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.

.

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.

SHOHAKU OKAMURA - We Are Part of It

" When we sit, we do not listen to anything, we don't pay any attention. Even though the birds are singing, we are just sitting. If I listen to their singing and think 'there are the birds' then it's not zazen (just sitting) anymore. When I do this there is a separation between the person sitting and the sound.

There is an interesting koan story that Dogen likes;

A teacher asks a student, showing and pointing at a wind bell.
The teacher asks - ' Is the wind making the sound or the bell making the sound?
The student said - 'My mind is making the sound, neither wind nor bell'

That means the wind blows the wind bell, it makes a vibration of the air, it reaches my ear and it becomes sound. Before the vibration reaches my ear, there is no sound. So the sound is inside my mind.

But Dogen said that is not true. Because even if my mind is working, if the wind does not blow, and the wind bell does not shake, the air does not vibrate, then there is no sound. So all of them are making the sound. That means the entire universe is making this sound. There is no subject who listens, and no object or sound that it hears.

This is what Dogen called Total Function.

We are part of it. So there is no such person who is listening, nor sound that comes to me. But this entire world is making that sound - through this person. And this person is only a tiny part of it.

This is based on the basic Mahayana Buddhist teaching of interconnectedness."

Extract transcribed from a film about Okamura's life and teaching, called - A Good for Nothing Life.