Lying low

I've been lying low, skulking (but not sulking).

My internet connection was lost for about six weeks, I overlooked a telephone bill, was disconnected, then the contract was cancelled, and I had to rebuild the connection all over again. It's a long boring story.

I have allowed my self to get into a situation where I felt pulled hither and thither. This was more a feeling than a fact, but it makes not much difference. I have taken time out, skulking, lying low and reconnecting with what seems important. I realise it's all relative anyway, but the part of me that that thrashes around in relative reality knew that I was losing touch with family, friends, responsibilities at work and at home, and needed to reconnect.

I missed the first of a series of Trust supporter meetings at Friends House, and it went ahead anyway. I've not had much feedback on it except that those who turned up took the view that they wanted a meeting that was 'open to the emergent' (as I think the saying goes) rather than something predesigned and overly structured. For those interested, the meetings are held on the second Saturday of each month (through May 2009) from 1330 at Friends House, Euston Road, almost opposite Euston station. Nothing to pay, no need to register or anything, just come along.

I read somewhere that the best-run and most effective organisations don't hold meetings, at least they don't hold meetings that work to an agenda and reach decisions. Mainly because the decisions taken at such meetings are pretty meaningless, and don't get implemented anyway. And nobody cares one way or another, except that everybody hates meetings, except the people that enjoy them, and everbody hates those chaps too (they are usually men).

The Trust recently received a donation of £1,000, and we are very grateful for it.

There will be more posts in due course, the blog is still alive.

The image above was delivered to you by courtsesy of Google images, and it is titled "skulking", and it says it better than words. Isn't Google fabulous?

A view on ageing

Bodhiprem sent this. It's just typical of the man, he's tall and larger than life, wears a full flowing beard and an outlandish hat, has a wonderfully rich booming but still musical voice, an indecently uninhibited laugh, a real rollicking roar, and the sweetest of sweet natures. He is an impossibly prolific source of the most politically incorrect and torrid jokes imaginable, they just keep coming, like crude oil from a Texas gusher (as was). Saucy jokes, like crude oil, are the result of millenia of squashed lives, sensuality and fun that hasn't seen the precious light of day for a long, long time.

And Bodhiprem is always boring relentlessly down into any fusty old crust he can identify as a likely source and....There She Blows!

Thanks Bodhi, and Mosel Tov! May you live long and prosper!

A view on ageing.....

Do you realize that the only time in our lives when we like to get old is when we're kids? If you're less than 10 years old, you're so excited about aging that you think in fractions.

'How old are you?' 'I'm four and a half!' You're never thirty-six and a half. You're four and a half, going on five! That's the key. You get into your teens, now they can't hold you back. You jump to the next number, or even a few ahead: 'How old are you?' 'I'm gonna be 16!' You could be 13, but hey, you're gonna be 16! And then the greatest day of your life . . . you become 21.

Even the words sound like a ceremony . . YOU BECOME 21. YESSSS!!!

But then you turn 30. Oooohh, what happened there? Makes you sound like bad milk! He TURNED; we had to throw him out. There's no fun now, you're just a sour-dumpling. What's wrong? What's changed?

You BECOME 21, you TURN 30, then you're PUSHING 40. Whoa! Put on the brakes, it's all slipping away. Before you know it, you REACH 50....and your dreams are gone.

But wait!!! You MAKE it to 60. You didn't think you would!

So you BECOME 21, TURN 30, PUSH 40, REACH 50 and MAKE it to 60. You've built up so much speed that you HIT 70! After that it's a day-by-day thing; you HIT Wednesday!

You get into your 80s and every day is a complete cycle; you HIT lunch; you TURN 4:30 ; you REACH bedtime. And it doesn't end there. Into the 90s, you start going backwards; 'I Was JUST 92.'

Then a strange thing happens. If you make it over 100, you become a little kid again. 'I'm 100 and a half!'

May you all make it to a healthy 100 and a half!!

HOW TO STAY YOUNG

1. Throw out nonessential numbers. This includes age, weight and height. Let the doctors worry about them. That is why you pay 'them '.

2. Keep only cheerful friends. The grouches pull you down.

3. Keep learning. Learn more about the computer, crafts, gardening, whatever. Never let the brain idle. 'An idle mind is the devil's workshop.' And the devil's name is Alzheimer's.

4. Enjoy the simple things.

5. Laugh often, long and loud. Laugh until you gasp for breath.

6. The tears happen. Endure, grieve, and move on. The only person, who is with us our entire life, is ourselves. Be ALIVE while you are alive.

7. Surround yourself with what you love, whether it's family, pets, keepsakes, music, plants, hobbies, whatever. Your home is your refuge.

8. Cherish your health: If it is good, preserve it. If it is unstable,improve it. If it is beyond what you can improve, get help.

9 Don't take guilt trips. Take a trip to the mall, even to >the next county; to a foreign country but NOT to where the guilt is.

10. Tell the people you love that you love them, at every opportunity.

AND ALWAYS REMEMBER: Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away. And if you don't send this to at least 8 people - who cares? But do share this with someone. We all need to live life to its fullest each day!!

"The answer's yes. What's the question?"

Yesterday provided something of a relief from feeling a bit beleagured, as I travelled up to St Pancras station, the Eurostar terminal, to meet Tony Webster whom we had asked to speak at one of our conferences this weekend. Although the conference was cancelled, Tony didn't cancel his trip to UK from the depths of rural France where he and his partner Lyn have lived for the last ten years, and where they have established the Open Door project in Civray.

I hadn't really met Tony in the flesh, not to have a real talk, although we met briefly at a meeting in London several years ago. I wasn't sure I would recognise him, so we arranged to meet under the big, bold, brassy and unmissable sculpture of two lovers in a 'glad-to-see-you' embrace that marks the rendezvous spot for travellers and those waiting for them off the train (see image top right).

My own take on the sculpture was intially that it was rather grotesque, disproportionately huge, and not in particularly good taste. However, this impression was softened by my hearing a middle aged woman say to her husband, "Oh! It's lovely!" Unaccountably, I saw it, for a moment, through her eyes. It was tender, romantic, unabashed and - well - lovely. Perception is - well - in the eye of the beholder. Perhaps, on that occasion, my beholding was not as implacably firm as usual. Its grip was loosened by some quality of simple awe and pleasure at what she saw in an unknown woman's voice.

Tony and I have exchanged emails for several years now, and he regularly sends news of the Open Door project, including an entertaining and informative newsletter, packed with happenings, events, and practical advice and guidance on surviving French bureaucracy, aimed at the many expatriates (and French locals too) who live in Tony's part of France, and avail themselves of the services offered by Open Door. These services include social functions like a women's needlework group (Tony calls it "Stitch and Bitch") a weekly informal coffee morning, a large English-language library, advice on administrative matters like benefits and finances, and how to negotiate with local 'fonctionnaires'. Tony and Lyn, with some help from volunteers, also provide a listening service for people in trouble. To a large extent I gather that the informal hospitality and comradeship of the Open Door is a safe portal of entry for people who need support in a variety of crises, from sudden bereavement or illness, marital breakdown, money problems, depression, addictions, alcoholism and the rest.

From modest beginnings, Tony and Lyn's project has grown steadily and 'organically', largely because of their enterprise, energy, commitment and openness to what life throws up. As their service has expanded and particularised, the couple have embarked on the training of volunteers, developing their listening skills, with extension training available for suitable candidates in basic counselling. Tony's outlook on helping is summed up in the phrase he used to describe his response to enquiries, some of which are from people who feel tentative, anxious and uncertain of both how to frame their worries and what any reaction will be: "The answer's yes. What's the question?"

It was a lovely, refreshing experience to sit in this generous man's company, listening to his enthusiastic talk, his infectious chuckle (despite the Jurassic Park groans of arriving and departing Eurostar trains from adjacent platforms), and getting to know him better. Despite his vitality and focus on the welfare and happiness of others, Tony's life has been far from easy, nor has his partner's. Both of them have been deeply touched by the support they got from Ray Wills several years ago, although they never met face to face. Tony described Ray's help (in the form of as a personal letter) as being like an encounter with a dearly-loved uncle, in its intimacy, solicitude and "knowingness" of what would meet their need. Since that time, the Buddhist Hospice Trust has been Tony's sangha, and he has archived all Ray's correspondence, copies of Raft, and Inner Work School letters received: a humbling and touching tribute, hard to live up to.

It is a great pity that Tony's experience, and Lyn's, as social entrepreneurs (and more) was not heard by a wider audience, but he has assured me that he will be willing to speak at a future meeting of ours, and I am determined to make that possible. Although Tony hasn't asked, I would like it to be known that the Open Door (Association La Porte Ouverte) will be pleased to hear from people who may be able to help, either financially, or in other ways (for example by donating books). I can supply Tony's postal address to anyone who writes to me. I shall advertise any visit by Tony Webster at which he may talk on this website and in our forthcoming Newsletter.

As for myself, I have learned a lot from talking with Tony, and from his warmth. What sticks in my mind is his phrase, "The answer's yes. What's the question?", because it is an unconditional affirmation, a declaration of totally open generosity, a ready gift of no-agenda. If there is any kind of compact we as a Trust can make with what comes, this should be its by-word, and I will do what I can to live up to that in the days ahead.

The charming pen-and-ink drawing at top left is of the Open Door project in Civray.

Being wrong.

First, I need to rebut a charge that has recently made against me, that I am abusing the resources of the Buddhist Hospice Trust in maintaining a "Chairman's" blog as I do. By its nature a blog is a personal record, or a record written from a personal perspective. The blog I write has been given the assent of the Trustees, and so far no Trustee has raised objections to what I write, nor suggested that I desist. They may do so, however, if they conclude that the blog is bringing the work of the Trust into disrepute, or otherwise damaging its cause.

For the record, the blog is a free amenity, and costs the Trust nothing. I write it as an entirely voluntary activity and claim no expenses in relation to its appearance. In that sense there is no justification for anyone to claim that I am abusing Trust resources, and I refute any such claim vigorously.

It is worth saying that one reason why I write the blog is to increase the profile of the Trust and invite people to get involved, perhaps to donate. The website itself is static: it is informative and yields a fair amount of basic information. But to stay 'salient', to maintain a position in the Google ratings in a competitive and rapidly Internet scene, to hold our own in the technological traffic, we have to maintain our 'hit rate', the number of people who visit our site. The interactive and regularly updated nature of a blog permits this; indeed the rate at which people all over the globe visit our site has increased by almost 1000% over the last year. This greater visibility is (I believe) in the interest of the Trust, and thus in the interest of the people whose interests it serves. It has certainly led to a higher level of engagement with issues at the core of Hospice in the Heart, and engagement at a higher level of partnership with other agencies, both Buddhist, interfaith, and professional too. That is what I believe, anyway, and I also act on advice given me by people who have expertise in this area, and in the charitable field.

Of course some people will be 'turned off' by personal disclosures such as from time to time feature in my posts, but which are also balanced by other material generated by the work we do, and our 'contemporary' non-sectarian Buddhist philosophy. On the other hand some people find them helpful, and they attract a fair amount of comment and discussion, some of it private, some of it posted on the blog itself. Blogs are intended to generate comment, or at least debate. This debate doesn't have to be public, sometimes it is internal.

Some Buddhists believe that personal disclosure, 'hanging out dirty washing' (a particularly European turn of phrase and turn of mind, if I may say so), or exteriorising the inner perturbations of egoic mind, is not good practice. Dwelling on one's faults or failures tends to establish them more firmly, and make them more likely to be repeated. On the other hand, some Buddhists reckon that bringing one's thoughts and patterns of feeling and emotion into full awareness also has the effect of dissolving them. At least, if they are put "out there" for everyone to see, they are not submerged and hidden; and, like icebergs, they are less likely to cause disastrous damage to those who blunder into them unawares. Self-disclosure is also reckoned to be one of the crucial criteria for establishing and maintaining interpersonal solidarity, trust and friendship. Friendship is at the heart of our mission. A lot depends, of course, on one's motives for doing so. I can never be sure of my own motives for anything, but I do my best at self examination, and - of course - I take heed of the counsel of my trusted friends, and - of course, and more-so - of my perceived enemies.

This rebuttal is not intended to forestall further criticism, and I am open to whatever comments are likely to be made, and will publish them willingly here, in the interests of transparency, and in the interests of natural justice. I should also add: so as to indemnify myself, at least in part, against charges of abusing the minor office I hold, for the discharge of which I must be held publicly to account by the Charity Commissioners. If it was the intention of my critic to "whistle-blow" on my abuse of office, I am happy to expedite the process of bringing me to judgement. I hereby 'turn myself in'.

Lastly, I have to respond to charges that I am betraying the values and subverting the noble enterprise of the co-founder of the Trust, Ray Wills. This is ultimately for others to judge if they want to do so, but times are changing and the Trust will change with the times, and I make no apologies for my part in facilitating that. I am confident that Ray Wills identified me as a collaborator who recognised the need for change, and who had the capabilities to work for and with necessary and inevitable change; moreover, recognising my many flaws and failings as he did, he had confidence in me. If I am wrong about that, I am wrong about him, and wrong about everything else. My critics are clearly confident that I am indeed as wholly wrong as that. I am much less certain that I am right, and my uncertainty is, perhaps, part of Ray Wills's legacy.

Feedback

The following message, which speaks for itself, was delivered to my mailbox today; it came from a former Trustee of the Buddhist Hospice Trust and a close friend of its co-founder, Ray Wills:

"I consider that your use of the web site to publish your personal dilemmas a misuse of Buddhist Hospice Trust Resources. I know you consider you are carrying on and promoting the work of Ray Wills but you apparently don't realise that what you are doing is totally again what Ray stood for. If you want to air your problems and inadequacies why not go on television to a programme such as the Jeremy Kyle show. It would be a real show case for your ego. Or when you get the new BHT group going use that instead. It is far more appropriate even though I think it would be an exercise in self indulgence. If this sounds uncompassionate it is because I feel that a noble enterprise has deteriorated into a showcase for Peter Goble."

Nothing Special

I've had a long time away from the keyboard. My wife occasionally complains that I neglect my family responsibilities in favour of my Buddhist interests, and there is a lot of truth in that. Not so long ago I had a thorough telling-off about the hours I spend online. Today I cleared out our garden shed, mowed the grass in the back garden, went shopping for food, cut my son's hair, and helped my wife to clear a border of weeds. A bit of good family karma there, maybe.

My wife and I discussed the situation in Zimbabwe. I am unrepentant about the views I expressed about the situation there, although I don't like the violence. The extent of the violence and intimidation of voters is hard to assess and, having lived in Africa during the "struggles" for independence, I know how the Western media can and do distort news for political ends. I heard a Sky News journalist reporting graphically "live-to-air" in Jo'burg on acts of contemporaneous intimidation of voters by Zanu-PF gangs in Harare, notwithstanding the fact that these two cities are 600 miles apart. But any violence is wrong, and to be condemned, not by me (I am not in a position to throw stones), but as a matter of principle. I should add that my wife agrees with my analysis of the Zimbabwean news, although we tend to disagree about African politics generally.

My posts have also had repercussions for me professionally, in that a few Zimbabweans have taken exception to my views on the situation in their country; moreover, I am charged with racism on the basis of self-disclosures I made some time ago about 'my racist heart', in the context of my marriage, but also - it has to be admitted -more widely. Such is life: I am happy to be judged on my actions, and if it is established that I have acted improperly in any arena out of racist motives I will take the consequences.

Our eldest son, Mwape, has gone to Berlin to visit an East German woman he met in South Africa, with whom he struck up a friendship. I am pleased he has gone to Berlin. As a teenager I had a German pen-friend who lived in that city, close by Unter Den Linden (see image above). We corresponded for a couple of years and eventually arranged for him to visit us in Birmingham. This was about ten years after the end of World War II. Horst, a couple of years my senior, had been a member of the Hitler Jugend, and we had great fun lying in our bedroom in Birmingham, with him teaching me Hitler Jugend songs which we sang together, giggling. Some of them were absolutely awful, I must admit, full of imagery of violence and despair. I have not myself visited Berlin, although I would like to do so.

I've started work on the Trust's newsletter, although I haven't made a lot of progress. The provisional title is Mustard Seed, after the parable of Kisogotami, a moving tale of a girl's enlightenment under the guidance of Gotama, from whom she was directed to seek medicine when her firstborn child died. He directed her to seek a little mustard seed from houses in the town, save that it must be obtained from a house where no-one had died. As she moved from house to house in her quest, it gradually dawned on her that in no house was death a stranger. Her eyes were opened, she buried her child in the forest and returned empty-handed but aware to the Master. A lovely tale, and fitting to our work, I think.

I have not sat in formal meditation for some weeks now. I am too weary, too sad, too...everything, and thoughts of Buddhism 'and all that' are far from me, and me from them. But I feel reassuringly at home with my sadness and weariness. I read a poem my son had fixed on his wall, and I felt a great welling-up of love and admiration for him as I read it. Here it is, by Edgar Allen Poe:

Alone

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were — I have not seen
As others saw — I could not bring
My passions from a common spring
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone
And all I lov'd — I lov'd alone —
Then — in my childhood — in the dawn
Of a most stormy life — was drawn
From ev'ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still
From the torrent, or the fountain
From the red cliff of the mountain
From the sun that 'round me roll'd
In its autumn tint of gold
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass'd me flying by
From the thunder, and the storm
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view —

When the whipping had to stop..

The image is of Friends House, Euston Road (opposite), where the Trustees met about a week ago to debate the aftermath of the cancelled conferences, and to plot the road ahead. That all sounds very organised, but in fact the meeting was very informal (although we were 'quorate', set an agenda, and took minutes in case the Charity Commission is reading this ready to pounce).

We agreed to re-instate the monthly meetings that used to be held as a kind of auxiliary "engine" for the Trust: the 'Inner Work School' (IWS), a kind of rolling, open-to-all get-together of Trust supporters and others, held monthly in various venues across Central London, working to an open (or as I prefered to call it, an 'emergent') agenda. I decided, after Ray's unexpected death in 2000, that the IWS should continue, and so it did until 2007 when I further decided that it had run its course and should be folded. High-handed of me, perhaps, but the decision was taken with general agreement, and some general regret, that it had come to the end of its usefulness.

For many of us, certainly for me, it constituted a 'sangha', and what took place within the membership was a kind of dharma-cultivation, albeit undirected by an evolved teacher of lineage, accreditation and authority, at least after Ray's death. Ray, of course, disavowed any credentials as a dharma teacher, despite his learning, and despite his enormous authenticity and integrity. But I certainly felt I encountered the dharma at the meetings in the presence of men and women, living in the here-and-now, sharing experience in an atmosphere of uncontrived openness; and between meetings in simple friendship here and there, acts of kindness and solidarity, nothing special, just as-it-is-ness.

Over the years there had been about a score of loyal IWS attenders, although few meetings were attended by more than six or seven, and some meetings comprised two or three. The final straw, I think, was being forced by rising room-hire fees and other minor but understandable vexations to the last venue, the YMCA Sports Centre off Tottenham Court Road, where we had to endure a windowless room and line-dancing on the ceiling. The carrot-juice bar was no consolation.

So now the Trust has agreed to fund meetings, at least for ten consecutive months beginning August 2008, on the basis that we do need to offer something to supporters, and the framework of a regular monthly meeting may enable the process of reconnection and renewal for which the conferences were a flawed blueprint. Meetings will take place at Friends House, Euston Road, on the second Saturday of each month, in the afternoon, from 1.30 pm until 5.00 pm. The invitation is "Come if you can and want to". There is no charge, and there is presently no pre-determined programme or modus operandi. As before, it will be a matter of trusting what comes, whatever comes. This permits people to come as invited, and to feel that they haven't lost touch with events, or somehow fallen behind, if they can't come regularly or often.

The Trustees have circulated (to each other, or some of us have) some possible titles to apply to this series of meetings. At present "Sharing Circle" and "Explorations of Awareness" are front-runners, and I like both. Another possible title that popped into my head recently was "The Nothing Special Fellowship". I think Ray Wills had a hand in this, and may have been waiting in the wings for a chance to pop it in.

When the whipping had to stop? I had an anonymous comment on my last post, and this is worth reading, perhaps. I've had several comments as emails from known contributors, one of whom thought I might make a good Roman Catholic as I seemed to get benefit from the confessional. Self-flagellation is a practice too far, I reckon.

Yesterday I attended a rather sparse meeting of the South-East sub-group of interested parties following the progress of the Buddhist Hospital Chaplaincy Group towards the establishment of an 'endorsing body' for Hospital Chaplains, governing the admission of Buddhists to the role, their accreditation, training, support etc. All this is in line with NHS policy, and tied in with the Government's 'diversity agenda', 'social cohesion' and the perceived soul-lessness of the NHS, to judge from accounts from users and other critics one reads and hears. I have some fairly well-developed views on this, informed in part by my experience as a nurse and a some-time denizen of the NHS, by my experience within the Trust, and more recently by my induction into the Hospital chaplaincy as a Buddhist lay officiant. I'll return to this in another post in a few days time.