelty that used to characterise the organisation:

- a member of the Foundation ladies who experienced responses to questions that were 'like being thrown up against a wall and having rifles pointed at me ... eventually I learned to stop asking. I thought "whatever you want me to say, I'll say it" '
- an Irish student who was asked by a Senior member if his toolbox was "a bomb to blow us all up"
- the custom of the "exocet", a response to a question so devastating that it leaves nothing but scorch-marks on the ballroom floor
- a student who was forced to confess to his homosexuality by a tutor, who within minutes passed this information on as gossip to some of the students' fellow group members

Thank goodness such incidents are now very rare. But it was once the opposite.

I remember many years ago being shocked to hear of how a senior tutor criticised an i/c for taunting one of the students working under him ... shocked because the senior tutor actually believed that it was wrong to taunt people for their apparent weaknesses. When that shock had worn off I was still more shocked by the implications of my being surprised at this. How had I become so accustomed to unkindness that it came to seem normal?

That kind and intelligent tutor has since left the School. The perpetrators of the other examples are mostly still with us. I do not say this because I believe they should be called to account. That would be vindictive. I say it to illustrate just how far we have to go to create the atmosphere of love, discipline and care that is the Satsanga.

Samson dreamt of a dead lion with a beehive in its open belly (commemorated in the beautiful picture on the tin of Lyle's Golden Syrup!) Motto: "Out of the strength came forth sweetness". Let's hope so.

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Tuesday, April 03, 2007

Founding Principles


The objectives of the School since it was set up in 1937 are:

"to promote the study of the natural laws governing relations in human society, and the study of the laws, customs and practices by which communities are governed."

What do you understand by this? Does it provide guidance for you in your work in the School (group, duties, etc)? Does it accurately represent your own motivations for membership?

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Letter from the leader

This letter from Mr Lambie has just been posted on the London site - I think that it's a good step towards a more open approach. What do you think about this, and about the content? - K

Welcome to what is intended to be the first of a series of letters to share some thoughts and reflections about the School and its work. I hope that members of the Schools both in the UK and around the world will find it of interest.

Aims
The principal aim of the School is complete liberation – or, to put it another way, the realisation of Man’s full potential. Together with that there is the secondary purpose of seeking to live and work in such a way as to serve and enrich society and the world in which we live.

Voyage of discovery
As far as the first of these aims is concerned, it is important to make the point that this is very much a voyage of discovery. What may have been understood or experienced in the past should not be taken as final and complete. Rather, it can serve as the foundation for something greater and finer to emerge. Every day provides opportunities for this to happen.
Although the great teachers set out their wisdom fully and generously, it is up to every individual to discover the real meaning and import of that for him or herself. Working together in a School does however mean that one person’s discovery can become everyone’s discovery, and in this way the process is enhanced.

Freedom is an inner state of being and as such it is difficult if not impossible for it to be quantified. Advaita philosophy does however give certain indicators. Where a person has greater energy, steadfastness, reason, love and happiness, and where there is a coherence between thoughts and actions, these do demonstrate a growth of freedom. Advaita philosophy also speaks of universal freedom and the complete elimination of misery. It provides the knowledge which, taken together with meditation, makes this possible. This remains the goal.

Spiritual and cultural heritage
As far as the second of these aims is concerned, the School, in addition to studying and teaching Philosophy, also aims to explore such subjects as art, music, law, economics, science, language, dance, renaissance studies, medicine and education in the light of Philosophy.
Recently, for example in Ireland, we spent a week considering the practical application of Platonic dialectic. London has just seen the book launch of a new translation by a School member of the Asclepius by Hermes Trismegistus. The teachings of such figures as Plato and Hermes Trismegistus may seem arcane but, when really connected with, they can provide invaluable and inspiring insights into present day life. A series of lectures entitled “The Philosophical Garden” on some of these subjects can be downloaded from this web-site.
The full list of all the School’s activities is long. In forthcoming letters I will say something more about these.

Liberation and service
The aims of liberation and seeking to serve society are not unrelated. Where there is a real sense of freedom, any service will carry something of that quality. It will be open, intelligent, creative and full of love. Likewise, in facing the challenges of the world, people often have to transcend their own, self imposed, limits. In rising to the occasion in this way, something of the true nature of the Self is experienced.

I believe the work of the School is of utmost importance. The philosophic teaching that has come from Shri Shantananda Sarasvati is capable of meeting the needs both of individuals and the world in a marvellous way. We do however need to continue with the process of discovery and give great care and attention to all that takes place. In this way we can best seek to fulfil our aims.

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Friday, March 23, 2007

In praise of egg-heads

One of the problems the School faces at the moment is its lack of specialists. Mr MacLaren used to inveigh against "experts" and their "qualifications", which was fair enough in a way, but taken to extremes it leads to some very narrow thinking. For example, the idea that "falling still in the moment" is the only necessary thing in learning the truth.

As a consequence, we are a school of Advaita Vedanta philosophy almost entirely staffed by people who are unable to explain the word Vedanta; who do not know what characterises that philosophy and sets it apart from, say, Yoga or Buddhism; and who have no awareness of Western philosophy other than smatterings of Plato and Ficino.

I recently spoke to a new tutor who explained Advaita as "Er ... duality?"

The problem is not that most people don't know these things. Most people have more important issues in their lives, and indeed in their approach to philosophy. There is no reason for us all to be egg-heads. But some of us need to be, if we are to develop as an organisation. As a minimum, all tutors should be given a basic grounding in Indian philosophy, and a nodding acquaintance with Western thought wouldn't hurt either. That would make it so much easier for everyone else.
A knowledgeable person is like a tent pole - you don't need many of them, but without them we must all stumble around in the dark, confused.
So this is a plea for diversity. Let's celebrate the boffins - for all their strange knitted cardigans, oddly high foreheads and unkempt appearance, they also are God's creatures.

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Wednesday, March 21, 2007

Teachers - what makes a great one?

The recent post - In Memoriam - prompted me to remember teachers I have known and loved. What makes a great teacher? Every now and again the papers interview a well-known person about their teachers, mentors and father-figures - those older people who, through wisdom, love and attention, encourage and reveal latent talents and innate goodness.

This is a perennial theme - the passing of wisdom through the generations - and those who have received it invariably remember the teacher who first lifted the curtain, and they invariably express gratitude for the gift.

I should now like to speak about Margaret Tully. It's easy to do so because I remember her often and because she was most loving. (She has been dead for many years and the cancer which killed her was already apparent when we first met.)

I found myself as secretary in the group which she tutored - a second-year level. From the very first, she emanated love to all. She never said anything memorable that I recall or, rather, the love was so apparent that words took a secondary place. Needless to say, she never lost a student and her classes were always full. People flocked to be near her.

Such open-heartedness has its effect in trust and confidence. People spoke more fully from the heart and all observations were received in loving kindness. At the end of the second year, when we said goodbye, we were all in tears.

A remarkable lady and I feel blessed by having been in her presence.

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Monday, March 19, 2007

In Memoriam

Yesterday we had a party for people who have left our stream over the years. This unprecedented event seemed to go very well. We didn't have a huge turn out (about 20 people, plus children), but everyone who came seemed really happy to be there.

For some reason, though, I felt sad and melancholic. I couldn't really put my finger on it during the event, but I believe that it was because yesterday represented the end of an era. Old Mr MacLaren would never have countenanced such an event - he took a pretty hard line on "leavers" - and when it finally happened, at the School's Waterperry home, it seemed to hit home that he really is gone now.

A few years ago I read a book called "Built to Last", which was a study of businesses that have lasted a long time, and why. One of the case studies was Disney, a company that went through a period of drifting immediately after the death of its founder. The authors of the book said that the problem with Disney was that for 15 years the first question everyone asked was "What would Mr Walt have said?" The company only began to revive itself when the management stopped asking this question and started to think for themselves. In fact what they did was restate the company's objective, which is to create happiness. Whether or not one likes Disney films, it will be evident that "How can we make people happy?" is a better question than "What would Mr Walt have said?" ... click "Read More"

Mr MacLaren's passing in 1994 was a dramatic event. I well remember the journey to Waterperry that night. Although we didn't yet know it, the elements seemed to express what had just occurred: it was the biggest electrical storm for years in the south of England. In the papers the next day I read how a girl playing football had been killed by the lightning. He was a force of nature, and I can't resist recalling here what Andrew Marvell wrote of Oliver Cromwell:

And like the three-fork'd lightning, first
Breaking the clouds where it was nurst,
Did thorough his own side
His fiery way divide:

...

Then burning through the air he went
And palaces and temples rent;
And Cæsar's head at last
Did through his laurels blast.

'Tis madness to resist or blame
The face of angry Heaven's flame

And if we would speak true,
Much to the man is due


Or perhaps it goes back even further - to the original genesis of the School in the teachings of Gurdjieff and Ouspensky. Gurdjieff, too, was a titan, and one with iron in his soul. He taught that unless someone had come under discipline, he did not really exist as a human being. Cruel stories cluster around him: how he made a fortune defrauding small-town mayors while working for the Russian railway; how he tortured horses so that they would obey no-one but him while he made his escape from Russia in 1917; his admiration for a Corsican bandit who would stare through his gunsight at a stretch of road for hour after hour, attention never wavering, waiting for the next victim.

Of course, there is much more to Gurdjieff, but if I overemphasize the cruel and harsh, it is because I think it's that element that passed out of the School yesterday. No longer will someone who leaves the School be ostracized; no longer will the fear of ostracism scare people into staying; and no longer need we see ourselves as superior in order to justify such behaviour.

This is, of course, a great day for the School. But if it also marks in some way the passing of Mr MacLaren, then perhaps it is natural to feel a certain sober regret. For all his foibles and his hardness, much to the man is due.

It would be interesting to hear what others felt yesterday, or in general about the recent developments.

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Monday, March 12, 2007

The Trap

Last night was the first programme in Adam Curtis's new series The Trap, which is about how our society got landed with a false idea of freedom. Curtis (left) was a big influence in my life, because his earlier series The Century of the Self inspired me to become a writer. The Century of the Self was a brilliant essay on how a vision of the self taken from Freudian psychology - that is, that we are selfish, avaricious and isolated - was used to create modern marketing.

The inventor of the term "Public Relations" was Freud's nephew Edward Bernays (PR was itself a piece of PR-spin, invented to replace "Propaganda"). Bernays taught marketeers not to appeal to reason, but to the Freudian unconscious: not to say, "this lawnmower is made by expert engineers, is fairly priced and will last for at least 15 years" but "just imagine what the Joneses will say when they see this little baby!" Along the way, he demonstrated the effectiveness of his technique by persuading women to smoke, inventing the idea of "bacon and eggs", and toppling the government of Guatemala purely by PR and deceit, on behalf of the banana corporations ... Click "Read more"

What was important for me in this was (a) that our idea of the self makes a difference; and (b) that it is possible to deal with difficult subjects accessibly.

I'm not sure yet whether The Trap is going to come up to that level, but one fascinating piece of information is that John Nash, the mathematician portrayed in the film A Beautiful Mind by Russell "You'll believe a man can think!" Crowe was not a cuddly-but-deluded figure, but the paranoid creator of Game Theory, a new science that showed how to win in the game of life by double-crossing others. This eventually led, according to Curtis, to Thatcherite economics, which laid bare the essential "truth" of our selfish interactions and did away with the "illusory" ideas of public service and duty that had underpinned the old institutions. Instead of being motivated by public service, people would now act as "free" agents pursuing financial incentives.

What I find a bit limiting in Curtis's approach is perhaps that he doesn't offer an alternative. If we are not to be selfish, suspicious free economic agents, then what are the options?

This is an area the School could help with. The world needs a new philosophy: one that engages with the arguments of Freud, Nash etc and exposes their fallacies, and then proposes a better system. Whether we do it or someone else doesn't matter, but if we are going to lend a hand, then we need to make a start.

Maybe we could start by reading what they have to say? There's nothing wrong with studying the Upanishads, but we also need to engage with the present.

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Sunday, March 11, 2007

Why philosophy?

Criticisms of the School often centre on its use of the word "philosophy". People often arrive expecting a course in the history of ideas or of philosophers. Or, they expect that there will be more intellectual content than there is.

Conversely, we must suppose that many people don't come because they expect something that is overly academic for their tastes or abilities.

Then, within the School itself, there is uncertainty about the meaning of philosophy. It means "love of wisdom", but is this "desire for wisdom" (as Plato says in the Symposium, when he says that no philosopher is wise, because if they were they would no longer have the desire for what they have) or is it "love for that wisdom which one has"?

I think that a majority of members of the School would subscribe to the latter view. Wisdom is contained in the "scriptures" as well as in the heart, and it is a matter of joining with the wisdom already present.

This creates a further problem, which is that once people have attended for a year or two they realise that the School does not stand for "philosophy", but for "a philosophy". In the London School less than 10% complete 3 terms, so maybe the penny drops even earlier. People do not want this.

So we have a marketing problem, and an identity problem. The marketing problem is that people understand philosophy to mean something that we do not mean. The identity problem is more serious, because in my opinion we have got it wrong. ... click "Read more"

Philosophy in the West and India are different things. In the West, we have inherited from Christianity the idea of orthodoxy (ortho = "right", doxy = "belief", "right opinion" or "right religion") - that is, that there is one view that is correct. This is why modern science and modern philosophy can be such tough going: they are competing with religion to claim the title of "the one right opinion". The School, meanwhile, makes the same mistake in a different way. It says, "modern science and philosophy are clearly wrong, therefore the religious approach must be right".

But we are wrong. There doesn't have to be a single right answer.

In India, there has never been a tradition of orthodoxy. Krishna says that "however men worship me, even so I reward them". The Indian tradition is not that of one correct opinion, but of many opinions that are all partial approximations to the one truth. It is one of keeping the doors of the mind open until wisdom dawns. The Indian idea is not orthodoxy, but orthopraxy ("right practice").

In the West, we have constrained thought and free living; but India stands for free thought and disciplined living.

That is what I believe the School should stand for: not quasi-religion hiding under the name of philosophy, but a new (for the West) idea of philosophy.

The School has an effective discipline, and a partial method. All we need to do is to free our minds from dogmatic ideas. This is already happening, I believe - see some recent posts on developments in the School - and it is just a matter of more of us lending our shoulders to the wheel.

Everyone can do this, by the way, not just egg-heads. The important questions are important to everyone, and for that reason everyone can ponder them. Just because you haven't exercised a muscle for a while doesn't mean you can't. Ultimately, no expert, guru or acharya whatsoever can do this work for you.

If you don't quite believe that this radical view is representing the tradition rightly, then you need to question what I'm saying. I would welcome any questions, especially from those who believe that this view is alien to the School they dearly love.

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Thursday, March 08, 2007

Let's be seeing you!


Just drawing to your attention the Noticeboard (on the right of the screen) where you may post - or read - notices of future events or reviews of those experienced.

This Palace of Varieties won't necessarily surface in group meetings, but I guess it can be used for any worthwhile event.

I keep hearing about a world Meditation Day on Wednesday, 28 November. Anyone care to expand on this? xxxxx

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Friday, March 02, 2007

Saturday in Brighton


Tomorrow, Saturday, 3 March, Kevin will be speaking on the novel in the series History of Me at 10.30am at the Brighthelm Centre, North Rd, Brighton. Cost £5.00.

This is not about Kevin, as such (I'm pretty sure it's not...) and, if it's anything like the one I attended before, it's well worth going to with interesting ideas and plenty of time for audience questions .

North Rd is three to four minutes south from the station on the left, and the Brighthelm Centre is on the right soon after turning into North Rd. If you go past the Post Office on the left you've gone too far. At Brighthelm walk down a short flight of steps and swing sharp left at the bottom of the stairs.

Just thought I'd mention this. Kevin may be a) too busy preparing to post this invitation; or b) too modest.

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Signs of life?

This blog started 10 months ago following all of the kerfuffle over St J, created largely by an online bulletin board where ex-pupils aired their grievances. I was very frustrated that (a) all of this stuff hadn't been sorted out sooner (b) many people were still unwilling to admit that the School was at fault and (c) there was no forum within the School to discuss anything in a proper fashion.

The kerfuffle seems to have died down. I don't have any inside information on why that might be, but I would speculate that a number of actions including the official apology from the School and the truth & reconciliation meetings with governors must have helped. My feeling has always been that the people who suffered as children were mainly motivated by a wish to have that acknowledged. The dark mutterings about "hardened activists" do not seem to have been justified, on the whole.

Anyway, my concern was never primarily about St J because it really is none of my business, except in so far as it is an extension of the School itself and therefore a useful lever for change. So what sort of changes have been happening in the School? I know many people who read this blog don't have much of an idea about the experiments and new initiatives, so I thought it might be useful to list some ... click "read more"

1. Parties for "alumni"
Alumni is my term for people who spent a considerable time in School (say 3 years). The attitude to people who leave has always been that they have turned from the true path, but this seems to be changing. A number of parties are being held for such people. The intention is to expand the School's sense of its family, to acknowledge the contribution of the alumni, and to let them know that just because they don't attend any more doesn't mean they are unwelcome.

2. Experimentation with groups, study days and weekends
Experiments I have personally witnessed or heard about in the middle and senior levels include: groups sitting in a circle, students tutoring groups, students tutoring study sessions, groups being mixed up on weekends, "free form" reflection sessions in which it is left up to the intelligence of the student, experimental meditation techniques including those from other traditions. The last two study days I attended were essentially tutored by students.

3. Willingness to explore new online formats
It's now possible to download podcasts from the main web site, and the word is that online discussion groups will soon be started.

4. Links with other organizations
See "Developments" post below. This was pioneered by the Economics faculty a few years back, and - praise be - it is now filtering through to philosophy. The obvious and easiest step is to build connections with similar Advaitin/Hindu groups. I would also like to see us getting some help from university philosophy departments, initially perhaps for things like Plato and Ficino, but eventually including modern Western philosophy. Members of the language faculty attended the World Sanskrit conference in Edinburgh last year for the first time.

5. More liberal attitude to School members' time
In the last couple of years it has become acceptable to put family needs before that of attending one's group, weekend or whatever. Couples have been offered the chance to move stream so that they attend the same weekends.

6. The School asks questions
Again pioneered by the Economics faculty over a decade ago when they asked people to fill in a survey explaining their concerns about economics. The philosophy faculty (a notional entity, like the Alumni, but if you keep saying it, it might happen) seems to be starting to shift too. This is the biggest step, because if the School asks its members (or the public) a non-rhetorical question, it means that the School is finally surrendering a claim on knowledge. All of the preceding five points are helping to create the atmosphere for this.

So, there it is. My personal view, which you may not agree with, is that all of these points are positive signs of life, and that we are finally throwing off the blanket of fear that has covered us for so long, and discovering that the world is not actually opposed to us. Of course, these actions are not endorsed by all senior members - we don't have any way of knowing what they say in the smoke-filled rooms - but so far there has been no revolt.

Do you think some of these changes are wrong? Or do you, like me, agree with them? What other changes would you regard as a sign of health?

It would be very good to hear from everyone, and also from some new voices. I know we have more readers than participants.

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Thursday, March 01, 2007

Er, No ...

Last night I went along to hear a talk by Lynn McTaggart (left), author of The Field, which is an excellent tour of cutting-edge science and its relation to spirituality and consciousness. She was in that film "What The Bleep Do We Know" (I'm trying not to hold it against her). She's currently involved in setting up the world's largest scientific experiment into mind over matter, which you can take part in on 24th March if interested.

She was a good speaker, but the event was hosted by The Yes Group, a London organization inspired by the teachings of self-help guru Anthony Robbins.

First up on stage were several female dancers, dressed in lemon-yellow "Yes!" t-shirts. It was quite sweet, in a way, because none of them were there for cosmetic effect, and it clearly meant a lot to them to be doing this. They danced to Dr Beat by Gloria Estefan (eek) and Born to be Wild (which they clearly weren't) ... Click "Read More"

Next up was their chair, a lady who didn't seem all that happy in herself, followed by our MC, a sharply-dressed black guy, who made us clap the people who were new to the Group, and then clap those who had been before, and introduced a "health talk" by one of their number, the Daily Star's health correspondent. He proceeded to tell us (I kid you not) about the foods that we should eat to fart less. We had to hug someone we had never met before and then exchange e-mail addresses so that we could check in with each other in a fortnight to report on our flatulence.

By the time Lynn McTaggart (who has no relationship to this group) took to the stage I was pretty well exhausted with the condescending, patronising tone of the whole experience. As soon as we got to the break my companions and unanimously decided to beat it before anyone else networked us. Someone remarked, "I feel soiled".

If the Yes Group is indicative of the general NLP, self-help, New Age scene, my worst prejudices have been realised. Despite all the positive thinking, there wasn't one person there who came over as unusually impressive, or deeply happy. It appeared to me that this group, instead of being a place that challenged and inspired, was their cosy escape from the world. Give me Old Age any day.

Does anyone else have observations, positive or negative or just interesting, about other paths?



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Monday, February 26, 2007

Developments

I heard recently about a new initiative, which is for the School, in co-operation with a number of similar organizations, to promote meditation as a part of daily life.

When I heard about this my immediate response was not "wow, that's fantastic" but "OK, now we're doing what we should". We are not going to transform the School by action, but since we are all bound to act, it makes a great difference what actions we engage in. Would others agree with me that this is the kind of thing we should be doing?

For me, an important issue is that we ought to be capable of giving more than people who are not actively involved in spiritual work.

Development, according to His Holiness, depends upon having more energy available than we need to live our lives. If our lives (including duties) are so exhausting, then we really aren't living properly. If we have nothing to spare for others outside School, we've forgotten the point. Do we expend all our efforts on School duties and on raising the funds to send our children to The Right School? Or is the School the "backstage" that enables us to perform our parts much more brilliantly than we might otherwise do?

There is no possible contradiction between philosophy and an expansive life that is of service to the entire community. Or is there?

Incidentally, if there are many more initiatives such as this (AND if the results are not claimed by the School, as so often) will we need this blog?

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Friday, February 23, 2007

Service?

As usual, this is posed as a question for discussion, not a conclusion:

I remember several years ago a lady in the group I was in at the time speak about her plans for the Xmas break. She was intending, for the first time, to go away and leave the husband and ‘kids’ (I think they were fairly grown up) to fend for themselves. The tutor questioned this line of action, whether it was for ‘me’ or whether it was service. The argument of the lady in question was, ‘Well they’re going to have to learn to look after themselves sometime’.

So… is there a danger of weakening someone else through ‘service’? If a mother always does everything for her children will they grow up unable to cook or tie their own shoelaces? Or perhaps worse, grow up with no inclination to learn how to cook or tie their own shoelaces? Is there another kind of service that may not necessarily respond to the immediate need but has in mind the long term need for independence? ... click "Read more"

To step away from the metaphor and speak more directly about tutors and students (both on the giving and receiving end): I question whether there are two kinds of help:

- that which confirms and supports the inner knowledge

- someone ‘trying’ to help

The former is experienced as freeing and strengthens trust in oneself. The latter is an identity, and ahankara is hiding within it, protecting itself. Therefore it’s raison d’etre will presumably involve keeping someone else dependant so that it can maintain this? And presumably maximise the acquisition of it’s punya points?

To paraphrase an old college teacher of mine:

“The goal of a teacher is to make himself redundant.” or

"The true Guru …knows you need nothing, not even him, and is never tired of reminding you."

~ Nisargadatta Maharaj

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Saturday, February 17, 2007

The Lost SES Tenet...

Had to laugh. I bought some green tea from Sainsburys today and there is a quote on the side of the packet:

"A man without tea in him is incapable of understanding truth and beauty."

~ Japanese Proverb

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Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Wine and roses


Happy St Valentine's Day - may much love and peace be with you!

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Falling sand and the yugas

The Oldie (the acme of life from the cradle to the grave, 'buy it before you snuff it'), anyway, where was I? Yes, the Oldie emailed me with the falling sand game. It seems that in Oldie Towers business was well interrupted by this interactive game of life and, yes, death.... The sands of time ....
http://fallingsandgame.com/sand/index.html.

Why include it here, what's it got to do with philosophy? Well, play it and see. One tip is to start by using the 'wall' (all options are displayed at the bottom). If you're like me you'll want to 'save' the elements, then mould them and then, when the screen resembles a Jackson Pollock painting, you'll want out, and that's when the wheel of life and death starts turning....

There's a hell option in case you haven't had enough.

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