surrounded by finery

I really hope nobody subscribes to this blog, because I'd like to use it a little more spontaneously to update things as they occur here in this wonderful/nasty city of London. Tonight JM and I went to the park after work - it's been a bugger of a day - long hours and , for me at least, a lot of potentially wasted effort until all these things that I've been throwing myself at may eventually 'bear fruit' - story of my life so far, exccept this time with a definate business edge. To set the tone, earlier today I went to the hairdressers, they did their usual trim and the usual manic attack with the hair straighteners, so that this afternoon I look remotely like a Sloane Ranger -ie somebody potentially well dressed with straight hair.

So anyway JM and I head to the park and grab a couple of ciders on the way. Sit next to the massive white swan pond, except this time it's surrounded by migrating geese (from where?) who have liberally dotted the surrounds with piles of feathers and lumps of goose shit. Charmingly, people still manage to loll about in all this. JM and I remain sophisticated and grab some of the stripey deckshairs, pull out the newspapers and sunglasses and have a lovely and well earned time in the sun. The shoes even came off.

I became entranced, and perhaps with the help of the cider, got a real feeling of bonhomie. That's what I want to record here. Some sort of insight. I'm hungry so must grab some dinner, but basically the feeling, the barrier Im getting through with all this self-employment shit in the middle of a massively steep UK recession, is perhaps the shift that has to happen in order to see the world through a sales-delivery mindset, the eyes of an entrepreneur perhaps? This would be very nice if only it were true. I must go and eat, so will hold this thought until next update, and if there really is anyone out there reading this, please don't!! but if you have, please have a nice day and look after yourself and try and find your 'nugget'.

On the way home we passed the latest Rolls Royce and Bentley's parked outside the Japanese restaurant, nose to nose, both with peak-capped foreign drivers, cars about £250K each, drivers about £20K each per year..... it's like that around here. Outside the hostel, cheap bikes chained to the black glossy rails. Its a pretty grand city, I do love it here. Love from Sue in London.

Looking for Dustin Hoffman, and Finding a Body in the Park

This happened to me last week, and is a story provisionally called Looking for Dustin Hoffman, and Finding a Body in the Park. On getting up at 6am and slowly leafing through a magazine over a coffee, I remembered from the news the night before that Dustin Hoffman was in town, and more importantly, that he owned a house in Kensington. As I was thinking idly about what the rich and famous would do to get about without being recognised, it suddenly occurred to me that, if you were Dustin Hoffman, perhaps you would get up very early and go down the road to Hyde Park, to have a look at the lake, the Palace, the swans and all that. So, suddenly finding some enthusiasm, I grabbed on my running gear and headed up the road.

I was still in a low-key morning mode. Jogging sounds too extreme - it's more like a ridiculous jokey walk as I try to avoid running on the concrete. At 630am, the shops are opening, things are introverted and tucked into their own wrappings. All except for the few office workers striding assertively forward, eyes engaged, suits and sneakers. I was somewhere in-between, still sleepy, still on a quest.
The best part is getting to the Park, selecting the route and opening up onto the soft grass with a looser running stride. I chose to go through the trees, gigantic dark park sentries, forming a veritable border along Knightsbridge. Their wafting elongated pink blossoms belied their monumental structure. I reminded myself of the mission - to find the Marathon Man. So, Hoffman style, I got into the ‘running zone’ – a quasi-meditation state embedded in the rhythm and repetition of the running stride. Loosening the shoulders and upper chest, breathing from below, letting it in, exhaling loudly.

Getting up the slight incline, the park is actually quite buzzing with joggers. I wondered if I’d left it too late, my ‘early bird’ was suddenly looking at a crowded field. Any half-famous celebrity would have coolly got out of there half an hour ago. No matter, I was enjoying it by now.

As I neared the lake, I could see a dark shape on the pebblecrete path, like a large black rubbish bag someone had left there. As I got nearer, the rubbish bag developed two boots and a pair of trousers, and I wondered what someone had done to leave a motorbike outfit piled there on the ground, like it had just had an accident. As I circled carefully from about 10m, I could work out red rubber gloves, then again circling there was a head, with hair, a body, a crumpled mess lying strewn like a crumpled piece of rubbish in an impossibly distorted wrecked position, tumbled, the limbs could not fit together like that in one piece, pieces were broken, it was a snapped dropped body, a person, lifeless.

Crumpled like a thrown ball of paper. Arms twisted the top half in one direction, the bottom in another, no human life to hold it together. Ghastly, thrown and discarded, wrecked cavity…like it had been dropped off at speed by an impatient malevolent force, I stared in disbelief. To get a grip I retreated backwards, scanned for others.

Joggers nearby were indifferent, locked into their own worlds, with headsets, eyes focussed on the goals ahead. Couldn’t they see what was there? I ran towards the gate, towards the Park care truck I’d seen earlier.

There was a young woman jogging towards me, beaming and brightly brushed, headset on, backpack full of office clothes, running towards the city. ‘I’m sorry, do you have a phone, I think there’s a dead body over there’ – she stopped, shocked, disbelief. Why was I sorry - I felt insensitive, I should have thought to break it to her gently. Gasping, with quick jerky movements she upturned her bag, fumbled for her phone and dialled 999. Somehow she was feeling the panic and shock I could not feel, I felt indifferent to. Through tears she got emergency services to come right over, ‘can you describe him’ – ‘no I cant go there, it’s too horrible, I can’t look, his hands are bright red’ – ‘excuse me’ I tried to interject, ‘they are red gloves he’s wearing’…..’Excuse me’, I almost felt like saying, ‘can I have the phone, that was MY dead body, I found him, can I talk to them’, but she was handling it, it would be a good story at the Office for the rest of the week. In the midst of this we both steeled ourselves to look closer at the motionless lump of ex-person lying there.

Other people were running past, stopping for a moment, doing a brief jogging semi-circle, hands to mouths, then running on. One man evidently a tourist even came over to take photos, studied shots from careful angles. We both looked at each other aghast, ‘can’t believe people, who would do that’ ‘I cant believe people are just ignoring it’. The operator maintained a steady flow of calm. Out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw a foot move, but dismissed it, or perhaps couldn’t see the point of changing the course of events, I was almost needing something to shock me.

The ambulance emerged from the pink blossom perimeter. Our waving arms drew it to us magentically. The ambulance arrived and as its shadow pulled over the decimated man, he unfurled like a jack in the box. The impossible angle unfolded into a contortionistic acrobat, with maniacal dreadlocks, red rubber gloves who kept on performing crazy manipulations. As the ambulance men crouched to reason with him he told them to ‘fuck off’.

As I jogged away from the scene of the crime a fellow who had observed the scenes’ resolution jogged beside me and said he had seen the same guy yesterday and thought he was dead. ‘did you call anyone’ I asked him, ‘no, he’s just a tramp but its good that you did at least’. As I jogged back I reflected that we may have just inadvertently been had by some derelict performance artist, some performance Mike Moore, and I hoped that the young woman’s day wasn’t too ruined. And I took one last rueful look for Dustin Hoffman amongst the people sitting on the park bench. I felt unsettled all day, and went back that sunset to sketch the white swans on the pond.

Slumdog Crap

Am I the only one (again) who couldn't stand Slumdog Millionaire?? I walked out at about the 2/3 mark, annoyed with myself for wasted even that much time. The part that did it for me was the scene where the little kid falls into the cess-pit and goes running through the crowds covered in shit. That was totally offensive and even taking the piss like that does not reflect well on a culture that could allow that. Within the first of the subsequent ten torture scenes I could tell the plot. It was such a superficial stupid artifice of a movie, the success that it is now receiving makes me feel crap for what popular taste actually stands for.

Revolutionary Road 5 minute review

This movie does not have the 'wow' factor of Mendes' American Beauty, I was not left with a sense of poetic brilliance, the plot line is predictable almost from about the first third of the movie, yet it is poignant. Despite being a bit plodding, it does spell out in a literal sense the lies we can tell ourselves and the fears which keep us trapped in SECURITY, and even if it does take a literal response to get this message through, it's one that could be expressed more often. So I'm giving this one 3.5 stars Margaret.

I saw it tonight because of the two lead actors, my favourite couple Kate Winslet and Leonardo. I respect pretty much every movie they've been in, OK and I know it's daggy but I loved Titanic and have seen it several times. So here they are, looking late 30-ish, Leo looking pretty squinty and actually playing an unsympathetic character. That's my criticism - there wasn't much to like in his character, a bit 2D - and therefore not much clue as to what Kate's character (Chloe)'s fascination and devotion to him was grounded in.... she was such an idealistic and comparatively deep character, and she was actually hobbled by this little man. The falsities of people and the narrow lies they tell themselves and each other, believing it, the suburban 'ordinariness' lie, the lie of the 'little person' - perhaps contrasted with the romatic ideal. Who is right in this scenario? Well in this movie apparently it's the madman, the Real Estate agent's mentally ill son, he's the only one who can see - and say - the truth. Albeit in a very clumsy and cringey way. The others, well they patch over it till it becomes disabled by all the layers and the only way out is through Chloe's self-administered abortion with predicatble consequences.

Despite having read such bad reviews, I could 'tune into' the movie and empathise with Kate Winslet's dilemma. 50's motherhood and the frustration of being discounted as a person by a little 'not man enough' man - both sexes trapped and lying within the falsehoods of their roles, both characters trapped and lying within the 'hopeless disillutionment' of the suburban life with kids. Funnily enough, incidentally, saw an exhibition in the East End last week by this Danish artist Professor, also bemoaning the fate of married life with kids. Obviously a semi-serious motif for me right now, contemplating these things semi-seriously whilst I still have some reproductive capacity and whilst there is a semi-serious option here to follow it through. Being surrounded by colleagues - perhaps the 'average' Pom my age, who all have kids, feeling a kind of freak for not being there yet. So yes, these movies which say 'hey it's not all it's cracked up to be' present somewhat of a balance. But are they just expressing outdated views on limits of parenting. Are 'today's parents' much more liberated?.......

BEDZED tour

Visited BedZed on Wednesday - UK's largest zero-carbon village, over 100 homes. See online photo album.

Key points:

Construction:

• brick facade, 300mm internal insulated gap, concrete internal walls - large well insulated thermal mass
• uncovered painted slabs soffit for internal ceilings - electrical wiring run through chunky central conduit - looks OK, functional


• internal doors have gap around 3mm at base to allow air to circulate
• have green roofs which moderate the water run-off (and subsequent storage and re-use) according to the SUDS system (?)

Wind Cowls

• the large distinctive wind cowls on roof are there for air exchange, they provide 3x room air changes per hour and have a heat exchanger in the unit to warm to cool external air before it circulates back inside. Code L-rated
• they run on toyota (? suzuki) bearings and are relatively low-maintenance
• close-up photos - they are made using ductwork/sheet metal fabrication techniques
• it's called passive stack ventilation

Waste Water treatment

• have full on-site black water treatment. To meet regulations it is legal as long as you have your own water treatment company, so theirs is called Albion Water, and they treat it all on site using amongst others a reed-bed system - 6 large tubs - and also they are trialing another black water treatment plant fully self-sufficient - 3 year trial first in the world so still to be advised onthis.

Misc

solar panels gain enough electricity for home use plus around 40 electric cars

• overall construction cost around 16-17% higher than 'normal' house - cost overruns (?) - something abotu double piping etc so not necessarily about process


• used double-glazed Danish windows but now there are Rational Windows available in UK which do the trick

Heating

• re heating - they had a wood-chip fuelled generator (using tree pruning offcuts) but it was not permitted to run 24hrs due to noise pollution so it had to be shut at night so it tarred up and required too much maintenance so has been shut down. Most heating is solar passive.
• FYI, a dog generates around 15W of heat every hour, a cat around 10W, a person sitting around 100W and a person moving around 250W
  
  
  
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More London Snow

 
 
 
 

London Snow

Regina House, SW7 - around 25cm of snow overnight. See online photo album:

090202_London snow

Movie review: Milk

Slightly disappointing movie, could have been exacerbated by the jetlag, but I fell asleep about 30mins into this film, to awake for the last hour - OK it's a long one. Sean Penn does a BEAUTIFUL job as the gay activist Harvey Milk, presenting a hugely likeable fellow, however the plot is purely activist-driven and the film is clearly pitched as a political comment which can make for some 'ramming it down your throat' moments, rather than a generic focus which can lead to more character development. It was one-dimensional in the sense that the characters really do just seem to exist for their lobbying purpose. In fairness though the lead character gives some good guidance on how to handle conflict NICELY and winningly, so I did learn some tips from this. I recommend this movie for a gay first-date, and also if you're feeling a little winsome for the times when you felt really idealistic about making a change. Oh, and the lead character (in real life) did start becoming a lobbyist when he was 40, and did some amazing things in 8 years. Rating 6/10 for above conditional inspiration.

10 days in Hell.....or Heaven??

Photo courtesy http://www.smh.com.au (no cameras allowed) - View from the Vipassana centre - stunning views help to make it all right

Are we there yet??? Remember your longest ever car trip as a child, the time dragging through interminable queasy hours of ‘eye’spy’ games, having just counted the 186th red car. Now multiply that drag factor by 10, and you have roughly the feeling that overwhelmed me after the first few hours of meditation on Day 1. And most of Days 2, 3, 4 and 5.

Where....
The 10-day course, at the Blackheath Vipassana Centre, had been on a vague ‘challenge’ list of mine for years. Initially it was the challenge of being completely without input or escape from my own mind for 10-days. The thought of not talking didn’t bother me, but the thought of no books, music, movies, art, writing or any escapism whatsoever was incomprehensible.

However, this last Christmas, I found myself between jobs and in a place where my own head space finally felt like a rather pleasant spot to spend a stretch of time. Also for the last few months I’d noticed a rather small but obvious still point in the middle of my mind somewhere - I wanted to explore and expand on this.

Friends and friends of friends had done the course and raved, however they all mentioned they had gone there after a relationship breakup. At the Vipassana centre, as yet another sonambulistic hippy dragged their feet past me, I realised that most of them too seemed content with the ample time for reflection. As for myself, my wheels were spinning and I was ready to get on with the year, get back to london, get back to Life. I’d had it with reflection, so instead spent every spare moment outside of the daily 12-hours meditation regime, exercising, doing yoga and walking at full speed through the bush.

The Technique
Image courtesy http://2.bp.blogspot.com/

The technique is remarkably effective and simple. Derived directly from the Buddha, the fundamental Buddhist principle of impermanence and ongoing change is experienced directly through awareness and observation of bodily sensations. Being a sensory-based practice, the mind is side-stepped so that finally the here and now of the body can be experienced without judgement, and with acceptance and objectivity - ‘EQUANIMITY’.

Getting there is the challenge. The ‘monkey mind’ needs to be quieted, or as the teacher Goenka says, the mind is a wild animal that must be tamed for mutual benefit. As someone who loves wild animals and believes they should remain wild, I preferred to think of my mind as an undisciplined dog who needed to be trained. So be it. Fido was running amok, and was bought into line with 2 days of observing the breath in and out of my nostrils. Cool inhale, warm exhale. On the third day we advanced to 12 hours of observing the space directly below the nostrils and above the upper lip. I was lucky to get Fido to sit still for 10 seconds, but after repeat training he calmed down and yes, we were able to observe the little tiny hairs moving up and down for several minutes at a time. These first three days of practice are called Ananapana meditation, the concentration technique.

On Day 4 we advanced to the actual Vipassana technique. We expanded this awareness to the whole body. Proceeding in an orderly fashion from the top of the head, every twitch and itch and pins and needle was observed. Funnily enough, under observation a sneeze disappears and even the excruciating pain of sitting cross-legged on the floor dissipates, so that towards the end I could sit for almost 2 hours without moving. Day 7 we started to unify the whole body with a stream of consciousness running through it. Or if like me you still have an unruly Fido digging holes everywhere, little spurts of feeling a warm glow and slight ‘buzzy’ sensation. I discovered that my muscles do a lot of twitching. During this process all sorts of things may occur. For me, I had two really early childhood memories flash up, preceeding anything previously. In one image, I’m about 3 and at the royal parade when Princess Anne visited the Snowy Mountains in Talbingo. In the next flashback, I get a brief and vivid memory of myself as a BABY on my back throwing my legs over my head and feeling very pleased with myself.

Nature and Detail

The other strange thing with this experience was that in the absense of anything else of interest, around about Day 4 the stunning natural surroundings leapt into a sort of clarity I have not experienced before with Nature. I now understand how the Yanamamo and other indigenous people can get on such intimate terms with their environment. I paused on one of the tracks, and within 30cm3 of ground space observed a cacophony of biodiversified richness. Tiny mosses, ferns, branches, plants, insects, and a little dead beetle shell all revolved in this Dhammic wheel, it was quite a hippy moment for me.

To Sum it up.....
All in all the value of this technique for me was in acceptance and non-judgement. The fundamental Western Rationalist thought “Cogito Ergo Sum” (I think therefore I am) is re-written to something like “I feel therefore I am” - the fundamental undeniable ‘truth’ in this scheme is that your own bodily sensations are really the only truth there is. As well as being your only truth, they are also a fundamental reminder of the Dhamma, or constantly turning wheel of life - henceforth practicing this technique helps in acceptance of mortality, of change and impermanence, and all in all helps one to radiate a truly peaceful sense of wellbeing and love to all. Well that’s the theory.

It’s difficult to pronounce a verdict on this course. As a technique, it’s the best meditation technique I’ve ever encountered. As an experience, well it’s a bit like asking a parent if having a child is worth it. Of course, after all the pain and effort and time and love that has been put into it, they are going to say ‘YES’. Same with Vipassana. After 10 days of torture, of course I am bound to say ‘YES’ it was a moving event in my life. However, I will keep you posted as to whether in fact it has been useful. As I wait in yet another queue at the bank or postoffice at least I now have the facility to close my eyes, stare at the back of my eyeballs, enjoy the space, and have no expectations about just ‘being’ there. That has to be a good thing.