I can usually tell when I'm moving through an interesting time on an emotional or spiritual level, I write more frequently and often in poetic form. I don't believe Nietzsche who cynically thought poetry was just a way of muddying the water in order to appear deep. A little bit of muddying prevents you going mad Friedrich. It is that very 'muddying' that permits murmurings from the depths to bubble up through the gaps. The poet either is or isn't a good conduit for that. The philosopher Gaston Bachelard once said that poetry was like a pebble thrown into a deep pond, that touches the depths before it breaks and ripples the surface. Personally poetry helps establish connection with the shadowy, buried or obscured areas of my psyche. Writing puts one's soul on the table where you can get a sense for what's really going on.
I'm finding that after a lifetime of not quite connecting with the songstressing of Joni Mitchell I've suddenly become a huge fan. But then maybe there is, similar to poetry, personal depths that she plunges and lays out for all to hear that are part of everyone's human experience. She is twittering, warbling and scatting away yet I often haven't a clue what she is on about, but it remains essential soul food. I'm particularly fond of the song Don't Interrupt The Sorrow, with its defiant declamation of Anima Rising!
'Anima rising
Queen of Queens
Wash my guilt of Eden
Wash and balance me
Anima rising
Uprising in me tonight
She's a vengeful little goddess
With an ancient crown to fight'
* extract from Don't Interrupt The Sorrow, from The Hissing Of Summer Lawns.
Wash and balance me' chimes with the mood I'm currently in, reflective about where I've been, where I'm currently at. Washing off some of the things that have clung on, that simultaneously unbalances one's sense of oneself and where one's horizon is . Looking for a new equilibrium. It started with phasing out the public use of Vidyavajra, but what follows and where this ends is uncertain. I'm trying to remain open and let things percolate, waiting to see what shows its face next. Not rush towards the first signs of dry land and claim it for England.
Much of this was initially prompted by the recent death of a neighbour. She was a lady with a profound mental struggle going on quite a lot of the time. Whilst she didn't actively take her life, it was the consequence of stopping using her medication which precipitated a severe epileptic fit that she died from. I have known quite a few people who've committed suicide, and it has an unerring ability to deeply unsettle me. It's more than empathy, personal regret, sadness or having felt similar despair or desperation in my past. Though these are to a degree present, it's more how I imagine a bad memory from a past existence might feel.
Where I am at with my involvement with the Soto Zen group I attend, I'm currently reviewing. I've been going along for eighteen months or more and have found it at times inspiring and my meditation practice and its regularity has greatly improved. I do have areas of difficulty, finding the style of study hard to connect with, it's presentation is a bit unimaginative and dry, like skin that needs a bit of Nivea. It tends to either infuriate or bore me. It could justifiably be argued that I'm giving too much weight to personal feeling and preference here. The Soto Zen approach is many centuries older than myself, so who am I, with my track record, to argue it needs a bit of a re-visioning ?
I'm the sort of person who is quite naturally loyal, easily becoming a consistent and regular presence. I've done this with the Zen Priory without consciously making a commitment to their form of practice as my way too. I'm also at that point where going deeper in my engagement and contribution feels like it may be on the table, but it's unclear to me what that would be. There is also another side of me that wants to explore what other Soto Zen traditions are like, and not commit myself too early or maybe not at all. Questioning where that need to commit or belong is coming from.
I've recently discovered the very wonderful work of the
New York Zen Center for Contemplative Care. It was co-founded and run by Robert Chodo Campbell and Koshin Paley Ellison. Both are truly skilled care givers and communicators, but Koshin is to my mind something quite special a person capable of really inspiring you in very simple practical ways. I've watched loads of You Tube videos, listened to podcasts, and started reading his book The Wholehearted Way. Am I a fan? Yes,I am. He appears to be providing whatever it is I'm not currently finding at the Priory. The New York Center is running some online courses in September, which time differentials and internet connection permitting, I might try attending via Zoom.
Meanwhile in the more dreary world of a pandemic and government competence. Boris Minor is again our absent PM, this time during the algorithmic mess over grades. Where the Witless Gavin clings on determined to clean up his own mess like he did when he was school milk monitor. The Cruel Pea remains free of any discernible kindness or conscience, casting her smirk upon the waters and blaming refugees for their own desperate plight. Dim Dom our Foreign Secretary has resumed hiding in a locked room now he's not forced to deputise for Boris Minor and stare frightened to death by the close proximity of a camera. We still have The Door Matt persisting in pretending he's decisively carrying out his own carefully worked out policy, when he's really just doing exactly what he's told. Then there's The Backhander, always ready to accept payments for preferential treatment, like many Tory colleagues he's blatantly unashamed of handing out cash and positions straight to sympathisers and fellow cult members. All ruled over and given a spine by Dom the Unelected who, disturbingly, seems to be the one who is really running the government at the moment. Oh boy what a mess of pottage this country is now in.
Looking forward to leaving the EU with no deal, the land of opportunity beckons for someone.
Let's be very clear, this won't be you or me.
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