THE BEST BEFORE DATE - 1980 - Flight by A Certain Ratio

A Certain Ratio, were one of those nearly bands. They nearly made it big. They either missed their moment or were that little bit too far ahead of the curve. Moody industrial dance funk would have its time but with Cabaret Voltaire and Chakk, five or six years later. Meanwhile ACR carried on exploring latin funk into fresh territory. Since their formation in 1977 they've been intermittently active continuing to perform and release new material. Like many bands before them they remain 'Big in Japan'.

Part of the post punk Manchester renaissance, their sound in this their earliest incarnation had the atmospheric gloom of industrial music with frequent glimmering flickers of funk /latin undertones. ACR's first album The Graveyard & The Ballroom, was one of the earliest releases on Tony Wilson's Factory Records in 1979. Joy Division's Unknown Pleasures coming out a few months before, took over the gloom and doom department.  ACR moved on.

Flight was released as a single in 1980. Reaching number 7 in the UK Independent Chart. The mood infusing this track is typical of their early work. As a descending drum beat preludes a drone, low and foreboding that persists in the background for most of the track. Flecked with the random sparks from a funk guitar, then the deep rumble of a slap bassline over which comes a flat emotiveless vocal - 'We need flight, to feel the light. 

I've never understood what Flight was about, I don't expect reading the lyrics would help. but on the level of feeling it tells me all I need to know. I find this 12 inch version one of the most captivating pieces of music from this period, moody and filled with something as yet untapped, about to be released, to literally take flight. Its been residing in my Top 10 all time favourites for many years.

THEATRE ONLINE - NT - The Cherry Orchard

Madame Ranevskaya is returning home to Russia, to her estate. After many years of living abroad, of marriages, passionately inappropriate and all consuming love affairs. Her daughter Anya rescues her from another desperately humiliating situation. What has happened, is never fully explained. She has no money left, and returning home the only option left. Her debts grown so embarrassingly high the family estate is up for auction to pay them off. 

There is a sense in Chekov of people living unreal lives. Holding on to some idea or belief, because its the only scrap of hope they have left. Not wanting to see what is actually impending. Madame Ranevskaya, has a sentimental hold on the family home, symbolised for her by the Cherry Orchard. She carries on spending and giving largesse, with money she does not really have. Despite Lopakhin's repeated entreaties to carry out his plan to save the estate, she holds on to the idea everything will somehow miraculously turn out right. Even though it very clearly will not. 

When The Cherry Orchard was first performed in 1904. Russian society was at a turning point. Not seeing the early warning signs, of the revolution that was just over a decade away. The aristocracy and its feudalism were waning, a new wealthier middle class was arising, romantic idealists, such as Tolstoy, were already talking about what a better society might be like.

This production of The Cherry Orchard from 2011, is based on a new translation by Andrew Upton. English productions have normally over emphasised Chekov's nostalgia and fatalism. But here, rather than the usual heavy weight of doom hanging over them all, their is fun, humour and satire whilst all around them smoulders. The hedonism of the wilfully blind. There are quite a few anachronistic modern turns of phrase in the script. The staging over does showing you a very dilapidated estate. You never see the idyllic orchard they all talk of so rapturously and want to preserve. This was no doubt meant to underline the essential unreality of their world view. But this is not even a faded grandeur, its all ready gone to rack n ruin. This makes any love expressed for the place not grounded in either the characters, nor your experience of it.

Zoe Wanamaker as Ranveskaya, is superb. Elegant, yet emotionally a delicate wreck, she maintains this upright manner of warm hearted confidence and defiance. Flipping from frivolity to despair and back in the space of a sentence. Yepikodov, ( Pip Carter ) is played with great poignancy and feeling. A person who never quite gets anything right, yet persists with his unrequited loving pursuit of Dunyasha. Trofimov ( Mark Bonner ) conveys his ardent left wing idealism, that captures Anya's love and devotion. Lopakhin ( Conleth Hill ) emphasises all the time his humble peasant origins. He wants Madame Ranveskaya's love and respect, if not that, then revenge will do.The bragging self made entrepreneur who believes ripping out the orchard and building holiday homes for the nouveau riche is the way forward for Russian society. The ensemble acting throughout is energetic and extremely well choreographed.

This production from 2011, brought a welcome lightness of touch to Chekov's The Cherry Orchard. In the process, it tended to lose its grip on the plays heart and soul, its melancholy sense of loss. The fate of the family here, is analogous to the fate of Russia. Both are caught in circumstances out of their control. Living in a past, that if not already ceased to exist, is rapidly vanishing. Its the beginning of a world changing so rapidly as to be beyond human capacity to adapt to it. A world which we all still live in and likewise fail to fully comprehend what revolutions small changes can bring about.

CARROT REVIEW - 6/8

MY OWN WALKING - 2nd Journal July 2022

"If you want to become a Buddha by sitting, know that Buddha has no fixed form...If you try to become a Buddha by sitting, you are killing Buddha. If you attach to the form of sitting, you can never attain Buddhahood."

Zen Master Nangaku

I've been pondering on meditation practice lately. Why on earth do I do it? What do I think its all in aid of? What relationship is there between meditation practice and the true nature of reality? Here are a few non definitive ruminations.

Practice with Self Improvement in mind

The fact that we even call it 'practice' presents us with the idea that its a preparatory exercise, similar to a sports or music practice. To get better at doing something, we rehearse or exercise ourselves, through repeating an action, word or thought over and over. People go to the gym for a broad range of reasons; to stay fit, achieve perfect abbs, to get a girlfriend, to be more mentally and physically resilient. Likewise people meditate with differing motives, because it helps us to stay mentally fit, to be a kinder person, a more mindful person, a more integrated or equanimous person, etc. And it can indeed be beneficial in this way, like a form of mental therapy session.

On a day to day practical level a meditation practice can help you cope better with oneself, with others or with life in general. Which is a good thing. But is meditation solely a utilitarian practice, like a pill we take to make life that bit more bearable? Well, it can be used in that way. But only up to a point. In the early days of learning to meditate, it can be helpful to have goal in mind. Otherwise why would you want to learn to do it in the first place?

Practice with a spiritual aspiration in mind.

Once you introduce a spiritual aspiration into why you meditate, such as getting into higher states of consciousness or reaching enlightenment, then this attracts our ego to it like a magnet. Quickly becoming the overarching goal to which all our spiritual practice is directed towards achieving. Practice can be useful as a preparation ritual for getting to enlightenment. But that goal lies somewhere in our imagination up the top of a very steep slope. My experience is that meditation slowly and subtly re-orientate you, there is a change in your sense of yourself and relations with others. This, so it is said, can progressively deepen to become a much more fundamental thing than just being a nicer person to hang out with. But I've had little experience of that. 

I've certainly had periods when the reason why I meditated was driven by an aspiration, not always that clearly focused, to achieve some anticipated prelude to a higher state of consciousness. I did have a few peak experiences with meditation. Those were relatively early on, and they are best put down to 'beginners mind'. Then it all went quiet, and stayed quiet on that front, which as the decades clocked up I did find quite dispiriting.  It was a though the more I aspired to climb higher the more the fog swept in.  Is meditation then a practice best left without a conscious destination?

Practice without a spiritual aspiration in mind

Can you practice without any conception of what you're meditating for? Is that even realistic? Out of a lack of confidence I, like many folk, often needed encouragement and reassurance. A tangible sense of making progress through my practice, meditative or otherwise. Once I realised that even my theoretical goals and meditative aspirations were turning into an obstacle, I tried gently pulling my attention away from them or preventing them arising in the first place. That's a bit like trying to not think of pink elephants - for then you become besieged by them, you see them everywhere.  Low and behold new goals are created out of even 'not having goals and aspirations.' In my experience its not possible to practice without some sort of 'gaining idea' lying prone behind it like a succubus, however subtle or unconscious that notion may be. Its also difficult to unlearn one's early bad habits. Once you've learnt how to ride a bike hands free, you never really forget. Even if as you get older it becomes less and less advisable.

Purpose and meditation can develop this problematical relationship. One that doesn't help on a day to day basis to keep practicing. I've learnt to accept my mind will move from one mistaken misconception to another. Interspersed with slim moments of insight or clarity in which I vaguely sense where the way out is. Even trying 'to be present' is an aim. Amid all the uncertainty about what 'to be present' actually is, or would feel like. What if 'to be present' is the very antithesis of knowing? I began doing a 'just sitting' practice initially in an attempt to stop my mind behaving as though it had a spiritual addiction. Constantly on the look out for signs of dhyana etc etc. But over time it became clear that it was better to let go of even that. To adopt Uchiyama Roshi's approach, to ' Open the Hand of Thought' whenever the mind grasps at any idea, to gently prise those fingers away from that delicious chocolate bar. This was just the start of a unending process of retraining. To not voluntarily enable my mind to act as the driver of everything.

Practice / Enlightenment.

Dogen has his own take on the purpose of practice, which I personally find I'm quite drawn to. In his early years as a monk he had a 'great doubt' about what the purpose of practice was in light of the concept of Buddha Nature. Which essentially says you are already Enlightened but do not recognise it, or consciously know it. If this was so, then what was the point of practice? Didn't Buddha Nature make any conscious purpose for practice entirely redundant? His resolution of his dilemma was that practice is enlightenment, and enlightenment - practice, indivisibly. Even the Buddha once he became enlightened never said - 'now that jobs done, I don't need to carry on meditating, thank god for that!

If you go a few posts back in this blog and read a quote I posted by Shohaku Okamura, called We Are Part of It. He explains quite beautifully what our relationship to sound is. We think hearing is something we do, its a response we have. Something we observe or experience as happening separate from the world outside of us. We see ourselves as producing it. When in fact, because of interconnectivity and the conditioned co-production of it all,  its the result of a whole host of things of which we are only one smallish part.  Sound is a natural  interactive production of the entire universe.

In a similar manner, we believe that we decide to meditate, that meditation is something we action and direct. It maybe that actually we are responding to a whole host of conditions in us and in the universe that support spiritual practice. That impulse Dogen would say emanates from Buddha Nature, from the state of enlightenment, of reality as it really is.  Buddha Nature is present according to Dogen's presentation, not just in humankind, but in everything, whether sentient or not. His conception of it is similar to that of the Tao, if you can name it, then that's not it, not Buddha Nature. Though its emerging all the time through everything, including through our practice. An urge in the universe to transcend, that feeds into the desire to practice. Practice appears to be an interactive production of the entire universe.

Practice as Practice

If practice is a natural production of the entire universe, then when we do meditate, we would be meditating with all beings, for all beings, in all time periods. Meditation would no longer be just ours, just for us. Interconnected with everyone else's lives, meditation and practice in general, whether in the present or the past or the future. Well that would be a Bodhisattva activity, for the benefit of all beings.

Practice on the meditation cushion would be less and less about doing. Not just 'not doing' either, just being, just sitting, just letting go of preconceptions, expectations and desires, just thoughts and ideas floating through your mind without comment. Not a means to anything, not an actualisation, not a manifestation. No meaning other than in the doing of it. No purpose other than in the doing of it. No conceptualisation. No elaborate religious framework to surround, hold up or explain how and why you do it. This is practise as practice. To adapt one of Sangharaskshita's aphorisms - Commitment to practice is primary, lifestyle and doctrinal rectitude are secondary.

Perhaps it doesn't matter what form a practice takes. Whether formal or informal, traditional or experimental, with or without a godhead in mind. As long as we practice devotedly, with a sincere and open heart. Its perfectly possible for the meaning and purpose of a practice to be entirely misconceived, but still be an effective practice. As Zen keeps reminding us, in the end the ineffable 'whatever' exists outside of words and scripture.

Just Do It

Ultimately, following Dogen's idea further, if practice-enlightenment is present in everything,  Enlightenment is everywhere, so is practice too. Whilst I might not have a clue how that might happen, nor how I might connect with practice being everywhere in everything, it opens up a way of doing meditation that is not entirely dependent on the specificity of a practice. 

Somemes its helpful to know what the possible theoretical framework is. Yet frames can either enhance or detract from the picture in them. Quite often frameworks attract far too much attention to themselves. But to be honest there are mornings when meditation is simply there to hold me together. Anything else is a nice fairytale. 

Practice generally, well it still feels to me to be about doing something, going somewhere, a sense for a destination activated by following a path. It maybe that this is some form of emotional or existential need to fill in the void over the purpose of life. But what if doing the very opposite of that is what we need to do, to calmly face that void through practice.

Perhaps, everything might be a lot easier should I stop fretting or cogitating about practice. How much more effective it might be then. Not even think about if what I'm doing is right or wrong. Get out of my head and onto the meditation stool. Do whatever is working right now. Be confident that is enough. Just do it.

"Be sure to detach yourself from all your clingings.
  Be sure not to attach yourself to your non-clinging either"

An old Chinese Chan Master saying.

QUOTATION MARKS - Charles Bukowski

 

"The problem with the world is
That the intelligent people are full of doubts
While the stupid ones are full of confidence."

Charles Bukowski

SCREEN SHOT - The Grey Man

Sierra Six,(Ryan Gosling) was a prisoner, now turned into a CIA fighting machine by Fitzroy (Billy Bob Thornton). He is sent on a mission with Dani Miranda ( Ana de Armas ) to take out a so called 'bad guy'. A mission instigated by new CIA director of operations Denny Carmichael ( Rege-Jean Paige ). The 'bad guy' turns out to be another former prisoner turned CIA agent, Sierra Four. Six kills him, but not before discovering something has gone seriously wrong in the CIA and Denny is at the heart of it. There is a necklace containing a USB that Denny wants. But Six goes rogue and ends up pursued by the mad mercenary Lloyd Hanson (Chris Evans) employed by Denny to take him out.

Directors the Russo brothers (Captain America, Avengers Endgame) are well versed in making the unrelenting flow seemingly required of modern action dramas. Any film by them is going to be a tornado. Throughout its two hours nine minute length it hardly takes a pause for breath. Now in this case this is perfectly fine, just so long as there is not one second in which to question motive, logic or the somewhat pedestrian, seen it all before, nature of its plot devices. Plots in these sort of films, seem always to be running a slow second to the action anyway. It is, however, all brilliantly executed, and instantly disposable. Stylistically it's indebted to latter day Bond movies, crossed with Michael Bay's 6 Underground. The script is full of knowing ironic wit, the repartee between Six and Lloyd is pokey and wisecracking.

In Ryan Gosling they have the perfect toy action man, beautiful to look at, emotionally grey, controlled, razor sharp thinking and responses. Asking very little of him as an actor. He brings to this highly effective killing machine his usual, so understated you'd hardly notice it, genial warmth and humanity. Hinting that behind this impassive and expressionless face is a man with a sensitive moral compass. Ryan Gosling can come and save me anytime he has a moment free. One day he will return to making the films with greater depth, that his career began with. But not until he tires of all around him being an explosive sequence of cars crashing and high performance gun shoot outs. The Grey Man looks all set for a sequel. So, a while to go yet.

Its great to see Chris Evans getting a baddy part to play, which he shows great relish for. And Ana de Amas, in many ways the most captivating performer in No Time to Die, gets to kick ass with the best of them - yet again. Taken on its own level, this movie very effectively passes the time without ever coming close to holding your emotions prisoner.

CARROT REVIEW - 5/8

TAO TIT BITS - Those Who Stand on Tiptoe

"Those who stand on tiptoe are not steady.
Those who stride cannot maintain the pace.
Those who make a show are not enlightened.
Those who are self-righteous are not respected.
Those who boast achieve nothing.
Those who brag will not endure.
These are extra food and unnecessary baggage
They do not bring happiness."

Edited from the Tao The Ching by Lao Tsu
Translated by Gia-Fu Feng, Publisher Wildwood House, 1974

THEATRE ONLINE - NT - Hansard

Diana Hesketh ( Lindsay Duncan ) is the wife of senior Tory politician Robin Hesketh ( Alex Jennings ). Its the 1980's and everyone is in the thrall of Thatcher. Section 28 has just passed a significant point in its contentious trawl through parliament. Robin returns home for the weekend to find his wife spoiling for an argument. She's the second Mrs Hesketh, the former mistress who triumphed over the first 'Mrs De Winter' as she sarcastically puts it. She believes she is recognising all too familiar signs in her formerly wayward husband. 

Most of the play's duration is packed full of nit picking and sparring between the two leads. Pointed political comment and analysis trip off their tongues with delicious relish. Speaking to many contemporary issues with their origins in the 1980's 'greed is good' mantra. Robin is the ardent Tory, Diana his more than left leaning opposition. These arguments are old and so well rehearsed that each can see them coming. What really lies beneath the current parlous state of play in their marriage, emerges as the play progresses. You can sort of see that coming too. The revelation when it does arrive is not a great surprise. Two and two are put together with comfortable ease.

That said, this a great two hander, originally performed in 2019, that rattles off its entertaining tropes with all the glee of a child tipping out its favourite toys across the floor. Not bad as a first successful play for Simon Woods. Even though it lacks the depth and sophistication by comparison with a David Hare play. Its quite happy to play in the muddier shallow end of political stereotypes. Lindsay Duncan and Alex Jennings are both in their element, on fine scathing form in the cutting fire of their witty, withering and lacerating repartee.

CARROT REVIEW - 6/8

CARROT CAKE REVIEW No 33 - The Zen of Tray Bakes

Stiffkey Stores, Stiffkey, Norfolk.

There are days, believe it or not, when I'm quite inclined to be a little less stern, a little less didactic, a little less proscriptive. Here, for the record, is one of them. 

You should all know by now what I generally think about tray bakes. Or have you really not been paying sufficient attention? In brief, its lazy baking, it's not really a cake, it frequently hides faults that would clearly be seen were it a proper full sized cake. But halt, hold my horses before they bolt off into the wild horizon of fulmination and froth. Maybe it is possible for there to be exceptions made. If so, what would these be, and why? Please enlighten us, Oh carrot cake guru. Proceed to unfold your hidden truths.

Stiffkey Stores, unsurprisingly is in Stiffkey. Part Post Office, part general corner shop, part cafe and part a low key interiors store. A current iteration which appear as to have been much more successful than previous ones. Its become a destination. Because it covers some local village requirements and is a welcome stop over point for rambling tourists and otherwise. Including us. We frequently have broken our journey to Wells next the Sea here. Even though its barely four miles to go!

Flat Whites? Passable to good. A decent blend of coffee and grind doing most of the heavy work. The range of confectionery is, however, notable for its range and novelty. Most of which are pulled off. There is the usual preponderance of things baked in trays, innovative brownies, blondies rocky roads and other variations on a theme of pastry. Things quickly laid flat in a shallow tin, cooked on 160 fan, for 15-20 minutes, and allowed to fully cool, then cut with a knife. Voilà! Segments.

I ventured into the consumption of a carrot tray bake, because I was in the mood for a cheeky surprise. Call me intuitive, I was not disappointed. This small square of confectionery, as you can see from the photo, was cut to fit neatly and properly into its paper serving tray. Not slumped ungainly at an oddly precipitous angle, like an ill fitting shoe. Just because you provide food in disposable plates and cups, doesn't mean everything has to be thrown in too. With a bit of forethought, presentation is an easy thing to be mindful of and to master. Here they appear to give it some.

And so we come to the carrot tray bake itself. Pray tell us what that was like, and why this particular tray bake could overrule your Golden Rule No 3? Well, let us be clear. It still does not make it a cake. A tray bake is a tray bake, is a tray bake. But perhaps, as a tray bake it can hint at a greatness beyond the limitations of its shallow form. That if it were a fully formed cake would make it superlative. Also simply to attain the essence of a carrot cake, in a more minimalist genre of confectionery should be worthy of praise. With the necessary rejoinder - and now go bake a cake!

Now on the top of this carrot tray bake, was a wonderful cream cheese frosting, layered on generously with a pallette knife. Not even like low fat, or feverishly sweating in the heat of day.  Mixed with confectionery icing sugar, not caster sugar. It was thus as smooth as face cream but firm enough to show no sign of slithering.

The tray bake itself had a great looking texture. A smattering of succulent sultanas and spices one could genuinely call subtle. The requisite burnt sienna colour, in the characteristic rough stranding of a bake containing a far from paltry amount of carrot. It never ceases to amaze me that anyone would stint on an ingredient so central to a successful carrot confection. It would be comparable to refusing to put an egg in Eggs Benedict just to keep the calories down.

In short this was in the direct transmission lineage from a great carrot cake. It was all in that original recipe, but for a tray bake this was more than a cut above, what can often be a very low bar. Weighty and carroty, what else could bring such joy and pleasure to your mouth Stephen? I couldn't possibly comment, let alone blog.

CARROT TRAY BAKE SCORE - 7/8

BE VERY VERY VERY AFRAID - Liz Truss & Brexit - The Room Next Door

 Er Er Er Er Er Er 

BE VERY VERY AFRAID - Liz Truss - Leaving Her Leadership Launch

 How to get lost when exiting a small room, with only one door, the door you came into it through.

BE VERY AFRAID - Liz Truss - Pork Markets - The Room Next Door

 Ms Pork Markets at her robotic best.

THE BEST BEFORE DATE - 1983 - This is the Day by The The

You could pick any song off The The's first album Soul Mining and you'd realise instantly this was one 1980's album that ended up defining its decade. Neurotic, nerdy and psychologically self preoccupied. The second track This is the Day was originally released as a single. It didn't get anywhere near the top 40, its highest placing was 71. Yet neither did Soul Mining fully reach what it promised on release, peaking at 27. But its reputation has somewhat grown as the years pass. 

There is something in Matt Johnson's DNA as a songwriter and performer that you can find a bit too much to accommodate. The lyrics do dig deep, are often not cheerful nor optimistic and can be self lacerating, It can feel a bit poetically over wrought and uncomfortable. Also the production here is massive, it just relentlessly pounds your ears with that flat unfeeling drum sound, much adapted and thieved by samplers in later decades.

But after the somewhat relentless self pity of the opening track I've Been Waiting For Tomorrow All My Life there comes This Is The Day. A beautifully simple song about someone waking up one morning. After weeks of doom and gloom, the depressive thoughts and negativity, the feeling of everything in your life going wrong, its all suddenly vanished. The world today seems different, more positive. This is the day when things fall into place.  And as the song progresses the optimism opens out as the accordion bellows forth its jaunty tune. He knows this will not last, it usually doesn't, but for now enjoy it, ride its waves for as long as it lasts. As a song it has an antecedent in Perfect Day by Lou Reed, and a later song by Elbow - One Day Like This, is rather indebted to its spirit too. Its a small scale classic from an often overlooked writer.

Lyrics - This Is The Day by Matt Johnson

Well you didn't wake up this morning 'cause you didn't go to bed
You were watching the whites of your eyes turn red
The calendar on your wall was ticking the days off
You've been reading some old letters
You smile and think how much you've changed
All the money in the world couldn't buy back those days

You pull back the curtains
And the sun burns into your eyes
You watch a plane flying
Across a clear blue sky
This is the day, your life will surely change
This is the day, when things fall into place

You could have done anything, if you wanted
And all your friends and family think that you're lucky
But the side of you they'll never see
Is when you're left alone with your memories
That hold your life together, like glue

You pull back the curtains
And the sun burns into your eyes
You watch a plane flying
Across a clear blue sky
This is the day, your life will surely change
This is the day, when things fall into place

This is the day (This is the day)
Your life will surely change
This is the day (This is the day)
Your life will surely change

SCREEN SHOT - You Are Not My Mother

Char is a teenage girl, who ought to be out having fun with her friends. But she has none. Instead she is regularly picked on and bullied. Her family, particularly her Grandma, well, they've always been a bit weird. There is a dark secret in the families past no one is talking about. Her Mum is bedridden, rarely well enough to go out, and appears to be on the verge of having a mental breakdown. Then she goes missing.  Her Uncle is found in suspicious circumstances overdosed on medication her Mum should have been taking. Her Mum returns, but it no longer feels like this is really her and Char doesn't feel safe in the house. Her new found friend Georgie tells her she should leave. Her Grandma gives her a protective amulet she's made. The next morning her Grandma is found murdered in her armchair.

This is a brilliantly executed piece of psychological horror, placed in a context of gritty realism. Giving you a vivid sense of the genuine difficulties of living in a house where someone, who you love, is mentally losing it. Even though it has this subtext of folk horror underlying at all times, it inhabits a recognisable run down, impoverished urban landscape. This is a first film for Kate Dolan who wrote and directed it, and it shows a huge sensitivity for her characters predicament and making the horror subtext as real as those very ordinary grubby circumstances.

CARROT REVIEW - 5/8

TAO TIT BITS - Three Things to Treasure

 

"I have three treasures which I hold and keep.
  The first is mercy; the second is economy;
  The third is daring not to be ahead of others.
  From mercy comes courage; from economy
  comes generosity;
  From humility comes leadership.

  Nowadays people shun mercy, but try to be brave;
  They abandon economy, but try to be generous;
  They do not believe in humility, but always try
  to be first.
  This is certain death."

Taken from the Tao Te Ching by Lao Tsu
Translated by Gia-Fu Feng, Published by Wildwood House, 1974

THEATRE ONLINE - NT - Phedre

Phedre (Helen Mirren) has been left alone to rule the kingdom. Her husband Theseus has disappeared whilst on campaign and is presumed dead. Only her step son Hyppolytus ( Dominic Cooper ) wishes to set out to find his Father or discover what has happened to him. His step mother behaves as if she hates Hyppolytus and so he feels he really ought to leave. Be anywhere other than here. The only thing keeping him here is Aricia ( Ruth Negga )  He doesn't realise that Phedre's loathing of him is just an act, that really she is besottedly in love with him. Just when Phedre has unwisely told Hyppolytus what her feelings for him really are, Theseus returns.

Jean Racine's over heated tragedy, is given additional muscularity by the gritty urgency of Ted Hughes's translation. This is fate on steroids. The first act is a demanding one for whoever is playing its lead role. Phedre is being torn apart by the realisation she's in love with her step son. She rails, she wails, she weeps, she curses the gods, curses her families misfortune, curses her misfortune as a woman, blames her maid servant (Margaret Tyzack)  Without an actor with tremendous gifts in vocal and expressive range in this central role, the play can simply become one long and tiresome screech for attention. There's nothing or no one an actor can hide behind. The revered reputation of classic performances of Phedre by Glenda Jackson and Diana Rigg, are then a tough act for anyone to follow.

Unfortunately this production from 2009 as directed by Nicholas Hytner, underlines the limits of Helen Mirren as an actor. Playing cold and aloof queens has apparently become her forte, but Phedre is far from that. Her performance here lacks a lot of the necessary subtlety of emotional light and shade. Phedre, though imperious at times, has also to be a warm person, with whom you can identify. Human, full  blooded, simply failing to hold it all together. Above all, falling in love with ones step son, has to be believable.

There is humour, pathos and poetry in the script which she sometimes misses entirely or hurtles over with yet another wailing declamation. It ends up all existing on the same rather exhaustingly fraught level, that I found so jarring I have yet to steel myself to watch beyond the first act. God did I need a break from all that hair tearing and holding of the stomach. Instead of helping you feel for her position, you feel repelled by this emotive barrage. One that strangely reveals her performance as uninhabited and essentially cold at heart.

The staging by Bob Crowley is, I must say, extraordinary. The lighting gives it a sense of Mediterranean sunlight, sky and dramatic shadows. Large slabs of angular stonework, held up by a rocky pillar outcrop far too frequently gripped or leant on by Ms Mirren. An epic stage, for an epic play, lacking a totally epic central performance, unfortunately.

CARROT REVIEW - 4/8

SHERINGHAM DIARY No 63 - Dash Those Pesky Expectations

Oh boy, if I thought shop sales being down in May was tough, I was self deceived. June proved to be further testing of our confidence and trust. The extended Platijube celebrations brought not a lot business wise. In fact it appeared to mark the watershed between what came before - unpredictable but just about manageable decline in shop sales - and what came after - remaining unpredictable and a still further drop.

Which somewhat put the heebie-geebies up us, as you could imagine. That this eventually perked up and returned to what we would consider something like 'normal' for the time of year, in the final week or so, was something of a relief.  By the end of June still substantially down on 2021, but not as disastrous as we'd first envisaged. Yet not particularly encouraging either.  What the coming summer season, our usually profitable months, will bring we must wait and see. Without holding out any hope. We don't want any of those pesky expectations. Not at all advisable in the current retail Zeitgeist. Dash them before, not after, they've taken hold.

Still, we're being careful, and gradually buying in new stock for the summer as well as replacing stock that we've sold. We've improved our offering on the stalls we have outside the shop, of lower priced pick ups. This year we are having to work even harder to counter the perennial problem for our shop - getting them to come in. Some folk will never step across our portal unless they've already decided to buy. 

Maintaiing an open mind about the future. Not getting into catastrophising. Just calmly keep putting energy into the shop. I cannot deny, this is a difficult thing to consistently sustain. Both of us can come home exhausted simply from the emotional effort of staying engaged and positive. Its either that or a giddy frothiness to our behaviour once we leave the shop. Similar to a bottle of fizzy water that has been rather too vigorously shaken and needs to expel the explosive pressure of it all.

In the week North Norfolk was declared the area in the UK with the highest number of people over 65, I quietly passed that watershed and entered the slipstream that ends in the elderly drain on limited health resources. My birthday celebration was pretty much wall to wall cake. Including a fabulous Vegetarian Afternoon Tea at Heydon Tea Rooms, which was well up to its usual very high standard. Jnanasalin had also made a petite sized white chocolate and ginger cheesecake too. 

The day concluded with watching a play on National Theatre at Home, called London Assurance from 2010.  It starred Fiona Shaw and Simon Russell Beale, both producing wonderful larger than life characters. With delightful idiosyncracies, that were a hoot from start to finish. A very enjoyable end to the day.

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As I have written elsewhere I've begun a new knitting project, a meditation blanket. It is a little labourious, but I knit an inch or so most days. The thing is growing, like a beast it's becoming ever more unwieldy to knit with every stitch. I reckon I'm about half way now towards what I imagine might be its full size. So sometime in August it maybe completed, or at least have found there is insufficient wool to attain the requisite length. So the search will then be on to find another wool of a similar grade. A complementary colour edge perhaps. Anyway, we shall see.

After a two years hiatus due to the pandemic the Potty Morris & Folk Festival returned to the streets of Sheringham. I for one, was really pleased. It was able to bring a much needed zest back to the town. An injection of vivacity, colour, fun and extravaganza. Due to its high level of elderly population Sheringham can often feel sluggish and lacking in vitality and engagement with life. Potty Morris gave the whole place a welcome shot of viagra. Even the shop had a good weekend.

Things adapt and change even in the world of Morris, so steeped in maintaining traditional forms of dance. There are the specialist sides doing Rapper, Cotswold and the like, straight, in traditional costumes and manner. But more broadly the dress style is becoming ever more flamboyant. Each side still has always had it's own identifiably distinct dress code. Its own particular twist on the Morris legacy. The mummers rag coat, has morphed with Gothic influenced steam punk, the top hats now decorated elaborately with feathers,cogs and flying goggles. This contemporary inventiveness is what will keep Morris alive and popular as a folk tradition. 

Since the arrival of the Witchmen a few years ago, the very overtly physical thwacking of sticks, in a darkly aggressively Border style of Morris became fashionable. The number of sides you saw increased. Something similar appears now to be happening with Molly. In many ways a gentler, charming, more whimsically laid back form, its the very opposite of the groins and grunts of Border. I saw many different types of Morris side over the weekend and got the feeling many were a bit under rehearsed, no doubt due to pandemic restrictions. Maybe by next years performances will have tightened up a bit.

When we lived in Cambridge one of our first visits of the year to Sheringham would be for the Potty Morris & Folk Festival, the first weekend in July. Due to my past experience as a Morris dancer I still get a big thrill of excitement from watching a side like the Witchmen or Pig Dyke Molly. There were over forty two Morris sides this year. So its not a small event. With plans to expand its Folk Music element over the next few years. Next year being its 30th Anniversary is particularly going to be big. I cannot wait.

MUSIC REVIEW - In Amber - Hercules and Love Affair & ANOHNI

The album artwork is an oracle for what lies within - In Amber. A lone monolith standing in a scorched desert, veiled in a pale gauze cloth. A cloth that in the videos gently moves in a breeze. Veiled in mourning, to honour what is dead, actual or imminent, a portent for the mood of the muse that is arrsing. It feels similar in manner to Bowie's final album Blackstar becoming this sombre swan song. In Amber is a fatalistic album of dystopian hymns to the blindness and indifferent cruelty of humankind. It unremittingly displays no optimism about our current or future state.

ANOHNI, has not only changed her nomenclature but reformed her whole musical demeanour. As with her last album from 2016  Hopelessness, she is in an angrier, more potent, distinctly polemical mood. Concerned about personal, political and environmental degradation. She shares headline billing on this album, no more 'featuring', indicating a far more collaborative effort than previously.  

Hercules & Love Affair have also shifted away from their traditional musical territory. As ever spearheaded by Andy Butler, they've been for years consistently superlative makers of modern dance music. Retro in feel, but often pointed and political too. But here on In Amber they have taken a darker more oblique tack. This is much steelier, confronting you with the possible imminence of annihilation.

This mood comes largely via  ANOHNI, whose vocal and lyrical savageness really comes at you. The tone of this album can be a morbid one, layered with loss, regret and an unrelenting fury.  Tracks alternate between Butler's distinctly muted dead pan vocal style, sad and reflective, counterpointed by ANOHNI's full throttle passionate wail of despair. Settling on anger as the only way left to respond, that isn't apathetic resignation.

From the opening track onwards, pithy lyrical sentences come at you. 'You laugh in the face of death and disaster' - 'Feeding upon my own flesh, eyes afire with what I've done' - "You've won this war by admitting defeat' - 'This body is a place that's never been loved' - " I've lived like a sheep sick with sugar grass'. The beautiful in the midst of misery rolls on. 

Its not a party you'd want to stay at for long, but it contains some of the most astonishingly visceral tracks released this year. I've already written a separate article on the track One, which remains stunningly good, even though I've played it loudly and endlessly.  Killing His Family, Poisonous Storytelling, and Contempt for You, also stand out lyrically and sonically. Poisonous Storytelling particularly, opens with a soundscape as raw and bleakly harsh as Portishead's Machine Gun. 

These are just a few highlights from this strongly themed adventurous album. One so seared, its emotional honesty can make it a hard listen, particularly if you really are just not in the mood for it. Nonetheless one of the years best albums 

CARROT SCORE - 6/8

TAO TIT BITS - Ruling the Country

"Ruling the country is like cooking a small fish."

Taken from the Tao Te Ching by Lao Tsu
Translated by Gia-Fu Feng, Publisher Wildwood House. 1974

ZENKEI SHIBAYAMA - The World as I-myself

"From the standpoint of the world

I-myself am the world.
From the standpoint of I-myself,
The world is I-myself.

When the world is I-myself
There is no self
When there is no self,
The whole world is nothing but I-myself

And this is the true no-mind in Zen.
When one lives with this no-mind,
Can there be anything to obstruct I-myself?
What can there be, then, to restrict the world?

"The world is vast and wide" refers to this no mind.,"

Taken from a Zenkei Shibayama commentary on the Bell-Sound & Priest's Robe Koan. Page 123.
The Gateless Barrier. Zen comments on the Munonkan, Publisher, Shambhala. 2000

THEATRE ONLINE - NT - Paradise

Paradise is a modern interpretation of Sophocles's play Philocetetes. Written by the inestimable Kae Tempest, it is a gripping re- telling of the story of a wounded archer stranded on an island. Managing to both honour the qualities of the Greek original whilst presenting it with a modern sensibility and verse style. This was a National Theatre production fronpm 2020, with an all female cast, possessing a great atmosphere and emotional effect.

The play opens with the inhabitants of the island arguing and bitching in general conversation. All have had, at some point, to become resigned to being stranded here. A soothsayer sings a lament, for things returning from the past and omens of things that are about to change. Two soldiers appear on the island, one is Odysseus, the other Achilles's son Neoptolemus. They're here to find and persuade Philocetetes to join a war. They need him, and the bow of Hercules which he possesses, to hopefully bring a long running conflict to an end. 

Odysseus is a mean hearted bully, constantly belittling Neopytolemus in order to persuade him to be the one to convince Philocetetes to come with them. Unbeknown to him, Philocetetes was abandoned here wounded on this island by Odysseus himself. Against his better judgement Neopytolemus has to lie or be economical with the truth in order to convince Philocetetes to leave. But it becomes clear that not only does Philocetetes have a festering wound still, but he has this deep grievance to settle with Odyssseus. Left here for dead, he has all but lost his mind and reason to live. Other than revenge.

The islanders watch all this going on, they comment, they interject. Pretty much as your standard Greek chorus would. Odysseus ( Anastasia Hills) and Neoptolemus ( Gloria Obianyo ) fill there roles with great assertiveness and nicely judged nuance.  Once Philocetetes (Lesley Sharp) appears the energy on stage changes. I am in two minds about this performance,  It was certainly commanding and held the stage, at times powerful and affecting. But it could also be annoyingly one dimensional as a performance. Too frequently it descended into a broadly drawn paper thin male cliche. A 'cor blimey govner' caricature of a bit of a geezer. It felt unbalanced with the general tone of the production, and out of sympathy with the other 'male' performances. Great play, staging and some superb ensemble acting. A shame the central part sometimes felt like an off the peg male stereotype.

CARROT REVIEW - 6/8

CARROT CAKE REVIEW No 32 - Oh, Prithee Try My Patience Not!

Cromer, Norfolk.

I mean, look at it. This feeble cake in its ill fitting paper dish. Already half sagging just with the gentle pressure of resting in it. It makes your heart doubly sink, that such a thing was thought decent to be brought into this world.  

Now, I like this place they try their best to act ethically and responsibly. They run a great little outfit, friendly, well organised and plugged in to their community. Going there is one of our favourite morning treats before work. I've written in rhapsodic detail in a previous cake review about their carrot cake, made by her Mum.  May she live long and prosper. It is the bees knees - made out of carrot.

And then there was this! Well, I guess they just needed to do it. Get the whole vegan carrot bake idea, off their chest, out of their system, a tick on their to do list - done. What's not to like? Well quite a lot actually. ' I'd be interested in what you think of it' they said to me. Obviously had not read any of my scathing reviews of other carrot tray bakes. Not to mention my general feelings about a carrot cake/tray bake in its intrinsically aberrative form . Otherwise, they'd have thought twice.

But, ever the willing customer I purchased this cake produced in accord with the ethics committee for saving the penguins from buying a freezer. Trying my best not to prejudge, to experience it lightly, free of bias or favour. Failed, at the first hurdle. Yes, we are back to the look of it. A smattering of chopped nuts, that's sort of OK. But it rests upon the most thin and pallid of frostings. As if drained of all life. Though the colour and texture look to pass muster, it is as if there's a palpable sense of something on the very edge of death. Ready to redissolve into its chemical constituents and sink into the cake

This was off putting. I almost dreaded the moment of proffering it to my lips, surrendering it to the mastication of my teeth, rolling it upon my tongue to savour its flavour. Otherwise known as putting it in my mouth. One has to shove these things in one's gob, or you'll never know will you? It might be a f-ing delight. So I persist out of a weighty sense of it being my duty, I might add. Oh, my giddy aunt, what have I done? 

It was like everything I've ever disliked in these ruddy confected vegan/ gluten free/ dairy free carrot bakes. All in one slice. First, let us be very very clear, this is a tray bake. And we know that offends Golden Rule No 6. But it has to be a tray bake because it would rapidly deflate under the weight of an actual layered structure. It has that all pervading sense of a bland carrot cake, being salvaged from tastelessness by adding  a boat load of spice. Which breaks Golden Rule No 1. Plus, its gluten/dairy free - Golden Rule No 3. I gag, but I do the deed and eat it. If you don't know what all that means I refer you to my Carrot Cake Review No 23, where I lay them all out in livid detail.

All I can say in its favour, is that it was moist. But moist in the way the Humber estuary is. As soon as cake hit saliva you'd got a silty sludge clogging up your food channel. I've mentioned before the 'Farley's Rusk Effect' of non traditional flours. Yeh, baby food. Here was an example classique. The frosting tasted as though it had been made from the spontaneous ejaculation of a distressed polar bear, metaphorically, not actually of course. Think of the animals. Though no banana in the bake mix. So we should be thankful for that small mercy. 

Gloop though! gloop!! gloop sticking to the roof of my mouth. Too polite to spit it out, I manfully attempted to swallow it, fearful lest it might cause a life threatening intestinal blockage. It was fine, but it did noticeably land heavily in the pit of my stomach, and rested there much longer than was comfortable or desirable on a chilly morning.

I gave them my full and frank review.  We haven't seen even a whispered suggestion of this cake since. Hopefully it has been ethically euthenised.

CARROT SCORE - 2/8

LANDMARKS - Warham Camp Iron Age Fort

No one, it appears, can be completely certain what it was originally - a safe haven during tribal attack, a stopping off point, a seasonal camp enclosure or a permanent settlement and defensive fort. So its called Warham Camp Iron Age Fort, in order to cover all the possibilities without settling definitively on one. That it is late Iron Age in origin is clear. There are a number of similar 'Iron Age Forts' in Norfolk. The one at South Creake is so ploughed out its now only a slightly raised circular area. The one at Holkham is on private land and can really only be viewed from a great distance. The maps show it as being half lost to the salt marsh. I've not visited the ones in Narborough or Thetford, which have apparently not fared any better.

Wareham Camp Iron Age Fort is then unique in Norfolk for having a circular ditch and rampart layout relatively complete. The best preserved earthwork in this area. Finds have shown it was in constant occupation from the Iron Age, through to the Roman period where traces of a building have been found. It ceased being an inhabited site or in regular use by the 2nd Century AD. There is a barrow burial mound nearby called Fiddlers Hill. Referred to locally as Danish Camp, indicating perhaps some sort of Scandinavian presence here in the centuries following the Roman exodus.

How it has stayed so relatively unaffected by changes in farming practice since, is another matter. Areas within the hill fort itself were affected by mediaeval ridge and furrow ploughing. But as this didn't persist beyond that time it might indicate the land is perhaps too poor in quality and uneven to be completely salvaged for more modern agricultural methods and crops.  More ideally suited to the grazing and penning of animals. Hence its survival.

You approach it from the main road up the hill leading out of Warham village itself. Opposite the Three Horseshoes pub. Around the brow of the hill is a short gated and stiled narrow lane running off to the right. You wont see the fort' until you are pretty much at the end of this. The 'forts' situation in the landscape tells us a lot about why it is where it is. It sits on the brow of the hill with nothing to obscure its view of the low valley beneath. The land on its westerly face slopes away. So it has a defensive advantage in being placed where it is. The Stiffkey River currently flows to the southwest, an 18th century alteration, that cut  and levelled this side of the earthworks. Originally it ran in a curve around to the west.

The 'fort' was actually large with an external dimension of 215 metres, internal 120 metres. So it could have accommodated many dwellings were it a defensive enclosure, with or without constant habitation. Archaeological excavations have found evidence of timber palisades and revetments. Its position on a chalk escarpment means when the ramparts and ditches were first cut, it would have shone out quite brightly in the landscape. A declaration of presence and of power. Its unclear whether this was ever a stronghold of the Iceni tribe.

Today its a Scheduled Ancient Monument and a Site of Scientific Interest. In recent summers its entire 13 acre site has been left to go completely wild. Becoming a beautiful haven full of wildflowers and insects that is utterly magical. Warham Camp Iron Age Fort, is always an atmospheric place to visit whatever the time of year. Its 360 degree panoramic views on any sunny day can be stunning. Its somewhere you can imagine yourself thousands of years ago, looking out over a much quieter, wilder, but perhaps more hostile, less cultivated landscape and civilised world.

TAO TIT BITS - The Uncarved Block

"Return to the state of the uncarved block
When the block is carved, it becomes useful
When the sage uses it, they become the ruler
Thus, 'A great tailor cuts little'. "

Taken from the Tao Te Ching by Lao Tsu
Translated by Gia-Fu Feng, Publisher Wildwood House, 1974

MY OWN WALKING - 1st Journal July 2022

I seem to have reached a place of relative ease with being non aligned, spiritually speaking. Trying to hold an open mind about sources for helpful forms of practice, and how the ultimate aim of the spiritual life is conceived in a broader range of religious traditions. 

At the same time I don't want to ascribe to a purely universalist viewpoint on religions as being 'all one', like some half baked Theosophist. Though on the ultimate level at least, I'm willing to respect the view that many religions, theistic or otherwise, appear to be using a different formulation of language to describe a very similar ineffable reality. But, as such, it will all be approximate bollocks with regard to what the real deal is like in the end. There is a lot of unnecessary theological tosh strewn across the spiritual path, you just need to learn how to dodge or hop over a lot of it.

My crack of dawn reading has moved on from revisting the pithiness of Lao Tsu and the Tao Te Ching, to The Mumonkan, a book of Zen Koans and accompanying commentaries. So its koans for breakfast to both perfume and baffle my barely awakened mind. One koan this week - Gutei Raises A Finger -  I'm finding still resonates with me. Summarised as follows:-

Whenever anyone asked Zen Master Gutei any question he replied by simply raising his finger. One day a novice answers back by raising his own finger to Gutei, a finger which Gutei immediately cuts off with a knife. As the novice runs away screaming in agony Gutei calls out to him. The novice turns back to look, Gutei raises his finger to him and the novice becomes enlightened. 

As with many koans it has the surface resemblance to a slapstick comedy routine. These days this type of master-disciple relationship might be couched as inherently abusive, a misuse of power and position etc. But that would be to take the historical veracity of this koan far far too literally. These stories are essentially spiritual metaphors.

The obvious question that arises is - what does the raising of Gutei's finger signify? It echoes that apocryphal transmission story, where the Buddha raises a flower to Mahakashyapa, who then smiles and becomes enlightened. But Gutei raises his finger to any question, so his intent and meaning appears more dependent upon circumstances, the spiritual conditions and needs of the novice.

There can also be an element of rebuke in the raising of a finger. Along the lines of a teacher wagging their finger at you, or an angsty motorist giving you the finger. Gutei's novice was maybe being a bit too knowing, too clever or too rude. The novice's intent to parody Gutei's finger meaning it had to be removed, for the novice to be receptive to Gutei's second finger raising. Was it literally removed, or was this a metaphorical, symbolic cutting off of a wrong view/appendage?

In some Soto Zen traditions you are encouraged to look for naturally occurring Koans, ones that arise in the course of daily life. Gutei's raised finger here could be saying - where is your current koan, the cutting edge of your practice in everyday life? What is it? Have your answer ready? If I were to give voice to what my naturally occurring koan is, what would I say? 

My first stab at what my current koan of daily life is:- 

How do you not develop attachments to, or expectations of, reality being or staying in a particular way?

That there are attachments and expectations is inevitable, but I don't have to let them rule me. With the current unpredictable nature of the economy and our business, the future of it is, understandably, on my mind a lot. Surrounded by my expectations both optimistic and fatalistic. The momentary anticipations of browsers becoming customers. The simple attachment to the business thriving. These, and permutations of these, bubble up constantly. Whenever my ability to manage or contextualise these concerns is at its feeblest, then worry and despondency occupy the castle. 

The core view feeding this worry and concern, and the arising of these expectations, is the unsettled desire for the business to survive. Not an unnatural concern or aspiration after putting so much time and effort into it. You would expect to be attached to that continuing to thrive in some way. Its our livelihood after all. But wishful thinking is never enough. Sometimes effort, initiative and ingenuity will not be enough. Sometimes the destructive force of rapidly changing circumstances can be irresistible. Our resistance, however valient, may in the end prove futile.

I've been through my own art shop business failing, Through Windhorse Evolution failing. Those businesses failed, not me, and that is one problem in becoming too attached to anything in the material world , you can take it far too personally. It feels like its this emotional extension of me, even though I know its not really. When it is no more, I will feel the loss and grieve. The universe gives no credence to what I want to happen. All I can do is continue putting effort in. Whilst recognising I am a tiny part of the conditions and circumstances affecting our business. Acting as if I can just lift a pinkie and command it, or hold back the waves like King Canute, would be foolhardy. I have to acknowledge the impermanence of my creations and of my self. Businesses die, as will I, get over it.

Businesses are subject to change, they thrive, they fail, and they can rise again in a different, if not unexpected, form. Its holding all that cauldron of uncertainty and possibility and yet not letting it fall into fatalistic defeatism or idealised heroism. Yet to keep persisting, keep putting effort into something even if it appears, to your eyes at least, to be floundering - well that's not easy.  At the same time be prepared to let it all go. I have to be willing to let it go bust, to allow it to die. To let the tsunami of economic circumstances overwhelm and drown the business, if need be. And for that, though no doubt a difficult thing to endure, to be OK. 

Whatever is to happen will make itself known in a moment of clarity -Oh, that is where we were heading! No amount of prediction or prognostication will be at all helpful. I will hear the words of the oracle soon enough. Pick up my trust and confidence, then carry on walking.