The Dhamma Of Arthur Koestler

When I was in my early 20s I went through an Arthur Koestler phase, The Sleepwalkers, Reflections on Hanging, The Act of Creation,  The Roots of Coincident and all that. Although he mainly wrote on politics  Koestler did have some interest in religion as a result of a sort of   ‘mystical’ experience he had while awaiting the firing squad. In The Lotus and the Robot he examined yoga, Hinduism and Zen Buddhism and found them wanting. He claimed that some Zen writings came very near to fascism, a claim that outraged western Zen practitioners at the time. No doubt had Koestler lived long enough to read Brian Daizen Victoria’s 1997 Zen at War he would have felt vindicated. When I was beginning my explorations of Buddhism amongst the first books  I read after Walpola Rahula’s What the Buddha Taught  were D. T Suzuki’s three volume Essays in Zen Buddhism  which left me utterly bewildered. Everyone said that Suzuki was utterly profound so I thought there must be something wrong with me. So when I read Koestler’s comment: “I genuinely admire Dr. Suzuki. He is the only man in history to have ever written a million words of nothing” I felt somewhat vindicated. Although The Roots of Coincidence is still well worth reading much of Koestler’s output has become passé, given the changing political landscape. Nevertheless, there are still gems amongst it. Here are a few.

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zBllUEblocU

Life, Death And Bukit Brown

Driving along the Pan-island Freeway near Thomson Rd is one of the few hints that it is there. Elsewhere it is obscured by homes, shops and yet more roads and freeways. Bukit Brown is the largest cemetery in Singapore and since it was closed in 1970 it has reverted to forest so as to become an abode for the living rather than the dead – for numerous species birds, butterflies, monkeys and other wildlife. The oldest grave so far found in the cemetery dates from the 1830s, most date from the early 20^th century onwards. There are about 100,000 graves altogether and of trees, ferns, creepers, orchards, mosses and grasses no one can say. Unfortunately, parts of the cemetery are marked for destruction to make way for a four-lane highway. During a recent visit to Bukit Brown I noticed that remains are already being disinterred and many graves have markers indicating that they too are soon to go. What a pity that such beautiful old graves, the wildlife and the greenery had to give way for yet more asphalt and exhaust fumes.

The first picture is of me amongst the Dieffenbachia. Fourth picture; during the British period wealthy Chinese used to employ Sikhs to guard  their homes and businesses so it only made sense to employ then in the afterlife. The Sixth picture is of a Jade Boy. Such young men used to serve Chinese emperors and so many graves have these figures to serve them in the afterlife. Eighth picture, lovely Asplenium nidus find a home on the limbs of large trees.  

To find out more about Bukit Brown have a look at http://bukitbrown.com/main/

An Old Photo

When a piece suddenly goes missing from the quilt of your relationships you tend to give some thought to the person who used to be there.  After mum’s death three days ago I was looking through some old photos. This one brought back memories of 1966 to be exact, and all the experiences and images from that time, almost none of which have bothered to amble into my mind for a good 30 years. This photo was taken at the beginning of what was to become nearly a decade of emotional turmoil. What with the onset of puberty, increasing difficulties in my parent’s marriage, being bullied at school and later, very serious bouts of depression, I was not a happy youth. Some sympathy from my parents could have been a real comfort. But mum’s preoccupied with my baby brother (that’s him on her knee) and the war of attrition she was waging against my father (he’s taking the picture) meant that she had little time for me. Dad never has any time for me even  when things were okay. Aware that he had made several decisions that had upset the family’s previous middle-class comfort and financial security his hair-trigger temper had become worse than ever. I didn’t want his sympathy, I just tried to keep out of his way as much as possible. Despite all the disruption they were enduring neither of my parents ever failed to provide for our material needs. Dad always brought home the bacon, never spending any on himself, and mum performed her household duties with all the diligence and skill she had always done. That was one aspect of being a good parent that they both excelled at and I am grateful to both of them for it.
My mum also passed onto me a love of books and reading, a concern for animals, a   fascination with history and something I sometimes wish I had less of but which been very helpful to me nonetheless, a sceptical turn of mind.    

However, looking back I would have to say that by the time I left home I was a bit of an emotional mess. I had what would now be called “low self-esteem”; then we just called it being a misery guts. I also suffered from periods of dark depression which I inadvertently made worse by listening to Tchaikovsky’s Pathetique from my small record collection. To this day I when they play this  symphony on the radio I have to turn it off. Then one day I found a copy of The Mind Unshaken, John Walters’ account of Buddhism and why he became a Buddhist. I was riveted, especially by the Buddha’s idea that while dukkha was an integral part of life it can be overcome. This seemed to arouse a determination to pull myself out of the bog I found myself in. Over the next decade or so I absorbed the Dhamma and as I did I gradually “untangled the tangle” and straightened myself out. I can say with honesty that my last 30 years have been generally happy, satisfying and fulfilling and I owe that entirely to the Dhamma and my own efforts. I am convinced that one need not be held back by difficult or unpromising beginnings and that the recourses needed for this task are available in the Dhamma. 

A Death In The Family

On the 17^th April at 2.20 in the morning my mum died. She woke up and told her nurse that she was not feeling well and asked for a glass of water. She went and sat in her chair and a moment later passed away. For us her family she had, in a sense, died about five years before. So badly had her mind disintegrated that she did not even know her own name or even who we her children were. It is only when someone you know has dementia that you realize how much of a person their mind is.  Their body tells you this is them but much of what they do and say is of a stranger. 

Brought up in the Depression mum learned very early to be self-reliant. Her education at Emily McPherson College stood her in good stead throughout  all  but her last  few years. She was a skilled and creative dressmaker, cook, cake decorator and transformer of old junk into much sort-after objects. She could eye a patch of ground or an off-cut of fabric and in no time and with seeming  ease turn it  into a lovely garden corner or an attractive blouse. In her last years just for the heck of it she  would go to flea markets and buy unpromising pieces of furniture at knockdown prices, repair,  paint or varnish  them, upholster  them and sell  them for very substantial prices. She was good with things.      

People were another matter. Mum was quick to take offence and just as quick to cause it, she was petulant, demanding and incapable of admitting she was wrong. At times she could be breathtakingly selfish. Her relationship with her parents and siblings was always stormy as it was with her husband and children. During her last 20 years she was happier than she had ever been, living alone, pottering around in the garden, reading and visiting the places she had always wanted to go. For us her children our regular phone calls and occasional visits were a nice way to keep in touch without having to    spend too time with her.

Mum’s passing evokes mixed emotions. I’m relieved that her physical self finally caught up with her mental self. I feel a touch guilty that I was never able to love her as much as an offspring should be able to. I am sad that her life did not see more peace, satisfaction and fulfilment. And I have a strange awareness  that  something of what I am has ceased to be.            

A Difficult Customer

A few years ago I had to wait eight hours in Dubi  airport for a connecting flight. I spent most of the time keeping boredom at bay by reading a book. At one point I became aware of an argument going on somewhere. Looking around  I  saw two women in the distance coming towards me, angry words  getting  louder as they approached.  They stopped near me and one woman, apparently an airlines passenger liaison officer, opened her office and invited the other woman to come in. The other woman shouted:  “I will not come in. I want another ticket, I want it now and I will not pay a cent extra for it!” Problems at airports can test patience and fray nerves but this woman was being very unreasonable. After five minutes of watching her tantrums even I was starting to get irritated. She was not just angry, she was refusing to be placated. She shouted, hurled abuse, threw her arms around and at one point even raised her fist as if to strike the other woman.  The amazing thing  was that throughout this whole incident the liaison officer never raised her voice or appeared to lose her temper, although she did look harassed. After at least 20 minutes of tantrums and yelling the angry woman stormed off.

I was so impressed by the officer’s behavior that I went to her office, introduced myself and said to her:  “That is the most impressive thing I have seen for a long time, I mean, how you dealt with that lady.”  She smiled tiredly, thanked me and said modestly that she was only doing her job.  “Maybe” I said,  “but it  is quite an achievement to keep your cool in such a situation. How did you do it?”  She told me that the airline she works for has special training programs on how to deal with difficult customers. Then she added:  “I do a bit of meditation too.” I was so pleased to hear this and I asked her what sort of meditation she practiced. Just them a passenger in need of help came and we couldn’t continue our conversation. But  whenever I start to get annoyed by some small matter I try to remember how this woman remained civil and calm ‘in the midst of the storm.’

Pole Dancing Buddhist Style

At that time, the Lord said to the monks:  “Once upon a time, a bamboo acrobat set up his pole, called to his pupil, and said:  ‘Now, my boy, climb the pole and stand on my shoulders.’  
 ‘Alright, master,’ said the pupil, and he did as he was told.  Then the master said:  ‘Now, my boy, you protect me and I will protect you, and protected and watched by each other we will do our act, get a good fee, and come down safe and sound from the bamboo pole.’ But then  the pupil said:  ‘No master, no!  That will not do.  You look after yourself, and I will look after myself and thus watched and guarded each by himself, we will do our act, get a good fee, and come down safe and sound from the bamboo pole.  That is the way to do it.’

 Then the Lord said:  “Just as the pupil said to the master:  ‘I will protect myself’ so should you practice the four foundations of mindfulness, which also means:  ‘I will protect others.’   Because by protecting oneself, one protects others and by protecting others, one protects oneself.  And how does one protect others by protecting oneself?  It is by the repeated and frequent practice of meditation.  And how does one protect oneself by protecting others?  It is by practicing patience, forbearance, harmlessness, love and  empathy.”   

S.V,169  

  

It is by no means clear what type of gymnastics the two characters in the Buddha’s story preformed. But what is now called mallakhamb may be distantly related to it. If you have never seen mallakhamb have a look at this amazing young gymnast. But of course the thrust of the Buddha’s story is not gymnastics but the importance of forbearance (khanti), harmlessness (avihimsa), love (metta)  and empathy (anydaya) in benefiting oneself and others.