The strange habits of Rastafarian donkeys

No, I have no idea where that title came from either...

A surreal moment in my kitchen when the mind falls into neutral (while waiting upon the cauliflower cheese in the oven, hungry for dinner) and out pops an image...

However, I can see why Scottish bards would lie down in a darkened room and wait upon a boundary consciousness between sleep and waking and through which they would invite composition.

Here lies suggestiveness - and if you have an accompanying discipline of expression - something of poetry may emerge.

Undoubtedly my imagination is wholly undisciplined and I get the surreal rather than the over real (if you can forgive that coinage)! Poetry as the more than ordinarily real.

I could in a Jungian manner (as befits my past analytic encounter) play with the image.

I think I can only cope with donkeys...

For which I have a wholly positive resonance not least my beloved Eeyore with whom, in the Pooh pantheon, I am self-identified.

I was instantly reminded of the story about Nasreddin (the holy fool of Sufism) being accused of smuggling. Each time he crossed the border with a faithful donkey, the custom official searched him and his load without finding anything suspect and yet 'knew' his guilt. After several years, the exasperated custom official demands to know from him what he is smuggling, wholly convinced that he is, to which the answer is, of course, donkeys!

Donkeys are thought of as stubborn, so am I!

Now as to Rastafari...

You can see how surreal trips develop...

Comments

Red Shambala

Nicholas Roerich is oft depicted as a spiritual seeker, peace visionary, author of numberless paintings, and a brave explorer of Central Asia. However, Andrei Znamenski in his 'Red Shambala: Magic, Prophecy, and Geopolitics in the Heart of Asia' has him perform another role - that of geopolitical schemer. The scheming did have at its heart a religious vision - of a coalition of Buddhist races in Central Asia that would establish a budding utopia - the Shambala of the title - from which the truths of Buddhism (and co-operative labour) would flow around the globe. This would require the usurpation of the 13th Dalai Lama to be replaced by the Panchen Lama guided by the heroic saviour (Roerich) who appears above dressed for the part. In the achievement of these aims, the Roerichs (including his wife, Helena, who had a visionary connection with 'Mahatmas' whose cryptic messaging guided their steps) were willing to entertain strange bedfellows that at one time include...

The Buddha meets Christ in embrace

Reading Lama Anagarika Govinda is proving nostalgic on a number of fronts. I recall my first reading of it in my first year at university, bought at Watkins, the famous 'esoteric' bookshop in Cecil Court in London. I sat in my hall of residence room transfixed by a world made familiar; and, it was deepening of a commitment to contemplation (which has been observed fitfully)! I remember returning, at the time, to my school to give a talk to the combined fifth form on Buddhism and using Govinda as the backbone of my delivery (both this book, and his equally wonderful, the Foundations of Tibetan Buddhism). I was voted (I immodestly remember) their best invited speaker of the year. I had even bought a recording of Tibetan music as opener and closer! He reminded me of how important Buddhism was (and is) to my own thinking and comprehension of my experience. The Buddha's First Sermon in the Deer Park was the first religious text I read (of my own volition) at the tender age...

The Jewel in the Crown

I spent six months in Nizhny Novgorod ostensibly as both the chair and the director of a micro-finance fund. I must confess much of that work -apart from the spectacular resignation of my predecessor as director - has faded from view but what I vividly recall is at weekends progressing through Paul Scott's 'The Raj Quartet' and subsequently re-watching its painstaking and triumphant dramatization (by Granada) that I had watched, long before, on the television. It was without doubt my most deeply cherished reading experience to date. This extraordinary narrative of the British in the last, declining days of colonial rule that begins with the doomed relationship of Hari Kumar and Daphne Manners, her rape, and the injustice of Kumar as accused by Ronald Merrick, the Police Superintendent, and one of the most malevolent characters ever created in fiction. He is a magnified alter ego of Scott himself especially the sharply, destructively repressed homosexuality. The narrati...

Golgonooza

Search This Blog