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| Under the Bodhi Tree, Bodh Gaya - The sacred spot where 2,557* years ago Sidhartha Gautama achieved Enlightenment. |
Hey guys - I'M BACK! In February 2012 I travelled to India on Pilgrimage for three weeks, and as some of you might have noted with benign curiosity, its been nearly half a year since my last post, the longest period of not being able to put pen to paper (as it were) for nearly eighteen months. I would offer my apologies, but I feel not the need - I have nothing to be sorry for, and I fear it would imply that I felt that my creative shortcoming were in some way depriving the world of something special. This is clearly nonsense. In the six months or so that have passed, I assume you are all safe and well, at least comparatively speaking. I'm delighted to report that a quick scan of the archives revels that (as far as we can tell), no-one has propelled themselves with bug-eyed despondency off the Golden Gates bridge, distraught at my apparent inability to communicate my experiences. No-one, to the best of my knowledge, has hurled themselves in protest under a monarch's steed at a national racing event. No-one has erupted in flames. That is not to say that no-one cares, but of course, caring is a phenomena that has many comparative levels, from superficial curiosity ("oh, he's still alive?") to genuine concern (Oh, he's still alive!"). It's probably a good thing to reflect upon that sliding scale, from the sublime to the mundane, and ponder where on that scale we place our various interests, commitments and indulgences. Does our level of care and concern reflect their genuine intrinsic value, and if so, in which context are those values held? Just a thought, but again, worth reflecting on perhaps?
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| Claire and I being forced to pose with local politicians for publicity - did they really care about us, and of what value was this to them, really? |
There have been several reasons I haven't posted since India, but one of them was to examine my motive for writing in the first place. I don't want this blog or these articles to become another means for the "self" to try and assert upon the world in a vain and futile bid to convince "me" of its own substantiality. Or, put another way, I don't want my musings to become another form of egotistical, attention-seeking twaddle. It's fairly self explanatory, and all sounds rather noble, but of course it's not the truth in it's entirety. The other reasons were, in retrospect, ego-based and set against a backdrop of vanity and unskillful behaviour. Well, unskillful previous samskaric formations (acts and volitions) that influenced the chain of events as they played out, but more on that later. Its rare in life that anything is straight-forwardly skillful or unskillful, so again, bear with me. I've been up since 5am and a little rusty at this. I also feel that is it a very different guy that's writing now that who you all waved goodbye to all those months ago. In many ways, I often wonder whether he even made it onto the plane? I hope so. The departure lounge in Delhi International is frightfully dull, and last I was there, resembled a medium-security prison patrolled by unsmiling security guards with Freddy Mercury-esq facial hair, automatic weaponry and narrowed, unblinking eyes. Something about assault rifles and understandably twitchy trigger fingers puts me ill at ease, and whoever got on the plane, he was grateful!
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| Tough men doing a tough job... You just don't get this in Heathrow... |
However, when I left these lush and verdant shores, myself with a grin in my step and a self-assured spring in my eyes, I could not have envisioned that which was to befall our group. I am currently still processing the experience, and I think we all will be for some years yet to come. At some point or another, most of our party (notwithstanding our imperturbably jovial Indian Order Member guide, Amrutasiddhi) swung from dizzying highs to gut-wrenching, heartbreaking lows out there, and for myself it's been a undeniably turbulent affair ever since. Two of our party are STILL going fourth, my brother Paul and my sister Helen. Should you guys read this whilst in the shadows of the Himalayas or in dusty distant towns with beguiling names like "Atchoo" and "Rammbag", know that we think of you both regularly, are praying for your safe return, and sending you so much metta right now! Sadhu! Sadhu! Sadhu!
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| Paul & Helen resting in the Himalayas, April 2013 (2 months after most of us returned to the West) |
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| Claire and I enjoying lunch on an Indian train... Finger licking good! |
Upon my safe return, I faced a well-intended barrage of enquiries, but sadly, all too often I faced the mind-bendingly inane "did you have a nice time out there?" or it's lazy, stumpy, sister-question - "How was it?" The simplest answer I could offer was "Life-Changing". For me, traversing through India really made me sit up and realise just how small a percentage of the global population we in the UK constitute, and how jaw-droppingly lucky we are to live as we do. Britain has a population of 70 million or so, a mere provincial town (for some reason Newmarket springs to mind) when compared to India's 1.5 BILLION smiling denizens. Our fertile and quaint little island covers approximately 250,000 km/sq, a comparative sneeze of land when you consider that India is 13 times the size, covering an unfathomable 3.3 Million km/sq. Disturbingly, nearly 70% of the population goes to bed hungry at night, with an even higher percentage who could certainly benefit from a more nutritional diet, to put it mildly! That's 1.05 BILLION people that are substantially worse off than you or I. Makes you less begrudging about, well, pretty much everything. This laptop is worth more than most Indian slum-dwellers will earn in the course of a lifetime, which again, is a lot shorter, on average than yours or mine. It really makes you sit up and think. I feel incredibly blessed to have the life I do, when statistically, it was far more likely that right now I should be making coat-hangers on the roadside, for the remaining 17 years of my life - the average life expectancy of an Indian male in the slums is 47, whereas in the UK I should make my 80's. Terrifying. In spite of this all, Indians of all social strata are often noted for there unsurpassable generosity, kindness, warmth and overriding desire to make (certainly Westerners) feel at ease. Never once, for example, was I short of a kindly, sympathetic face to turn to for assistance in deciphering a menu or a train station announcement, the latter often delivered with machine-gun like rapidity, seemingly from a broken phone box, underwater, in a distant lake. It was all wonderfully touching, deeply humbling, and I would return in an instant if I could.
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| Mahabodhi, myself and some new friends near the cave where, prior to realising the futility of white-knuckle striving, the ex-prince Gautama spent many years pushing the boundaries of asceticism in Uruvela , Bihar, N. India. |
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| Sat outside the cave itself (concrete facade added 2500 years later, obviously) Note the gold leaf that eastern pilgrims rub onto everything as an offering. |
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| The stillness before a Puja (devotional ceremony) in the remains of the shrine room at Mansar Monastery, former home of seminal 3rd century philosopher Nargajuna... An unfathomably powerful experience! |
The one problem of course is that whist I can photograph ancient monuments or describe events in a chronologically accurate order, when we set off in search of the indescribable, how do we convey it afterwards? Did we even find it? How would we know? Would the very act of seeking render one incapable of experiencing such a phenomena? In preparation for the trip I spent months slowly working my way around a mine-fields of grasping and aversion, especially with regards to any expectations I may have had. I spent countless hours trying to "peer into the void" of reality, reflecting how what I and many others call "Jay" is actually just an ever shifting flows of unending processes, cycles and learned habits, utterly lacking a fixed identity which is completely independent of other conditions. There was no separate "me" to go to India, which mercifully meant that in the absolute sense, if "I" was composite and beginning-less, I also couldn't "die" out there, which was a comfort. Especially on the road networks which seem designed and populated by a breed of terrifyingly sociopathic thrill seekers hitherto unknown in the developed world. More on that another time, if I haven't repressed it too deeply. Moreover, one could reasonably posit that what we term "India" is in truth a collection of wildly differing cultures, landscapes, habits and customs of unimaginable breadth and depth, and again, lacking one unchanging identity. Just as there is not one "Jay", there is no singular "India" to go to. Crazy stuff. When we look into the nature of mind itself, there are no actual fixed phenomena or experiences. The eye cannot see itself. No thoughts, feelings or emotions that are eternal and unchanging, or even real in any tangible sense outside the confines of our own heads. Academically speaking, all very impressive (or not depending on if you care - see above) but did it actually work...?
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| Taking time out in the filth and insanity of Bhopal train station - self-metta not included with ticket! |
For those amongst us that returned to the West, we have all struggled to reintegrate ourselves and adjust, to varying degrees and with mixed success. How could we have expected otherwise? This process will take years, possibly for the rest of our lives. I often joke that I was fully prepared to die over in India, but that I hadn't factored in the idea of coming back alive. Some struggled in the first few weeks and then settled down, whilst others seemed fine for ages and then hit the buffers hard as unexpected, painful things arose later. I would never dream of saying any more of my fellow Pilgrim's's "re-entry" experiences. When (and if) they are ready, they may confess or discuss it with you one day. Maybe not. It feels similar to members of the armed forces who have "seen things out there". It's just not appropriate to ask without waiting to be told. In many ways, we ourselves were at war in India, and since, but with an unseen enemy that bears a striking resemblance to ourselves. All our unskillful behaviours, traits and volitions were laid bare. You couldn't hide it. You were encouraged not to. One of the things that struck me as we travelled from place to place was just how important a practice what we in Triratna call "tuning in" is. Sitting with people you sincerely trust and care for, and sharing your current thoughts, feelings, perceptions, hopes and insecurities in a safe environment free from judgement is one of our defining characteristics and practices in Triratna, and not one I've ever seen emphasised in any other tradition in the Buddhist world. Im sure we all try and speak truthfully and honestly to people. I'm sure all practicing Buddhists try and observe the fourth precept, to abstain from causing suffering to others through untruthful or otherwise damaging speech/communication. This however, when formulated as a specific practice, I believe it to be one of the most effective tools for creating the elusive third (but by NO means least important) Jewel of 'Sangha' or spiritual companionship/community. The other two, being 'Buddha' and 'Dharma - the unsurpassable embodiment of spiritual excellence and the teachings/path within which one can move closer to that ideal - are traditionally THE three most important and precious 'things' in the life, mind and heart of any actively practicing Buddhist. There are many books on this, and for those of an academic bend I would certainly recommend the deliciously meaty "The Three Jewels" by - you guessed it - Triratna founder Sangharakshita. For those who prefer something less likely to result in an aneurism, do pick up "What is the Buddha?", "What is The Dharma?" and "What is the Sangha?", again by Bhante Sangharakshita. They are less scholastic but no less brilliantly written, and give anyone curious a fantastic grounding in these three overarching and unifying ecumenical ideals. Hence, in the Buddhist world, these are referred to as the Three Refuges, and are the common unifying factor irrespective of traditional or social differences.
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| Myself and a Thai Monk or "Bhikku", outside the cave in which the Buddha stayed for many years, "Vultures Peak", Rajgir, Bihar. Who's the tourist here...? |
In my case, with regards to my own crash landing on February 24th, I think that my emotional and spiritual needle had swung so far over into the realm of spiritual sensitivity and idealism that when I returned, aside from the obvious culture shock, in order to process and make sense of it all, the'needle needed to swing the other way back into more familiar territory. I'd "O.D'd" on Buddhism and needed to bring myself round with something more rock n roll. Such as Rock n Roll. And Sex. And Drugs. Yippee! To integrate the sublime, the wordless, the transcendental, I needed to immerse myself in the mire of the mundane, the trivial, and the grotesque. As the skillful needs the context of the unskillful, and the diamonds need the foil to shine most brightly, so did I need to recapitulate who and where I've been in order make sense of my higher, more refined aspirations. To know how to die is to know how to live. One cannot truly begin to contemplate the blissful cessation and extinguishing cool of Nirvana without first plunging into and waking through the wearisome mire of Samsara. What all of this equated to, in my case (and hey, I'd been travelling for nearly two days), was immediately going off to the pub with friends in Glossop, spontaneously and impulsively buying a sh*t-load of weed and spending the following 4 months in a perma-stoned haze. Actually, as funny and ironic as that might be, again it's not entirely truthful. I actually spent the next few months frankly really depressed and down, although on some level, I knew that by reconnecting my more familiar "core", I was in many ways being kind to myself. I just couldn't quite give myself enough kindness to give myself a break over it. It's all a bit chicken and the egg, but imagine the chicken is really stoned, and can't find the egg, and even if it could, isn't sure whether it is supposed to be looking for the egg in the first place or just solving the paradox. Something like that. The spiritual life can get a bit confusing after a while, ironically. It's almost like tidying a room. You can sweep stuff under your spiritual bed for only so long, but for the "full colonic", it's gonna get messy before it gets better! Much like my use of metaphors...
What I was certain of, however, was that I really missed my friends and my life in India. I felt culturally like I no longer belonged in the West: I really struggled to adjust to life back at work. I felt completely trapped in the mundane vicissitudes of life. With ever-increasing anxiety, I was coming slowly to terms with the knowledge that the only way to feel "at home" again was to leave everyone I'd ever known and start forging a new life some 5,000 miles away. In terms of head-spaces, it's scary as hell, and can leave you feeling very isolated, insular, and uncommunicative. In addition to this, I was struggling with the changes in my own practice. In India, on Pilgrimage, surrounded by my brothers and sisters in the Dharma, was it any surprise that my practice was often unhindered and typified by rapturous stillness and a previously unimaginable clarity and depth. We created retreat-like conditions which, through our skillful actions, supported our collective practice and enabled all of us to explore both inner and outer space together in peace, love and understanding, as Elvis Costello suggests. For the short time it lasted, it was simply divine! But all mundane phenomena are subject to conditions and are all thus impermanent, composite, and all are an eventual cause of dukkha (frustration/suffering). Over the years, experiences that I may have had in my meditation practice notwithstanding, my supportive practice itself is a conditioned thing... Insight is insight, and I can't speak for those "out-of-this-world"-type experiences we all have from time to time, but for those very much in and of this world, was it any surprise that they too were subject to change? That my mental states, for a while so sublime, so clear, so uncomplicated, were to be replaced my the foggy haze of doubt, mistrust, and conceit? I found myself miserable away from "home" (India), drinking and smoking in the evenings to cheer myself up (my old unskillful habits dying hard) and a wall emerging around me on all fronts. I couldn't relate to my non-Buddhist friends as easily, feeling alienated, socially impotent and unable to share my experiences. Conversely, as "kind" to myself as it was, my unskillful behaviours and old habits erected a barrier of vanity and pride, ego and shame, stopping me from confiding and seeking Refuge in the Sangha and my fellow pilgrims. How could I confess that I had "fallen off the Dharmic wagon"? Vanity, vanity, all is vanity! I felt torn between an impossible ideal and the reality of where I actually was on the spiritual path - with one foot over the starting line and the other still waiting to take the first step over it. I was stuck between Iraq and a Hard Place! Such is vanity. Ironically, it was being forced to confront this self-absorption, self cherishing, and bruised ego that started to turn it all around...
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| Download 2013, final night, after the final set (Rammstein), after 5 days of drinking... It's a miracle we made it home. |
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| The night that changed it all... |
On April 14th 2013, my world turned inside out and upside down, both figuratively and literally when, after a successful show in Manchester with my band F.I.G.M.O, I slipped whilst carrying a heavy speaker cabinet up the stains to our 2nd floor rehearsal room in the Northern Quarter. Let us bear in mind that the offending item itself was DEFINITELY a two-man lift. Perhaps I was slightly drunk and stoned? Shall we also factor in that I was keen to get back to the venue and party some more? Could we also read that as "impress people and be the big I-AM" perhaps? Almost certainly! In addition to this, I grew up in rural Wales, in an area known for producing HARD men. Real men. Tough, burly men. Men who can leap up two flight of stairs carrying the equivalent of a chest of drawers filled with cement, or something else of profound, unrelenting heaviness. Or so I thought. I missed a step, and without further ado, the amp came back on me and I "felt it go". "It" being my spine. I laughed to myself (there was no-one around, I was racing up the stairs ahead, alone) and recall thinking "Oh, I'm gonna feel that tomorrow"...
...I was to spend the next 10 days in bed, 6 weeks trapped in the house and two months off work. I am expected to make a full recovery, so long as you define 'full" as "mobile but constantly in some degree of pain and discomfort". I am also expected to spend the next year (and some considerable time beyond that) in physiotherapy, having herniated two discs in my lower back (L3 and L4, for you budding chiropractors out there), causing unbelievable sciatica (shooting pain in my legs and lower back). According to the seemingly endless time I've spent in an MRI machine over the last few months, I have also got significant wear and tear in the upper regions too, although mainly from damage sustained on stage over the years. I've been advised that if I spend much more time being scanned in there, the council are going to start demanding tax. After I was able to get over the initial shock, what all this amounted to was an opportunity to REALLY examine my life, and how I live it. LOTS of time to myself, in agony, asking "why"? Why me, why now? And "how". A LOT of "hows"... How can this be happening to me? To someone still "young"? 29 doesn't "feel" old. How do I deal with this both now and in the future? How am I going to meditate? Or go back to India? How do I bring myself to tell people that I'm broken, hurt, scared and in need of help? How will I be able to attract a partner? How can I be thinking with my penis in a time of crisis? How is this incessant questioning helping? How do I stop?! Eventually, as weeks went by and I started getting ready to go back to work, I started asking "how can I speed up and safeguard my recovery?" and "how can I make changes to my lifestyle and my attitude to stop this happening again?" How can I stop running away from and instead turn towards my direct experience when it is such an uncomfortable one? How can I learn to let go and just make my peace with my lot in life for what it is, without adding my own aversion and misery onto? Most recently, if I am going to be living with chronic pain for the foreseeable future, how can I learn to make the most of every day, count my blessings and use the pain to my advantage? Im still thinking about that one... That might be my next post, but in the meantime, I'm ok. I have days when I'm able to cope much better than others, but I have wonderful friends, many of whom have gone through similar things in the past. I'm healing (slowly) and am going to be spending as much time as possible making sure that every day, even if the choice of being in pain or not is no longer available, I chose to make the most of the gift that is the eternal now.
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| An illustration of a herniated disc as it pushes on the Sciatic nerve. Not on my worst enemy would I wish this experience... |
Humbly yours, with a wink and a bit of a limp,
The Dharma Farmer
*Give or take a few years ;-)
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