Sumangali.org: In The Spirit Of Serendipity

A long time ago I sold most of my things, packed the rest in a case, and sunk my savings on a one-way ticket to somewhere far away. It was by no means the first time I’d done it, not to mention the countless times I’d nearly done it, but it was the last. I was a dreamer, and an impulsive one at that, always looking for what other people called “home”. Had there been affordable tickets to the moon, I might have tried there. As it was, I planned to start in Thailand and work my way around Asia, as that seemed the likeliest continent.

I have mentioned a certain car accident in previous musings, and it’s perhaps worth mentioning again, as it was really far from accidental, or incidental. I was visiting another city to say some farewells, a week before my Asian departure. The drive almost prompted a departure from my earthly frame instead. Not only was my life miraculously saved though, it seemed replaced by a brand new one: new eyes, new ears, a new heart and new aspiration. What could, (and perhaps should), have been a disaster, was a mystifying blessing, and it changed me for good.

“What!? Will you live in a hut made of straw?” asked an incredulous school friend in her nice clean semi-detached house, nursing her nice clean child on one knee, as I drank tea on her matching 3-piece-suite. “Bangkok?? Do they have buildings there?” It was then I really wondered that we ever had anything in common, and it was then I realised that we no longer did. From various others I heard that Bangkok was especially AWFUL / unhygienic / unsafe / unsavoury / undesirable in every way. Needless to say I didn’t take their word for it, especially since none of them had been there.

Still euphoric from the previous week’s miracle, I fell hopelessly in love with Thailand, especially Bangkok. Nothing could repel me, so besotted was I. The scent of drying fish or the aroma of an open drain were only parts of a greater mystery, and thus enchanting. I lived in a state of wonder and thankfulness, a new-born child in a full-sized body, fervently exploring a world I’d so nearly just left behind on the westbound M5.

I arrived at the start of monsoon. From a veranda I would watch the sky as it jealously gathered navy blue cloud with long grey fingers, until its arms could hold no more, and the whole hoard was spilt on the earth at once. The traffic thickened and curdled, borders between road and path were eaten away by hungry torrents, where sandalled feet sloshed towards any cover they could find. It was at those times I liked to go for a walk.

I went out bare-headed, daring myself not to flinch as the salvo pummelled my back and shoulders. I would faintly distinguish the whites of eyes and the shouts of the locals as they insisted on my coming under whatever they had as shelter. Giving me up as a lost cause, and not wanting to save me badly enough to follow me into the deluge, they let me carry on to further shouts and gesticulations ahead. I found after my first outing that acid rain was the reason for the general uproar—the shirt I was wearing, washed and worn countless times, had bled its colour. My skin was dyed blue from the shirt and my eyes were ruddy, but it didn’t put me off doing it again. That sort of rain was made to be enjoyed.

That year bore the most extreme flooding for two centuries, which I considered highly auspicious. Everything seemed to carry on as normal, just at a slower pace, and with rolled up trousers. Shops stayed open, but just didn’t make use of the lower shelves. My favourite form of transport was the river bus, whose service was completely uninterrupted. It was the fastest way to anywhere, especially then, and my favourite haunts—the temples—were never far from one bank or another. It was all part of the fun wading knee or thigh high to the jetty through what was normally a boat terminal, discovering the hard way where each type of boat did and didn’t stop, and on which side of the river. No direction can be the wrong direction on an adventure anyway.

My favourite temple was Wat Pho—a 20-acre site with many elegantly spired temple buildings, and over 1000 images of Lord Buddha. I loved to visit the largest, reclining 46 metres long and painted gold. He lies in such a small temple building, that going inside is exquisitely overwhelming. I imagined he walked in there at human height, then expanded to fit the room in a huge golden bliss, and has stayed there ever since, smilingly in repose.

I loved the people most of all—their fine features, sweet smiles and refined etiquette. One only need witness the roadside industries and mobile market stalls to know that this is about as far from a defeatist or self-pitying race as it’s possible to be. A country that has resisted invasion for as long as Thailand would necessarily have a resilient strain, retaining depth and purity of culture, as well as a few quaint idiosyncrasies. Ironically, the country believed by my kinsmen to be frighteningly unevolved, I found to be far more civilised than my own; at least in the qualities that matter to me most. In soulfulness, sweetness, happiness, kindness, nobility, and respect for others, they are centuries or even millennia ahead.

I took a job teaching English to employees of a Japanese motorcycle company. My students would arrive around 7am and I would stay with them until they started their working day (whence my own work ended and my temple tourism commenced!). The lessons were not compulsory, but rather mildly encouraged by the employer, so those who turned up were of a particularly positive and grateful disposition, even for a particularly positive and grateful country. As a conversation exercise I once asked a lady with a modest vocabulary what she had done before coming to the office that morning. I expected she would know such words as “breakfast,” “toothbrush,” and so on, but that was not nearly enough. She had risen at around 4 to perform various complex medicinal tasks for her ailing mother in a different house, then to pray for around an hour in various ways, followed by the dressing, feeding and dispatch of various children into the care of others, so she could leave by 6.30 for a voluntary English lesson.

I adored them all, and got to know them well. Through such warm and open smiles as they had, vocabulary was no barrier to friendship. They asked me to eat with them on the evening of my last day. It was an elaborate outdoor restaurant with very traditional fare. They seemed hardly to eat at all, so busy were they passing me new things to try, and making sure my bowl was never less than half full. Every mouthful was watched by many pairs of eager eyes. There was a conspicuous table laden with wrapped boxes, which I naturally assumed was for another party. But then ensued a formal presentation for me, with accompanying speeches, followed by a box from each person. Apparently it is a high compliment to buy someone a gift for the home. I was soon trying to carry more huge decorated table lamps and carved wooden animals than I could even fit in a taxi. I gave them so little, and yet they seemed to receive so much. Ironically, I’m certain I learned much more from them than they learned from me. Also ironically, I was sure I had found home at last. Months later postcards would arrive at my mother’s house (the only sure address I could give) in neatly scribed and charmingly broken English, signed by one or all of them.

I once imagined I would stay there forever, but Destiny had other plans. She somehow convinced me that I was badly needed in England; that I should spend any money I’d saved on a one-way ticket back, and forget my love affair with Thailand. I dutifully obeyed, to find not only that I was not required where I thought I was, but neither was I welcome. I was in Bristol at the start of winter, a long way from family, and no longer knowing who my friends were. I had no money, nowhere to live, no job, no belongings, and no way to get back to my Asian “home”. I would have been inconsolable, had there been anyone there to console me. All the unutterable beauty and joy I’d seen in everything had gone, or at least I no longer had eyes for it.

Destiny knew what she was doing though. In tricking me to come back, she was giving me a deeper happiness than I could have imagined; it just took a little time to see it that way. Stripped of all I called safe and beautiful, I had no choice but to cry to God and to meditate. The seed of spiritual searching was sown a long time before, but it took some fairly arduous conditions for it to blossom.

My inner myopia healed completely within a year. Gradually, through Sri Chinmoy’s teachings, I discovered that building the outer life on a foundation of inner strength cements it into something infinitely more abiding, meaningful and beautiful. At last I realised, as Destiny had known all along, that home is where the heart is.

“Like the deer who runs
To and fro
Looking for the musk,
You will discover that
The supreme Reality
Is inside your heart.”
—Sri Chinmoy
From Seventy-Seven Thousand Service-Trees, part 16

Photograph by Kedar Misani

During a recent trip to Bali a few friends and I performed a play for some of Sri Chinmoy’s students, based on two stories by Sri Chinmoy: The Sailor and the Parrot, and Light is the Only Wealth Worth Having.

Since we had a lot of fun with the performance, I thought I’d at least post the script here in case anyone is in the mood for humour (with a soulful twist of course)

Please note that no animals were harmed in this production. Katy the canary in fact stole the show, and should probably win some sort of award for being cute on demand, and for ‘playing dead’ when such was required.

THE PRINCESS AND THE PIRATE

CAST:
Pirate Venturo
King
Queen
Princess Fortuna
Duchess Fifi
Duchess Mimi
Prime Minister
Prince Admiral Alphonse
Sailor 1
Sailor 2
Monk 1
Monk 2
Angel

* * *

ACT 1, SCENE 1: AT THE PALACE

[Enter Pirate Venturo, secretly, hides behind thrones]
[Enter King & Queen, followed by Prime Minister]

KING:
Prime Minister, what news today of life beyond our borders?
Make it brief, the chef is soon to come and take our orders
And then we have a manicure at twenty-five past ten.

QUEEN:
Then probably when that is done we’ll need to eat again.
Surely it is splendid sport to reign as queen and king
But leaves short time for long reports, much less for idling.
And speak up, the King’s new hair does so affect his hearing.

PRIME MINISTER:
Majesties, a war is closer than I have been fearing.
To this matter I entreat your full and close attention.
Yes, the King’s new periwig does first deserve a mention
— The royal visage is within it admirably framed —
But I dread that noble head beneath it may be claimed:
Inside a year I dare predict a Southerly invasion,
Our little nation does not look so well in that equation.
For your safety I must urge a Northerly alliance;
Unlike manicures, the matter can afford no dalliance.
I propose a marriage match between Princess Fortuna
And Prince Admiral Alphonse, within six months or sooner.
As your only daughter the Princess’s role is crucial.
Her virtues and her lineage will make the profit mutual.
Prince Alphonse is first in line to his Father-Emperor’s throne.
(His love of gambling and his love of wine we must condone),
Let’s focus on his… bravery and… gallantry instead,
His stature and… his wit are sure to claim her fair young heart.
With your blessing certainly her hand would be a start.
Suppose you hold a ball for him tomorrow tonight or sooner,
There involve the Duchesses and fair Princess Fortuna,
Then will the Navy Fleet have all their joy of jolly dancing,
There the merry music and the finest wine enhancing
All the many merits of our small but noble land.
Before the night has sung its last the Prince will ask her hand,
Then our two countries, th’major and the minor, will be one,
(Pardon please my musical but quite amusing pun).

KING (to Queen):
What was that he said my dear? I hardly caught a word.
Something about dancing and the finest wine I heard.
He is indeed a lovely man, his waistcoats are fantastic,
But in speech he mumbles and his style is so… bombastic.

[Venturo listens to conversation, steals ornament from the Queen’s hair and exits]

QUEEN [loudly]:
He says this little land of ours is in a spot of danger.
If we treat the Northern Empire as a foe or stranger
We will be swallowed from the South… in some unpleasant way,
And so he says we must not waste a single night or day.
In order to avert this irreversible calamity
We must approach the Northern lands with courtesy and amity,
Offer to the Northern Emperor’s son our only daughter,
And thus the matter’s settled well, as blood’s thicker than water.
The North will naturally give their full and sure protection
Against a brute intrusion from a Southerly direction.
And so at once we must induce a favourable response
From the Northern (dashing brave) Prince Admiral Alphonse.

KING:
And so we hold a splendid ball at once with jolly dancing,
There the merry music and the finest wine enhancing
[Prime Minister joins in] All the many merits of our small but noble land.
That I heard! And then the Prince will surely ask her hand!
Wizard! Corking! Cracking! What a super duper plan!
There will not have been a finer ball since… time began.
I do so love these good excuses for a proper bash!
So much to prepare my dear, come, come, now we must dash!

[Exeunt (at a leisurely pace)]

* * *

ACT 1, SCENE 2: THE MASKED BALL

[Enter Queen, followed by Fortuna, followed by the Duchesses.
Fifi pauses to take a cake.]

QUEEN:
Come Fortuna! Now employ your finest regal charms.
Our country’s fate depends upon the way you hold your arms,
And maybe hold your tongue throughout the evening for a change;
I fear these Northern gentlemen may find your accent strange.
Stand straighter please, but gracefully, chin up, that’s it, eyes down,
Smile in moderation but don’t let me see you frown.
Tread as if your feet are downy feathers on the floor.
It’s up to you now to avert this nuisance of a war.
Duchess Mimi! Try to match your cousin’s good behaviour.
Duchess Fifi, come! Manners could be this country’s saviour.
Do not take the sweets or cakes and thus outgrow your dress!
Now do excuse me for a while, the King’s hair is a mess!

[Exit Queen]

FORTUNA: Oh cousins! I can scarcely breathe in my anticipation!
That we will meet the Northern Fleet defies imagination.
Fifi: I heard Prince Alphonse is stronger than a dozen men.
I heard he swam to Tuscany and then… straight back again!
And all the while he held aloft a standard in one hand
Displaying his own Navy crest.

MIMI:
I cannot understand
What drives a man to strive for so much valiance and strength.
It seems in feats of daring some will go to any length.
I heard that he once felled a tree with one stroke of his sword,
And with that self-same implement shaved it into a board
With which to plug a gaping hole beneath his own ship’s helm.
(And this I warn you ladies may your senses overwhelm)
He dove beneath the ocean and repaired it in one breath!
A full ten minutes! Any man would sooner meet his death!

FIFI:
Yes, and his heroic heart of goodness never fails.
What about the time he saved a family of whales
Who one by one had accidentally wandered to the shore.
(Here I must confess I’ve never seen a whale before
But I have heard they’re even bigger than our royal yacht.)
Undaunted though, the Prince Alphonse was out there like a shot
And on his shoulders lifted he each one without commotion
And gently placed it (belly downwards) back into the ocean.

MIMI:
Hush! The Prince’s entourage is on its way I think! [listens right]

[Enter Prince Alphonse & Sailors left to a sailing song]

FIFI:
Oh! My hands are trembling! Wait there, I need a drink.

[Runs away left, accidentally toward the entourage]

ALPHONSE (in a Yorkshire accent):
Land ahoy me’hearties! Let’s bring down the anchor here.
[to Fifi] Oh what a pretty thing have we? What is your name my dear?

FIFI:
Fff F… Fifi

ALPHONSE:
A little minuet I’m sure would see your stutters calmed.
Find me later, I can guarantee you won’t be harmed.

[Mimi tries to pull Fifi away]

ALPHONSE contd.:

And who is this? I see we have an even brighter gem
That glitters so divinely as on Heaven’s diadem.

MIMI: Mimi

ALPHONSE:
Yes you, you stammer like your sister, come on don’t be wary;
My combat skills are legend but with ladies I’m not scary.
We’ll talk about it later then, you needn’t be alarmed.

[Enter Queen hurriedly dragging King along, adjusting his hair]

QUEEN: Prince Alphonse! Your Highness, by your presence we are charmed!
Please do enjoy the feasting and the drinking and the dance!
Although it is a masked ball I won’t leave one thing to chance;
That fair young lady standing in the pale and seemly dress
Is our only heir and daughter, our Fortuna the Princess!
Prince Alphonse: Indeed, a regal bearing, I can sense it from afar.
In this glowing galaxy she seems the brightest star.

[Fortuna approaches timidly to join the Duchesses]

ALPHONSE contd.:
Majesties, how charmed am I to have your invitation.
As a rule I only socialise in moderation,
[Sailors cough]
But your timing’s perfect, for I’m seldom found at home.
[Sailors nod]
An Admiral (as I am), was forever born to roam.
My life is dedicated to my country’s preservation!
Saving lives has always been my foremost aspiration!
[Fifi swoons, Mimi catches]
(And… taking them of course whenever circumstance dictates)
I am setting sail tomorrow — with my merry mates —
On a swashbuckling and extremely dangerous quest.
The infamous Venturo, Pirate of the Southern Seas
Has been spotted by my lookout in the Channel of Belize,
So at dawn we leave to cross the perilous Atlantic!
As you can imagine my dear mother will be frantic,
But the foul Venturo has adventured long enough.
Now it’s time to show him Alphonse also can play tough!
[Mimi swoons, Fifi catches]

QUEEN: Oh! Belize! My goodness would you go to such a length?
There are many… closer… places to display your… strength,
And all for just one pirate? Is a he really such a threat?
Prince Alphonse: Yes, it is essential, for my honour is in debt!
Last year he ransacked all the wealthy harbours of the North,
He pillaged and he plundered and he looted back and forth,
Then broke into my father’s vault and stole his favourite crown,
But like a shadow in the night I never tracked him down.
He always lurks one step before me in his wicked fun.
This time I will show him all his trickery is done.

QUEEN: I hear… the weather will be turning dreadful overnight,
Are you certain it is wise to take such sudden flight?
You may meet your peril if you take that weighty chance!
Wait until you taste our wine! Now come and start the dance!

[Exeunt in pairs]

* * *

ACT 1, SCENE 3: LETTERS AT THE PALACE

[Enter Fortuna (centre) & Duchesses (left & right facing away) each reading letters privately to themselves]

MIMI: Mimi,
FORTUNA: Fortuna,
FIFI: Fifi,

(ALPHONSE’S VOICE):
Dearest, since I met you I have been in quite a trance
Remembering in detail every step of our last dance.
I am a blinded man now, one who looks but never sees,
My eyes are for you only, even here in bright Belize.
My heart is only yours, and I would send it in a jar.
Can you hear it beating for you even from afar?
Without you I’m like a… cracker that has lost its cheese,
A ship without a… shipment, or a forest without trees.
Every day I catch a… fish and name it after you,
Every night I make a wish and… wish it will come true:
That in a month I may return and look upon your face.
Truly you must know that nobody could take your place.
Signed by Prince Algernon Derek Reginald Alphonse
Ardently awaiting your alacritous response.
[Mimi and Fifi roll up their letters and exit]

(ALPHONSE’S VOICE contd.):
P.S. I do promise you my dear Princess FORTUNA:
I will return to marry you sometime… soon… or sooner.
Without you my humble life is ever incomplete.
More seemly and agreeable a girl I’ll never meet.
For company I send you this to while away the hours.
[Fortuna reveals a live bird in a cage]
It is a token of my love, like chocolates or flowers
But lasts a good while longer. Like my love it is alive.
Keep it by you as a sign of me ‘til I arrive.
Only in the farthest countries can one find this bird.
Such a sweet melodious voice you never will have heard.
It was the favourite of Venturo, whom I have beheaded;
That wicked pirate is long gone, no longer to be dreaded.
His treasured pet is now a trophy of my brave conquest.
I know you’ll be delighted, and I hope you are impressed.

FORTUNA:
Mama! Mama! I have the news we’ve waited for at last!
[Enter Queen]
Our days of fear and trembling are firmly in the past.
I have an offer from the Prince, he’s promised to return.
I have a letter from him full of fondness and concern.
He promised me that sometime soon we shall be man and wife.
Now our country is protected from all future strife.
And look! He sent me this fine bird as proof of his largesse,
But also it’s a symbol of his soldierly prowess!
Venturo he has found and he has valiantly vanquished!
Our seas are safe and now my Prince will be no longer anguished!
This was the pirate’s favourite pet, it is a living prize!
I’m overcome with gladness! What a manifold surprise!
Look how its eyes and feathers shine and sparkle in the sun!
It’ll be my dearest playmate, we will have no end of fun!

QUEEN:
Oh! I knew that he would fit his heart to our agenda;
I was sure we should not fail and to the south surrender.
Plus that wretched pirate now has met a sticky end.
The Prince was born to win your heart and our kingdom defend!
You have saved the dignity and pride of this whole land!
This bond will be invincible; no shifty rope of sand.
And what a lovely time to marry! Just before the spring!
Quickly, right this instant we must go and tell the king!
Then I’ll tell Prime Minister directly of the news!
He’ll be cock-a-leekie!… I mean he’ll be cock-a-hoop!
It’s not a bad idea though, I fancy a bowl of soup.
Go, I’ll catch you up, my feet are killing in these shoes.
(Lord, is there no limit to the price we pay for vanity?
This infinite discomfort is enough to claim my sanity)

[Exeunt]

* * *

ACT 1, SCENE 4: RETURN OF THE ADMIRAL

[Enter Princess, kills bird and rips up letters. Enter Queen.]

FORTUNA:
Three months have been wasted now, all in this fruitless wait.
Next I dread to wonder what will be our country’s fate.
That two-faced duplicitous insufferable betrayer!
That so-called dashing Prince I’ve found is nothing but a player!
He has written rhymes of love to both of the duchesses
And all the meantime his undying troth to me professes!
And one poem he has sent to each of us the same.
We are all but pieces in his sordid little game!
Anyway his poetry was genuinely appalling,
His letters, like his company, were far short of enthralling,
I heard he’s useless with a sword, and is a dreadful coward.
(I should have known at once the way his perfume overpowered.)
He didn’t fight the pirate and was nowhere near Belize,
He’s in Britain with no plans to cross the Southern Seas.
I have heard Venturo is as yet alive and well,
Last seen checking out of a 5-star French hotel.
Goodness knows where he is plotting his next buccaneering,
Plus we risk invasion now as we had long been fearing.

QUEEN: Oh my dear, have faith, perhaps there is an explanation,
Though of course I understand your anger and frustration.
Maybe he is only shy beneath that brave exterior,
And with his… modest… stature he is bound to feel inferior.
Some seem over-confident when they are truly… meek.
Give him another chance my dear for just another week.
Let us see if he returns and if he can explain.
His true nature and intentions we must ascertain;
These scant facts you have revealed need not be so sinister.
In the meantime I will seek the counsel of Prime Minister.

[Exit Queen]

FORTUNA (crying):
What happened to the days gone by of honour and nobility?
What are words and wit in lieu of goodness and integrity?
…Invertebrate, unmannerly, unmanly, ham-fisted,
Pompous pom-pom! Treacherous, chicken-chested, limp-wristed,
Spongy, sissy, cowardy-custard with a heart as yellow
As a … bullfrog’s eye, and an eye as … Oh hello!
[Enter Prince Alphonse]

[Enter Angel, stands behind Fortuna, blesses her and exits.]

ALPHONSE:
Fortuna, noble lady, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.
Though it is true I am as bloodthirsty as a fruit bat,
I couldn’t fight my way out of an open paper bag,
All I learned in navy school was how to boast and brag.
My favourite sport is playing cards, I’m not too bad at poker,
But exercise just does me in, I’m that much of a smoker.
I couldn’t swim to save my life, how’s that for an Admiral?
And jogging in this get-up is a terrible rigmarole.
I admit it, I’m a fraud, I’m sorry that I lied.
In coming back at last… at least… I put aside my pride.
Today I mean to see an end to all t’tears you’ve been shedding.
I promised you I would return and we would have a wedding,
I must say I have a very slightly… different plan,
But you’re mature, and I’m quite sure you’ll take it like a man.
As consolation for my insolence and impropriety
I invite you to remain always in my society.
Though not our wedding, I could take you to a wedding party,
There I fully guarantee the welcome will be hearty.
I have met… another girl, I’ll wed her now in spring.
[Fortuna almost faints, angel catches]
I really couldn’t help myself, she has me on a string.
I’ve fallen hook line and sinker, I’ve quite lost my head,
So I hope you’ll be to her like a sister instead.
Really I meant to return and be your loyal husband,
But I was up in t’Hebrides, and… no man is an island,
And… there she was all dressed in sacks — been working on the farm —
Sling-ful of turnips on her back, ten piglets in one arm,
Puffing from a great long pipe, sat on a cask of cider.
Something melted in my heart when I sat down beside her.
At that moment I resolved: who cares about her breeding!
I’ve no backbone myself, that’s the woman I’ve been needing!
Actually I already married her last week.
[Fortuna almost faints again, angel catches]
I told another lie to you, can you believe my cheek?
She already is my Mrs., and I am her… Mister.
I will bring her here tomorrow, and she’ll be your sister.
[Fortuna starts to cry, then so does Alphonse]

FORTUNA:
Prince Alphonse, I’m sorry I insulted you so gravely.
I shall choose to take this news respectfully and bravely.
I was… distracted… when I found you’d written to my cousins,
And you had been courting other ladies … by their dozens,
But I suppose it surely is perfectly natural
And logical for an Admiral to admire … all.
My language was unholy, unbefitting a princess.
What’s more I have been far from rational, I must confess.
I tore up all your letters, and I slaughtered that poor bird,
Though … if you were in earshot you’d possibly have heard.
[Alphonse nods]
I have been dishonest from the start, it must be said,
I did not love you much at all, it was a ploy instead.
I only sought to use you as a shield from invasion,
And as luck would have it you needed little persuasion.
It was a clumsy trick and I am terribly ashamed.
In this awful tragedy I’m really to be blamed.
What is to become of us, we surely cannot tell,
But this must be good-bye now, and I truly wish you well.
[Exit Alphonse]

FORTUNA: Mamaaaaaa!
[Exeunt]

* * *

ACT 2, SCENE 1: KING AND QUEEN PLAN AT THE PALACE

[Enter Venturo (secretly), King & Queen, Prime Minister, Fortuna (secretly)]

[King now holds aside his hair when others speak]

QUEEN:
Prime Minister! Well what a dreadful mess your plan has left!
That awful Prince has snubbed us, poor Fortuna is bereft!
We cannot afford to take your counsel on this matter!
One more two-faced suitor and our daughter’s heart may shatter!
We insist that you assist in bringing her true peace!
We cannot rule the country on the back of your caprice!
[Angel enters and blesses King]

KING:
She is such a good girl, she would never hurt a fly
(Although that bird did come off rather badly by and by).
She has spirit but she is a truly… soulful thing.
In most circumstances so much wisdom does she bring.
Yes, we are in danger from the South still, as you’ve said,
(I am likely to forego my crown if not my head),
But I think it best that we let God be our Defender;
Not unto the South but to the Heavens let’s surrender.
I say that we give Fortuna a more spiritual life;
How could she be happy as a military wife?
It is plain: to please us was the reason she agreed
To all this Admiral nonsense, now God bless us she is freed.
If we let her live as God intended in His Game,
She is sure to bring us luck and live up to her name.

PRIME MINISTER:
Majesties my heartfelt apology I submit,
Please proceed to rule this kingdom as you both see fit.
Too long have you struggled with my mind as your dictator,
Your two gentle hearts combined are infinitely greater.
I have been of service to you forty-seven years,
And I always dreaded it may one day end in tears.
My judge of character has led me to a grave mistake,
The one I thought the hero has admitted he’s a fake.
Please allow me one last act of aid in my employment,
Or I’ll live out all my days in penitence and torment.

KING:
Excellent, I’ve always known you were a decent chap,
Let’s forget our differences, and this awkward mishap.
What say you find her a new spouse who leads the life monastic?
Most may shun you, though the opportunity’s fantastic.
He will have our kingdom — or whatever still remains —
And dear Fortuna will at last be free from earthly chains.
We have seen monks praying at the river in the morning.
Go and do a reconnoitre while tomorrow’s dawning.
See if you can ask them while they’re praying by the water
Which of them is willing to be wedded to our daughter.
Any man would love our fair princess to be his bride,
But most saintly people are reluctant to be tied.

FORTUNA:
Mother, Father I have overheard your conversation,
I always obey your wishes without hesitation.
But to hear you speaking thus has moved my heart to tears.
Your two hearts of love are sure to quell our country’s fears.
I have pondered many hours since my sad discovery,
Now my aching heart has found immediate recovery.
Father’s right, I cannot find true happiness in status.
My spell of disillusionment came as a cold hiatus.
My heart and head so full of doubts, like walking through a storm,
Now I’ve reached a turning point, returning to the warm.
I know I must trust my heart now; Father’s words are true.
I must marry one who’s made of goodness through and through.
I would follow all your decisions without complaint,
But yes, I would be happiest if I could wed a saint.
I’m too shy to go out and investigate myself;
Prime Minister please do ensure I’m not left on the shelf.
[Exit Prime Minister (humbly), and Venturo (hurriedly)]

QUEEN:
Dearest girl, I always knew your outlook was unique.
I can almost see our golden future as you speak.
I first thought your father’s plan was far beneath our dignity,
But he’s right, in order to create an opportunity
Of finding you a simple man devoted to religion,
We must try to tone down our highhandedness a smidgeon.
Fortuna, you will always be our brightest joy and treasure.
We may be a bit batty, but we love you without measure.
[Exeunt]

* * *

ACT 2, SCENE 2: MONKS AT THE RIVER

[Enter monks followed by Venturo dressed as a monk]

[Enter Prime Minister]

PRIME MINISTER:
By order of the King and Queen I come here for research,
I have a proposition for you good men of the church.
I have come to seek a husband for the fair Princess:
Fortuna the most radiant possessor of finesse,
Of graceful elegance, propriety, beneficence.
Whose pure heart itself is a rare gem of magnificence.
(Plus she is the royal couple’s only child and heir,
So she’ll inherit everything without the need to share).

MONK 1:
How dare you come and taunt us with your nauseating bargain!
You revolting viper, spouting foul temptatious jargon!
So the Princess needs a husband, and you think we’d care?
Be gone now from this sacred place or you’ll pollute our air!

PRIME MINISTER:
Do you know who I am you little sack-clothed inconsequence?
I could have you put in prison just for thoughts of insolence,
And yet you speak as freely as a fish wife at her stall.
It seems you do not know how to preserve your life at all.

MONK 2:
Nothing you can say or do will convince me to marry;
On my road to God a wife is but a rock to carry.
How can I go forward with a yoke around my neck?
Even if the King came here and wrote me a blank cheque,
Even if you say you’ll drown me, burn me at the stake,
Deep fry me in boiling oil, I’ll not make the mistake
Of squandering my life on gold or on a woman’s beauty.
My vocation is in prayer, and I’ll not shirk my duty.

PRIME MINISTER (to Venturo):
You seem… different… to the others; you have peace and poise,
While these fellows seek to crush my ears with their noise.
As it seems they have no clear intention to relent,
May I take your silence as a sign that you consent?

[Venturo remains silent]

MONK 1:
Shame, shame, shame! He has cast a slur upon us,
He does not defend us while this sinner tries to con us,
Turns up out of nowhere dressed like one of our good kind,
(He didn’t much disturb us so we didn’t much mind),
Now he is agreeing to be married with this silence,
What a coward, falling for this rascal’s threat of violence!
Agreeing without question to a life of earthly pleasure,
Living out his days in idle luxury and leisure!

VENTURO:
And you strut about like you’re the spiritual aristocracy,
I am so disgusted with your heinous hypocrisy.
You’re all talk, you reckon that you’ve conquered your desires.
You are not true saints, but filthy counterfeits and liars.
Outwardly you say you have no care for earthly life,
That you’d rather be deep fried in oil than have a pretty wife,
But inwardly you crave a life of opulence and pleasure.
Your impurities are far too plentiful to measure.
I may not be perfect but at least I am sincere,
In writing off the outer life I’m not so cavalier.
I have not transcended yet the outer earthly senses,
But I cannot overcome them merely by pretences.
I will marry her, and sooner realise the Supreme,
Than these dishonest fellows merely living in a dream.
I will slowly transcend my desires one by one.
Instead of just pretending all my inner work is done.

PRIME MINISTER:
Excellent! At last I found a level-headed saint!
The Princess and your worthy self, I shall at once acquaint!
[Exit Prime Minister]

MONK 2:
Well I never! Such discourtesy is a disgrace!
Come, brother, I can stand no more, we have to leave this place!
His company is far beneath us! Marriage is frustration,
Frustration is destruction, but we want illumination!
We must dedicate our lives to prayer to win delight.
This fellow is deluded, I am sure our way is right!

[Exit Monks]

[Venturo paces up and down, anguished, enter Angel blessing him, he then stands with hands folded and head bowed in prayer]

[Enter Prime Minister & Princess]

PRIME MINISTER:
I have brought the Princess to you as I said I would.
Won’t you let her see your face? Do please remove your hood.

[Venturo removes hood, then removes robe altogether to reveal pirate clothes]

VENTURO:
Prime Minister I must confess that I have changed my mind.
I know that she is beautiful, courageous and refined,
And she will inherit quantities of earthly wealth.
I thought I’d truly care for her in sickness and in health.
In a twinkling I thought I’d bestow on her my heart,
And spend my life beside her until death would make us part.
But I’m not a monk; I am a thieving buccaneer,
I’m nowhere near as saintly as my robes made me appear.
I am Venturo, bravest and the fastest with a sword,
The strongest and the smartest, but I can’t take this reward.
I could defend this country just depending on my wit
And an army of a hundred, but I cheated, I admit.
I overheard the King when his idea was devised,
So I ran ahead of you, but heavily disguised.
In truth it was the money that encouraged me to do it,
But how can money be enough? Just as you left I knew it.
I can have the Princess and her wealth by telling lies,
But if I pray sincerely — not just in a monk’s disguise —
I will attain the highest Truth, real happiness will follow.
The wealth I gain by trickery is tenuous and hollow.
She is beautiful, but she is blossoming in youth.
God’s Attraction is immortal; it is born of Truth.
I’ve plundered and I’ve pillaged and I’ve looted here and there,
But from today I dedicate my life to Truth and prayer.

[Enter Angel]

ANGEL:
Venturo, I am pleased with your conviction and sincerity,
But allow me to augment your notion of prosperity.
You must marry the Princess but you will still find Truth.
Your past is now behind you, it was greedy and uncouth.
I am happy that your days of thievery are gone,
I am giving you the wealth of Spirit from now on.
This you must combine with money power to succeed.
Your life’s inner cry has reached the highest height indeed,
You have inner light now, and your life is truly blessed,
But you need the outer wealth to make it manifest.
Use this wealth to serve the Truth that now abides inside you.
Heed my words and trust in me, have faith that I will guide you.
I unite you; from this day you will be man and wife,
Spirit of the inner, matter of the outer life.
Fortuna, your husband needs your full and sure assistance.
As one you’ll have a happy and harmonious existence.
With him you will realise God much sooner than without.
With her you will please the Absolute without a doubt.
The King and Queen are getting old, it soon will be your turn.
Defend the land with courage, kindness, honour and concern.
Realise God, manifest God, and God you will fulfil.
In oneness you have every strength, and strength you will instill.
This country will be safe if you abide by this one principle:
When the inner and the outer work as one they are invincible.

[Venturo and Fortuna bow down to Angel]

[Enter all]

* * *

THE END

* * *

Okay, I’m talking about work again, but when work is this much fun you’ll have to let me off. I’ve just finished a website for IMMORTALITY’S FLAME-WAVES — an all-female theatre company based in London. They have been exclusively performing the stories of Sri Chinmoy since 1993, around Europe, the US and Canada.

I’ve been lucky enough to see quite a few of their performaces in past years, and have found them spell-binding. The stories chosen by director Dipika Smith are not the easiest to convey, often covering a broad gamut of human and Divine experience, but the result is always spectacular, moving and colourful; creative while remaining transparent enough to allow the original story to shine through.

So designing and bulding the website was a captivating project, and great fun. I hope you have time to visit and leave your comments. I still keep visiting from time to time, even though I know what’s in there like the back of my hand — I just can’t get enough of the twinkly flash header and the lights that go on and off on the home page.

Last week I was fortunate to join Temple-Song-Hearts on their tour of France. Temple-Song-Hearts is and all-female ensemble solely performing the music of spiritual master Sri Chinmoy. We gave concerts in Montpellier, Paris and Nancy, and enjoyed a very warm reception at each venue. Here is a photo from a Temple in Nancy. There will be a full report soon at Temple-Song-Hearts.org

C’est moi 4th from right

MORE…
Listen to Temple-Song-Hearts at Temple-Song-Hearts.org
Buy the latest CD at CDbaby.com or iTunes
See more photos of the latest tour at Picasa
Listen to more of Sri Chinmoy’s music for free at Radio Sri Chinmoy

I was fortunate to be introduced to meditation at age sixteen, and somehow intuitively knew it was the key I needed to access satisfaction in life. Without a spiritual teacher, spiritual family background or spiritually inclined peers, I regularly became discouraged, and made all sorts of excuses for ignoring my intuition. I drifted further and further out to sea while chasing the seemingly close, yet ever-elusive outer happiness.

I knew all along I was avoiding the one thing I really needed (the spiritual life), but it just seemed easier not to address it. A strange conscious thought was always at the back of my mind: God would have to give me a pretty life-changing experience to redirect my attention towards Him. For some reason, I assumed it would involve a car accident. Don’t ask me where this thought came from; I have no idea. I was surprisingly unconcerned though, and assumed it would happen eventually. In the meantime, life was just a very long party.

In late August 1995 I was about to journey into the most significant (yet remarkably strange) day of my life. I had just passed the scene of a road accident, giving thanks to God that it was not my turn, when suddenly… it was my turn.

I was in the middle of three lanes on a very busy motorway, about to overtake a slower car on my left (because that’s the way we do things in England). To my astonishment it indicated and pulled out inches in front of me. Somehow I saw (or rather felt in such a small span of time) that there was space for me to pull into the fast lane. As I was driving faster than the intruding car, we were getting closer by the millisecond. I had to move immediately, but then correct myself so as not to hit the central reservation. This did not look very feasible overall, especially in an unfamiliar hired car.

I missed the other car and the central reservation probably by millimetres, but could not correct my car very smoothly; soon it was weaving about like a fish on a hook. Trying to steer into the swerve to regain balance seemed almost to work, but then I lost control all together. The back end flicked out like a whip and I was spinning anticlockwise in a circle across all three lanes.

I saw that all three lanes of traffic had stopped in a perfectly straight line. To me it seemed there was a line of light in front of them forming a barrier. I could almost make out people holding hands, like the sort of paper-people chain you may have made at primary school. I can’t exactly say I saw it with my eyes, but I knew it was there.

I know this sounds strange. It was.

Have you ever heard people say their life flashed before them during a “near death experience”? I thought this was a Hollywood invention, but it actually happened, like a video on fast-forward. I gripped the steering wheel and looked down at my arms and legs for a moment, thinking it might be the last time I would see them. My thought for them: “Well, thanks limbs, you have served me well.”

I must confess to being afraid of many things, but somehow I was not afraid then, or even worried; about death or even injury. Time stretched out and my perspective changed totally. Some things in me were changed forever.

I felt like God was having a conversation about me. I know that sounds strange. It was. It was like being a child, knowing your parents are talking about you, but you can’t get your ear close enough to the keyhole to make out the words. I don’t know to whom I thought He would be talking, and I can’t say I exactly heard anything with my ears either. It was like an awareness somewhere above and around me. I just assumed He was deciding my fate.

I was fully ready to accept that my almost complete conscious avoidance of Him over the previous nine years might well throw up a fairly significant result. The only thing I couldn’t stand was waiting for that result while spinning in a car, for what seemed like hours. It was like waiting for all the exam and test and interview results of a lifetime, multiplied and rolled into one.

Each time I faced the row of traffic I looked into the eyes of the open-mouthed drivers as they also gripped their steering wheels in anticipation of the outcome. Finally I hit the central reservation backwards. Game Over. The car was about half its original length, but I walked free without a scratch.

I should point out here that I am not the kind of person who sees and hears things outside of herself without using the normal human senses. I would be of no interest to the Arthur C. Clarkes of this world.

Suddenly life went back to full speed and I found myself running down the middle lane punching the air with my fist like a character in a Charlie Chaplin movie, and yelling a few choice words at the culprit who had pulled in half a mile away. Two guys who had witnessed the whole thing ran after me and sorted everything out with the police and so on. I can’t explain why, but I totally trusted them as if I already knew them. Strange. They took me to a service station where I could call the person I was due to meet. The voice on the other end of the phone said,

“WHAT? Are you CRAZY getting into a car with two strangers? How do you know they’re okay?”

I looked out of the phone box to find that one was helping an old lady from her wheelchair into her car, and the other was handing me an ice cream. It seemed God had it all pretty well under control.

That night I felt like I had just been born into this world. Everything sparkled with newness, and held such fascination for me. I don’t think I have ever been so close to an understanding of the meaning of gratitude, or of the truly unconditional nature of God’s Compassion. It was a new experience at the time, but all of these feelings have stayed with me to enhance my view ever since.

The year immediately following this event was somewhat challenging. I will spare you the details, and myself the memory of them. A good result was that I started meditating pretty much every day, using a visualisation exercise I had read about in my teens, but which I had never actually practised. In short, you imagine you are in a safe, beautiful place and that your spiritual guide meets you there. Then you meditate. This exercise really helped me to get through that year; I don’t know how I would have survived it otherwise.

I was never consciously searching for a spiritual master, and did not even know of the existence of Sri Chinmoy. I just wanted to meet spiritually inclined people and learn some meditation techniques, so I started looking for classes.

When I found the Sri Chinmoy Centre, I realised that the guide in my visualisations bore a very striking resemblance to Sri Chinmoy.

Read more in Learning To Live.

Image by Prashphutita Greco at Sri Chinmoy Centre Gallery

Most people would have to wait until their 48,000th birthday to have this many candles on their cake, but not spiritual teacher Sri Chinmoy.

Ashrita Furman is one of Sri Chinmoy’s students, and also (not-so-coincidentally) happens to hold the Guinness World Record for holding the most Guinness World Records. This 48,000-candle cake was his 86th record, a symbol of gratitude to Sri Chinmoy on what would have been his 77th birthday.

Sri Chinmoy, who passed away last October, advocated self-transcendence — going beyond one’s own perceived boundaries in any field, competing with oneself rather than with others for self-improvement. This latest record by Ashrita and friends is literally a glowing example of such a philosophy!

On the 27th of August an international team of 200, led by Ashrita, spent many hours counting and placing 48,523 candles on the 52 x 17 foot cake. Near midnight 80 assistants lined up around the cake with blow torches, knowing they had a span of only 2 minutes to ensure all their candles were alight simultaneously.

I was fortunate enough to be standing only a few feet away in the intense heat and electrifying atmosphere. Multi-coloured wax poured off the cake in strange rivers under the table, and I realised only then how fine the timing was.

The assistants had a large and dense rectangle of candles each to light, as they could not feasibly stand closer to one another whilst wielding blow torches. As they started near the centre of the cake and worked steadily towards themselves on the outside of it, the lit candles melted rapidly. The first would burn out soon after the last ones were lit, so the window of time in which the world record could be claimed was very slim.

Not only did they need a steady hand and nerves of steel, but a decent pair of lungs; as the whoops of success went up, each assistant had the job of blowing out all of his own candles! (I hope they remembered to make a wish.)

At the height of this spectacle, strings of sparklers went off along the back of a huge arch adorned with pictures of a smiling Sri Chinmoy. Meanwhile the audience of around 1100 sang “Happy Birthday”.

Visit Ashrita.com for more of Ashrita’s latest escapades, including slicing apples mid-air and drinking Tabasco sauce. “Don’t try this at home”, as they say! Previous records to honour Sri Chinmoy’s birthday include constructing the world’s largest pencil (76 feet), building a 20-foot high cake and assembling the largest flower bouquet (101,791 roses)

Photos by Susameepan Kalbitzer, Piyasi Morris and Jowan Gauthier (click images to see close-ups)

I have always steered clear of the meme format for blog posts, as I considered it self-indulgent, but if a meme catches on, it ends up being more about other people than oneself, so here goes.

John Gillespie over at SensitivityToThings.com has started something with his finely crafted Six Childhood Facts post, and you can read a highly entertaining 6 from Pavitrata Taylor in From Out of the Ether a Golden Egg.

Just for fun I tried to think of a few, but only got to 5. If you think of some of your own, you can add them at the end of this post, or leave a link to a post on your own site. I realise now that the things one has grown up with, and which thus seem ‘normal’ can be amusing and interesting when viewed from adulthood, especially through the eyes of others.

If you’d rather skip the facts about me as a child, you can go straight to the dessert, a bonus feature: Age Does Not Matter. It doesn’t though does it, really?

Some Childhood Facts

1. Tutankhamun
   I would not say a word until I knew I could deliver it perfectly, so I spent most of my time silently listening, and the rest sounding like a 50s newsreader. My mother spoke to me constantly like a friend rather than a baby, so I randomly picked up long words which made me sound cleverer than I was. I nearly gave an old man a seizure in a Sussex railway station when, tottering in a knitted dress and lace-covered nappy, I pointed up at a poster for an exhibition in London and said “Tutankhamun” with newsreaderly gravity and archaeological grandeur.
2. Mastermind
   My mother and I used to be able to read each other’s minds, which might be why I have never really learned how to lie; there would have been no point. We used to play a game called Mastermind, where you have to guess the opponent’s choice of 4 coloured pegs, and the order in which they are placed. There were 6 different colours, and we used to play hardball in that one colour could be repeated up to 4 times. The games never lasted long, in fact they would often be over in one guess, but we used to play for hours.
3. Fillings
   I would eat only junk food after about the age of 9. I hated fruit and vegetables. I ate copious amounts of sweets every day but I was wraithly thin and I have still never had a filling in my teeth.
4. Cheese
   I became a vegetarian at age 13, due to my love of animals. It was rather alarming for my mother, especially as nourishing me was already so difficult, but she took it very well. In the early 80s it was not so easy to buy vegetarian food. Had I been from one of those grow-your-own-muesli, knit-your-own-yoghurt families it might have been easier, but I was not. Anyway, as I said, I would only eat junk food. In those days being vegetarian was all about cheese.
5. Magic
   I used to think I had magical powers because if I held one finger up to my eye I could see through it. It took me many years to work out that it is possible to look at one thing with one eye, and one with the other, so the two images are superimposed. Precocious in some fields; woefully retarded in others. (I’ve never told anybody about that).

Age Does Not Matter (A More Recent Anecdote)

“You wasn’t born in seventy.”

He was huge. Even his shining shaven head seemed muscular, his eyes steady and piercing like an archer’s. I was dried up and dizzy from flying all day, and then even my breath stopped. The hall echoed with an unreal uncomfortable sterility. His huge hand was on the precious little red book that has let me travel everywhere. The stare did not break. How would I prove that I am in that photo booth snap? It was all I had to show that I am me.

CHUG. The rubber stamp came down. He did not betray an ounce of mirth. But after half an instant, in which my world dissolved and hurriedly reconstituted itself, I realised he was making a joke for us both… and paying me a large compliment into the bargain. A joke and a compliment were yet more welcome in that lonely sterile world than they could have been in any other place, made funnier and kinder still by the deadpan delivery.

I yelped a strange laugh with what breath I could draw, and felt the immigration hall at JFK turn to look. Sudden sounds, especially merry ones, are not so common there. I stopped short of skipping my way to Baggage Claim.

If I didn’t seem like I was nearly thirty-seven, that is a victory for my meditation teacher, Sri Chinmoy.

Thirty-seven. I have to laugh. Other people laugh too, when I can remember (or work out) how old I really am. (Nearly 38 now!)

Yesterday I was remembering some of the “records” I used to listen to in my teens. Sometimes I do things like that just to amuse myself; it’s so staggeringly long ago it’s almost as if it must have happened to someone else. I daren’t show you a picture of me then, that would be too staggering. I look older than I do now, in fact I look older than I am now. I carried the weight of so many imagined worries.

It’s not that I don’t worry now, I do, but nowhere near as much. As the saying goes: You can’t push the river, it flows by itself. Meditating every day shows me that is so. I don’t care less; in fact by worrying less I have more with which to care.

As Sri Chinmoy says:

“Age does not matter,
Unless you replace
Your heart-light
With your mind-night.”
—Sri Chinmoy
(unofficial quote)

Age does not matter. Until his passing at age 76, Sri Chinmoy proved that to me. Through his life of meditation and self-transcendence he showed me that perhaps I am not as limited as I think. I hope to continue forgetting how old I really am. I hope to feel amused, rather than bound, if I do happen to remember, and grateful to Sri Chinmoy, especially if others find it funny too.

---

IMAGES:

• Portrait of Sri Chinmoy: courtesy of Pavitrata Taylor at Pavitrata.com
• Portrait of me age 7 (top): courtesy of my Mum
• Portrait of me, my Mum, Snoopy and Henry-the-dog: courtesy of my Mum

A Chicken and Egg Situation

I spent a while teaching English as a second language in Thailand many years ago, and had a splendid time. Not only did I find the language (especially the written characters) more beautiful than my own English equivalent; the culture, the etiquette, the people, the weather, the food, everything beguiled me and I felt entirely at home, as if remembering a Heaven where I once belonged. Maybe I’ll tell you more about it another time, but I will say two things for now:

1. My grasp of the Thai language extended barely beyond the basic pleasantries and the buying of food. This was mainly due to the importance of inflections and polite appendages, which English has no care for. The word “khai” could sound from me at random as the verb “to sell” or the noun “egg” or the noun “chicken” depending on its delivery. Vegetarian as I am, my linguistic state was precarious.
2. Explaining English to other people made me extremely glad that it is my first language, so I don’t have to struggle with its peculiarities from a text book or teacher. The more I explained, the more baffled I became by my own explanations, gradually realising that there are as many exceptions as rules. I was tempted to take the stance of Frenchman G. Nolst Trenité:

“Finally, which rhymes with enough —
Though, through, plough, or dough, or cough?
Hiccough has the sound of cup.
My advice is to give up!!!”
[source]

Image: Kedar Misani

Contextual Complexities

Learning our first language comes from constant immersion combined with dire necessity. We pick up meanings largely from the words’ environmental context, and grammar from their verbal context. This leaves us able to use a large number of words effectively but often only notionally; without really knowing their precise meaning, let alone their origin.

Words such as man, woman, cat and dog have not changed throughout the ages, but more complex phrases evolve relatively fast:

“…the phrase ‘willy nilly,’ which we now take to mean ‘any which way’ originally had a much different meaning. Willehe-nellehe was an Old English term meaning ‘whether he will or whether he won’t’ and implied someone doing something against their wishes — whether they wanted to or not. Over time this concept has been misinterpreted to the point where its meaning is entirely different. Extrapolate this example across the language and you get constant evolution.”
[source]

The speed and accuracy with which we pick up a language no doubt depends on many factors; partly environment/encouragement, partly our own propensity. Elizabeth Barrett (pictured) is one extraordinary example; something of an infant prodigy in the world of words, not just speaking but reading before she can walk. Elizabeth read her first word when she was 13 months old, from then devouring books with exceptional voracity. In her father’s words:

“I think she has some special abilities that have just been a fortunate thing she’s been born with.”

“This is something we never expected,” added his wife. “We didn’t teach her this. We don’t sit down and drill her on words. She loves reading books.”

[source]

Believing in reincarnation as I do, I can’t help wondering if such capacity is not only to do with nature and nurture, but past experience. Perhaps the name Elizabeth Barrett is a clue?

The Word Burglars

So the English language is as fond of breaking rules as it is of making them up as it goes along, it also is in a constant state of evolution because we don’t always really know what we mean when we speak it. Add to that the (disputable) fact that it has the largest vocabulary, and I am yet more glad I don’t have to learn it from scratch.

“The Oxford English Dictionary lists a total of 171,476 words with an additional 47,156 obsolete and 9,500 derivative words as subentries, giving almost a quarter of a million words in the English language, even when technical terms, place names and multiple word senses are excluded.”
[source]

But that includes all the words we’ve half-inched from other languages. So-called loanwords are “a consequence of cultural contact between two language communities”. As such contact will presumably only increase, so will our vocabulary.

So far we have taken ketchup from… Chinese (yep), gingham from the Pacific Islands (and I dread to think what we gave in return), Japanese gave us karaoke (whether we wanted it or not), American Indian gave us avocado and hurricane (a mixed blessing), African languages gave us jitterbugs and zombies (which we probably could manage without, but it’s the thought that counts), Arabic gave us caravan (thence all sorts of traffic problems during the British summertime), Hindi gave us bungalow and chintz (to be used sparingly, especially in a bungalow), German gave us poodle, noodle and apple strudel (enough said), Dutch gave us smuggle and freebooter (well, we stole them really), French gave us garage and sachet (which we’d struggle without), Italian gave us opera and umbrella (which we needed badly), Spanish gave us mosquito and tornado (which we didn’t). Shall I go on, or are we sufficiently incriminated?
[source]

Shakespearean Tragedy?

I’ve already briefly touched on the subject of poets adding to our lexicon in John Milton and the Origin of Space, but, says Stuart Waters, Shakespeare et al are doomed:

“There is no motive in this crime of the future, just an inevitability based on one undeniable fact. Language changes, and ironically, Shakespeare was himself perhaps the greatest ever at introducing new terms, concepts and metaphors into the language. The very craft he mastered will eventually consign his works to history.

“Technologically, the very nature of communication is changing on a daily basis and we are only at the beginning of this revolution. The internet, email and text messaging are tremendously fertile fields for the growth of new words and concepts and because this type of technology changes so quickly it is very difficult to see where it will take the language. On the one hand communication technology exerts pressure for language evolution, but on the other hand, it puts everyone in touch with everyone else, breaking down the barriers of distance and culture which traditionally fuel language change. What will be the outcome? Who can say.

“It is clear however that sooner or later the poetry and artistry of the Bard will be lost to all but historians of English, just as the works of Homer are unintelligible to modern Greeks.
[source]

Outcome 1: Pidgin

“What will be the outcome?” asks Waters. Well, Pidgin English is one (pidgin, not pigeon).

“A pidgin is a simplified language that develops as a means of communication between two or more groups that do not have a language in common, in situations such as trade. Pidgins are not the native language of any speech community, but are instead learned as second languages.
[source]

English may have the largest vocabulary. Its offspring, Pidgin English, claims to have the smallest, but is possibly yet trickier to learn. With just a few examples from the version spoken in Papua New Guinea, I am amply convinced of that, (although it does have logic, phonetic continuity, and absolute cuteness in its favour):

• television: bokis wailis wantem piksa
• corridor: ples wokabaut insait long haus
• antiseptic: marasin bilong kilim jem
• bathroom: rum bilong waswas

[source]

Outcome 2: LOLspeak

LOLspeak is born of our modern-day 24/7 culture where everyone is multi-tasking, communication is as urgently important as breathing, and everything is too much hassle to do properly or fully. Some familiar examples of LOLspeak are OMG (oh my God), BRB (be right back), and the eponymous LOL: laughing out loud, lots of love, or…

Depending on the chatter, its definition may vary. The list of its meanings includes, but is not limited to:
1) “I have nothing worthwhile to contribute to this conversation.”
2) “I’m too lazy to read what you just wrote so I’m typing something useless in hopes that you’ll think I’m still paying attention.”
3) “Your statement lacks even the vaguest trace of humor but I’ll pretend I’m amused.”
[source]

Does LOL mark the demise of the beautiful English language? IMHO, no. Whatever it signifies for humans, it is a mark of progress for all other species. If it counts for English, animals have finally started to speak, and even nuborned ones are typing their own messages on sites such as cuteoverload.com, ihasahotdog.com and icanhascheezburger.com (pictured). So LOL is progress. Officially.

(Ono! U meen dey don type teh msgs demself?? Srsly?).

Who Has The Largest Individual Vocabulary?

Whatever may happen in the future, regardless of species, who has the largest English vocabulary right now? This is not a straightforward question. Michael Quinion explains why:

“What we mean by word sounds obvious, but it’s not. Take a verb like climb. The rules of English allow you to generate the forms climbs, climbed, climbable, and climbing, the nouns climb and climber (and their plurals climbs and climbers), compounds such as climb-down and climbing frame, and phrasal verbs like climb on, climb over, and climb down. Now, here’s the question you’ve got to answer: are all these distinct words, or do you lump them all together under climb?

“The other difficult term is vocabulary. What counts as a word that somebody knows? Is it one that a person uses regularly and accurately? Or perhaps one that will be correctly recognised — say in written text — but not used? Or perhaps one that will be understood in context but which the person may not easily be able to define?
[source]

Of all the people I know, my meditation teacher Sri Chinmoy (pictured) definitely has the largest vocabulary, however it’s measured. Growing up in East Bengal, English was not his first language, but I regularly come across English words in his writings which I have never seen before. Take my favourite example: sesquipedalian (meaning a very long word).

Sri Chinmoy published almost 1600 books during his lifetime, including around 117,000 poems. Whatever happens to the English language; however it evolves, however it is used and misused, I will always relish it and cherish it, and I will always look to my teacher Sri Chinmoy for new words and new inspiration. It is not only his vast vocabulary, but the use of it which I love. He reminds me to stay in my heart, and to try to use whatever capacity I have for goodness. Although he passed away last year, and I still miss him dearly, he left behind the legacy of his writings for us all to enjoy forever. Read to your heart’s content for free at Sri Chinmoy Library!

“No more am I the foolish customer
Of a dry, sterile, intellectual breeze.
I shall buy only
The weaving visions of the emerald-Beyond.
My heart-tapestry
Shall capture the Himalayan Smiles
Of my Pilot Supreme.
In the burial of my sunken mind
Is the revival of my climbing heart.
In the burial of my deceased mind
Is the festival of my all-embracing life.”

—Sri Chinmoy (from The Dance of Life)

Image: Pavitrata Taylor

The Song-Bird of St Petersburg pays tribute to Sri Chinmoy at the Royal Albert Hall

Boris Purushottama Grebenshikov is a living paradigm in the world of music and poetry, justly lauded in his Russian homeland and throughout the world. Tapping the ‘infinite silence’ within as a source of his prolific creativity, his songs are his direct interpretation of the universal musical consciousness.

No wonder then that he found in Sri Chinmoy a profound inspiration. With almost 1600 books to his name and over 21000 songs, here was a Spiritual Master who shaped his own life’s service from the very fibre of music and poetry, singing the songs of Heaven into the ears of the earth.

Sri Chinmoy was born in East Bengal, 1931. Following an inner calling he moved to New York in 1964, to be of spiritual service and inspiration to the west. From then until his passing in October last year, his meditation brought forth a wellspring of creativity in many fields.

Sri Chinmoy met Grebenshikov in 2005, and offered him the spiritual name Purushottama. A unique friendship blossomed from there. The immediate bond between teacher and student was exceptionally deep given its outer brevity; a recognition and reflection of true inner harmony. In Grebenshikov’s own words:

“Before meeting him I could never imagine I would see with mine own eyes the enlightened spirit operating from within the frail human body. It made me realize we do not really understand how strange it is to be fully realized in the world that misunderstands Divine realization. And I am endlessly grateful for his love and unflinching selfless courage.”

As part of his soulful service, Sri Chinmoy offered over 700 free public concerts in the span of his life, which he dedicated to World Harmony. London’s Royal Albert Hall ranked among the most notable venues, where he last performed in October 2003. In this same spirit, and at the same venue, Boris Purushottama Grebenshikov paid tribute to him last week.

Under a 14-foot portrait of Sri Chinmoy, flanked by statues of Ganesha and Saraswati, the setting was an Indian garden at night. An enclave of trees and glowing candles waited on a backdrop of winking galaxies. Hoards jostled outside for a place in the hall, peering over galleries high up into the roof to catch a glimpse of the artist. The legendary Song-Bird of St Petersburg entered with a smile of joy equal to his air of poise and humility. As he took centre stage his audience could not have been more attentive, appreciative, or more alive with electric anticipation.

Some 20 musicians joined him, mostly from the Indian and Irish genres, and some of the finest in their fields. Two were from Grebenshikov’s original band Aquarium, which dates back to the early 1970s. The tabla talked in rhythm to four Irish bodhrans; a sarangi sang sweet melodies over a group of classical strings. The fiddle, tin whistle and Uillean pipes carried on an Irish banter with such unbounded effusion, precision and harmony, that the crowds could not contain their shouts of delight.

All the while Grebenshikov was an ocean of depth, speaking through an acoustic guitar as if it were a part of himself. His singing voice itself was, as always, an exquisite blend of strength and sensitivity; ageless and imperturbable wisdom with a sweet and heart-melting centre. The essence of the poetry, although mostly in Russian, could be felt even by the uninitiated, such was its earnest delivery.

The songs vaulted from pin-drop soulfulness to ebullient joy, via countless spirited forays into new musical realms. They stopped neither at folk, nor jazz, nor rock, nor classical, nor world music, but spun into a whirl of all these, where no division or identity could be defined, where music sprang forth unbounded and unadulterated from its source.

As a finale, Grebenshikov offered a bhajan he wrote in Sanskrit for the goddess Saraswati, and a loving song in the ballad style, which he wrote for Sri Chinmoy during one of their earliest meetings. The Sri Chinmoy Centre Choir accompanied him on the refrain:

“O, Guru Sat, we may be far apart,
O, Guru Sat, forever in my heart.”

It was a poignant end to a magical evening; an evening whose spirit seemed to have no age, no beginning, no end; no limits or worldly boundaries of any kind. With simplicity and utmost self-giving, Boris Purushottama Grebenshikov offered a tribute to his teacher which was at once fittingly grand, heartfelt and joyous.

IMAGES:
Portrait of Boris Purushottama Grebenshikov by Antonov Pavel

LINKS:
More about the concert at GrebenshikovConcert.com
Review by Tejvan Pettinger at SriChinmoyBio.co.uk
Photographs of the event by Pavitrata Taylor at Pavitrata.com
Download a PDF of the official programme (26Mb)

It’s been hot in England. That’s newsworthy enough, but you know how we Brits love to talk about the weather. It seems like summer is just around the corner, (perhaps somewhere in Spain or Portugal). The tulips are big as goblets, the birds compose new rhapsodies until bedtime, and new-mown lawns send out their familiar green perfume, which itself acts like a happy pheremone on me. All these triggers lay forgotten in my mind through winter, as they always do, to be rediscovered like a perennial gift each year, never losing their thrill.

Another sure sign of summer is the flight of hot air balloons in the morning. The long roar followed by soft silence tells me they are coming near, and I rush to the window to find them in the sky. I have never flown in one, but so love to watch them, strangely fast and graceful for their imposing dimensions.

I lived in Bristol for a few years, and always looked forward to the annual Balloon Fiesta. Up to 100 balloons gather together from around the world, in all their fantastic colours and shapes: there a flying mobile phone is not out of place next to a floating dog, a fire extinguisher a similar size to an entire inflatable cathedral. At night they stay tethered to the ground with lit flames for a beautiful “balloon glow”. In the early morning and at dusk they mount the sky in flurries. To see them closely and in numbers is to witness not only their true size, but their unique charm.

Now that we have more reliable methods of flight, the hot air balloon has been reduced almost to a novelty; largely the plaything of champagne breakfasters and the mouthpiece of corporate advertisers. In 1783, however, hot air ballooning was a more serious, and a much more dangerous affair. An intrepid (probably unsuspecting) sheep, duck and rooster were the first passengers. Following their survival of 15 minutes in the air, the Montgolfier brothers took off from Paris two months later, not only staying up for 20 minutes, but also, like the farm animals, staying alive. Human flight (with any notable degree of success) was born. [source]

That which flies is not necessarily light in weight though, as any jumbo jet will tell you. Last year my meditation teacher Sri Chinmoy (then aged 75), lifted some hot air balloons, seated with one arm overhead. They are not so buoyant beneath their natural habitat of sky. A 140-foot tall rabbit weighed in at 369 pounds (167.4 kg), followed by a multi-coloured 90-foot balloon at 397 pounds (including the pilot and basket).

Speaking of Sri Chinmoy’s one-arm seated lifts of a 575 pound (260.8 kg) dumbbell a few days earlier, longtime registrar of the British Amateur Weightlifters Association Jim Smith commented: “Sri Chinmoy is giving back to people the importance of having the mind, body and spirit together. No other human being on earth has ever lifted over 3 times their own body weight, even with two hands and while standing!”

Up until Sri Chinmoy’s passing last year, age 76, he strove to inspire people to transcend their limitations through sports and meditation. He was also a prolific writer. Here is one of his many uplifting aphorisms:

You do not have to fly
To the blue-vast sky.
The blue-vast sky will enter into you
If you turn your mind into
a silence-home.

—Sri Chinmoy
From Twenty-Seven Thousand Aspiration-Plants, Part 211

You can find our more about Sri Chinmoy’s weightlifting feats, and see some video clips, at Sri Chinmoy TV