A strange journey

A week or so ago DC and I went to see the movie Her. I loved it. Exploring both the nature of relationship and humanity, towards the end the film moved to consider the very nature of conciousness and even pointed to that crucial question; just where is here? This happens when the the various OS's ( intelligent Operating Systems) decide to leave the computers and people they have been working and in relationship with and go off to explore a wider field of reality having developed an OS based upon Alan Watts. I loved the humour of that! So, off they go to the ground of being and hope to see their human (creators?) there some time... But would those OS's feel anything without a warm soft fleshy body? Is there any meaning to the void without the counterpoise of the body? I think not. It's a funny and clever film with a bit of a spiritual under current and well worth watching.

Then a few days ago we went to see The double. I loved this film too. DC found it bleak, I didn't at all. Based upon the novella by Dostoevsky it's a wonderful exploration of different aspects of personality and the way we 'kill' bits of our self (sic small s) both individually and collectively, the movie has a real depth of love and warmth which becomes clear at the end.

Listening to Madness - The sun and the rain recently I was struck by the depth of feeling generated by the lyrics of this song:

It's raining again,

I'm hearing its pitter patter down.

It's wet in the street

Reflecting the lights and splashing feet,

Nowhere to go,

And nothing I have to do, have to do.

It's raining again,

I follow the Christmas lights down town.

I'm leaving the flow

Of people walking all around,

Round and round,

I hear the sound of rain falling in my ears

Washing away the weariness like tears.

I can feel my troubles running down,

Disappear into the silent sound.

Just walking along,

My clothes are soaked right through to the skin,

I haven't a doubt, that this is what life is all about,

The sun and the rain.

Scraps of paper(???) washing down the drain.

I feel the rain falling on my face

I can say there is no better place

Than standing up in the falling down

In so much rain I could almost drown.

It's raining again

A crack in the clouds reveals blue skies

I've been feeling so low(low)

But now everything is on my side

The sun and the rain.

Walk with me fill my heart again

I hear the rain falling in my ears

Washing away the weariness like tears.

I can feel my troubles running down,

Disappear into the silent sound.

I feel the rain falling on my face

I can say there is no better place

Than standing up in the falling down

In so much rain I could almost drown.

Do de do do de do do do

Do de do de do de do do do

It's the line:

I can say there is no better place

Than standing up in the falling down

In so much rain I could almost drown

which I find so moving. And in a way both the above movies point to this standing up in the falling down.

Listening to the radio playing Elvis - Are you lonesome tonight (laughing version) I too started laughing and noticed that the laughter was at the very bizarreness of human life. All the world is indeed a stage...

I certainly enjoyed my performance of the melancholy Jaques' soliloquise (As you like it Act II Scene VII) when I did 'The mastery' workshop back in 2010. But then my sub-personalities have a habit of breaking out anyway... it's a strange journey back to wholeness.

The koan

Life (the history / karma) rises up... the desire to live, to have experience, the visceral life, the very Eros of it! And to move that through the belly, through fear in the solar plexus, the tenderness of the heart, oh the heart with all its grief... and on through expression in the throat, nothing stuck there I could talk for the world... but can I express?... and on... and beyond, beyond the head, oh goodness... the head; if ever it were stuck is it stuck in the head! Yet on... on... going ever on... going beyond to the spirit (of it), Buddha always becoming Buddha. The pain of it, the joy of it, the confusion and sorrow of it. This my koan; to feel the visceral blood and the guts of it and the joy and the love that oozes out of the pain and suffering of it and to hold the emptiness of it not with fear and pain but with... with I truly know not what with... acceptance, love, compassion, joy, unity, wisdom...? I do not know these in the full, this is my koan.

Then and Now

Playing Atomic the album by Blondie I had the thought that I've liked this music since I first heard it as a kid way back in the late 70's early 80's and I noticed a warmth at the continuity, the sustaining element of self; I liked it then and I still like it. This generates consistency and I notice how warm that feels. Noticing this I immediately recognized that basic human (ego) need to be an 'I'. And more than this, in middle age it's nice to feel some connection to a 'me' from childhood - some part that has not changed, not got grey hairs! Having the awareness of this as part of the way a self [sic small 's'] emerges and some awareness of a Self [sic capital 'S'] holding this is indeed a gift from the difficult years that have passed between then and now and I further notice a sense of gratitude to the child within as I recall him as he was then and even younger.

Softening to come home

After a lovely Christmas in Cluny with DC I packed up and returned home ready to start a new job. It's a six month temporary contract based at home doing survey work and I'm now two weeks in. Interviews for 'permanent' jobs are also 'in the frame'. Things do seem to be shifting after a long time when they seemed stuck. Of course there was no stuckness in it. What I've been noticing in this time of changing from living and working in community to being back with DC at home and working for an employer is the whole question of home. The change in people around me, working conditions and expectations, living arrangements and rhythms generates a need for a period of adjustment. But deeper than this there is the 'coming home spiritually' wherever and whatever external conditions arise. Living in a community where there is an invitation (even an expectation) to authenticity and deeper connection to each other and what is, is if taken seriously both challenging and rewarding. This is a contrast to living and working 'out in the world'. Although not as deeply enmeshed in sharings as some and often exasperated at various 'impracticalities' of  what would unfold around me whilst in community, I never the less was aware of that invitation - authentic and connected-internally and externally. This connection is home. So now 'out in the world' without that invitation and external connection, I find it all the more important to maintain the internal connection. Right now it is the shape of that connection and the relation to the external which is in flux. And that is a good thing because flux leads to visibility.  Now is a time to watch all this and remember that nothing is forever. It is also a time to (re)build external connections. And yet this notion of building implies being in control and I wonder just how true is any such notion of control. Although intention arrises what results is less in our power. So I remind myself - soften and observe, then action can flow naturally and from the heart.

Made Things

There is something of the utmost importance about made things. Every thing is made and in symbiotic relationship with its maker. This is life; the unknowable ground of being folds upon its self giving rise to forms which seem separate and in interaction. There is the longing to make which is the void's fecundity and the longing to return which is form's remembering its true nature.

Twice in recent days I've been near the sea and her song. Once in the darkness of a moonless night with a storm way off out to sea so that although it is calm on land the waves roll heavy onto the shore, roaring in from the horizon. And once in the day when less dramatic, the waves seem moody and hint at the feminine; the sea full of subdued emotion and pointing at the sublime. At the shore we sense the amphibian and this stirs our own longing; form and emptiness, separate yet one, longing to make yet longing to return home to merge back in; on in. Shall we approach this longing as in internal journey or an external one; foolish to draw distinction, naive not to know the difference. Beware the siren's call and yet... But the song on that moonlit night was less of the siren and more of the sea; both the sea I could see and the sea I could feel...

A while back I took these pictures (click to enlarge):

Is it a person; blue hat, red coat, stick aloft?

Sculpture - arm raised, red sleeve stick in hand

Less like a person viewed from the side

Then more recently:

a Viking in cashmere  sitting next to its maker

The photos reveal the need to make (and especially in representation of our own form). I see humour and warmth in these made things too. And while the waves of our made-ness pass by there is the faint sound of the sea; the sound of one hand clapping.

Embarrassment

I looked up embarrassment on the (in)famous Wikipedia. Here's what I found:


Embarrassment is an emotional state of intense discomfort with oneself, experienced upon having a socially unacceptable act or condition witnessed by or revealed to others. Usually some amount of loss of honor or dignity is involved, but how much and the type depends on the embarrassing situation. It is similar to shame, except that shame may be experienced for an act known only to oneself. Also, embarrassment usually carries the connotation of being caused by an act that is merely socially unacceptable, rather than morally wrong.

The unquestioned part in this might be said to to be the notion of self and the beliefs leading to notions of 'right and wrong'. To put this another way, embarrassment is the feeling which arises to fill the gap between what I want my sense (or storey) of self to be and what the moment is demonstrating it to be. Or to be more accurate what it might be. Might, because when all is said and done I don't have the full picture in any moment. And that seeing only part of the picture is at the root of embarrassment. There is judging in all this. If I can see the illusory nature of a small separate self and / or illusory nature of the solidity of those beliefs giving rise to notions of 'right and wrong' then where is the embarrassment? But that can require a lot of spaciousness and simply being with what is arising. So embarrassment can be a gift because it's pointing to notions that might have been previously unseen; notions of separateness and unworthiness. And there is more here too. This 'what I want my sense (or storey) of self to be' needs some consideration. I believe it points up. Surrendering into any emotion has this gift and ultimately the koan unfolding. The koan or paradox of separation and unity; my own experience of a sense of separate self doing its best to survive and the bigger picture of interconnection in which this sense of separation is formed. At the level of that picture there is only acceptance and the part that is feeling embarrassed (or anything else) is held in compassion. If I am judging myself or others then where is the compassion? If my embarrassment is rooted in the belief that others will judge me then I am judging them and accusing them of judging me. And if they do, again where is the compassion? If I am not held in compassion why feel any less (than those judging)? Expanding and softening into any situation, drawing back but without creating a further separation the stillness holding the drama is revealed. The small (embarrassed) self has afforded this revelation and there is gratitude. This is personal growth as a small self grows and looks up and the sense of self diminishes.
If embarrassment arises when I feel I am not what I want or should be, from where then do these wants or shoulds come? And who is it that is feeling them? These questions are answered in the spaciousness if I can be with the feelings and let them soften. But this all takes time and as ever insight alone is not enough; I still need to give each emotion time to unfold. And in there will be found someone trying their best, looking up. A one reaching out to see. It's not a separate one seeing but One seeing. And when we smile at our foolishness in good humour we can come together, we cease judging our self and each other, see our humanity and in that seeing experience our divinity. We come out of Oneness to see, seeing takes us back.

The merit of this post is offered to Sue who is sitting with her dying mother.

Fireworks

DC and I attended an impressive fireworks display on Saturday then had dinner with friends. The display is paid for each year from the previous year's donations. I recalled contributing last year as I dropped my money in to the collection bucket. This for me generates a great sense of community; here we are, this crowd of people collectively contributing and collectively enjoying the fruits. Great stuff.  As the winter starts to set in bonfire night is as a much a festival of light in the short dark days as it is a reminder of gunpowder, treason and plot and DC noted that Diwali would start on Sunday. I enjoyed the fireworks yet noticed too some sadness; a similar feeling to the one generated by new year's eve. It's the empty celebration. This is not the pregnant emptiness of our true nature but the hollow emptiness of jaded form. Yes it's fun to see the display and be in a crowd of cheerful people yet somehow the very scale of the display and impersonal nature of the crowd left me feeling remote. The streamers, starbursts and showers of lights formed by the fireworks seemed to distance me from the excitement they are supposed to create. It's a trait in me to slip easily in to this sort of melancholy and I observed the slip and shifted my attention but not before I recalled that feeling in childhood. I turned to DC so as to feel our closeness and not focus on the fact of aloneness; the eternal paradox of interconnection and separation. More rockets flew upwards some with whistles. Great explosions of stars formed a carapace of smoke which gave greater dramatic effect to subsequent multi coloured explosions by reflecting their light; a slowly shifting and fading backdrop glowing with the shifting play of light and dark. The huge bonfire a conflagration of leaping flames lay off to the side sending sparks off into the night sky. 'Heretics be warned' said DC. 'Mm' I said. The noise of the blasts grew and could be felt as a shock wave in the torso. I looked at the smoke and thought of those who have suffered in war. Beyond the smoke and any cloud the firmament remained.


The display over the crowd dispersed filling the streets. A queue had formed at the chip shop and others made their way through the supermarket. DC and I hurried back to our friend's house to get dinner going and meet up with others who would have been in the crowd watching the display. There was a sense of people moving towards their food.

It's taken me a couple of days to get round to writing this post and the ideas I had on Saturday for it have faded. Today I visited someone in hospital. His company has done some work for me and we have got on well in the short time we've spent together. I knew what this visit could be about before I arrived at his bed side to hear him tell me that he had been given twelve months to live. He only received the news a few days ago and it is still 'sinking in'. Our lives are a strange mixture and very fragile. Yet as the fireworks end and the embers of the fire cool beyond the clouds of our delusion the firmament remains; not as a solid carapace above us but as the unborn.

The merit of this post is for Bill and those who love him.