NYE 2013 - Searching for 'Sugar', Man: A life without limits... End of Year Review.

May all beings enjoy a great start to 2014! 

Hey guys, firstly I hope you are all well! Welcome back, or perhaps just Welcome, should you find yourself here for the first time. If you chose (and it is a choice, after all) to partake in the Christmas/Winter Solstice revelry and wassailing, I hope you were able to keep it well in your hearts. After the last few weeks mayhem, with all the customary inversely proportioned, ever-rising expectations versus funds depleting with equal and alarming rapidity, I can only hope that you were able to stay mindful of your moods, and responded to the seasonal demands with self-kindness and patience. If, on the other hand, like me, you managed to spend a large proportion of Christmas Day in a state of weepy exhaustion, quietly sobbing overtired, mucus-laden apologies to family and friends, then I truly feel for you. If this occurred after discovering exactly why you shouldn't mix alcohol with opiates (relax, it's 'Tramadol'), then, like me, you are an idiot, and I hope it teaches us all a valuable lesson in ignoring peer pressure and perhaps paying more heed to medical professionals. We need to live and learn better, if we want to learn to live better.  

With 2013 on it's way out, we have seen some pretty astounding things on many different levels both in the media and in our own private lives I'm sure, but several astonishing events stand out for me to which, on reflection, and with your blessing, I'd like to give pause for thought...

"Do not judge me by my successes, but by how many times I fell and got back up again... the greatest glory lies not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall..." - Nelson Mandela, 1918-2013.

To life, we lost iconic figures such as Nelson Mandela and Margret Thatcher, Lou Reed, Tom Clancy and Peter O'Toole. Lance Armstrong (doping-shamed cyclist and cancer survivor) lost our hearts and Justin Bieber appeared to loose his tiny mind after four days in the UK. In light of this last one, I'd like to take an opportunity to say that I'm glad that national pride has been restored here in these 'gentle' Isles, but frankly, it would be a lie. Britain has a rightly earned reputation for treating it's celebrities with either irrational adoration (hate to say it, but certain UK 'reality' TV stars are definitely paddling in the shallow end of the gene pool) or disproportionate contempt, such as 'glamour' model and author Jordan. We love nothing more that building people up until such a time as we tire of them and disregard them as obsolete or 'uncool'. I can't decide what's more tragic - the numbing inevitability of society's obsession with celebrity culture, or that a small percentage of people still feel the need to rant about it? Getting angry and negative about something doesn't change the fact that if you are ranting about Simon Cowell, you are still buying into him and engaging with his shows. You are still advertising him, still doing the 'Devils' bidding!  

If you see someone fall down a hole, offer to pull them out. Don't just tell them what an awful hole it is, and if they aren't aware that they are in a hole, if they are in fact using it as shelter from the worldly winds that gust about all our doorways, then don't try and drag them out! Some people like the hole. Let them do so. I think we can waste so much energy these days expressing unconstructive negativity, I really do. What about all those millions of people that took to social networking in order to express their 'shock' at the conviction of Ian Watkins? In spite of the many months of media coverage, for some reason when he was convicted, as predicted, Cyber-Samsara was awash with "burn the pedophile/hang the nonce" expressions of outrage, anger and violence. The people wanted blood. Never mind that there are nearly 3 convictions for sexual offences against minors a day in the UK. What about rising awareness of those other ruined lives too? How many of those baying for retribution have donated to any number of the fantastic charities that work with the victims of child abuse? 

Could it be that the media doesn't care what it prints, so long as people are angry... and buying newspapers?

I myself was saddened by how few people spared a thought for Ian's family and friends, their lives forever tarnished by events way beyond their control, and subsequently lauded over by the press in a macabre level of detail which I found sickening. In fact, merely mentioning this on Facebook resulted in a torrent of abuse from an old university friend of mine, thinking in some way I was defending Watkins and his co-conspiritors. "Sorry mate" was what I got when his misunderstanding had been pointed out. "It's an emotional subject." Rightly so, but if that's the case, how often then do we allow our emotions to override our judgement of less inflammatory situations on a daily basis, unawares? In the other extreme, I was again frustrated about the predominance of "Ian Watkins walks into a day-care centre"... style jokes within minutes of the 'news' of the verdict... Enough said, surely? We can't be governed by our reactive mind, but we can't just deaden ourselves to the reality of life for some people and make it all one big warped joke. It's inhuman. There is a world of difference between satirising media fear-tactics a la Chris Morris and his 'controversial' Brass Eye, and simply making light of human suffering to look cool. 

The fact remains that the whole problem of child abuse (or any kind of abuse of power) is rooted in an ignorance of how the world works, and how actions have lasting consequences for ourselves and others when we blindly indulge in any extreme cravings or intoxicants, be they sexual, political, chemical, or a violent, self-righteous anger. Most painfully predictably of all, hardly anyone noticed when he was actually later sentenced. That says a lot... 35 years he got. That's a long time to reflect on actions past, and sadly, we don't have that much time to try and figure out the last twelve months and where we go from here.

That for me is why, in many ways, New Years Eve is a more auspicious and momentous occasion to commemorate than Christmas itself. The question of the birth of a child who eventually went on to be known as "Jesus of Nazareth" or "the Galilean Jew rebel" is pretty much beyond reasonable doubt. We can't be sure when he was born, however. It could have been as early as 7-4 BCE, and probably in the first few months of the year, but by almost universal scholastic assent, we can ascertain that he was indeed baptised by John the Baptist, and put very much to death in a quite demonstrable fashion by the Roman prefect Pontius Pilate in Judea between 30 and 36 CE. Beyond that, we have to decide for ourselves. Notwithstanding, there was a man in ancient Judea who's belief in a higher power, a higher plane of existence was strong enough to inspire others to continue to follow and spread his teachings of transcendental love and forgiveness after his death. Many in fact, were persecuted, tortured or themselves put to death by the Roman state and Jewish authorities for heresy, so you can imagine at the very least he was a fairly charismatic guy. 

The historical Jesus of Galilee, who often had fantastic, down to earth advice,
is widely believed to have studied Buddhism in his 'missing years',
and was one of the most influential humans in history.

So with so much unknown, what then of the Gregorian calendar that we all go along with? What about this iron-clad concurrence (the Chinese and the Jewish calendars notwithstanding) that 2014 will commence on 00:00 on January 1st? If I recall, even as I write, parts of the far, far East will be preparing to welcome the New Year in already, no doubt with as much joy and chemical intensity as parts of the West. Not all cultures will be intoxicated of course, but however and whenever that magical moment arrives, we all I'm sure wish to be surrounded by loved ones and if possible, a sense of interconnected wonder. Maybe that's just me, I don't know. Some people on the other hand argue that NYE 2013 will be "just another day" and intend to leave well alone. I can see both points, both perspectives, and both are valid. In a sense, marking something as infrequent (over a lifetime) as a 'New Years Eve' is a way of accepting the invite to a global party of literally unimaginable proportions. However you see it in, if you can't feel some kind of connection with others as the entire planet shifts along a that crucial digit on the date stamp, then you might want to look into that, professionally. The rest of us, I'm sure, can still accept that as the modern Gregorian calendar was only adopted formally in 1582, then indeed as the party-poopers and detractors insist, there is thus no actual, fixed "moment" that the date changes. But if it is all relative, then how come we as a global society, as a species, attach so much importance to it? Why do I even feel compelled to blog about it?

I think the answer (as always) is buried somewhere deep within our own subconscious, omnipresent sense of mortality. Perhaps not only do we feel the urge to connect with other people and rejoice in each others company whilst we still can, but on some level we also wish to celebrate time itself and our brief yet inextricable experience of it? Hopefully for you, dear reader, the 12 months prior to this have been full of wonder and mystery, of growth and awe, with triumphs and successes outweighing the inevitable setbacks we all face. We feel that it all matters, but most of us can't quite express why. Think of all the synonyms for New Years celebrations: Mark the moment, turn over the page or the proverbial 'new leaf', wipe the slate, a fresh start etc. Time has the capacity not only to teach and heal us, but also redeem us. Yet we also can't help but love the idea of fixing things in our minds, calcifying sweeping statements into facts. "Oh, this has been a shocking year for me, a real write off!" a good friend sadly summarised when I asked for his quick-capsule review of 2013. How tragic! In the last 12 months, they could not think of a single thing for which to be grateful for, not a single memory arose which provided a moments happy recollection. Many viable reasons for this were quickly enumerated and as I listened I was reminded that yes, 2013 has indeed has it's shares of ups and downs for all of us. Many of the people I love have had babies, spawned progeny, literally created life out of nothing (according to some Buddhist metaphysical beliefs, but now probably isn't time for it) and are seeing in their first New Year as parents. Equally, many people I know, some closer than others, will be knowingly spending their last 'New Year' on this earth... Their friends, family and loved ones, fully aware, will be wanting to make it extra special. Midnight on January 1st will mark the final year change of their lifetime, and never more. A large percentage of people entering the final 12 months of their stay here on earth will be sadly unaware of this, I assure you. I might be one of them. Moreover, many remarkable, wonderful individuals, some famous, but mostly not, shan't breath in that golden January dawn as you and I (hopefully) shall. I pray that we all take a few moments to reflect on this and rejoice all they gave to us...

Lou Reed (1942-2013) - with The Velvet Underground and as a solo artist, he was
a musical icon, the voice of many generations and shaper of rock 'n' roll as we know it!

Peter O'Toole (1932-2013) - one of the greatest actors of all time,
pictured here in modern classic 'Stardust'.

Most of us don't know when our time will come, and most of us act like it never will. Reflecting on the certainty of one's own eventual demise is a sobering thought, and often it's the most sobering thoughts that turn us to alcohol. Perhaps for some people 'NYE' is really is just another in a long and (thus far) uninterrupted line of social engagements with which they distract themselves from the relative (read 'global') insignificance of most human lives. Perhaps for some it is a time of dread, another year older, another year closer to... *whispers*.. d... e... a... t... h...! Shock and horror! Oh, the humanity! Awful thoughts! Banish them quickly! Drink up! Back to sleep now... Shhhhhssshhhh... There you go... Back to the world of dreams... All fear, ultimately, is fear of exclusion from the safety of the group, and death.

Hopefully for most of you reading this, it will be neither of the two extremes of eternalism (I am a good person and will never die, why bother worrying) and nihilism (we're all gonna die, so what's the point trying). Surely the way forward, as proposed by the Buddha, is the much-talked about "Middle Way"? Not by ignoring our human transience or the obvious inherent good in the world, nor by obsessing about death will we overcome death. We overcome death by better understanding the notion of what it is to die, to loose someone, to loose anything. Our waistlines, our hairlines, our shorelines, our front lines of defence (emotional or militaristic); all are subject to change. Show me something outside of the law of change, and I will show you someone about to change their mind. Nothing of this world or in it is exempt. The very universe, in it's vast, sweeping, incalculable splendour is one giant process of evolving, of becoming, of changing. If nothing is permanent, if everything is fleeting and slipping through our fingers as we speak, second by second, then all is sacred and all the more precious because of it. Even the bad times seem less burdensome on the basis that things can always be (and ultimately, will one day definitely will be) worse. We can't really fathom change though. Not only do we tend to externalise the flux of life, we tend to exclude ourselves entirely from a process of which we are a part! We aren't subject to change, we are change! 

The Dharma-Farmer, circa 1988. As it were.

I privately despair when I hear phrases such as "The world has really changed since I was a kid!" or "You've changed!" offered in a sad or sometimes accusatory fashion. We do not have a right to be surprised at change, but we do reserve the right to stand in marvel at it. Are you, literally, the same person as in your pre-teen photos? Of course not. Are you the same person who saw in 2013? No way! Will you be the same person tomorrow morning, or in 15 min, or in a fraction of a second...? In this context, is it any wonder it takes something as blinding obvious as New Year's Eve to awaken our senses to this fact.

In the UK, we have long been proud of our heritage, of our testimony to impermanence. We are lucky enough to have just over 2,000 years of recorded history on our cute little island paradise. We all live in a digital age of plenty, so wherever you may be on this earth, if you can afford the means to read this piece, then I'm afraid I'm going to have to count you amongst the lucky ones, the minority in this world. If it wasn't for change, we couldn't have electricity, a New Year, or any new experiences. Life could never have leapt forth in such abundance in a fixed universe. Is that not reason enough to genuinely celebrate? Saying goodbye is a small price to pay for the pleasure of good company. By proffering abundant sums, we are gifted immense change in return. By reflecting not just on impermanence in general and specifically, but also on bringing to mind the times we got it wrong and lessons hard learned this year, we can find a meaning in the freshly dried tears, in the snotty tissues or the broken hearts. The lesson is hold onto nothing, cherish everything, and nothing can hold onto you... Not even death.

Even the concept of 'time' is impermanent, so what hope for us then?
Most importantly, in light of this, why worry?

As I have said time and time again, we are all subject to birth, sickness and eventual dissolution of the body. We are all in it together, and we will be better off if we can muster the strength to try and seek happiness within our own hearts over these next 12 months, as opposed to simply sensual pleasures. A contentment with the reality of life and one's relatively short place in it makes for wonderfully liberating contemplation, and isn't dependant on how much you drink, if you have sex or not, or even if you are physically with other people or not. You may be reading this in prison, spiritual, physical or state-sponsored. You may be on a solitary retreat. You may have had a bereavement, or a wedding, or an anniversary, or some less that favourable test results back. You might be in a Chalet, on the piste, in the sewer or the arms of loved ones, but wherever you are when the bell tolls midnight, never question that you are loved, and by so many too. It's simply that you haven't met us all yet.

Thus I leave you with a most beautiful little film and thought. Last night, on my brother's recommendation, I watch the award-winning, jaw dropping, tear inducing, inspirational roller-coaster of a documentary film, 'Searching for Sugar Man'. Released last year it tells the story of a mysterious musician from Detroit known only as "Rodriguez", a drifter who managed to release two albums between 1970-72 and then promptly disappeared having sold less than 100 of each. Put simply, I have had more commercial success over my music career, and that's really saying something. So far, so normal. As with most visionary artists, Rodriguez, his poetry, his records and his dreams disappears from life. 

"Cause I lost my job two weeks before Christmas

And I talked to Jesus at the sewer

And the Pope said it was none of his God-damned business

While the rain drank champagne.

My Estonian Archangel came and got me wasted.

Cause the sweetest kiss I ever got is the one I've never tasted

Oh but they'll take their bonus pay to Molly McDonald,

Neon ladies, beauty is that which obeys, is bought or borrowed.

Cause my heart's become a crooked hotel full of rumours

But it's I who pays the rent for these fingered-face out-of-tuners

and I make 16 solid half hour friendships every evening.

Cause they told me everybody's got to pay their dues

And I explained that I had overpaid them

So overdued I went to the company store

and the clerk there said that they had just been invaded

So I set sail in a teardrop and escaped beneath the doorsill.

Cause the smell of her perfume echoes in my head still.

Cause I see my people trying to drown the sun

In weekends of whiskey sours

Cause how many times can you wake up 

in this comic book and plant flowers?"

     

                                                                                 - 'Cause', by Rodriguez

Rare shot of Rodriguez on his only visit to London, 1970.

Only, not quite all of him. One fan, lucky enough to own a copy of his record, flies over from Detroit to South Africa, years later. Her friends find something in the poetry of his words and the etherial magnificence of his voice, rallying the troops to fight injustice in the name of love, that resonates with them in their Apartheid-war-torn world. Word spread. Wonder widened. Bootlegs were swapped, swapped, and swapped again. Re-recordings of re-recordings circulated like wildfire, and within 15 years, every person of sufficient means under the age of 25 has a copy of his first album, "Cold Fact". It went gold ten times in ten years! As far as South Africans was concerned, he was bigger than Elvis, bigger than the Beatles, bigger than the Stones, and in their pre-digital, heavily sanctioned and censored country, they assumed that this was the case the world over too. He was the poster boy of the anti-apartheid movement, and his music changed history for millions of people alive today. At the time, 8000 miles away, despondent and then, incredulously, dropped by his own record label two weeks before Christmas, Rodriguez puts down his guitar, completely unaware, and is never to be heard of again... Until now.

This is a story about how we never truly know how far our actions, our willed intentions and decisions will spread on the winds of change to influence others. As the Buddha said in the Dhammapada, in a section entitled 'Flowers':

"One should pay no heed to the faults of others, what they have done and not done. Rather should one consider the things that one has oneself done and not done.

Like a beautiful flower, brightly coloured but without scent, even so useless is the well-uttered speech of one who does not act accordingly.

The fragrance of flowers, of sandalwood, of aromatic resin or jasmine, does not go against the wind, whereas the fragrance of the good spreads in all directions, regardless.

Sandalwood or aromatic resin, blue lotus, or wild jasmine - of all these kinds of fragrance, the odour of virtue is unsurpassed."

                           - Translation, Sangharakshita.

When we set out to respond to the suffering of ourselves and others in a creative way, we open up new doors for others yet unseen, for others we may never see. We cannot comprehend how truly inter-related we all are, and never more so. But we owe it to ourselves to create something positive, something of use! Our actions, like the scents of both virtue and vice, go against our worldly winds to shores unknown, permeating through our various universes in the unending cosmic ballet of life. I won't say any more on the film, I will leave it to you for when you get round to it, if you do. I implore you to watch the trailer at least, it might just change how you see the world, and your role in it. My own small life has never been more affirmed than last night, and I am still getting emotional twenty-four hours later. Many people now consider him to have been the finest acoustic singer-songwriter the world has ever bared witness too. I can't as yet disagree.

Whatever you did this year, whatever you got right or wrong, whatever fame or infamy, praise or blame, successes or failures of body, speech or mind, so long as we can grow out of them and not in spite of them we should be ok. We are only here for such a short length of time, I don't think we can spare any to quibble over, frankly. For me, it's not about getting wasted or laid. Not entirely, but I'm out of action on both fronts due to slipped discs in my backs and the subsequent equestrian-strength painkillers. Counter to my instincts for self-preservation, I am for the first time ever leaving the comfort safety of 'indoors', and heading instead to the outskirts of Manchester (Oldham, specifically) to watch superb rising stars 'The Tapestry' bring their own blend of anthemic pop-rock sensibilities to the 'gentle' folk of "Jackson's Pit"... It looks set to be pandemonium, if the below video for their single "Rode Your Luck" is anything to go by...

 I'm assured that the venue is a more alluring prospect than the name (or some would argue, the location) implies, and besides, one of my dearest friends is the drummer... and my housemate... and my lift there and back... Besides... I forgot to make other plans! Irrespective, I'm excited, exhilarated even at the thought of NYE anyway, and that I get to spend it with close friends and great music is a heck of a cherry on an already sizeable cake! This year has taught me so much, but the one thing I know for sure is that no matter what befalls us each in the next twenty-four hours or so, all our collective experiences will be proceeded by our mental states, created by our minds, and made real by our minds. If we speak of act with a mind tainted with sadness or ignorance, greed or anger, then suffering will follow like the cart-wheel follows the ox. If, on the other hand, we speak or act skilfully, with a pure mind and a gladdened heart, then happiness and joy will follow, as the Buddha said, like a shadow that never departs.

I wish you all the very best for the new year! 

May lessons learned be learned well, may we get better at failing, and may we all one day soon learn to love the liberation of a life, without limits, well lived... 

"Just as the sea has but one taste, that of salt...", the Buddha was reported to have said, "...so my teachings have but one taste; the taste of freedom!" 

May that freedom be yours in 2014. 

Yours, taking nothing for granted that I will see another one,

The Dharma-Farmer xx

May any merit gained in my acting and writing thus be dedicated to the wellbeing of all beings as we enter 2014

May you be well, may you be happy, may you remember most of it!

This article itself is dedicated to the memory of Bay Garner (1926-2013) and the wellbeing of her family.

"No-one ever learns by their triumphs..."