SHERINGHAM DIARY No 127 - Exploring The Roots of Stuff & Things

Have I been negligent? Yes, I have. Let us attend to that neglect by being informative. At the back of your mind I know you may have been wondering - how is he getting on with the Tai Chi + Qi Gong?  I have not maintained a silence out of the hope you would never ask, because all those slow motion gesticulations in the air, ended up looking a cartoon versions in my inexpert hands. Because, actually no, I have simply forgotten to mention it in previous diaries. 

It is all going remarkably well. I appear to really love it. As someone who learns by repetition and observation, the internet has been in this case a great resource. I've become slowly more proficient at Repulse Monkey, Double Fish Hanging On A Wall and Ji Chang Shoots A Louse. Not to mention moves which are imitative of birds flying and landing - Golden Rooster Heralds The Dawn, anyone? I now practice Tai Chi daily as part of my morning meditation routine. So far I've learnt a Qi Gong movement sequence called the  Daoyin Yangsheng Gong and the Tai Chi Yang Ten. What's the difference between Qi Gong and Tai Chi? Well, Qi Gong is more a series of distinct moves that follow after each other, whilst in Tai Chi each move flows into the other via particular transitional moves such as Holding the Ball. This July term I move up from the beginners to the 'grown ups' regulars group.

From the end of June I started a 90 day online Commit to Sit Programme with the New York Zen Center. Its a mixture of daily short reflections by Koshin Paley Ellison that arrive every morning in my e.mail inbox. There's a talk once a week, and various daily sits online. These are EST which means a five hour time difference. As most of these are 7pm that would means I'd be watching them at Midnight. This is just not going to happen. There are morning and midday sits, both of which fall at an inconvenient time here in the UK. So my engagement is going to be limited in what it can encompass. The first couple of weeks have been studying Having Few Desires, and we are just starting Knowing When You Have Enough.

So I am reading the study text book - The Roots To Goodness, a commentary by Uchiyama on the final teaching by Dogen on the final teaching by the Buddha. I'm devotedly watching all the videos, and generally upping my level of practice. So far this is all going well, and I'm really enjoying the manner and level of practice I am able to do. Combining this with my morning Tai Chi / Qi Gong practice, daily journal writing and reading an extract from the study text book, it means my early morning routine is now pretty full, with two half an hour meditation sessions book ending it. 

A Requilary in the Slipper Chapel

This month, on the 10th, this was the much trail blazed anniversary of the HA!. It was Hubby's suggestion to mark it with a full days trip to Walsingham on my own. To spend that day communing with its sacred spaces, and if inclined, to reflect on what has passed, and what has now come into my life. Hubby dropped me off outside the Anglican Shrine to Our Lady of Walsingham, and I made my way towards the Chapel of the Annunciation. There I simply wanted to sit and observe my first Catholic Mass. When I arrived a few gentlemen of a similar age were already on their knees reading from their little pocket book of prayers. I sat near to the back, so I could observe everything, but still not to seem too conspicuous. I could feel myself tuning in to the undoubted vibe of this modern sacred space. More people arrived, some walking, some with the aid of sticks and one sounded as though she were dragging the grim reaper of a squeaky wheeled shopping trolley in her wake. And then, we all waited.

Out came four priests, three in embroidered green vestments, one in black cassock with a white shirt. The latter throughout the mass would proffer the Holy Bible at the relevant page and then acting as a human book stand, stood before the main priest leading the ritual. He would also kneel and watch intently the communion proceedings, and punctuate the blessing of the communion offering with the four belled Sanctus Bell when ever something significant happened. Its a very similar marking with bells they use in Zen and Tibetan rituals. 

As you can tell I was somewhat taken with observing the form of this ritual. Did I take communion? No, I did not, that didn't feel at all desirable, nor appropriate. But I realised later, that actually my strong sense of a connection with the sacredness of a space, evaporated the moment they opened their mouths to lead the standard calls and responses. The liturgy left me completely cold, it felt an over formalised, lifeless thing. It happened again later when I was in the Anglican Shrine. The moment the Midday Mass struck up, all the renewed intimacy with Our Lady of Walsingham vanished.

It was a hot day, very like the day of the HA! itself. Something nearing thirty degrees by mid afternoon. So walking the Pilgrims Way from the Chapel of the Annunciation to the Slipper Chapel, slowly toasted my head. Then there was the walk back along the Holy Mile, which stood more fortunately in the lee of a large hedge of trees for most of the way. 

I avoided visiting the Catholic Basilica, which most closely resembles a large agricultural barn with a hay loft. That, or as red brick metropolitan bus depot. It has no atmosphere, no sense of beauty nor holiness. 

The Slipper Chapel is however an unassumingly lovely place for prayer and contemplation. It is a really striking thing in Walsingham, that it's the Roman Catholics who get the mood music wrong. The other thing of note is that Roman Catholicism is predominantly the preserve of tiny old ladies wearing gusseted stockings, with a tightly permed shock of white hair and a blue patterned dress. Only some of whom were Irish.

So did I have any major personal revelations, none that I've yet to notice. Did I enjoy my day, indubitably. Did I touch base with myself on the HA! and reveal any of the the hidden torment beneath. Well, no not during the day. But I did write a fine expository poem, that concludes with an expletive. Now not many folk can say that.