For anyone who loves India or just loves exceptional photographs, this book is for you. A photo essay of over 650 prints by one of the world’s best travel photographers, Richard I’Anson. Richard has spent years on this book and his love of the country shines through. Absolutely stunning piece of art by an utterly top bloke!
Leh, Ladakh in the Indian Himalaya is as Buddhist as you can get. The ruler Sennge Namgyal did give the old town to the Muslims back in the 1600s when he married one of their girls, but Buddhism is the order of the day.
Of course, like most philosophies, Buddhist wisdom and has much to offer. To investigate this, I assumed the best place to start would be a monastery. There is no shortage of these in Leh and its surrounds. Hemis, Thiskey, Sankar, Stakna, Tsemo; they’re all there. Not only are they beautiful, but there are a lot of monks and Buddhist texts throughout. Small problem. They’re not in English.
Perhaps one of the many bookshops in Leh might hold the key. Plenty of books in English, but where do I start? The famine has turned into a gluttonous feast! Too hard.
I’ve done a lot of searching, but sometimes you just have to allow things to come to you. You know the scenario, when you stop looking, the answer will come up and bite you. So I guess it shouldn’t come as a surprise when, later that night, the only female drinking vodka in the only bar in Ladakh (how brazen of me!) with my new mate Kevin (not his real name), that my answer finds me.
It’s dark and almost closing time. There must be only about 10 fellow drinkers. All are locals but Kev and me. I want to know where all the other women are. A fellow drinker, dimmed by lack of lighting, informs me that females drinking alcohol is not looked on in a good light in India.
“But surely they can still come to a pub and drink soft drink!”, I argue.
Tabo the Buddhist sits opposite me. He’s older and of Mongolian decent. He’s had a few brews. “Where’s your wife?” I ask.
“At home. Asleep.”, he slurs back.
“Why isn’t she here?”, I push.
“She’s at home asleep”, is the reply. Tabo leans on his elbow, rests his chin in his hand and struggles to keep his eyes open. I realise that he’s not going to enlighten me as to the lack of females about. So, going all out, I ask Tabo the Buddhist a different question, “If you had just one snippet of wisdom to offer the world, Tabo, what would it be?”
Without contemplation he fires back his reply, “Vipassana.” The rest of the gathering laugh quietly at him, but he keeps repeating it over and over. “Vipassana, vipassana, vipassana”.
I look blankly. I have no idea what Tabo the Buddhist means. “Vipassana everyday. Everyone in the world. Everyone happy. No problems.”, he explains.
Buddhism holds Four Noble Truths.
Tabo the Buddhist was arguing that all of the four truths would be dealt with using vipassana. This type of meditation deals with looking at oneself. Translated it means ‘seeing clearly”. Deal with your own problems, so to speak rather than put the blame or responsibility on anyone else. It brings the energy back to the self instead of throwing it out all over the place. It re-establishes vertical energy flow rather than horizontal energy flow between each other. Understand attachments, realise they are unnecessary and become free of them. Buddhism is all about mindfulness and compassion and vipassana deals with the former.
Tabo the Buddhist believes that if every human starts their day with vipassana, everyone will contribute to the harmonious functioning of the world; pull their weight and do their bit and not be attached to others or things for happiness. It will dissolve the need to manipulate others or make them unhappy by attempting to inflict control over them
Although Tabo was under the weather a bit, rather unbuddhist if you think about it, he offers something to think about. It couldn’t hurt to give it a try. And surely Buddha’s “Middle Way” would allow the odd tin. Keeps things in perspective.
Amman
Dana
I watched “Wall Street. Money Never Sleeps”. It gave me itchy feet, to a degree. Stepping back in that trading room, even if it was via the magic of the movies, made me feel like I’d come home. Perhaps I’m being melodramatic. But it did get me thinking……
As far as jobs go, until very recently the trading room or exchange trading floor is basically all I’ve known. All those screens, all those numbers, all that adrenaline, all that banter, all those phones and squawk boxes, all those news feeds. It’s a very “all-encompassing” way to look at the world with news flowing in from every corner of the globe as it happens.
It’s also a very limited way to look at the world- from a chair with six computer screens radiating down on you under artificial lighting all day every day. There had to be more to life. And when you start looking out of the office windows onto that “outer world”, your mind starts to wander and fantasise.
So, that’s what I did. I left that “cell” and stepped out into the beyond. It’s a scary thing to do, leave all that security. Leave the one thing you’re good at, leave the labels that your job lends to you that make you feel worthwhile in life. But I’d thought about it for a long time and had prepared for it as much as I could. Nothing truly prepares you for such a huge change, though, and during the more difficult days of uncertainty, you just have to ride the tide; go with the flow.
I always wanted to do something a little more worthwhile, “save the world” in my own small way. I wanted to change my approach to life and I had spent years addressing that. Living more form the heart with more compassion and gratitude. And it honestly did feel more real. A deeper, more grounding and truer way to be.
So, now I’m “living the dream”, doing the things I’ve wanted to for some time now. Helping people to feel better about themselves. There are also lots of other ideas on the boil, to test me further, broaden my mind and contribute to others a little more. And I look forward to it all.
But “Wall Street” showed me something I didn’t realise. It’s still there. That drive. That hunger. That determination. That addiction to adrenaline. Yes, addiction. That’s what it felt like. Sitting there in front of the screen. A drug addict viewing the prize but just out of reach of their hit. That desire to step back into that familiarity. To that place where you know what’s expected of you and how to come up with the goods. Like a reflex. No question. Just get in there and get the job done. Knowing that you can and knowing the high that comes from overcoming a frenetic, unpredictable and high-pressured environment.
That’s when you start questioning who you are and what makes you tick. How you can be drawn to two ways of living which are poles apart? The no nonsense, take no prisoners fight of the trader to the compassionate, heart-felt love of the soul-seeker. Is it an addiction or a defect? Should we be one or the other? Or should we take a more Taoist approach and embody a bit of both? That can be a challenging thing to balance, though. Perhaps that is exactly where the lesson is, in creating that balance. Remodelling old skills and using them in new and positive situations.
Gordon Gekko would say that one is human nature. And the other? Same answer.
Check out my latest travel article published in the wonderful Matador Network :
http://matadornetwork.com/bnt/finding-my-spiritual-home/
Have you found yours?
Pakistan is the geopolitical hotspot of the moment. Everybody’s talking about it and everybody has their own opinion on it. I’ve never been there, but would love to go, but of course that doesn’t stop me having my own opinion! I’ve much to learn about the place and I really have nothing to contribute right now, but someone who knows the country intimately and loves it completely is Fatima Bhutto. Niece of Benazir Bhutto, daughter of Murtazza Bhutto and grand daughter of Zulfikar Ali Bhutto, she is part of the Pakistani equivalent to The Kennedy family in America.
Born in Kabul in 1982, she was educated in Pakistan, The United States and England and currently lives in Karachi as a writer and poet. Although having no desire to enter politics, she has strong opinions about her country. I was fortunate to hear Fatima talk a number of times during the recent Sydney Writers Festival and have made a few points about what she had to say.
It is very important to remember that any references to countries concern their government, not the people.
The title of her first talk was “Pakistan: A Country On The Brink Of A Nervous Breakdown”. Although she agrees that this is the case (and also that most of the world is experiencing this state of being at the moment!), she is quite clear as to the reason. It isn’t so much the fact that being a democratic nation is the only way or free speech is the most important aim. Instead, it is a fundamental lack of justice, law and order, overwhelming violence conducted and condoned by the state and an absence of transparency Without it, sovereignty becomes organised crime. When the current government was last in power, Pakistan was the second most corrupt country in the world, just behind Nigeria; and Fatima offers that the government probably just paid Nigeria off to take the title!
The USD20B given to the country from the USA has just magically disappeared. Along with this, Pakistan is one of the most resource rich countries in the world, possessing oil reserves, gas reserves, copper mines, coal, emeralds, diamonds and food, but with so much money going into the military, they continue to beg for aid. Despite all this wealth and aid, the country’s millenium goals to eradicate polio were not achieved because they lacked the money to pay for the electricity to run the refridgerators. The military receives 30-40% of the budget with education receiving 1-5%. Fatima then gave many examples of rife corruption and incomprehensible injustice, including the case of Mukhtar Mai, a Pakistani rape victim. A survey in 2009 showed that just 9% of Pakistanis were satisfied with their country, so Fatima is not a lone voice in the 180 million.
She acknowledges that women are very active politically, but they are dispossessed in many ways. For example, to vote one needs an identity card which can be bought from a national identity office. The problem is, these are only in limited areas and women then usually don’t have the money to pay for the card if they ever make it there. This is more common in poorer areas. So is the reliance on fundamentalists which then leads to support of such groups. Fundamentalist groups often supply the people with the basics of life. The first thing set up in a village is a court and people are grateful to at least have their grievances heard. People, all over the world, have the desire to be heard and this allows for that. The fundamentalists are also often the first on the scene during natural disasters such as the 2005 earthquake and the recent floods.
She had stern words for the American Government. She focused on the number of drone strikes on Pakistan. There were 118 drone strikes last year; and this was after the devastating flood. In 2010, a UN report on targeted killings found the US was the world’s biggest user. Fatima was upset that Obama didn’t want drone strikes to capture OBL so to decrease civilian casualties, however five days after the OBL raid, there was a drone strike with 15 dead. For every militant killed, 10 civilians are killed. No one said a word about this. She said that 2ooo Pakistanis had been killed in drone strikes since Barrack Obama had been in power and she condemned the American use of torture and accidental attacks on wedding parties and schools and the street celebrations after OBL’s death.
Fatima was also astounded with her own government’s response to OBL’s death. Instead of addressing his people, the president wrote a column for The Washington Post. Leon Panetta, head of CIA said that Pakistan was either knowledgable or incompetent regarding OBL’s whereabouts. However, he had not considered that they could be both! Added to this, they didn’t know US helicopters had entered their airspace or had left from one of their airbases and didn’t know they were planning it for the last nine months. To this she is speechless but acknowledges the Hot Pursuit Agreement between the two countries. She says that every military dictator in Pakistan’s history has received support from the USA, NATO or Europe and cited the Kerry Lugar Bill.
Even the Dali Lama wasn’t safe! She said that even though he won’t swat mosquitos, he is happy to use force if force is necessary.
Her solution? Pakistan is a young country and nation building takes time and by the people. Everyone has an opinion and happy to tell the world in publications, but the answer is a hundred different little things over many years. But to her, the most importance was law, order, justice and a crack down on violence.
She was very measured in her speech, calm and articulate. She believes the people have the power and the desire that the Arab States have with the Arab Springs. To leave you with a quote from Bhutto, “The true punishment for hatred is that eventually you become the thing you hate the most.”
When I lived in London, I used to walk through Greenwich Park every weekend. I love that park. I also love the lessons I learnt there. Trading in the city all week whilst studying and doing the usual chores (washing, ironing, cleaning, shopping, riding horses etc etc etc), you could get pretty caught up with yourself. Stressing about the present and the future and even the past, if you wanted to add a bit more to the mix. Making plans for next week, next month and often the rest of your life. I know, pretty silly. Who can honestly do that?
However, a walk through Greenwich Park would pull me right back and put my life and my problems into perspective. How? Well, there were great teachers there in that park. Not professors or scholars. Not preachers or even spirits from the other side. My teachers were four legged, covered in fur and kind of close to the ground. Dogs. No, that’s not gods with a typo, though there could be a good reason they share the same lettering.
“What the….?”, I hear you say. Let me explain. Have you ever really watched a dog? Dogs are fully in the present. They don’t care what happened yesterday or what will happen tomorrow. They care about here and now and that’s it. Dogs run, chase ball and just thoroughly love having a body to run around in. They seem grateful for it. Happy to have four legs and a tail. They take pleasure in the simple things. A ball; a stick; a squirrel. They don’t need complicated entertainment. They don’t get bored with their surroundings too quickly. They find seem to find even the everyday things amazing.
They love being out and about on an adventure with their pack, of which is usually made up of two legged members. Even if that adventure is just a circuit of the oval.
Dogs love unconditionally. They don’t play emotional games with those they love. They’re blatantly honest about how they feel. They forgive quickly and are always happy to see their family, whether those members are in a good mood or not. If they get told off, they feel hurt, but they retain respect. They know when their humans need space, wait for them to get over their issues and are ready with a wagging tail.
Unless continuously hurt in the past, dogs trust. They understand that it is better to be deceived than to deceive.
And because of all this, dogs help us heal, help us love and help us trust again. There is a reason they are man’s best friend.
Dogs are why I have given the two dogs in my life the prefixes of “Guru” and “Yoda” respectively.
Don’t you think the world would be a better place if we were all just a bit more dog like?
And in the spirit of this blog, I shall leave you with the words of a Glen Campbell song,
“Let me be a little kinder, let me be a little blinder
To the faults of those around me, let me praise a little more.
Let me be when I am weary, just a little bit more cheery,
Think a little more of others, and a little less of me.”
It’s ANZAC Day. This is the day when we in Australia and New Zealand commemorate those fallen in war. It hardly seems a year since I joined a fellow ANZAC compatriot, my kiwi mate Rusty at the memorial at Marble Arch, London. There is something very patriotic about joining with your tribe in a foreign land. It makes you feel even more stoic and proud. Now back home, like most in Australia I will attend a dawn service and watch the big parade through the streets of Sydney. The rest of the day will probably be spent playing the coin game “Two Up’ (see end note). It is illegal to play it at any other time but ANZAC Day when everyone goes to their local RSL (Returned Servicemen’s League) Club, has a pint and gets involved.
On the other side of the globe, the big crowds of primarily young antipodeans will make the annual pilgrimage to Gallipoli in Turkey where ANZAC was born. Nearly 100 years on, it seems strange that such a young population would bother acknowledging a war that really had nothing to do with their country and took place on the other side of the world. However for some in the land Down Under, ANZAC Day has more meaning than Australia Day. The word ANZAC is synonymous with “Aussie spirit” in the southern vernacular. The acronym stands for Australia and New Zealand Army Corps and was first used during World War 1. We were still a young country during The Great War and it marked the time when we grew up; our initiation into adulthood. It is what defined us and brought out what we were as a nation; the birth of the Aussie Spirit.
In 1915, our troops were to land on the northwestern Turkish coast to take control of the Dardanelles, a narrow strait of water. A strategic move, it didn’t go quite to plan. Accidentally deposited by British commanders in the wrong spot, the ANZAC diggers faced vertical cliffs to scour rather than the sandy beaches that were the target. Only about 1.5km of land was taken in the whole operation, but no frontline had been harder fought for. The slaughter would not deter the larrikin spirit or the obsessive drive forward; never give up no matter what.
I’ve made my pilgrimage to the site in Gallipoli, though during quieter times. The battle field is an eerie place and has a feeling of sacredness surrounding it. The ANZAC spirit wells up inside and I defy any Aussie or Kiwi not to get a tear in the eye when, for the first time, they lay eyes on the solitary bronze lettering ANZAC on the low sandstone wall against the cove. It is truly moving. Lone Pine, The Neck, Suvla Bay, the names from the history book are right there in front of you. But it is easy to forget that this is a special place for the Turkish people as well. Sometimes we are guilty of seeing Gallipoli as just an Australian and New Zealand event. Many Turks died here. They too were a country who unwillingly became involved in a war that wasn’t theirs to fight. This has brought three very different countries very, very close. No matter where you are in Turkey, once a local finds out that you are an Australian or a New Zealander, instead of viewing you with scorn over past events, you are welcomed with open arms. There is a real brotherhood, a recognition and mutual respect of what the other went through; almost an honor. It says a lot about the human spirit. Even in towns nowhere near Gallipoli there will be Canberra Hotel or All Blacks Bar and it’s no surprise if someone buys you a beer or two
.
There is a huge sandstone monument at the entrance to ANZAC Cove which has on it an inscription written by the Turkish leader Ataturk in 1934. It perfectly states the feelings between the foreign countries. It is a shame we need the brutality of war to bring out such brotherhood. I will leave you with its words:
Those heroes that shed their blood and lost their lives… You are now lying in the soil of a friendly country. Therefore rest in peace. There is no difference between the Johnnies and the Mehmets to us where they lie side by side now here in this country of ours… you, the mothers, who sent their sons from faraway countries wipe away your tears; your sons are now lying in our bosom and are in peace. After having lost their lives on this land. They have become our sons as well.
Side Note: Two Up……”Come in spinner!”
This is an old Australian gambling game. It is only legal to play on ANZAC Day when the whole nation gets involved by going to their local pub or club to celebrate what was a favourite pastime of the diggers (Australian soldiers) back in World War 1.
It involves two pennies being placed on a piece of wood (kip) and being thrown in the air by the Spinner. Bets are placed with the Boxer as to whether the coins will land both heads up, both tails up or one of each (odds). It is usually played over an old rug thrown on the floor with players standing around in a circle. It is up to the Ringer that all play remains fair and under control.
Check out Sarah Park’s latest contribution to Matador Network’s online publication. It’s a photo gallery of views from windows or doors whilst travelling. Hope you like no.16!
…you always are.
Same name. Same old Rebecca. Just a new look. After a year on the old site, it was time to get a bit fancy and evolve my blog a bit. I hope you like it and I hope you’ll come along for the ride. I want to include you all a little more because as I say on the “About” page, we all have something to offer. Stick with me while I continue my “interior decorating”. It would be great to hear what you would like here as well, so comment away. But remember…be nice! Hold on tight….. it’s going to get exciting!
By the way…if you like the header photo, I took it up in Far North Queensland at Australia’s northernmost cattle station, Bramwell.
follow: RSS
