Meditation

Meditation Journal 5 November 2013

Posted on by Duncan Toms

am 1hr

At 5am, with the mind distracted by the thousand things of yesterday, the job related issues, the yoga class, the media I’d chosen to consume, the conversations. It’s a lot to process, at least relatively, compared to the monk’s life of the preceding ten days.

I understand better what the intense swearing is that I experienced during the course. It’s the critical mind. With so much right action taking place, doing the best I can for the most part, there is nothing or very little for it to latch onto and it is, or was, resorting to rather ridiculous outbursts in the most obscene language, at any opinion I might think, with always that hint, or much more than a hint, of criticism. 

The energy that used to make me shake sparked up again and now it is possible to halt the physical reaction without force, or just a little control or a pause, and let it occur in a new way rather than the body’s habitual seemingly-free reaction. Habitual because it had become a pattern of response and then would take over the sitting, albeit with the accompanying probably healthy releasing. So I stay still and so I do not know what will happen. Rushes of bliss from the base. Light through the head so that nothing is seen on the mind screen and nothing can be thought for those moments. Pleasure so pleasurable it’s as squirming as pain. And yet I don’t squirm, or just a little, and again the energy can move in a new way, forging new pathways in the body and connections in the brain. I am learning a new level in the importance of staying still. At this stage a lot of people would probably get into ‘freedom of expression through movement’ or something, as it seems a natural response. Maybe it has its place but I’m here to sit through. To sit through it all, no matter what.

pm 20mins

…which of course is easier said than done. Didn’t want to know this evening… headache and tired, but I did sit for 20 minutes and briefly scanned down and up. Felt much better very quickly, with delightful tingles across my scalp, still there as I write. The desire not to sit won out, and despite setting the timer for 30 minutes, I quit 10 minutes early. That’s okay – I sat.

Meditation Journal 4 November 2013

Posted on by Duncan Toms

am 1hr

Foggy at first, mind swimming from thought to thought, deep in muddy waters. Slowly, slowly I was able to bring awareness to the top of the head and begin properly, probably 10 minutes into the session. The hand waving and head shaking seems to have left, perhaps for good, and didn’t occur at all during the 10-day Goenka Vipassana retreat that finished yesterday. Scanning slowly, it took the best part of the remaining session to scan all the way down to the feet. The feet are the only part that move now, tightening and releasing as awareness travels through them. Back up through the right leg and the fire had started in the back of the thigh, a sciatica-like pain. Curiously, this pain is mixed with intense pleasure coming from the base of the pelvis, the two sensations meeting each other and blending. Encouraged by Tim Park’s experience of sitting through pain from one minute into his first sits, I stayed for the whole hour, more than I did for most ‘optional’ sittings at Dhamma Dipa. The sexual energy, appetite now fulfilled on returning home, was less wrapped in thought fantasy, and was cleaner and more natural, less manipulated.

I am happy to have found this authentic practice. As last time in the time after the retreat, I am eager to sit for tow hours a day, no matter what. We’ll see…

pm

Sort of intended to sit after yoga class but it’s too late in the evening once I’m home and ready.

 

Meditation Journal 29/30 Sep 2013

Posted on by Duncan Toms

29

It can be so damn awkward having a body. Aches, pains, tightness, nausea. To sense each and every without judgement seems to be the key. They are just as they are but the brain modifies. To practice when not looking after oneself must be so much of a nightmare – once the intelligence of the body takes over its going to get things right out of you there and then. Headaches are going to rage and… Well luckily all that is in my past and my system is pretty clean. I learnt that in my 20s, to make it easier. I can make it easier still, I know. Make the moves today, now, that make the next moves easier.

30

I wondered when the grief would come, locked down tight as it is. And when it did it was not over someone dead but over people still living, grateful, so grateful for their role in my life and sad that they mightn’t be around so much longer. Before: massive ache in the eye sockets almost up under the eyebrows. Nausea. Neck and shoulder tension. Lips. Jaws. And a following of the breath so closely as never before. I think it’s the very is-ness of the breath that allows for the is-ness of grief.

Meditation Journal 25 Sep 2013

Posted on by Duncan Toms

Awkward to begin with after uncomfortable dreams and a sickness in the body. By allowing the feelings near they released with a big squirm and tight ripple. Some time later, access to the idea that something is wrong and that I must keep moving in my mind. Proximity to this idea brought the realisation that this movement is entirely unnecessary and can cease of its own accord. Some time later, the curious shift whereby I am very very tiny and the body and even the head is so very vast. So much space and yet sort of a wall just in front. It’s happened a few times in my life, sometimes when listening to music. Some time later, no more awkwardness, sickness, concern, just the morning bird call and then the church bells ringing out at six.

Meditation Journal 23 Sep 2013

Posted on by Duncan Toms

One month until another ten day retreat, which will be the second. My aim is to sit twice a day. I’ve been meditating each day for one hour in the morning, usually lying down, which is a much more casual affair than sitting.

am 1hr

Head shaking strongly, releasing the neck. Crazy expressions of the mouth and a yawn that felt like my jaw was going to snap. Body knows better than fear. Eyes scrunched up, reaching into the tight small muscles. And me diving into all of this gently, gently, whilst the most intense sensations occur. And that delicious feeling when it happens: there is no where else I could be, nothing else I could be doing. This is the most valid thing. This is now. And then when the sensations are over I’m naturally, effortlessly meeting each thought anew, each feeling met gently and kindly. My eyes are moist and there’s a subtle smile on my lips. Hey man, now you’re really living.

pm Yoga Class

Still the sitting is helping the stretching. Some tight holding releasing week by week. Yoga class is a great gauge of this.

 

28 August 2013

Posted on by Duncan Toms

Meditation:

Get out of the way. You can’t do anything as you are the very one holding the status quo. Even when watching there can be an ever subtler pushing in a direction, towards pain, away from pain, a wanting that is hidden in the looking. Get out of the way and the scenario changes. How to get out of the way? It’s a step in a completely different direction to the directions you are used to going in. It might not even be a direction or a step at all; more like a negation into oneself. ‘Yourself’ turns inside out, back in on itself. A complete flip in another dimension altogether. Then the natural awareness is motive- and direction-free. Careless yet full of attentiveness. The ‘me’, the ‘you’ is so very overrated. The ‘me’ we think is helping is not helping very much at all. Going beyond is not to where we think it is. The beyond is so very close by, but you can’t see it or go there in your current form. Wrong vessel, wrong map. Abandon ship.

20 and 21 August 2013

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In meditation

20th

Body wracked with tension as if held in the very cells and bones. Nausea. Dizziness. Meeting each sensation as an equal, and despite the intensity, seeing if it is possible not to hate or fight it, even the worse things. Seemingly entering into the heart of things, via the body. The mind reacting to the body, choosing action based on feeling. Is it possible to uncover and meet everything head on and so learn?

21st

The way to peace is through the trouble. When there’s no avoiding it any longer, it becomes you, and then the trouble changes into something else entirely, is understood without an understander and is over. And one finds oneself in a new state, on ground beyond where one stood minutes before. Yet minutes have lost their meaning and so has standing. All is new and peaceful and waves of joy wash residues away. And then from a direction unseen and unknown, another energy comes, further transforming and establishing an order unplanned. None of this involves will or effort. Resting in peace is not for the dead. 

 

 

18 Aug 2013

Posted on by Duncan Toms

New routine:

Up 05:50-0600. Wash.

Meditation 06:10-07:10

Walk 07:30-08:30

Work by 09:00

Lunch 13:00-15:00

Work 15:00-18:00

Yoga 18:15-19:15

This worked really nicely for me today. The main change in the above is switching yoga from morning to evening. After my neck injury last week, I realised that it is safer to stretch later in the day. And I enjoyed the walk before work, energising me for the morning after lying down for one song. Total time to myself, without any spiritual discipline, just me and the world waking up, with the rhythm of walking.

Meditation. Yesterday:

Learning to back off and observe more cleanly. Notice the steering and controlling and naturally step away, yet still entirely aware of what’s happening. As learning takes place, a different quality washes over the brain, one of space, freedom and often blissful energy. But not fantasy – this is very real, as real as all the gritty struggles and torments one is used to.

Today:

Unsteady foundations, like the floor of Bath Abbey built on thousands of graves. In sitting still, there can’t help but be an exposure of this wobbliness, and in the awareness of it, it dissipates. On going back to the breath each time, an intermediate stage was discovered. One of rejection or criticism. ‘I don’t want to think about that,’ therefore: back to the breath. This isn’t right practice. Yet right practice exposes this wrong practice. Then, once things are smoother and steadier, move to the body. This took ages to move very far. As soon as attention moved to sensations around the head, more unstableness was apparent. Then a thought loop, then back to the sensation, instability gone, until on a new area. By moving slowly, eventually I got to the injury recovered neck. So tight! Before the time was over, I’d skimmed down the arms but by this time I was wondering about the US Open and Federer’s form. Could sleep and sleep after but going for a walk.

Only on the way back I started to notice them. Slugs. Every one or two meters a couple more, most of them were the little white ones. The road was damp after the night’s rain so probably they would be able to get across without dehydrating. I rescued one or two of them with small sticks and put them in the grass. And yet there were too many of them to save them all. It was very warm in the direct sunshine, at 8 a.m., a quiet Sunday morning except for the main road, cars firing along, Red Bull cans along the verges. I picked a couple of them up that had been left in the lane. The walk today, down past the old farm shop, past the cottage with the Aston Martin along Riversdown Road (a lane), then across the A272 towards Woodlands. In the half hour out I almost got as far as the old school. A kind of steamy air, and slightly misty along the straight road at Brockwood Bottom, the sun rays coming through the trees and the mist. Glad to be out, and be able to be out, before work. Stepping on acorns and hazelnuts, crunching satisfactorily underfoot, kicking fallen sticks off of the road, dead wood fallen during quite a stormy night, the wind up. This morning, much stiller and the summer drawing to an end.

Worked on organising Spanish translated books all day. The architect of the Krishnamurti Centre, Keith Critchlow, gave a tour of the building to guests and visitors. I joined the group for a while. He said that Krishnamurti said that if he were a visitor, he would sit in the quiet library and listen to the sounds of the fountain in the courtyard. Thanks to donations, the fountain will soon be restored after years of not working.

Evening yoga, the first since the injury. Was able to do a short headstand without a problem, and otherwise going steady and gently. Pauses between poses, rushes of energy making me yawn and sometimes scrunch my face up. At one point my arm shook like in meditation.

A clear, aware, grounded day, once the foundations had been set early on.

11 Aug 2013

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Dreams: Crippled. A snivelling wreck in a damp corner, spine arched, alone, neglected, no one near. But I’ve seen him, me, caught a glimpse at least. First contact. Then… Van not starting. Others I’m with go on, leaving me, again, alone and also taking the girl I like, who just felt caring pity towards me. No one wants caring pity. On my own, trying, trying, trying to make the van start. Even pretending it does to those who ask when passing by.

Meditating after a deep dream allows the meditation to go deeper, as long as you are not too spooked and are willing to explore it in a relaxed, attentive way. The dreaming has already uncovered a lot for you.

An injured day. Neck much worse on waking and I’m unable to sit upright for meditation and breakfast and therefore work. So I spent the day propped up on pillows, finishing the yoga book, answering some work emails, watching a few things and browsing about. Saw some pictures of Marilyn Monroe doing yoga. I hadn’t realised.

Probably thinking of my neck, but it’s not good to turn to smile at the camera with one’s neck in these positions.

After some athletics this evening – Bolt does it again at the World Championships – wacthed Kirsty the property lady’s show about making furniture from free stuff. I remember something similar in the early Channel 4 days, when I first saw car seats being used in the home. The table from scaffold planks was ruggedly appealing. 

Here’s hoping the neck is freed up and painless tomorrow…

10 Aug 2013

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Woke at seven after going to sleep just after eleven.

Deep dreams these nights. Scenarios that last and last. I can’t leave them, even if I want to, and last nights was a continual getting ready to leave a hotel-like place, or maybe a hall of residence. But I was too drunk. Or disorganised. Long time periods would pass and I’d done nothing at all to prepare.

Sitting this morning was uneventful. Some unsettledness was close by, so I moved towards it, yet most of the time all was lost in little thought stories. However, a sense of deepening stillness behind the thinking bubbles. Sat in half lotus some of the time but soon got pins and needles so back to both feet on the ground, one leg slightly in front of the other, so that neither leg weighs on the other.

A simple yoga sequence today after the long review of poses yesterday. Shoulder stand, plough, forward bend. Repeat. Sit quietly. And that’s it. Some nervy sensations back of the neck. The flaw in today’s routine – straight into the shoulder stand with no warm ups. I should know that this isn’t a good idea, especially with my prone to be stiff neck, so suffering all day from very stiff trapezius both sides. 

Then an open day with absolutely no plans. Put together the walk video from yesterday:

A nap before lunch. A shortish walk with C in the afternoon, laughing together at many things. Otherwise, listening to music, and looking at suggestions from this Reddit post: What’s the one song you’d recommend for someone to listen to to get into your music genre? Most interesting for me was the chill wave, underground jazz hip hop and the chillstep. Watched some elephants on the telly. Incredible creatures! To bed early to continue reading the 60s yoga book.

9 Aug 2013

Posted on by Duncan Toms

Woke at seven, after sleeping at eleven.

A good, satisfying meditation. Soon came the feelings of bliss, and a sense of light. Before long, there was that nagging feeling of looking in the wrong place or of neglecting something, so then I looked in that direction instead of the usual fritting about in thought, and there it was, the raw emotion of fear. So now that got bathed in the light of the mind emptied. What is the point of an empty mind and bliss when there is something left out? No, meditation has to include it all. It’s a total thing, or as total as it can be at any sitting, given that there are blind spots and deeper neglects waiting to be felt, addressed, acknowledged, listened to, unfolded, bathed. And then they are no longer what they were, what I thought they were, once met fully. So, to follow the nagging . It’s there waiting to be followed and soon, on the following of the gritty areas, even more ecstasy arises as the conflict dissolves. There’s the feeling, then the unfolding, bathing, and then passing beyond to newness and change.

Once I felt no more fear, I moved down into the body, as that has to be included too. I got as far as the stiff neck before the hour was up. What’s the good of a clear mind and heart if the body is still riddled? Again, include it all. No short cuts or fooling oneself.

I’m left with a curious longing in my heart. I’m following its lead as I begin today’s yoga.

Stopping in between postures is so important. This is when the energy of the posture can go to work on the system. I stop still for a minute and let everything settle down again , and for whatever has arisen to go where it wants to go. A strange pulsing at the base of the spine, rhythmical and pleasurable. Eyes fluttering. A little daydream. Pause. Then on to the next pose, steady and attentive.

I’m more and more interested in doing what is real and not what other people are concerning themselves a with. Not that what they are doing isn’t real, but my concern with their actions or opinions is immaterial and fading. Not to be self obsessed but our own selves are the important thing, how we are spending our on time an what’s going on within us. It’s easy to spend a lot of time concerned about others. No one needs your concern, even if they crave your attention.

At 11, out for a walk on the South Downs, continuing along the Allan King’s Way, the second to last stage. I parked up on Gander Down, where I got to last time, and hiked over the rolling countryside and down to Tichborne. From there it was a short hop over the A31 and further downhill to Ovington. Old cottages on the lane down to the river and the Bush Inn, in high contrast to lorry drivers shitting in the woods just above. A quick lunch in the shady garden then along the valley a bit on Lovington Lane, and left the King’s Way to head back to the Downs. The normally peaceful countryside now with bass on the breeze. The Boomtown Fair at Mattersley Bowl. After some shade on winding paths through woods, and back over the A31, my route took me into the car park. I had no idea it would. So there I was, hiking into the festival grounds. I explained to the security why I had no wrist band and where I wanted to go. It was like walking alongside some sort of prison. A trench had been dug outside of a high, green fence. A woman sat on guard high on a corner watch tower. Ska music early afternoon. The party one day in. Later, along the South Downs Way again, I met a few walking to the site. They had a ladder for the fence. Join us, they said. I forgot to tell them about the guard tower so I don’t expect they got in. Their van was parked near my car, scribbled graffiti and twitter accounts all over it.

A sleep back at home, then good to lounge about after the walking. Snippets of TV. Tyre walls on Grand Designs. An elephant mourning the loss of its friend. The brother in Little Miss Sunshine not speaking ‘because of Nietzsche’.  Uploaded this from our Swedish holiday last month:

Came back from a night in London with a foot detoxification bath thing. I’ve no idea what it’s about but I stuck my feet in for half an hour. The water stunk! It felt nice around my toes, like bicarb of soda. Even if nothing else happened, my feet felt really clean and light afterwards.

8 Aug 2013

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Woke naturally just after 6.

I’ve been sitting consistently each morning, just haven’t been writing about it. It’s not easy to do, this waking up, feeling however you’re feeling, and instead of getting busy doing the day, just… ceasing. On the cushion. You and your stuff and your relation to it. The relation is the key. Or maybe the ‘you’. And the return of ‘yesterday’. There’s yesterday to remind you of things that perhaps you don’t want to be reminded of. Residues. Fifteen thousand yesterdays, maybe. There it is. And yesterday isn’t only in the mind, but riddled throughout the body. The past, held. And here you are, with the day ahead, the past inside, the breath happening right now yet affected by ‘later’ and ‘earlier’, the breath a link between mind and body. There’s still some shaking taking place, particularly the right arm, the over-busy right arm. And the neck. And sometimes the shaking overtakes everything until the whole upper body is a wobble. This is when the slight nausea comes and when all control ceases.

I’ve been redoing the Hittleman 28 day course to reboot my yoga practice. Straight after sitting, I’m focused and calmer, able to dive into the various stretches, pleasant to move after the stillness. It’s a very good, progressive course, varied in its asanas, without the obsession with standing poses of Iyengar, and absolutely no trace of yoga flow or vinyasasa styles. This is 1960s yoga. It ties in well with the book I’m reading: Yoga, Youth and Reincarnation, again from the 60s, before yoga became a big thing. The same results are mentioned and experienced from so many unrelated sources of so many eras. Unrelated practitioners and teachers, but common health-giving properties. I’m feeling fit and well and strong on it.

Much later on the local news: “Tomorrow, we’ll be looking at how yoga is helping former servicemen.”

When walking to the school, skirting around the podgy pigeons so they don’t have to fly away. Two meters is the limit. No sudden moves. Two young ones, looking slim like doves.

A young bunny having a good scratch behind the ears. My last day of looking after the chickens. Yesterday a hen died. Old age. Only three left now after the original 20. The cocky cock tried to sneak up on me from under the coop. But I had my stick and I saw his tactic. I held the stick out in front of me and he’s so charged that he’ll jump at it, trying to attack with his sharp spurs. When that failed, he started making some strange clucky sounds and then he took it out a bit on the mother duck. She shouted at him and then he went off looking for the other cockerel, the punky one, to pick on at the other end of the orchard. Any time a chicken feeds, the ducklings scurry over to pick up any pellets spilled from the chickens pecking at the feeder. It’s the mother’s second brood this year.

On a break, feeding the fish in the courtyard pond. The orange fish’s colour is fading on the head and underside. It happened while I was away a week and the weather got very hot. I read that changes in water quality can do it, or just old age. They feed more tamely now but still do the sudden darting away to avoid being eaten, I guess, swirling the food flakes behind them. No sign of the newts. How do newts get in a pond surrounded on all sides by a building?

Read online: “For every one human killed by a shark, there are approximately 25 million sharks killed by humans.”

An hour’s walk late afternoon,  over to Bramdean and back – along the ridge then dropping down to The Fox, armed with my bramble beating spear of a walking stick. Sunny, low 20s.

Steve Tyler on Top Gear. Hard to take my eyes of his face. What is it with this rock & roll long hair, shaman, things-in-hair look? Much of a cliche. Clarkson generally looking old and ill especially when pulling his daft faces. Last feature, James & Jeremy ‘reviewing’ caravan cars, those jacked up versions of regular cars. May called one “The Nisan Kumquat”. They joke that they are all the same. Clarkson: “James is in the wrong car.” He was. James: “Cock!” The Mazda perfectly happy to crash into a VW but not a hedge or legs, apparently a selective crash detector. Caravan racing: The Stig towing a suddenly one-wheeled caravan, sparks flying. Then some off road caravanning. May: “I’ve run over your left wall and your portable lavatory.” Then: “I was laughing so much I crashed into myself.” 

Meditation Journal Late June 2013

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June 19

The beeps of the watch alarm seemed to be slowed down, half their usual rate, as I woke. A wash in the bath then straight to the cushion. Catch-up time: unfinished tasks at work, untidy ends to thoughts, ideas and conversations. Then at the end of each cycle of thought, the rush of energy of a more empty state, like the warm draft rushing ahead in the tube. Then in the more subtle elements of thought, how is thought modifying each feeling, each sensation? How is it being added to or manipulated? Later still, the body having the freedom to act, from quieter states of mind, a release through the arm, it taking on a life of it’s own in shaking, stretching, tensing beyond tension, then quiet again, animation over. Then a rocking through the head and neck. Hands extending past a normal extension. Jaws locked out in new forms, and a deep deep ache where a wisdom tooth is still, after all these years, causing the gum to adjust a bit painfully. An hour passes in minutes, and it’s quite a long way back to a normal state, after the watch beeping a reminder. The breath fast, steady, powerful, hands now in front of the heart and slowly, slowly the breath returning. Stillness of mind resumes before getting up.

June 20

Really didn’t want to do it. Let’s wait until after the weekend, why not, please? Start a new week afresh then, why not? I’m not feeling my best, so best to leave it for now. It’s already a bit late, better not start now. Etc. I’d rather go back to bed with the laptop and while away some time. Please, let’s not go there today. But I went there. I sat down. Within minutes, feelings of peace, that somehow it’s all right. Not to say all is all right within, and yet it is in a sense. In the sense that it is what it is. A cliche, but it means something in the inner world. Acceptance? What is, is. What’s to be done? Nothing really. Watch, listen, see, allow, wait – and yet none of these really: awareness is beyond them all. the mind catches up with the unfinished thoughts of yesterday. Can yesterday finish, be over? Starting new days with left overs. And then peace comes in through a door I can’t see, and washes over the scene. And later, intensity to the point where there is nothing I can do about it. Behind the eyes. Vision behind closed lids a squeezed kaleidoscope, white light all there is in the intensity beyond pain.

June 23

A light slowly filling the headspace. At the intersection of thought, dreams and this light, an operation takes place. I felt a cleaning device of some sort reaching up almost behind the brain, getting into areas untouched in decades. The light can pervade all areas. I’ve felt similar feelings like being operated upon many times over the years. Sometimes there’s an inner-audible click as something shifts, other times a dissolving, either at a large scale that leaves no thought behind, or at a micro scale where there’s a dissolution of a tiny hook or hang up. Cycles of thinking, dreaming, light, ending, then a new space is created.

June 24

I am an escape artist. Perhaps the very ‘me’ is a mechanism of escape. When it comes right down to it, after feeling the way in, towards that which I seek to avoid, there seems to be no difference between me and the thing to avoid. In that non-difference there is great freedom, although for the time being at least it is very uncomfortable physically. But even in the discomfort there is a freshness and vitality and the feeling that there is absolutely nothing else than this, that this is all there is right now and all the wantings and hopings and directions and aims are meaningless. The clue is there, calling, calling. Listen. It’s been calling you for years, decades: over here, over here – yet we think we know better, a better direction, based on ignoring, ignorance of the calling out. The calling out is suffering, pain, that we are taught to avoid at all costs, or maybe just dabble in its shallows like the creatives have. Go deep. Go gently, go very lightly but go there. Where else?

June 25

Excruciating in the face, deep into the cheeks, eye sockets, gums. Also in the neck and arms, a deep ache such that I just don’t know what will happen as it builds as I go closer, closer, until I don’t know if I am it or it is me, or if any such division is valid. And yet as attention moves throughout, this new learning has to be relearnt, as strong sensation pulses from a forgotten part of my body. Breathing hard, out of control.

June 26

All questions of the mind, big or small, pale into insignificance in the face of the fact of suffering, and vanish entirely in the light.

Journal 11 June 2013

Posted on by Duncan Toms

Immediately on waking, before even getting up, mediated for an hour, following the breath. Some time in, a voice: “why are you trying to get rid of me?” For a long time I thought it necessary to be rid of the self somehow, and of course this set up a subtle or not ‘me vs it’ approach. Having seen the folly of this years ago there is nether the less some kind of continuance of this war (and it is a war) inside, and today the accused was at least able to meekly appeal to an end to this.

Later in the meditation, breath getting shallower, tighter, I was back on the shaded end of the beach, which is now more like a cave in my memory, and I’m circling and looking at the dead body, the distorted face, the too pale skin, the rotted mouth, congealed blood. I’m reacting with terror and aversion, and yet I’m still casually circling and looking, still not quite understanding why she’s so tiny. The scenario soon passed and thoughts returned along the lines of: what happened to her after she was last seen? What did she do for two days before parking her car at the camp site? Was she alone all that time? Was anyone else involved? Where did she jump off the cliff? Why did she feel the need to do that, if she did it herself? And to the police: Why did they not take a statement from me? Why were you so off-hand or short with me? Angry at that. It would have only taken a minute or two for one of them to stay behind with me a little, while the other two went off along the beach.

And then the hour was over, seemingly a quarter of that time, and it was time for the activity of the day to begin. (Work, rest, visit C)

Journal 4 June 2013

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Woke at 0545 thinking it must be near 8.

I awoke from dreams of work issues, not having enough information or information changing and a decision nethertheless is needed.

How I am reacting on waking will become my day.

Sitting still for some time allows it to be different.

Then the day can proceed from there, rather from the slightly panicky feeling on waking as thought catches hold of the past or the imagined future.

Plenty of time for sitting quietly and for a quick run through of the structural integrity exercises, after a lap bath.

Bright sunshiny morning.

Where it happens:

Meditation corner

Cessation of steering means that which was being avoided, by habit really, comes to the fore.

What is it?

Some nausea, an internal giddiness.

Strong sensation of the front of my face, a barrier between the world and me.

Poor face, that’s not what it’s for.

Then it began undoing in a series of odd expressions and tension release.

Look at people’s faces.

How we are inside is right there for the world to see.

The masking doesn’t quite work.

At work, going through the weekly-published memoirs of Mary Zimbalist, Krishnamurti’s assistant, adding to our database relevant information about Krishnamurti talks. Beyond this it’s a travelogue, basically, with hints as to his extraordinary nature.

Lunch in the sun again, with a Korean student who adores Samsung. “Best company in the world!” We ate rice and tofu burgers. Walk after lunch to Brockwood Bottom.

Which looks like this:

Brockwood Bottom

And is really as far as you can go before Brockwood is no longer Brockwood but Joan’s Acre or Riversdown.

Drowsy in the afternoon.

Baked potatoes for supper.

Then to C’s in Alresford for the night.

Finished The Reluctant Yogi which was more factual and less anecdotal than I’d hoped.

Journal 3 June 2013

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The day is winding down, the sun setting soon. It’s just an illusion caused by the world spinning round.

Dreamt I took out anger by knocking down the outer bricks of a strong wall, blow after blow after blow with the sides of my fists. It didn’t hurt. Not sure anything was different afterwards but it felt good, satisfying. In dreamland.

Got up at 0530 and sat. The mind unsettled, darting here and there. Fizzy. Like it’s over stimulated from yesterday’s event. Very soon, right wrist shaking, then intense shaking of head and the torso twisting left and right, faster faster to some kind of climax, then slowed right down. By the end of 45 mins, the mind was much quieter. Some fatigue by the end of it and I laid down a while, feeling the tired areas where the refreshment of sleep hadn’t touched.

Listened to a bit of music while getting ready for work, including the postman in the sand song, here turned into a surf video:

At work, the reorganisation of the vault continued, with the help of an ex student who was volunteering in the foundation this morning.

Lunch in the sun with a staff member who is leaving this summer, another yogi.

Then a walk. Bluebells fading out, their leaves flopped to the earth, superseded by the ancient and mighty ferns. Then when the view opened out, the yellow on yellow of rape in full flower, behind liquorice beech trees.

Why is ‘liquorice’ liquor and ice?

Surprise visit from C who popped in after dropping a birthday gift off for a friend. Some hugs and smiles before post lunch post walk napping.

Talking of smiles, a friend finished her video project. People of 37 countries, young and old, smiling. That’s it. As she puts it:

Everyone can be a small stepping stone towards a place of compassion and kindness

I’m at 4:21, in a bobble hat, palms together. Many friends are in it, including Doug looking outstandingly hippyish at 1:21. With a goat on his lap why not. I smiled throughout. It’s contagious.

Carrying On A Smile from Carrying On A Smile on Vimeo.

My laptop screen says ‘Godammit’ under the big ‘SMILE’ but don’t tell anyone.

In the evening: Iyangar Yoga class with Sandy Bell in Compton. It’s a really good class with about 10 of us, who have been stretching together for some years for the most part. Lots of arm, shoulder, wrist releases today, along with the usual forward bend emphasis, which is my tightest direction but I appreciate it. I touch places deep inside during Iyengar yoga. I call it yoga with no cheating. With alignment everything stretches in the way it should, safely yet extensively, and maybe you don’t get so far in the pose but it’s done right.

The drive on the way back from yoga is always special, totally there with the car, the road, the music. Today with the sun through the trees as I climbed from the Itchen up onto the open downs, taking the racing line through the bends.

There it is, the sun now set and I’m soon into bed.

Journal 2 June 2013

Posted on by Duncan Toms

Woke up at 4, just as the birds began to sing.

Cleaned teeth at the open window, fresh air.

Sat on my little stool.

Watched the breath.

Watched how I controlled the breath.

Let that go.

Stillness soon came.

Travelled around the body, sensation, sensation.

Travelled some more until the organism had its own intelligence.

And it let loose.

No method or technique remained.

Awareness and action.

An hour was soon over.

Then Structural Integrity mobility drills and exercises.

Balancing out the muscle groups.

That took over an hour.

Back to bed for an hour and a half.

The best dreams.

The ones that undo and liberate as they unfold.

I was running, slow mo.

Only very lightly touching the ground.

In doing so, flying higher with each bound, I was no longer able to see.

Bounced into some ropes and rebounded back.

But all was well in my slow motion.

And on landing securely I could see again.

Back up; sun salutations.

Fried rye bread breakfast, with St Dalfour spread.

To work after saying goodbye to my partner and best friend after a long weekend.

The lowdown on the recent trustee meetings.

Excitement in the air for the opening of the school pavilions.

Email catchup. Postcards to family from our camping weekend.

Finding photos for a trustee to gift to a donor:

Krishnamurti smiling in the grass.

Fed the fish on a sunny break, chatting with a friend.

Lunch: risotto rice of two varieties, asparagus, diced roast spuds.

After lunch a short nap.

Then the opening ceremony.

Met on the south lawn, mingling and photographing.

Here’s the project manager looking at stages of the build:

Pavillions Opening 01

The oak beams still very visible in the almost-finished buildings.

Walked over en masse to the site.

Songs, speeches, ribbon cut, naming ceremony, high teas, tree planting, chats.

Took many photos for Friends of Brockwood.

Here’s one:

Pavillions Opening 35

All the pavilions are named after trees at Brockwood.

Afterwards, supper of potatoes and rye bread.

French Open, the last last set of the Federer match against a plucky local.

Cut my own hair with clippers.

Wrote this.

Aim to sleep by 10.

Meditation Journal 6 May 2013

Posted on by Duncan Toms

A total action, a total seeing, an action whole, that has no residue. An action that has after effects of only the possibility of more right action. At some point, due to habit loops, I suppose, the non-total actions resume and thought takes over the game of time, with its memories and projections, fantasies and concerns. And yet in the quiet of sitting, the whole actions can return at any point, from a direction not expected, familiar yet new new new. In these moments there’s an absence of feeling that I should be doing something else, that something else is more important. In these moments there is no where else to be, nothing else to be doing, nothing more valuable or more beneficial than here and now, when I am not, but only awareness is. This is not a state or something to get to, and it’s closer by than I ever imagined.  

Meditation Journal 5 May 2013

Posted on by Duncan Toms

May 5

That thing being avoided, it’s not what I think it is. From a distance it warns me of all kinds of things as to its nature. It’s fronting. Go near with a tender heart and caring attitude and it will start to change. It might get worse in it’s extreme behaviour and intensity, but stay with it, in affectionate yet skeptical awareness, and that intensity can’t last long. The games and the fornting are soon revealed for what they are: layers of protection. Thought wrapped around emotion, round and round. Curiosity allows the connection to continue, the soft listening. The breath may go wild, panting, shallow, fast and ragged. Stay there, without force or expectation. The body may react in shaking, exquisite tensions, all sorts of things, but that’s part of the game: it’s all good. Ultimately, I discover I am it, or I am doing it. For me at least, this inquiry needs quietude, some time doing nothing, sitting still, time to breathe, to listen, to connect, to allow things to change as my reactions change, to see the subtler doings, where my approach is refined and the right awareness is forged in the fire of attention.

Meditation Journal 2 May 2013

Posted on by Duncan Toms

Vipassana Meditation May 2

Waking up early now, naturally at 5-something or 6-something, with the birds and the sun. To the stool or cushion I go. Trepedacious but welcoming the chance to… what… make friends with myself. It sounds corny as hell, but how can one be comfortable with life, and allow change, if one is antagonistic within?

Usually the first twenty minutes are breathing and allowing thought to catch up with things it wants to think about. There’s not much I can do about that. I’m not big on the whole ‘bring the awareness back to the breath’ stuff. Thoughts processing, clearing up a few things, running back and forward. Then the emotional side shows up, and this needs a slightly different kind of attention, the mind naturally quieting. A kind attention. An embrace. And then later, the deep sensations of the body begin to express. Today deep into the eye areas, and the gums and teeth. A different attention again, one of the body, with a steady, unjudging gaze of the mind, overseeing operations but without taking control.

This is becoming good fun, and very very good for me. So much so that I even want to continue come evening time for another hour.