After quite a busy life making a home for my family, working in education and traveling widely, I have left many of the intents and purposes of this world to live a quiet life.
Having come so far in a world hell bent on divisions of race, creed, class and nationalism, one has learned to approach matters of the heart and mind with more a sense of equanimity and find truth in the undivided attention of the quiet mind.
Of the past, suffice it to say, haphazard schooling led me to explore questions of life and mind that were in stark contrast to the prevailing values of the time. Despite revelling in the freedom and beauty of the fields and woods, as a child of the war years, like countless others, childhood and youth, were marked with a sense unease about what life had in store for us. Learning to question main stream narratives and post war progressive notions of change led me to wrestle long and hard with the existential problems of our time and often flounder. Constantly thinking things over yielded a certain understanding, but what value has a brain buzzing with ideas with no peace of mind? After much confusion and thrashing about, eventually I discovered that one can approach the questions of life and mind directly when care and attention is given to the movement of thought itself.
To be caught up in the confusion of meaning and value is such a waste of one’s life. Fortunately, in meditation we can discover something of a different order, something of such profound simplicity that no flight of the imagination or struggle with oneself and the world could ever bring about. Clearly to be a light unto oneself is the work of the moment that extends to a lifetime.
The following notes may in someway convey the spirit in which the author has engaged in this work.
Figure in a landscape
There is a shifting sandbar where one can sit and watch the river meet the sea. It is a perfect place to be alone and bury ones feet in the warm sand. Here the river lost its contours as did time and self-preoccupation. River and ocean were forever reshaping the banks and shoreline with the ebb and flow and epi-phenomena of the moment, tipping endlessly into the unknown. (West Coast, California)
A walk for all seasons
Once a busy inland waterway for the transport of goods, the old towpath meanders along the eastern ridge of the river valley through a landscape that still bears the scars of the industrial revolution. Nowadays, the few barges moored along the banks, no longer horse drawn, have become homes for a few people seeking a quieter life. Wildlife abounds along the banks, hedgerows and water. People are naturally drawn here to walk off the stress and trouble which comes with the passage of time. Trouble is etched on the many of the faces of those who pass by. Faces begin to shine with the sight of open fields, a flight of birds, the warmth of the sun and a soft breeze on the cheek. Pausing to take in the evening light, for a few moments my shadow was mirrored with the passing beauty of clouds on the still waters. In a moment they were gone, as a cool evening breeze began to ripple across the surface.
Present
The timeless in the transient had always been there. But with timeworn thought there is always neglect and preoccupation. We come and we go. No matter how much one may practice, reaching within or without of oneself, thought cannot grasp that which has no beginning or end.
Here the still waters harbour the long shadows of a late summer evening with a calm and inviting beauty
( Local Branch of the Leeds/Liverpool canal, Haigh Parish, UK )
Fox…
It was a cold winters day and we had taken the narrow towpath to walk beside the frozen canal. Someway along the path there was a place where the ice sheet had broken close to the bank. A thin layer of ice had already formed over the fractured surface. Just beneath it, a drowned fox drifted lifeless in all its chilled and wild beauty. Driven by hunger it must have leapt onto the thin ice in pursuit of penned chickens a few feet away on the opposite bank.
All wrapped up in ourselves
What if one day we discover that the meaning and value we had habitually invested in becoming this or that, the push and pull of our daily round of thought, proves to be of little or no significance when faced with a simple moment of truth
Drawing the essence, being and becoming
Being present at the birth of a child or the death of someone we love takes us out of the endless preoccupation and loop of thought. How will we look upon our own birth and death, if after a lifetime of experience it comes to nothing. In such choice less moments, it will be truth and compassion not thought that draws forth the essential meaning or indeed the meaninglessness of the life we have lived.
Crying out
Ten of us came together each day to explore the nature of relationship in dialogue. Each day the sun rose in a cloudless sky so we met under the welcome shade of an old oak tree. Suffice it to say the dialogues would usually got under way after some preamble, sometimes became a journey into the unknown. Psychological baggage was effortlessly revealed on such occasions and could be dissolved in the light of inquiry. But each day, it became clear that one among us was so upset she began to dominate the whole movement of inquiry. Each member of the group attempted to use their professional, motherly and other personal experience to bring some light to the persons distress. Everyone had a go, drawing on whatever insight and understanding they had, but to no avail. All possible solutions exhausted, the person in question wept in frustration. We listened and a silence came over all us, all movement suspended as nothing else could be said or done. Slowly the weeping ebbed away,with the listening there was insight and tears replaced with a smile and laughter all round. (Ojai Valley, California
A visit to the cinema
We were alone in the theatre, an audience of two to see an early showing of ‘Arrival’ a movie based on a novel by Ted Chiang entitled ‘The Story of Your Life and Others’. The film poses some interesting queries about language. A visit to earth by aliens, sets the scene for an exploration of inter species communication in a bid to understand the purpose of the extraterrestrials presence. The personal grief and professional ruminations of the two key characters, a linguist and a physicist, allows the ensuing drama to expose both the limitations and complexity of language and frailty of human nature. As the drama unfolds, the narrative includes some interesting dialogue on how language determines the way we humans think and build contextual realities in linear time. Insights into the subtle anomalies of time and communication eventually enables inter species communication to take place offering a turning point for mankind.
With our world as it is, is a mutation in the brain possible? At one point in the movie the physicist suggests that learning a foreign language rewires the pathways in the brain.This appears to be true in a limited way, a modification rather than a major leap in the evolutionary sense.
(the score includes an imaginative blend of electronic and whale like acoustics. The story begins and ends with a moving piece of music: ‘The Nature of Daylight). ( available on Music+ page)
Our day to day use of language as a tool to understanding has led to many questions concerning the breadth and limit of thought.
Meeting the late Prof’’ David Bohm
David ‘Bohm’s dialogues with J Krishnamurti were of great interest in that they explored fragmentation and insight into the limitations of thought. I once visited him in the company of a friend (Prof’ Michael Hussey from the Open University) at his office in Birkbeck College London, where he was teaching Theoretical Physics. I had met Michael at a Dartington Hall Conference on ‘Education & The Concept of The Self’ and later travelled to India together. Familiar with the basics of modern physics I knew little of the intricacies. However, some of the questions that occupied David, particularly his interest in how thought affects the way we perceive ourselves and the world (ie the observer/observed equation) resonated so there was a sense of mutuality when discussing questions of language, creativity and conditioning. Intense and I would say somewhat stressed, David gave the impression of being totally immersed in the process of inquiry. Here was a man with a comprehensive grasp of the axiomatic roots of modern physics, who was particularly concerned with the problems of thought, the implications of which few in his profession were willing or able to penetrate. At one point in our conversation, the subject-verb-object structure of common language came up. David, was not a physically agile man, but he leapt to his feet and began to scribble an abstracted form of syntax on his office blackboard! While Michael was able to follow his mathematical thread, I at least saw the playfulness behind it. It was clear from our overall conversation that it is essential to question why we are so predisposed to comprehend the world as we do and notions of what may lie beyond it.
Fortunately, David Bohm and a few other scientists like him have provided an invaluable service in their ability to delineate and order complex fields of inquiry whilst not losing site of the essential wholeness and mystery of life and the cosmos. Given the complexity of concepts that supports the scientific edifice, I questioned if cognitive brilliance was indeed essential to comprehend something felt to be profoundly simple. One has to tread so carefully wary of self delusion and wishful thinking.
modification or mutation? Could changing the structure of the language change the hard wiring in the brain? It is clear that language dominates how we relate to the world, to each other and the thought process. Altering set pathways can modify our behaviour to some extent. But could this fundamentally change how we relate to the world and each other ? It is much more likely that a deeper transformative order of mutation would require all the energy that is lost in pathways set by distraction. This suggests a completely different approach to the interventions of behavioural science.
I met DB on a few other occasions as a participant in weekend dialogues which were held with the staff and students at Brockwood Park Krishnamurti school where he was a member of the board of trustee’s. Initially I was somewhat dazzled by his clarity, at the same time one felt a mutuality which enabled us to share and explore questions concerning crisis and the place of thought in human development. * The photo below catches a moment during an impromptu conversation with a small group of friends, including Sally Jeffrey and David Jinks, myself and others, during the annual gathering held in the grounds.
Brockwood Park Throughout the 70’s and early 80’s I had explored these concerns with many like minded people during the Krishnamurti’s international gatherings held annually at Brockwood Park in Hampshire and Saanen in Switzerland. Faced with a mounting global crisis in human affairs, the gatherings were attended by people from all over the world. There was an extraordinary spirit of inquiry among those who attended, which has rippled down the years. I continued to participate in many dialogue groups and have often joined friends and facilitated workshops in various settings.
From its inception in 1969 Brockwood Park school has attracted students and visitors from all over the world. Housed in the 18th century mansion of a large country estate it is a beautiful spacious environment with extensive grounds graced by mature cedars of Lebanon and copper beech trees.
Already in my 30’s I had begun to seriously question my ability to function in what had proved to be an overcrowded competative environment and began to look for a more holistic approach to education. Initially, I failed to find a supportive course of action. Several possibilities opened up which came to nothing, including an opportunity to join a Religious Studies for mature students course at Lancaster Univ . I was also lucky to be accepted to take up yoga lessons with TKV Desikachar in Madras but was unable to raise funds. Although primarily interested in Krishnamurti’s approach to learning I had also explored A. S. Neal’s work at Summerhill and also *Dartington Hall schools. A chance meeting with Suprio Tagore at a Dartington Hall conference eventually led to a visit to Shantiniketan in India.
The whole concept of private education which for the most part is only available to those who could afford it, was a challenge for someone from my own modest background. Opportunity based on the ability to pay was to me an anathema, simply unfair and wasteful. As things stood all those years ago I had no appetite to push the politics of it all and instinctively sought a wider view.
My own education had been quirky to say the least. I remember during a conversation with Dorothy Simmons, a founder and first Principal of Brockwood school, I happened to mention my childhood experience of growing up in Lancashire in the northwest of England. Dorothy together with husband had previously run a unique boarding school for intelligent delinquents at (Kneesworth Hall) in Cambridgeshire. She told me of a former student who came from the area where I lived. I remember how she captured my smile as I listened, having been something of a delinquent myself, a child of the rough and tumble of the industrial north. However, would have by no means have qualified to be a ‘bright’ delinquent if IQ rating was the measure of intelligence.
My childhood and schooling was largely defined by post war austerity and the struggles of a single parent and working class home. Fortunately, poor schooling and the absence of a father was offset by the kindness and support of my mothers older brothers Harold and John. Harold became my mentor. Besides being passionate about social justice he was also a devoted student of the philosophies of both East and the West with a special interest in the theosophical movement, which had sought a much wider view of planetary evolution than Darwinism. Like many others of his generation he had first hand experience of the Great Depression of the 1930’s, which helped me understand how social and political factors had led to world war and existential turmoil of the 20th century. Skeptical of all political or ideological solutions, Harold encouraged me to seek a deeper perspective on the nature of change both within and society at large. Despite the usual youthful follies, I understood that nothing would really change until the will to power and control in one form or another remained a major force in human endeavour.
A first attempt at a college education had ended in failure. Fortunately, after a period of uncertainty, a scholarship to study painting and fine art at St Martins School of Art in London enabled me to immerse myself in the world of art. Never comfortable with making art for a living I eventually put aside a promising career as a artist to work in education. I worked for several years in art college and moved on to work with younger students. There was a great deal to learn and enjoy working with young people, especially 7-8 year olds, though I seriously questioned the constraints of the school environment. Something had to give, eventually I left the profession in a rather stressed state and in poor physical condition.
Finding a true vocation, finding something selfless that one loves to do, is essential to create anything worthwhile. The significance of a learning environment like Brockwood Park is in the care given to nurturing a sense of inquiry and the awakening of intelligence. To seriously address this for oneself with warmth and generosity, one has to see the limits a sociological critique. This opens the mind to a wider view enabling one to see through and beyond the personal and group exigences of class and prejudice.
*( Dartington School closed in 1987 )
If just a few individuals can bring about significant change in themselves rather than perpetuate worn out patterns of thought, it would indeed be something, something that would turn the tide.
Despite having emerged from a century of global conflict the world is no less divided and inequalities are as stark as they have ever been. Historically, most of our individual rights, freedoms and responsibilities have been established through struggle of one kind or another, but transformative change in consciousness within the individual is not borne of conflict.
Cradled in the rolling downlands north of Winchester, Brockwood’s unique approach to education continues to attract a constant stream of visitors throughout the year. (In recent years the Krishnamurti Foundation has added a beautiful Adult Study Center, designed by Keith Critchlow which provides facilities for day visitors, conferences and those who seek a quiet environment in which to study Krishnamurti’s work. )
While I attended all but two of the annual international gatherings held each year at Brockwood during the 70’s and early 80’s. by the mid 80’s something had changed. During the gathering the K’s talks and the campsite were open to everyone and a great a opportunity to meet people from all over the world. But some of those who attended began to treat it like a drop off venue on the summer festival circuit.
After Krishnamurti’s death in 1986 the challenge of becoming ‘a light unto ones self’’ rang louder than ever. One was left with truth and truth alone. For the first time in my life I felt ready to explore this as the foundation for true culture. With a small group of friends I looked into the possibility of creating a country retreat where people could come together to explore such things. Contrary to what some felt at the time this was no experiment in communal living but rather an attempt to establish an environment where one could simply meet for dialogue.
The photo opposite of the author and friend Raphael was taken in the 80’s during a home visit while touring several intentional communities in several in the UK. Raphael has since become a distinguish French actor and director working in Film , TV and Theatre. 
After a year or so it was clear that the material resources where not available to develop properly, so I turned to other possibilities. Never enthusiastic about institutions I had nevertheless read of Dr Annie Besant’s and Krishnamurti’s close association with the Ojai valley in California with great interest. Several education centers including a Krishnamurti Foundation and school were fast becoming an integral part of a Ojai diverse valley community. Having begun to attract attention early in the 20th century as a spa, Ojai had since become a hub for people with a holistic turn of mind. Keen to step out of my provincial bubble I put together an experiential study program, pooled what was left of my modest resources and planned several trips there.
Kiva The valley had long been held sacred by the indigenous peoples, but they had departed and there was little left of their former culture. However, to the east of the valley, set high on a ridge more recent settlers had sought to keep some elements of it alive by building a traditional keeva and adapting a ‘vision quest’ program and council process drawn from the wider field of native american culture. It was a beautiful evening when I joined a group of young students up from the sprawling city some 80 miles to the south to take part in a Kiva council meeting. This began when we gathered together sitting in a circle around an open fire in the center of the adobe. As the moon rose and the call of a coyote occasionally filled the air, the council began. Each person spoke. To speak one had to hold the pebble for others to listen in silence and then to pass it on. Everyone spoke. It was so simple and eloquent, each one found the language to speak simply from the heart. There was laughter and tears. Beyond the glow of the fire the stars shone brightly. (Ojai)
There was no telling what those young people would take back home with then to the city, but each one would find their own way with it.
Art of the cinema ‘Sculpting in time’
Have you seen Andrei. Tarkovsky’s film Stalker, if not you are in for a revelation. Recently a distinguished film director commented that words and images had lost their meaning due to the glut and saturation of imagery of multi media. Despite all the energy that goes into movie making, only a few films make any lasting impression. The work of the Russian director Andrei Tarkovsky is one of the exceptions. Some of his finest work is freely available at : andrei-tarkovsky.com
A visitor The old house by the lakeside had found new life as a center for the study and healing of the psyche. The summer term had already ended except for a lady member of staff who was working quietly in the empty building. Though unexpected I was a warmly welcomed and we talked about the work of the center. She was cataloging the archive slide collection and was eager to show me some examples, which included artwork by people who had undergone Jungian analysis at some time in their lives. Each set of slides was arranged in the chronological order in which the originals had been created. Showing great interest in the work, my host asked if I would like to examine some of the artwork, which were mounted so one could follow the sequence like pages in a book. Each set recorded the inner journeys of individuals who had sort to express a resolution of their problems and inner conflicts in vivid archetypal imagery. There was a raw eloquence in some of the pieces, which revealed conscious, subconscious and unconscious elements in the psyche reaching some measure of ‘phased order’ or partial resolution of suffering, expressed in the language of colour, shape and symbol.
Remains of the day
It had been a lovely evening and we were free to wonder off the beaten track and stroll beneath the tall beech trees. But times were changing and potions of the woodland were scheduled to be leased, fenced and remodled to make way for new ticketed amenities. The chainsaw had been busy, with mature trees cut to ground level. nature being irrepressible, already some had sprouted new growth from the severed trunks. On the edge of the woods, a short distance along the path there was a stone lion sitting sphinx like on a plinth facing westward towards the evening sun. Here, time and change and controversy would soon fill the air. Soon the lion would be displaced, trees felled, concrete mixed and laid for an adventure play park.
It appears we humans achieve nothing without a struggle, largely with ourselves and with each other. After all, most of the civil rights we enjoy today have been fought for and won from those in power. We seem to thrive on trouble and having something, someone to fight against or for us. These hard won freedoms are constantly being eroded because freedom is never firmly established within ourselves. No wonder we have come to regard life as a constant struggle.
Vacation
‘Time stops when you’re on holiday’ said the travel brochure offering a break to anyone seeking time out from the pressures of work etc … We may get away for a little while, alas to be always drawn back to the troublesome self and the wiles ofself obfuscation. A holiday from oneself is a different matter. A respite from what we take to be ourselves even for just a little while at least gives an inkling of what is possible. Much better to simply observe this movement and the motivating fear to escape, this way even the desire for result can give way to the freedom of that which is not bound by time.
Theatre of insight
The author J. B. Priestley once described how as a young man he had sensed a ‘favourable moment’ when a door had momentarily opened in the wall of temporal conditioning. Unfortunately he let it slip by and never crossed the threshold. Unsettled by this lost opportunity, time and its recursive anomalies became the central theme of much of his creative work for the theatre.
Global village
A man born and bred in a small country village for the first twenty years of his life once remarked that during his youth he saw the world through the eyes of his village. Eventually he left home travelling extensively to study abroad. Years later he returned to his homeland and discovered his village had undergone little change in his absence. However, he had changed beyond recognition and now saw the village through the eyes of the world. Nothing was lost and he felt completely at home. In deed, both he and the village were greatly enriched by his experience which now gave meaning and value to everything in terms of the whole.
A walk in the city
It was a land well placed among nations for its ancient culture steeped in tradition and religious ritual now reeling from the impact of the technological revolution sweeping the whole world. While staying in a decaying city suburb I often took an evening walk with a friend to a more prosperous neighbourhood across the river where she attended yoga classes. The evening air was always thick with traffic fumes and the smell of stale urine coming up from the gutters. Our walk took us across a bridge that spanned a river which separated the two neighbourhoods. We would cross the road at a certain point and often stopped to watch the evening light settle on the river whose waters flowed from the highest peaks on earth. Here in the city the river was in a sorry mess, it’s banks littered with junk, rotting carcasses, remnants of festive garlands and the dis-integrating effigies of the gods. Further on we would sometimes see an elderly woman lying exhausted or asleep on the pavement near the bridge and would leave a few rupees by her side. My friend, who had lived in the city for many years always cautioned not to give more! One evening at the same spot we passed by a pile of filthy rags that lay heaped in the gutter and we hesitated. Pausing to look more closely revealed the grey skin of the old lady’s lifeless body. There she lay, a pile of rag and bone her days ended in the filthy gutter. The din and fury of the street moved on regardless. How could the mind ever accommodate itself to this? (Kolkata)
Distillation
It was an old cottage and its stone and plaster walls had echoed with the lives of those who had been born, lived and died there. How often the light of the sun, moon and stars had also entered the little room, which now served as a kitchen and lounge. It was a quiet space with windows that opened to the morning and evening light which often bathed the room in the colours of the setting sun before it disappeared over the distant hills.
It had been one of those bright autumn days with majestic clouds drifting inland on a fresh ocean breeze, which swept one’s senses clean and sent a autumnal tremour through the surrounding woodland. When the evening came it was always good to feel the welcome of that quiet space after working outdoors. One would sit by the window and hear the owl hoot and watch the first stars appear in the darkening sky. Everything would settle of an evening and one could watch familiar shapes and colours of the room gradually fade and lose their contours in the enveloping darkness. This often brought with it a sense of silence and inner effulgence. One evening, as the last light faded from the treetops, a bowl of soft ripe fruit which lay on the kitchen table, began to fill the cool night air with a lovely fragrance which lingered like a ghost on the edge of darkness. It was subtle yet palpable and then gone. (Haigh)
Competition has no place…
The room was abuzz with the energy of seven year old children sitting at their desks.They were waiting for the next assignment, like a flock of hungry sparrows about to devour a slice of bread. It was always a delight and an immense challenge to be with them and take the plunge into a new project together. We had all been out for a walk on the beach and returned with a trove of found objects. In among a profusion of everyday items lost to the sea, were cast offs and driftwood and many shells and pebbles that had all been eroded over time by the elemental forces. Our quest was all about seeing and the challenge of being aware with ones whole being, taking time to look and look again more closely at nature. To observe generously and discover extraordinary qualities in familiar and not so familiar objects and then explore different ways to communicate what had been seen and felt… Once underway the energy intensified from one individual to another. Every child was engaged though the energy dipped for those who felt vulnerable, hesitated and cast around, to seek encouragement, direction or incentive, measuring themselves one against the other, while those who were fully absorbed hardly noticed my presence. They had found what they loved to do and needed no motivation.
The urge to compare to measure one against another would probably come later but while they worked it was completely absent.
(photo’s : APB).