Religious Objectivity!

" All the different religious faiths, despite their philosophical differences, have a similar objective. Every religion emphasizes human improvement, love, respect for others, sharing other people's suffering. On these lines every religion has more or less the same viewpoint and the same goal. "

- His Holiness the Dalai Lama

What's Up Me Old China?

The shocking news has been revealed that the great ceramic glass conglomerate Wedgewood Waterford, also makers of Royal Doulton, is under the hands of receivers. Apparently around 2,700 jobs are risk if the whole box and dice goes under, but
"Politicians on both sides of the Irish Sea warned that the collapse of the company had severe implications for communities where china and glass have been manufactured for generations. The mayor of Waterford said it would be a "national disaster" for Ireland if production at the crystal factory ceased."
These Iconic brands and the centuries of fine artisanship can't be lost in a pile of debts and cheap glassware from the developing world can they?

Old Josiah Wedgewood (pictured) started knocking out pottery in 1759 and Waterford crystal kicked off in 1783, such history predates moments in time like The French Revolution, The First Irish Rebellion and the invasion of Australia by the British Fleet which not surprisingly was carrying Irish Rebels and other poor, wretched refuse they couldn't send to America since they got kicked out in the War of Independance, somewhere in there as well was the creation of the first batch of Guinness Ale, that surely ranks as one of THE defining points in the 18th century, actually some historians would tell you that in fact the Irish Rebellion was a Guinness fuelled pub fight that got a bit serious, hey don't quote me but Donnybrook is a suburb of Dublin, so the English Lords should have expected a fight one day.

Anyway, I didn't establish a great connection to Wedgewood until I met my wife, who "embraced the temporary madness" (her words), when she started buying Wedgewood dinner sets and canteens of cutlery (yes they make them as well) and I really got a taste of the finer things in life or at least I got what good plates and knives were all about.
Another memory from my childhood was my Nanna's collection of Royal Doulton figurines and her particular love of the Persian poet Omar Khayyam, who looked really profound sitting around as a 6-inch porcelain.

What might he have said about this great modern tragedy, perhaps something like,
"For in the Market-place, one Dusk of Day,
I watch'd the Potter thumping his wet Clay,
And with its all obliterated Tongue
It murmur'd, Gently, Brother, gently, pray!'

The Yanks have just pitched a Waterford Crystal ball — 12 feet in diameter, weighing nearly 12,000 pounds, and covered with 2,668 Waterford Crystal triangles, in Times Square, surely they couldn't let such an institution as this fall prey to market conditions that they themselves created, oh no, Omar forbid!

So stand by, and picture this, production of quality china going back to the Chinese ... who'd have thought that possible after the Opium Wars, not this student of history, but then "Top Gun" Tom has just released another woeful Nazi biopic, so anything is possible in this current climate.

SOS - the technology has me!

During another morning spent on the lounge watching cricket and cruising the net I stumbled upon the critical theory of 20th Century French social critic Jacques Ellul, who looks suspiciously like an ex-cricketer from Yorkshire in his photo.
I was getting swamped by the advertising for a new McCrap product on the telly featuring two young chaps exchanging disinterested glances and calling each other "dude", which given my love of the film The Big Lebowski I am not averse to, but incessant promotion of said generic product really got to me until Jacques jumped off the screen and explained a few things to me.

In arguing that advertising is a form of propaganda that is created to dull the senses of the individual and excite their need for living a collective ideal through some form of communion with technology, he says in his book The Technological Society, written in 1964, that;
"It is the emergence of mass media which makes possible the use of propaganda techniques on a societal scale. The orchestration of press, radio and television to create a continuous, lasting and total environment renders the influence of propaganda virtually unnoticed, precisely because it creates a constant environment. Mass media provides the link between the individual and the demands of the technological society."
As if he had somehow been subjected to Euro McCrap ads back in '64 penetrating my consciousness he goes on to say that,
"The primary purpose of advertising technique is the creation of a certain way of life. And here it is much less important to convince the individual rationally than to implant in him a certain conception of life. The object offered for sale by the advertiser is naturally indispensable to the realization of this way of life. Now, objects advertised are all the result of the same technical progress and are all of identical type from a cultural point of view. Therefore, advertisements seeking to prove that these objects are indispensable refer to the same conception of the world, man, progress, ideals - in short, life."
Touche my fine French friend!

I was taken back to a moment in time where I attacked a life-size Ronald on the Khao San Road in Bangkok for precisely the motives that Jacques details, though he was inanimate and obviously couldn't defend the honour of corporate greed machines like his employers, I none-the-less took great pleasure in working him over a bit with the help of a few locals.

The technology may have caught up with me but the likes of McCrap will never find me!

My mate Jack concludes with a precious piece of advice . . . "the human race is beginning confusedly to understand at last that it is living in a new and unfamiliar universe." Take it on home comrade!

World Series Ghats and Other Cricket Moments

Had some flashbacks today while indulging that great summer past-time of watching cricket, passed out on the lounge with the fan on full tilt. I remembered some cricket I played on my first trip to India 9 years ago and how it changed my view of the Indian people and the way I interacted with them, as a cricket playing Aussie, and it introduced me to the profound colonising affect of the game in the former British Empire. Mind you there was plenty of fun and laughs and some quite surreal moments where the game raised itself to the status of a universal language where words became obsolete.

Varanasi
"Got a good game of cricket today, mini-test between me and 11 Indians out for blood after being thrashed by the Aussies back home, I have christened it “World Series Cricket Ghats”. I even got the honour of bowling to a local hero who bats in the middle for Varanasi, he carted me but I have been cordially invited to attend a match at main ghat tomorrow where I’m sure my bowling will take some stick and every ball I face will be a throat ball, bring it on, who needs a head anyway."

McCleod Ganj
"Went up the mountain for a walk and ended up hooking up with a bunch of Tibetan kids playing cricket. My most enjoyable cricketing experience so far, they really could play some, another example of the colonising effect of cricket. Possibly the highest game of cricket in the world and then it started to snow, potentially the first time this has happened. Too bizarre and thoroughly invigorating."

Calcutta
"The co-existence of Indian people and cricket is incredible, if the people speak a second language it is not English, it is cricket.
Most asked question, 'Where are you from, sir' … “Australia”
Most common reply, 'Oh, Mark Waugh, Steve Waugh, Shane Warne' blah blah blah”

Ramon - up on the border with Nepal
St Patricks Day high in the Himalaya drinking the local brew of fermented barley, " we settle back to watch the cricket on telly , it is an enthralling game with lots of action, a tight finish, which, as the cliché goes is “a good advertisement for the game”, but as if to make a mockery of this outcome the following program is a typical Indian attempt at encouraging serious life preserving, intellectual, thought-provoking analysis of the game of cricket. Kris Shrikanth and Jimmy Armanath, former greats of the game, front a program called “Straight Drive”, the show should be called “Hooked over the fence and caught out”, for its pitiful attempt to encourage public participation in analysis of the game, a bunch of disinterested and uninteresting , all-male, cricket fans who hardly get a word in edge-wise for the incessant rantings of Srikkanth and Armanath, who constantly switches between English and Hindi, as if this gives credibility to certain comments over others. The comical aspect of this program, apart from all the other farcical elements, is the ruminations and pseudo-incisive of a band of mid-range aficionados of the game, all live via satellite from the major Indian cities , a coach in Mumbai who misses the point of the questions and seems like he is talking in an echo chamber, two figures of anonymity in Madras who take an eternity to answer questions (as if imposing their own time delay) and are loath to look at the lens of the camera and finally an ex-state player in Calcutta who is afflicted by both a bad audio link and his preponderance toward waffling on with his own views which seems to incite contempt from the hosts. This show is not only unnecessary, it is pure and typical Indian nonsense, a show for a shows sake, but strangely it is entertaining for all its ridiculousness, but give it the flick anyway for showing wanton disregard for the civility of cricket."

What do I add to that analysis, I guess I'd still agree that cricket is a good waste of time presided over by ex-players trying to talk up the games importance in the scheme of things.

The Difference Between Gazza & Gaza!

I've been following the situation in the Gaza Strip and lamenting the ability of either side to find a resolution to the their ongoing conflict.
I've also been browsing the perverse world of English Football where no news is bad news and so talk has turned again to former English player Paul "Gazza" Gascoigne who has admitted, not for the first time, that if he doesn't quit the bottle this time his life could be over.
Just what is the difference between Gazza and Gaza?
Well one is an over-inflated ego and wasted talent whose life has drifted out of control and become a source of great tragedy in the media, while Gaza is an ongoing conflict between two ideologically opposed groups of people who continue to waste the opportunity for peace because of their sheer bloody-mindedness and the egos of the leaders who continue to perpetrate one of the great ongoing tragedies, because like a recovering alcoholic they just keep "falling off the wagon".
Both have the ability to solve their issues but it seems their view is clouded by the habit of a lifetime, the "demon drink" in the case of Gazza and "murderous intent" in the case of Gaza.
I guess the media is responsible for the proliferation of such habits because they put these situations under the microscope for the sake of making news without serious consideration of the lives the impact on with their coverage of "Save Gazza" and "Save Gaza".
The media stooped so low recently as to quote Gazza's 12-year-old son Regan, in a television documentary called Saving Gazza , as saying that he thought his father would "die soon" and wished he would "go away" from the family.
"I don't think there's any point in helping him... I feel bad and sorry for him because he's in this kind of state but it's not our fault," the youngster said.
As Israel invades The Gaza Strip to possibly annihilate Hamas and the mostly non-violent and innocent Palestinian people, it is those people who are doing the most to let the truth be told on the ongoing situation, as one blogger wrote, "Whats sad is that we used to talk about the Arab failure, now we are talking about the Arab betrayal! The Arab countries are actually supporting Israel this time, and by the Arab countries I mean the governments not the people. Only if we would actually cooperate we can do so much, but our leaders are greedy and they will do anything to stay in power."
How is it that the muscles of the UN Security Council cannot be flexed to bring an end to the situation.
The press continues to report how Israel Bombs and provides Humanitarian Aid in equal measure.
What next, Gazza doing ads for lager and going on a bender in support of Alcoholics Anonymous!

Be Aware!

" To be aware of a single shortcoming within yourself is more useful than to be aware of a thousand in somebody else "

- His Holiness the Dalai Lama

Zen and the art of drinking beer!

It occurred to me while reading a blog article in Ode Magazine called "Zen and the art of drinking beer", that in fact it can be an incredibly (in moderation of course) meditational experience.
It takes me back to many a traveling moment when the cares of the world seemed far away, the location was perfect and only the taste of the local brew was having its hypnotic effect.

As the writer says, "We can meditate on anything we choose. Some people meditate using their breath or on yoga poses. Anything can be used for the practice of meditation, for the practice of mindful living. So next time you lift up a frosty glass of beer, just tell everyone around you that this is part of your spiritual practice". Indeed many Buddhist masters would agree that you can use the experiences in your daily life as part of your meditation.
Lama Yeshe says, "Buddhist meditation doesn't necessarily mean sitting cross-legged with your eyes closed. Simply observing how your mind is responding to the sense world can be a really perfect meditation and bring a perfect result."

It gives great hope to beginner practitioners, like myself, to think that we can incorporate the everyday pleasure of experiences like sipping on a favourite brew into our practice. Of course the key is, Mindfulness, and using it to generate wisdom and compassion on the path to generating loving kindness (Bodhichitta).

The photos are from a few moments on the road, Mumbai (Bombay) in India, Trieste in Italy, Bingan in Bali.

A Peaceful and Happy New Year!

I woke to the news today that Tibetan exiles in India have avoided New Years Celebrations in favour of praying for their brothers and sisters who continue to suffer inside Tibet.
While I look forward to the privilege of another year free to write and think and enjoy my life in Australia, people such as the Tibetans continue to suffer in exile or under the occupation of the Chinese Government with a lack of basic human rights and with the ongoing destruction of their cultural heritage and natural environment. It is obvious that China's intent was always to get hold of Tibet's vast natural resources and the ongoing tragedy is that this comes at the cost of religious and social freedoms of its people.

As one blogger inside Tibet wrote, in relation to continued suffering of Tibetan and Chinese people at the hands of the government regime, "To respect life is to respect oneself, and to cherish the memory of the deceased is to rescue and redeem oneself ... 2009 is the year for us to cherish the memory of the deceased. And we have our own way to do so: make lamp offerings and light candles to commemorate the souls of the deceased, and recite the mantra of Avalokiteshvara: Om mani padme hum!"

May this year continue to highlight the need for the Chinese government and other oppressive regimes around the world to be held accountable for their "human rights" abuses and may leaders such as His Holiness the Dalai Lama continue to struggle for humanity and may they live long. Tibetan people recently voted unanimously to continue to support the "Middle Way" approach to seeking genuine autonomy for Tibet.

This year 2009 marks a number of anniversaries including 50 years of exile for His Holiness, 30 years since his first teachings in the West, 20 years since his Noble Peace Prize and 20 years since the infamous Newcastle earthquake.

I look forward to a productive and joyful year and more regular postings to this blog.

Dharamsala, Jan 1 (ANI): Exiled Tibetans avoided New Year celebrations in protest against China’’s occupation of their homeland. Tibetan Prime Minister-in-exile Samdong Ripoche said, “We are doing only religious ceremonies. We are not doing much pomp to mark our solidarity with the people suffering inside Tibet.” The Tibetans claim that the “Chinese atrocities” have increased since the March 14, 2008 Tibetan uprising in Lhasa, which China blamed on the Dalai Lama and his “clique.”
The riots later spilled over to the rest of Tibet and neighboring Chinese provinces with Tibetan populations, drawing global attention.
Rights groups say hundreds remain in jail following the protests where they are subjected to harsh treatment and even torture.
India is home to about 150,000 Tibetan exiles, most of whom arrived after escaping from Chinese in Tibet, over the past few decades.
Chinese troops marched into Tibet in 1950 and the Dalai Lama, fled into exile in 1959 after a failed uprising against Beijing’’s rule.
Tibet was rocked by anti-Chinese protests earlier in 2008, which China blamed on the Dalai Lama, whom it brands a separatist. He has repeatedly denied the claims.

"The Happy Hour"

The Happy Hour – for Lex Bramble who was much loved by all.

He was a humble man,

A man who served his country proud

A man who raised a family

A man who sold the choicest cuts of meat

A man who shed a tear;

A man who fitted into any crowd

A man who lived contentedly

A man who we were honoured to meet

A man who shared a beer;

And now that the happy hour has come to pass,

I would propose this one last toast,

To this man;

Whose memory will live on in our hearts.

Off to Climb a Mountain

We left Lembongan on the supply boat back to Padang Bai on Bali, only 7 of us and a pile of bags, on a sailing boat about as big as a small car, but no time to think about the delicacy of this position if a big swell hit, as a wet sail carries us all the way to the mainland with the fish jumping and dancing beside us.

From Padang Bai, we headed across to the island of Lombok. I made the decision to leave the boards behind, no chasing waves, we went chasing a mountain instead.
My physiology makes me good at running fast on flat ground but when it comes to going uphill I am not really inclined (pun intended)

The people of Lombok, who are Muslim, share a laid-back approach to life similar to the Balinese, it is on the big-population centre of Java, where the central government is based, that the most extreme fundamentalist elements plot to destabilise the harmony of the Indonesian archipelago. I find it hard to conceive of this country of over 13,000 islands and around 200 million people with such a diverse cultural, ethnic and linguistic landscape but my little taste of it allowed me to experience the power that faith and family values can bring to a people whose standard of living, in monetary terms, is far inferior to our own, but whose outlook on life is far superior in many ways.

The night before leaving I suggested to my friend that we might climb Gunung Rinjani, the second highest peak in Indonesia at 3,700+ metres, and being an adventurous person, she agreed.
So off we plunged to begin this epic test of endurance and stamina, both of which we had to find along the way. We climbed to around 2,700 metres the first day, gasping for air and hugging trees for therapy, doing whatever it takes to get up there and the reward was a spectacular sunset looking west to Bali, eyeball to eyeball with Agung peak and sitting atop an exceptionally beautiful volcano crater lake.

We wake at two am the next morning and head to the summit, which is alright when you can't see what you're doing but as daylight appears we're not quite there but staring at what seems like more than a fort-five degree slope to get to the top. We pushed ourselves to a point and then sat down to take in the sunrise. My friend waits while I push on, literally hands and heels because the centre of gravity is better that way. When I reach the summit the pain in my legs and lungs doesn’t seem to matter, at this height nothing seems to matter, the world is so insignificant.
My friend gets to the top around twenty minutes later, with that true Irish spirit she says that there was no point sitting there freezing, wondering what might have been. We take a few photos, gather ourselves and make the quick descent back to camp and a well-earned breakfast. (Over three hours up and one hour down is the equation)

Sixteen hours later we finished our day having descended a long way into the crater and then out again and then down again to darkness and rest. I reckon they need to employ a special minister for trekking just so that you know what you're in for, it gave new meaning to the word 'understatement', we still had to walk out for three hours the next day, minus shoes for they were superfluous to our feets requirements. A satisfying achievement, but it took another three days of makan tidur on the island of Gili Meno to rest our battered and sore bodies and to begin to feel sane again.

We headed back to Bali again, for some time in the mountain retreat of Ubud, a great place to unwind, a motorbike trip through the volcanoes of Kintamani and up to Lovina in the north to visit the hot springs (oh so soothing for the weary body) and another run in with the law, another red light, of course I still haven't seen it and this time a hundred and fifty thousand, but at least they took my money with a smile.

We finished our journey at Bingin beach, down the Uluwatu road, almost got wiped out by a French woman lighting a cigarette, taking a corner on the continental side of the road, we were mostly unscathed. We stayed in a hut on the hillside overlooking the beach and I finally dusted the cobwebs off the board and had a few very satisfying waves at 'Impossibles', not Bingin for the line-up was a traffic jam, even a few goat-boats out there, seemingly not drilling the reef but contributing to the havoc of over-touristed breaks.

Before leaving Bali I sold the board for fifty thousand rupiah, no prospective buyer appreciated the big crease on the bottom of it from some heavy wipe-outs, I bought myself one last Bintang, contemplated the sunset and my friend and I flew out the next day on separate planes.

Unfortunately, the day before I left Bali another bomb went off in Jakarta, this time outside the Australian embassy
I was so joyed to be flying through Jakarta the day after another bomb [not] and the day before September 11.
The Balinese I talked to about the bomb in Jakarta were just as dumbfounded as me, they really haven't got the time for it, it's bad for business and they're not an angry people.

Excuse the political angle for just a moment, but I believe our little John got past the post in the October 2004 election by getting mileage out of the fear this generated. A political tactic but perhaps in the poorest taste, but then that is his style after all.

Next Stop Thailand .................