PICTURE - Just incase you wondered what he looks like

Here's a picture of my partner David, taken on our holiday in Sheringham. I think he looks rather fine in this one. But then I would say that wouldn't I?

FEATURE No 3 - The Ting Tings

The Ting Tings -a great band at this particular moment - an unpretentious, yet strangely arty mix of Indie, with a stroppy rap style, and the result is just damned catchy pop - they're not afraid to show, indeed unashamedly pinch, from their influences (yeh! lets have more nerdy guitar funk -aka -Talking Heads) but re-formulated, to suit a girl singer / boy drummer combo from Salford. She, Katie White, has a knowing insolent presence on stage or video, which I guess is why she's been likened to Debbie Harry, that, and she has dyed blonde hair. The music press are so predictable, which musical or sexual cliche can this band be best fitted into? - Blondie!!! He, Jules De Martino, is a bit of a dish, bashing away energetically on the snare drums. Don't hide your light behind your shades man, the boys are gonna love you!!! It remains to be seen whether The Ting Tings, have enough ideas and brio, to really go somewhere further than a few catchy singles. I for one don't mind if its brief, at least we'll be spared the humiliating fall from grace by next year, when their freshness has gone stale, and have consequently got really big in the US.

PICTURE - of a Kshitigarbha Statue

This was one of the most beautiful artifacts in the Sainsbury Centre Collection at the UEA, Norwich. A gorgeous figure of Jizo Bosatsu / Kshitigarbha made from wood, metal and glass beads.

QUOTATION MARKS No 20

Ask yourself,

If there were no praise,

and no blame,

who would I be then?

Then you'll know who you are,

and what your style is

QUENTIN CRISP

DIARY 63 - The Rocks of Lethargy

What an odd week. Well, it's not the week that's been odd, just me. I've been so out of being my usual self at all, I'm not entirely sure who that person is. Time off work, you would think would allow me to do all the things I don't get much time for normally - like writing. Let's make the most of this space, eh!. Apart from a few blog posts, I really haven't wanted to do much of that. I've done basically bugger all, of a creative kind - which feels disappointing.


When I think about it, it feels OK. What I feel about it, is far different, a slightly less charitable voice (like a parent hectoring ) chimes in. On most Sundays and school holidays, when I was a teenager, you'd just want to relax,and unwind, but my Mother would come in saying ' Don't think you're going to lounge around doing nothing all day,young man, you can make yourself useful' and you'd be told what needed doing, and have to get on with it. I was rarely allowed to just idly dream for long. When I've reflected on my now 51 years of life,( for it was also my birthday this week ) all I can see in such unforgiving moments, is a life of 'making myself be useful' in order to keep that particular devil off my back. So a week of doing nothing in particular, can be quite a challenge for me. But, considering what else I've been enduring and absorbing over the last few weeks - lack of sleep, extreme shoulder pain, lethargy, disengagement, and a suicide - I guess, a little time off from being disciplined and purposeful has been needed.


I finished the course of Amitriptyline on Wednesday, and my sleep has been OK-ish. I wake up in the morning with extremely stiff, painful shoulders, but I do sleep. Also, our shower has finally been repaired ,after three months of feeble lukewarm dribbling. So now I can have hot water cascading over my tender joints, and it is sheer bliss I can tell you. I'm not completely over the shoulder problems yet, but there is discernible progress being made.


It was a week with recognisable halves. The first part, I felt low, self preoccupied and suffused with a sort of hopeless, yet, restless spirit. Everything about my experience felt tender, over sensitive and hence uncomfortable. I apologise to any friends with whom I spent time this week, if I was a little uncommunicative or emotionally distracted. I was often the former because of the latter. As ever, it comes back to very familiar terrain for me - what I'm presently doing with my life, is that the best I can do, or hope for, and is that going to be enough for me? To which I have a response which groans despairingly. I described my current feelings about my work in Customer Services, to my friend Saddharaja, as somewhat akin to a grass court tennis player, being forced to play on Astro Turf, very little seems right about it. Yes, you can play a game on it, but it feels somewhat alienated from a real life affirming experience. I often feel hampered like I have two left feet, and frustrated at not being able to play my best game. Yet when I assess what my other options are, I can't summon much purpose or enthusiasm from them. A life of just being 'useful' doesn't cut it any more. Other needs have to be in there too - for creativity, meaning, purpose and a basic sense of satisfaction to come from that. All I can sense at present is the absence of these. As Saddharaja commented, this wasn't a tenable situation to maintain even in the short term (which has been inordinately long) - something is gonna give - and it wont be the job.



The rest of the week? Well, there was a good day out with Jayarava in Norwich. Public transport was not a willing or a speedy servant that day, so it took us a lot longer to get to our desired destination - The Sainsbury Centre at the UEA, but, it was worth it. When I lived in Diss, I used to go there a lot to meet with a friend of mine. I've forgotten what an eclectic collection it is. It is so obviously a particular individuals choice and taste, of ethnic art, the archaeological artifact,and a smattering late 20th century artists. It was good to spend time with Jayarava too, he's always good company, with a lively interested mind and stimulating conversation. Though I wasn't perhaps always able to meet him on that level, as I struggled to keep my head out of the green slime of despondency.


Then there was my birthday, and the arrival of cards bearing store cards with money on them. So, I went out on Friday on a spending spree. Though David had already bought me two new shirts, I bought myself four more, plus three ties. Not that I really needed them, because I didn't really need them. I just felt like recklessly indulging myself in the distractions of retail therapy. I also blew a bit more money than I intended on a digital camera, as a present to myself. Though I enjoyed the thrill of this at the time, I felt afterwards, slightly guilty, like I shouldn't have done it, that I ought to have waited and considered more carefully what I could afford, or whether I should wait a while. But that is, largely, just that internalised parental voice again, telling me I've been indulgent and profligate with my money - and that I ought to feel ashamed. Though that puts it in perspective, there is still a background feeling that someone is going to come and tell me off,and withdraw my privileges, which hasn't particularly vanished.


David's been away on retreat this weekend. So I could do whatever I wanted - which was? - more of not a lot. A fair bit of pootling about on the computer, watching far too much 'really interesting' stuff on I-Player, and trying not to do things just because I think I should. When you take the 'should' away, I find there wasn't an awful lot left I wanted to do. Certainly I've been more easy going and relaxed, but definitely rudderless, and drifted towards, then repeatedly foundered on the rocks of lethargy.

FEATURE No 2 - Laura Solon - An Up Coming Comic Genius

This is so bizarre but very funny. Listen out for her all you Garden Men !!

FEATURE No 1 - Rediscover Carmel Mc Court Campaign Starts Here

Sadly this woman has disappeared without a trace, well she's big in Europe still, which is more or less the same thing. She had a pretty limited vocal range, but what she did, she did well, which was to belt a song out. I saw her perform as support to Rip Rig & Panic, who were rubbish live, but Carmel stunned us all with the simplicity of her performance, just her and a double bass. Ah! the Eighties Torch singer revival - about as short as Julie London's career - which wasn't long.

CD Review No 13 - Sparks - Exotic Creatures of the Deep

The Sparks Renaissance, ( is that Wren-naissance or Run -naissance ? ) continues, with another very lively, collection of pop tunes, on their 21st album. A feat of endurance, as much as one of consistent inventiveness, which many performers half their age fail to maintain with this much virulent energy and attack beyond their third album. In contrast to 'Hello Young Lovers,' Exotic Creatures of the Deep' is less diverse in the musical styles the Mael Brothers choose to pinch, parody or parade. It has a more refined, focused punch, giving it a consistency which its predecessor did sometimes lack, due to its eclecticism. If any cost has been exacted for this, it is that it is lyrically weaker. You have to really search out the sly, dry wit, you've come to expect from Ron Mael.

It does have its delights that are worth finding, such as on 'Good Morning' - about a man who wakes up one morning in bed with a woman he doesn't know. It's full of funny throwaway quips - ' I hope its just your laugh that is infectious' ,or 'Please spare me derision, I'll do my rendition, A lengthy recital, Of every song with foolish in the title.' Even songs that are less successfully conceived, such as - 'This is the Renaissance' - contain hidden gems - ' We can see the moon, We can see the stars, We can see the future and the freeways and electric cars, And they might think we're quaint, We don't really care, We've got Michelangelo and they graffiti everywhere'

It began with 'This Town ain't big enough for the both of us', and they became totally obsessed with it on the album 'Lil Beethoven', and they continue to this day, to shamelessly plunder styles from classical music. Blending them in a variety of confections with grumbling guitars and electronic throbbing beats. Set off by an unerring ability to build up songs around the simplest of riffs or hook lines. The essential idea, nay amusement, of a song is declared loudly by it's title - 'She got me (Pregnant)' - 'Lighten up Morrissey' - 'I can't believe you'd fall for all the crap in this song' - 'I've never been high.' Sometimes the humour of a song title -'I can't believe you'd fall for all the crap in this song' for instance - is all it amounts to, which can leave you feeling a little short changed. All Sparks songs explore a standard theme- male neuroses/paranoia when in a relationship - giving it yet another peculiar twist. This album can sometimes sound like its from the seventies, at other times it's on a more contemporary pulse, all the while staying within the idiosyncratic musical territory Sparks have singlehandedly carved out for themselves.

The track 'Lighten up Morrissey,' is a bit of an oddity, it seems like a remixed out take from their 'Big Beat' period, (not one of their best). Morrissey is a lifelong Sparks fan. so maybe this song is by way of a cheeky, back handed compliment. It is one of their feebler attempts at satire, it fits, to my ears, less comfortable within the musical landscape of 'Exotic Creatures of the Deep.' Here, they rummage through their own back catalogue for ideas to dust off and rehash, but what artist wouldn't this far into their career? There is a direct line of musical sympathy between 'Never turn your back on Mother Earth' and 'I've never been High'. It's never, ever a boring retread, they have always added something new, to freshen its appeal. On' Photoshop', about a spurned lover who wants to erase from memory the relationship that's failed, it explores a new use for digital technology - 'You know what your doing, Look at the acclaim, Grant me one more favour, Alter the terrain, Make it look as though I were in Hell, Or something near enough to Hell, Give it a caption of farewell, Photoshop me out of your life.'


Some day the music buying public will re-discover Sparks and realise what delights they've been missing, since their undoubtedly great 1970's Island records period. I just hope they're not retired, or well passed their best, or dead, by then.

DIARY 62 - Pills, Pain & Future Prognosis

I'm coming to the end of my months supply of Amitriptyline, and I must say the benefits have been mixed. It does allow me to sleep, until it wears off around four o'clock in the morning that is. If I'm particularly over stimulated, agitated or, damn it, over tired, it doesn't work at all. I lie there, so aware of being awake, every second becomes a source of pain in itself. Initially, during the day, I could be a bit lethargic, and found focusing on detailed work quite disorientating. This effect did wear off after about a fortnight. Now, as I approach afternoon tea, my energy levels can plummet, and drag my mood down with it.At this point I find a mordant, weary depressiveness emerges, as the pill wears off. The pill itself is minute, about half the size of a split lentil, and pastel blue. Apparently, if taken in prolonged and large doses, it is addictive, and the withdrawal process can be horrendously protracted. As Amitriptyline was originally devised to treat depression, it seems an odd paradox that it also can cause it. It was eventually found to be more effective for insomnia, which is also linked to depression. My persistent shoulder pain continues, though it is gradually improving. I have regained some mobility, and it doesn't catch me out with a sharp painful reminder, every time I put my shirt on in the mornings. So the various therapies are working. David has been very supportive, buying massage oils and massager, and regularly uses them on my back, and he is getting quite good at it too.




The chosen focus for my bodily pain is invariable a good indication that I'm exceeding my capacity in some way - in this case it maybe I've taken on, or I'm shouldering too much. With my mood being so chemically adjusted, it has been hard to assess what has really been going on. Do medicines create or act as a release for our underlying mental states? For the last month I've felt more drained than usual, with less engagement with my work in Customer Services, which has never been good at the best of times. I realised, whilst talking to a friend recently, that my heart is no longer behind this job. Which would explain the depressive mood swings. Though I'm no doubt being a real Bodhisattva, by helping others in my team, I'm getting no sense of personal fulfillment or satisfaction from doing so. I seem to be spending my time working on overcoming areas of weakness in my character, and not acting from a pre- established position of strength and confidence. Despite this high level of internal disaffection, I know I'm doing my job OK, slowly moving things on, and the teams morale is improving. But it does appear to be being done at a personal cost, as my own morale staggers along behind in self inflicted bindings. Meanwhile, the levels of psycho/physical tension are an enduring reminder, that all is not well. Quite apart from the additional financial expense of Deep Tissue Massage and Osteopathy, my sense of well being is being expended. Can I take this physical cost being exacted on me, day in, day out? At some point I am either going to have a profound breakthrough, or a profound breakdown. So I have to ask myself what it is am I trying to prove, or overcome here, by devoting my every working hour to what can seem such a thankless task? I'm either being;truly heroic, really stupid or deeply deluded, I have yet to finally decide which. I'm giving it provisionally until Christmas 08, when I'll see whether I'm now engaging and enjoying my work, rather than forbearing and enduring it, as I currently am.



Just when you think you might be done with upset and turmoil for a while, something else comes along to remind you of your naivety about impermanence. We've just taken on a new member of staff in Customer Services, who will, I think, prove to be a positive and stabilising presence in the team, with a great deal of experience and maturity to bring to it. But, then the weekend after she starts, a much loved former member of the team, took his life. So most of this last week we have all been ploughing on, whilst we internally grieve, and work our way towards the funeral, which was last Friday. It was a week where we constantly found ourselves bringing him to mind, recollecting his presence and character, and trying to construct a logic, that made sense of his death. I regret that he's no longer around, but I cannot find it in my heart to condemn him for what he did. He'd had a difficult life, almost from the moment of birth, through which he remained largely positive, spoke cheerfully and with wit, yet with a remarkable honesty and frankness. He even reported in to us, in his usual lighthearted manner, about his last attempt at a suicide, barely a few months ago. But then we all have our public face, and perhaps none of us realise we have a limit, until we reach it. We're like bridges with an in built weight restriction, sometimes everything is fine until conditions change, when just one pebble cast upon it will cause the complete structure to collapse. None of us know what it is that will break our resolve to just keep on living. The funeral was at the Crematorium, my old place of work, which felt OK actually, very familiar place, faces and format of services. It was still an effective way of parting and moving on, for me and everyone else.




I'm off work this week, with no plan for what I want to do with it. Finances are a little tight, with all the therapies I'm paying for, so I can't afford to go anywhere, really. But then, in my current mood, it wouldn't be good to spend all my time indoors either. So, I find myself launched on this week off, not quite sure how I should approach it; as a time for rest, study, practice, writing, walking, cycling or idling? A high degree of anxiety circles like a vulture around my indecisiveness. Oh poo!!!

DIARY 61 - Shouldering the Pain

It's been a month since my last posting, and can I say I've been busy? Well, Yes and No. I was away at the beginning of May for nine days on retreat, which was well overdue. It had been ten months since my last time at Padmaloka Retreat Centre, in Surlingham,Norfolk. The theme was The 7 Point Mind Training- a challenging text, augmented by an excellent exposition by Padmavajra, in a series of talks. The challenge for me, was to raise my level of practice from forty minutes a day, up to three hours plus. And not just that, but the majority of this was intense visualisation practices- sahdana - six element practice - tonglen. As my own sahdana practice dissolved during the general collapse of my meditation practice five, or so years ago. This was going to be a challenge in itself. Rather than resurrecting my Shakyamuni Sahdana, I chose to do a basic visualisation of Kshitigarbha, which seemed to work. The presence of old friends from Ipswich/Colchester ( Dayasara / Bodhivamsa / Sukavi & Srikirti ) on the retreat was a real unexpected delight. I returned feeling my practice and sraddha reinvigorated.



Back at work the following day, I found myself thrust back into the frenetic maelstrom that is Windhorse Customer Services. By Thursday I felt drained and exhausted, once more. The sleep pattern problems had eased whilst on retreat,but now returned to its usual erratic form. My persistent shoulder pain got worse, and then worse still. So, by Tuesday of this week, after two nights of little sleep, tossing and turning trying, and not finding, a comfortable position, I went to see a Doctor. She has given me some pills which do help me sleep, and ease the pain a little. though they left me feeling nauseous and disorientated for a couple of days. Since then I've gone on the offensive. I'm not waiting any longer for it to clear up naturally, or because of the acupuncture. I've got to really get to grips with the physical situation I'm in. So I've been for some Deep Tissue Massage, which has begun the slow process of releasing the knots and tensions in my shoulders. I'm off to see my Osteopath next week too. I've just got to recover from this shoulder problem, so a change in my weekly regime is inevitable. It's going to be expensive, but I don't feel I have much choice in the matter. As you might well imagine, I have been feeling a heightened sense of disengagement and discontentment since my return from retreat. A large part of my daily life experience is just not enjoyable, and I'm loosing patience with when its going to improve. I never have sufficient time and space for the things that sustain me - creativity and practice. The division between my internal needs and external demands, seems irresolvable at present. There doesn't appear to be a happier working balance between the two, but I cannot hold this sense of conflict, for much longer.




The other reason why I've been neglecting this Blog, has been because I've been doing quite a bit of development work on my Dogen website - Dogen's Plum Blossoms. Plus assembling and scanning photos for the website for my artwork. David, has put in a lot of his own time into getting the latter setting it up for me, which I'm extremely appreciative of. I don't think it would have happened otherwise, there doesn't appear to be a handy DIY guide to doing it. If there is, it will be written in the computer Swahili, of geek speak, that will be equally baffling for old tech people, such as myself. I've also committed myself to writing regular 1000 word articles for the Dogen site. This is proving a good discipline for me, as it prevents me getting bogged down in the longer extensive essays. It is so much easier to maintain continuity of thought and effort. You'll find the links to both site in the Links section of this blog.


David and I are beginning the painful, but necessary effort, to find a new place to live. This is not exactly inspiring, as what is available within our rental price range, is extremely limited in scope and space. If we had the money for a deposit, it would probably be better to buy. But we don't have much more than a button between us, so that's a none starter. Living in one of the most expensive towns in southern England, does not help. Roll on the imminent collapse of the housing market!

CD Review No 12 - Portishead - Third

After ten years in semi-retirement Portishead return, a renewed and snarling beast. After their debut album 'Dummy' defined a whole musical era, the follow up album found it difficult to break out of the iconic style they'd created single handed. Perhaps a long break was the only way to resolve whether that really was it, or did they have more to say? On the evidence of 'Third' we have to resoundingly say 'Yes they do.'


The hip hop & dub influences are largely dropped, for a much starker sound scape, to offset against the frail melancholy of Beth Gibbon's voice. This is no where more clearly demonstrated than on 'Machine Gun' - a barrage of electronic drum sound is fired at you with harsh military precision, then Beth's voice comes plaintively in with the words :-

'I saw a saviour, a saviour come my way, I thought I'd see her in the cold light of day, But now I realise I that I'm, only for me. If only I could see. Return myself to me. Recognise the poison in my heart. There is no other place. No one else I face. The remedy you will agree, is in how I feel.'

What you are hearing sounds strangely evocative of a traditional folk melody, with words updated to recount some nuclear, industrial or emotional wasteland.



Stylistically the album draws on a wide range of musical resources, apart from folk. There is the dreamy lachrymose tinged track 'Hunter', or the devilish dance track 'We Carry On', sounding like a demented Joy Division, but more discordant, and more despairing. 'Machine Gun' itself, is the cold hearted offspring of Cabaret Voltaire and Depeche Mode. Some tracks, such as 'Plastic' seem to hark back further, to seventies progressive rock - of a malformed Wishbone Ash. All the while, they remain resolutely contemporary, and could be nothing else but Portishead. I doubt if a harder, more brutal, or sonically more challenging CD will come out this year.

DIARY 60 - The responsibility which comes with being free.

David and I were away on holiday a fortnight ago, we had a week in Sheringham. The apartment we stayed in was brilliantly set up, with all the mod cons ,plus a view of the sea from our bedroom. I think we'll be going there again. Once again, as on our Torquay holiday last year, we chose to eat out for breakfast and dinner. We discovered a cafe that does a good veggie fried breakfast, and a superb restaurant called Crofters. So though I was very relaxed and satisfied, I felt almost permanently bloated by it.

The weather was mostly sunshine and showers, so we planned our activities around how the forecast split the day. There were a couple of walks along the coast, to the ruins of Beeston Priory and the Gazebo in Sheringham Park. Otherwise, we took the Guardian and a couple of coffees down onto the beach, or hopped on the PoppyLine for a steam train trip to Holt. That visit to Holt was the only time we got caught in bad weather - a torrential hail storm.


In the evenings, after the meal out, we worked our way through episodes from the second series of Battlestar Galactica. This series is an improvement on the first, but you can't help thinking that they're pushing it to drag this saga out over two series, let alone four. On the Tuesday night we saw the film 'Into The Wild,' directed by Sean Penn, which was showing at The Little Theatre in Sheringham. The movie was an extremely moving true story of a young mans search for freedom, to experience life in a bare pure way, not filtered through a societies conventions. It stirred some quite strong emotional responses of recognition in me. Specifically the aspect of me that feels trapped, like a fly in amber, by the restrictions of earning a living. I felt, uncomfortably, how heavy and stifling a burden this can be for me.


On our last full day in Sheringham, David got a call on his mobile, which was in fact for me. For the second time whilst on holiday, the Personnel department at Windhorse, have tracked me down. They wanted to consult with me. One of my team, who has been having a bit of a tough time lately, was being given extended sick leave. If we got a temp, when would I want them to start next week, once I was back? David and I had done extremely well at putting work related matters out of our minds up until then. The length and quality of my sleep, which had gradually been improving, suddenly returned me to waking up in the middle of the night in states of disquiet. I returned to work knowing I'd got a load of detailed training to do. Fortunately the guy we got, Peter, was quick on the uptake. However, having said at the beginning of this past week that he could stay the full month of May, by Friday he had been offered a full time permanent position, so wasn't going to stay after all. After a bit of heart sinking, another strategy has been formed, which will, hopefully see us through this patch of uncertainty. All the team, including myself, are feeling shifting elements of dissatisfaction, and emotional fragility. I'm realising that the task of transforming the Customer Services Team, to establish it on a more stable maintainable footing, could well take a couple of years. At least ! Part of me still doesn't believe it will ever happen, that containing chaos is somehow an inherent part of Customer Services lot in life.


Woke up today to the disheartening news that Boris Johnson has been voted in as Major of London. It's one of those moments where you shake your head in disbelief - did I really hear that correctly? For many years Ken Livingstone was literally unassailable. So much so the other political parties really didn't put up much of a fight at all, they knew they didn't stand a chance. I suppose originally the idea of putting up Boris was done in the same spirit - he being 'the joke candidate', the 'monster raving loony' from the Tory parties posh wing. His TV celebrity probably swung it for him, plus voter cynicism thinking it a great wheeze to vote for the silly candidate. The media have been giving him a very easy time, so far! Watch out Boris they'll want something from you, a pay back for their passivit, at a later date. Whereas they've been roasting Ken's ass for months leading up to the vote, digging up unsubstantiated petty scandal, after petty scandal. Anyway, London now has its very own lumbering 'buffoon' for Major. This seems similar to electing the entirely unsuited Gaius Baltar as President of the 12 Colonies on Batllestar Galactica, but this one, unfortunately, is all too real. Well, lets give him a few months, and a few gaffs down the road, and see whether he's still good for a few media laughs.



With all the democratic election scandals in Zimbabwe, Kenya & the USA, I really shouldn't complain I suppose. But the turn out in the local elections was extremely low, around 10% of the voting population. How much lower can it go before we are no longer a representative democracy? I believe in voting, however apathetic or cynical I might feel about it. However understandable these feelings might be, to indulge in them is the luxury that only a fully functioning, and wealthy democracy can afford. Seemingly our only concern is for our economic wealth, our ability to consume conspicuously, and buy overpriced homes. We dont have to fight for our basic freedoms, for self determination, for liberation from despotic or corrupt regimes. We are lucky we can be so complacent as to vote for a 'blonde buffoon'.

DIARY 59 - Launching myself recklessly onto the Web

I've spent a good part of today setting up a new website, with David's help. it's taken a bit of getting used to the mechanics of the site which a a bit clunky. It will get easier once I've got used to what I can and can't do, and remember how to do it. I've created the site primasrily as a way to publish my writing on Dogen, Puja's etc. I'm also envisaging it also as a resource for the WBO, with links to other good sites and publications.The site is called Dogen's Plum Blossoms.

You can find it here

BOOK REVIEW - Nancy Klein Maguire - An Infinity of Little Hours

Nearly fifty years ago, five young idealistic men each walked alone down the same path, towards a gatehouse, and rang the door bell. A rectangular peep hole opened and two curious eyes looked quizzically out. Each man introduced themselves, the bolt slid back, they were expected. As they entered this doorway they were willingly saying good bye to the material world, and devoting themselves to know God, with an ever increasing intimacy. They were entering Parkminster Charter house, a Carthusian monastery in Surrey.

The rule governing a Carthusian monastic life has remained substantially unchanged since St Bruno formed the order 900 years ago. What we read about in 'An infinity of little hours' is how these five 20th Century men fare in this 11th Century monastic lifestyle. They leave the materialistic world, to enter this brutally simple cloistered realm. Apart from half the daily services (mostly in the middle of the night) and a weekly walk outside the grounds, there is little that is communal about this experience. Each lives and practices alone, in silence, within their 'cell'. Here they study theology, pray, meditate on God, garden or carve things in their workshop. The 'cell' is sparsely furnished, with little by way of heating, which is considered a luxury. Twice a day someone knocks on a hatch in the wall, and you open it to find a meal. Human contact is minimal, just enough to be a blessed release, and to stop you going crazy.


The narrative follows each of these five men, through their personal trials and tribulations from 1960 & 1965. In this period they move from being novices, to being accepted into the order. After five years their final profession approaches, where they may take final vows. Only at this point, when they are about to devote the rest of their lives to the Carthusian life, is their spiritual aspiration realistically tested. Not everyone who enters Parkminster finds the lifestyle suits them. Sometimes the Order has to refuse entrance to the order, if it considers someone to be temperamentally unsuited. You cannot survive here on idealism alone, this would only make you ill. If you cannot fully surrender to the solitude, whilst remaining at peace with oneself, you may be encouraged to leave. Some are even told to get married, to go and live an ordinary life. Of the five men, whose story is told here, only one made it to his final profession, and is still a Carthusian. Of the others, one realised he was unsuited, one was asked to leave, one realised he was a homosexual ( denounced in the rule), another became severely ill as a result of his earnest, but misguided devotion to privations. This lifestyle is not easy by any measure, conventional or unconventional.


'An infinity of little hours', is a richly detailed and fascinating book. It is very well compiled, from numerous interviews with monks, done over several years. It re-tells the small, intimate facts about the daily routines of monastic life. Nancy Klein Maguire writes to inform you, she' doesn't come across as remotely polemical or biased in her viewpoint. She simply presents, as best she can, an actual persons experience, cleanly and without comment. Leaving you to interpret and make up your own mind. It revealed much to me, about what happens when ardent religious aspirations meet the frailties of human nature. The psycho/physical responses which can manifest when one renounces something naively or prematurely. What she describes here are very human responses, and these are often deeply moving. Each of the four men who left, decades later ,do not regret their time at Parkminster. They see it as the most important event in their lives, one that changed them irrevocably. So much so, that even though they now have quite secular lives, they still feel as if some part of them remains removed and distant from it. Their hearts have been so permanently reorientated by their life as Carthusians, they have been unable to deeply re-engage with the ordinary world thereafter. Though this was obviously written about a Catholic religious movement, I think it does have something more universal to say concerning the nature and manner of a spiritual quest, how the challenges of the simple life, have to be tempered with sensitivity and growing self- awareness.