Tag Archives: contemplation

‘Sometime Soon’: When is it?

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There used to be a thing – maybe it’s still a thing – that would happen sometimes. You’d be talking to someone and suddenly they’d burst out:

‘Hey that rhymes! You’re a poet and don’t know it!’

This exclamation, this sudden and surprising interruption, was always prompted by some sort of accidental rhyming happening in something you’d said.

Or, sometimes, it even happened when you had written something and had through no fault or thought on your part, created a rhyme, even a little impromptu and accidental poem.

Well, that’s what happened to be. It was a while ago now and I was writing in my journal. It must have been ages ago because I don’t keep a journal anymore.

In any case, with nobody reading over my shoulder, it was left to me to express surprise at a sudden outburst of poetics on the page. And along with the surprise, I was able to make a quick note of what I’d written:

Anyway, this post isn’t about this little demonstration of spontaneous poetic genius; it’s actually about the ‘sometime soon’ tagging along on the end.

I have no idea where or what the walk to take, the pilgrimage to make, was – or is. Which suggests a rather obvious conclusion: ‘sometime soon’ never came. The walk was not taken; the pilgrimage was not made.

Now, I’m thinking to myself, if the walk under discussion was so appealing – as well as so significant that it transformed into a pilgrimage – then how come ‘sometime soon’ wasn’t right now, or rather right then. If you follow me.

Of course there’s no telling the reasons for the sometime soon. Maybe plans would have been required; travel to arrange; equipment to gather; fitness to acquire. Who knows?

Clearly I was inspired to at least put down in writing that I thought this walk, this pilgrimage, was (or would be) a good thing to do.

Meaning, in that moment, in the present that is (or was) of that moment, that walk/pilgrimage was a thing I wanted to undertake.

Now, while I might have longed to take that walk, to make that pilgrimage, in the present of that moment of writing, and even though planning may have been required, thereby putting off the actuality of the taking and making till some future time, I at the very least could have taken some action – again in the present of that moment – to get the ball rolling so to speak.

So, what’s the lesson here?

Well it’s simple really, very simple. Maybe simpler to say than to actually put into practice, but I think my lesson here is just this. Tell myself the truth as often and as much as I possibly can. In other words:

Be honest with myself

Let’s look at the options

If I’d really wanted to take this walk, to make this pilgrimage, no matter how remote, how complicated the logistics or planning, why didn’t I take action in that present? Or at least in some present before I actually forgot completely what the walk/pilgrimage was.

And why add ‘sometime soon’ if I didn’t actually desire or intend for this thing to happen? Well, possibly to put of any decision about doing or not doing. Or perhaps it was a way of saying (in completely other words), ‘Well, it sounds very nice, but I doubt I will ever end up doing it.’

So, honesty, and clear thinking about what I want and what I don’t want. That way I won’t be so attached, so keen on clinging to outcomes that I can’t see clearly, can’t easily know what I am to do or not do. Presence. Being present is what this is really about isn’t it?

To be completely present, to be fully here and now, requires me (all of us I suppose) let go of the maybes, and the ifs and buts as well as the endless ruminations about do this or don’t do that.

If I want to take a walk, or make a pilgrimage, then I say to me: just get on with it! If I don’t, then just say so, and move on.

Last little comment: I would really love for the present to remind me of what this walk/pilgrimage was. I’m a bit curious I guess(yes I know, curiosity is a present moment deflater) Maybe it’ll come back to me now I’ve written this post.

Peace

A Journey to the Centre of the World (sort of)

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Namaste and greetings

Yesterday I came across a couple of stories – true ones – that I wrote years ago. They are what we might loosely call ‘travellers’ tales. I thought it might be nice to share them here. So here’s the first one. Enjoy

Not the Manu temple I write about, but another one close by

I’d walked up to Old Manali, and I’d kept walking through the town. Then higher still, past the temple to Manu, and the scattering of traditional houses and small fields clustered around the temple.

Three near-naked and stoned saddhus invited me into their cave – more a kind of overhanging rock shelf poking out from the foundations of the temple itself.

Naturally I declined. Politely. I wasn’t, never had been, and never shall be a stoner. Besides, here I was deep in the Himalayas walking through ancient villages and past temples to ancient gods. Seems to me that that’s enough to bring on a high all its own and like no other.

Then, a little higher up the trail. I rounded a corner to be greeted by a kind of open forest glade; a grassed and flowered field protected by a semi circle of forest sentinels, their crowns maybe thirty metres above my head.

And there, in the middle of this magic field, a large flat rocky area, like a series of ‘shelves’ layered one on the other. This maybe twenty square metre tiered platform was probably the remnants of an ancient hill (or mountain?) that got in the way of a more recent but clearly relentless glacier.

Whatever the history, here was an arena with views no theatre or movie could ever hope to reproduce. This natural amphitheatre faced several layers of peaks across the valley. But, before those peaks, and directly in front of me, just down the slope, stood the temple, then more trees, reaching down into the valley. Here the river flowed, surrounded by farmers’ fields and the brown dots of houses.

Then the forests begin again, thick at the bottom in the valley, but becoming more scattered on the higher ground. Then those many layers of higher and higher hills, mountains really, rolling off into the distance to, where on the horizon and behind it all, a row of the really high peaks covered in their permanent snows.

‘This is a special place, a sacred place,’ I heard myself sigh out loud. Sitting cross-legged now, I let my eyes wander over the scene taking in the blue sky, the white peaks, the multiple greens of the forests, the sliver ribbon of the river, and the rest.

At such times and in such places, one’s eyes tend to close of their own accord. And so it was for me then and there. I let myself drift. Thoughts came and went, to be replaced by more thoughts that came and went.

Then, my eyes opened. Again of their own accord. After a few seconds of that cliched ‘where am I?’ feeling one has when startled out of one state and into another, I made out the figure of a person standing facing me a few metres from where I sat.

‘I’m sorry,’ I heard her voice call to me. ‘You just looked so peaceful sitting there meditating, I just had to stop and watch you.’

She told me she’s been watching me for about fifteen minutes, which gave me a start: It’d felt l Ike I’d only just sat down and closed my eyes.

‘They say the light of the world is held about twelve kilometres up this trail. That means it’s the centre of the world.’

I had to stand to try to take in a revelation of this magnitude.

‘And apparently,’ she went on, ‘they’re going to move it soon and nobody knows where.’

Was she an angel? Was I dreaming? They, whoever they were, are about to shift the centre of the world? Even in India one doesn’t hear this kind of news everyday. Actually, I doubt you’d ever hear it on any day.

Then she was gone, headed up the trail. I didn’t follow. I remember thinking: twelve kilometres was too far for me especially as I already had a long walk downhill to my hotel back down in the new town.

Yes, mundane, practical musings, a typical response to news of such a wild and far-out nature. So, not exactly in shock, yet not quite myself, I turned back. Down. Through the village, past the temple with three crashed out saddhus out front, back into the town.

There are cafes there. They sell Chai there. I needed one.

Actually, given the momentous news I was going to have to digest, I might even have a couple extras.

This is a true story; it actually happened more or less the way it’s described here.

Of course, there is no ‘light of the world’ stored in some secret spot, somewhere on Earth.

Well, I suppose if there is a light of the world, then it’s likely to be the world itself, I mean Earth, all the beings who live on this planet. Life itself I guess you could say. Life is light; Life is love.

Peace

Changing the World: Maybe not such a Tall Order

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I’ve always liked this idea, this notion, that by helping one person, you can change their world. I’ve always believed it to be true; after all,

Nobody ever made a bigger mistake than one who did nothing because they could only do a little.

  Sydney Smith

Reading this great quote again recently, I was struck by something I don’t think I’ve noticed before. Suddenly I saw: ‘might not change the world’. Might not? Then I thought why not turn the whole think around: I could as easily say ‘Helping one person might change the world …’.

But, you know, my thinking went even further: I realized that might and might not have nothing to do with it. The reality is that every action we take, and that includes the action of helping other living beings (as well as harming them, which is a whole other story for another time), actually does change the world.

Obviously we can’t always (actually it’s more like very rarely) see those changes, nor are we able to dictate what the changes will be or predict all the possible outcomes. We may think we know what the results of our actions will be; we may even guess right. Whatever the case, all we can do is take action while realising that impacts always occur and just keep on happening in a kind of cascading effect that literally never stops.

Then I thought about it some more, wondering how we can actually come to fully realise that the might not in this marvelous saying, which speaks of a negative possibility, is more an always will, which points to something definite, as well as a whole lot more positive.

All is One on the physical and the non-physical levels

We all have had at some time a sense that we are all connected; we feel that we are part of nature, part of something bigger than just a lone disconnected individual. But, have you ever had the feeling that you might be more than just a ‘part of’ the world or nature’? Have you ever had a sense that you are nature? Maybe this sounds a bit esoteric: But we are one Self; we are all physical manifestations of the one consciousness, the one Divine.

And of course we can’t know for sure what goes on beyond the physical world. But, even at that most basic level of the material, especially as we get down to the microscopic and even atomic levels, it’s hard to tell individual beings apart. Atoms merge and cross over, interact, and change, between all living and non-living things.

So, who’s to say that one small action on my part, one small change, won’t have a cascading effect as the ripples (that’s a good way to put it isn’t it?) from that action spread through the world and beyond.

The ‘What can One Person Do?’ Dilemma

Our Sydney Smith quote in a sense tackles this agonising question for us. Still, you might think that one person can’t do a lot when the needs are so vast and so many and so intractable. There is always something we can do, even at the supposedly one person, one individual level, even if as Mr Smith says, it’s a small thing we do.

Just think how many people everywhere are asking this same question: ‘What can one person do?’

If even a tiny percentage of those questioning individuals answered that they could do something, then you would start to see changes taking place for sure. How could all those actions not add up to a changed world?

The Multiplier Effect

Just now I used the words ‘add up’. Well actually it’s more like a multiplication effect.

Remember we mentioned earlier the idea of a cascading effect always in action whenever any action of any kind is performed? Isn’t there a saying that goes something like: if a butterfly flaps its wings in a forest somewhere in the world, then a polar bear in the Arctic sneezes? Okay, that’s not quite it but you know what I mean.

Then there is that concept of ‘pay it forward’. It’s an easy concept to grasp, though I don’t especially like the language.  For me it’s more to do with love, compassion, empathy, and a desire to make things better.

So, the truth is, helping one person does indeed change the world for that one person. And whatever we do for that one person, it also does definitely change the whole world. It may not appear to us personally that everything in the world has changed simply because of our one, apparently tiny action, but the world, (and that includes all of us who live here or anywhere else for that matter) is one living entity, one being, so those multiplying impacts just go on affecting everything and everyone in some way.

We may think of ourselves as just one separate little individual, but we are more than simply united with all life; we are that life, just as all life is us. And, as for believing we can be ‘agents of change’, we may think that it’s all too hard; too many problems; what can I do? The road to changing the world seems to be blocked, seems to be impassable.

Well, one teacher I admire is Ramdas. Among the many great things he said, this one stands out for me above them all. I may have the wording a bit wrong, but basically the message is:

If you set your feet upon the path, then you are already at your goal


Which is another way of saying that if you help one person, then you have changed the world.


Peace

The Beginning of Devotion: A Poem

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The Paradox of the Hermit Life (Courtesy of @travellinghermit3)

THE BEGINNING OF DEVOTION

Attention, paying attention.
It’s the beginning of devotion.
And when you see? When there is seeing?
Well, seeing is praise.

When we see, what we see,
is God.
Not the god, or this or that god.
There aren’t lots of gods,
or so it seems.
And in the end, there isn’t even one god:
there is only God.
So it was said by the sages.

If the Tea Needs Stirring: Lessons in Presence (A Poem)

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Greetings friends A poem today for you to read and enjoy

If the Tea Needs Stirring: Lessons in Presence

Just now, just here,
stirring the tea.
A flash, an insight;
in reality a realisation
dawned as the tea brewed.

Suddenly I’d seen the solution
to finding the real Self,
to success in the search,
to completing the quest for Truth.

Just keep doing this.
That was the sense of it.
That’s what I heard with the mind’s ear.

Stir the tea?
Yes.
Then? Keep on keeping on.
Step by step,
One task – or no task – to the next.
Just a wu wei flow.
In, through and on the ongoing moment;
on the path of least resistance.
But beware, take care:
That path is not the slippery slope
of apathy, of indifference.
It’s not the way of doing nothing.

It is the way of being,
Of being within your doing.
Fully present, only present.
The tea needs stirring?
Then stir it.

Be the actor – the stirrer.
Be the spoon,
Be the tea.
That’s all there is.

Remnants of Sea Cliffs

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Here there are remnants
of sea cliffs.
Cliffs that have not towered
since ancient times.

How an Old Blue Tin Trunk Helped Me Give Up Journalling

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Journalling always seemed to go along with tea drinking

About a year or so ago I stopped keeping a journal. And, when I say stopped keeping, I mean keep as in both senses of the word. Let me explain.

I began writing my life in a journal in my teens. I stopped for a while in my late teens and early twenties, then later in my twenties, took to it again. I then kept my Journal going ever since. That is, until last year.

Of course, some periods saw a more intense, even daily journal keeping. And then there were periods where the journal only saw me every now and again. On the whole though, I’d been completely dedicated to my Journal for more than 40 years.

What over 40 years of journalling looks like

So, why suddenly end it? What prompted me to just stop keeping it – again in both senses of the word – after almost a lifetime committed to it?

Yes. A good, good question. First of all, it wasn’t a sudden decision; I didn’t ‘just stop’. For some time I hadn’t been feeling quite so committed, quite as excited about keeping a journal (as in using it to write my feelings, ideas, and essentially my life). And, just as with so many of the decisions we make thoughout our lives, this one had a practical, even a pragmatic ‘seed’ as well:

See the picture above? That’s my journal. The rest of the Old blue tin trunk would get itself filled with all kinds of stuff not needed on rhe road. The trunk lived with my cousin for a few years, then it was my sister’s turn; she had it on and off for many years.

As you are no doubt beginning to guess, this arrangement began to wear thin. We (the hermit pilgrims) were constantly asking ourselves, what’s the point of storing this stuff for years? Do we really need it?

My answer had always been yes. I needed my journal. I might read it again someday; I might need it to write books or whatever. So, we’d keep the trunk, filling the remaining space with stuff and things.

Then, on the penultimate occasion we had the old blue tin trunk shipped to us in our latest (then) current roadside cave, I looked at it, and thought: What’s the point?

Somehow the attachment – the compulsion to hold onto my Journal – had gone. It was a liberation, a freeing of my mind. I suddenly realised that the prospect of me ever rereading the thing, or needing it for some other purpose, was remote. Actually such a prospect was also extremely unappealing.

I should add here that that particular aversion and disinterest in rereading my journal, seemed to cement my already growing disinterest in keeping a journal in that sense I mentioned earlier of writing down feelings, ideas and so on. Now, both the idea of keeping the journal in the sense of storing the physical volumes for a rainy day, and that need to keep a journal by constantly writing my life, collided. Time to stop keeping!

So, I sat and leafed through every volume, more as a kind of farewell ritual than anything else. I did ‘rescue’ the odd bit and piece, most of which have since gone the way of their host volumes. Then I simply set the lot on its way to oblivion.

I mentioned that this whole chain of events happened on our penultimate reunification with the old blue trunk; what about the ultimate time? Well, we’d kept it full of various pieces of art by both of us; with various household things; ornaments; and other stuff I can’t remember.

Repacking it to ship back to my sister’s as we got ready to move on from that particular cave, we both just said, let’s leave it all behind.To cut a long story short, that’s exactly what we did. My son, a couple of charity shops, and the house we’d been sheltering in, were all recipients of the last of the contents of that old blue trunk – and the blue trunk itself.

Now, do I miss my journal? Well yes and no.

No I don’t miss having the thing as in owning it. Or maybe it’s better to say I don’t miss always having it in storage and out of reach the great majority of time. Like I said, I went completely off the idea of holding onto it – keeping it – just in case someday I might want to read it all again or use to for research. Now I think, why would I ever want to do that? (okay, I think I might have already said that)

The yes is kind of qualified. Yes, I miss writing in it. Yes I miss having a vehicle for expressing feelings, thoughts, and ideas.

I say that this yes is qualified because while I say this to myself from time to time, I don’t actually seem to ever really feel it. So perhaps it’s less a yes and no than it is an unequivocal no.

Besides if I have the urge to write, to put pen to paper, fingers to keyboard, then there’s nothing to stop me.

After all, that’s precisely what I’m doing now isn’t it?

My take on Dharma, Karma, & Living a Good Life Part 3

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Towards the end of my last post I looked at where I was (or is it am?) on the Do your duty front. Do I actually do my duty? And if I do, then how well am I doing it?

My conclusion was that in some areas I am doing okay,, while in others I need to work harder to get them right. Now I’m thinking about it again, I would say that being here, in a physical body, suggests that I still have a way to go in all areas of life. I suggested in that last post that my aspiration to do my duty is a good motivator and incentive to keep on moving in the right direction.

In summary I can say I do my duty as best I am able, and, at the same time I aspire to do that duty in an even more complete and satisfactory manner.

Oh, one more conclusion – and I think it’s a really important point – is that nobody can tell you (and me) what your duty is; only you know your duty. And only you can get yourself doing it.

Which leads us nicely to our next injunction: Follow Dharma. Following Dharma will be a great help in allowing you to discover the knowledge of what your duty is and how to go about actually doing that duty. Of course there are quite a lot of other benefits to be had from following Dharma.

Follow Dharma

As I did with defining duty, I will talk here about my own definition of Dharma; and as with duty, I will be thinking about what it means to me. Once again, there are a number of ways to define Dharma, and I have my own ideas.

The easiest, most straightforward way to say what Dharma is is to say that what is right is Dharma, and what is not right (or wrong) is Adharma.

Here’s where we might ask ourselves, who gets to decide what’s right and what’s wrong? Remember in my last post I mentioned that I think I know the difference between right and wrong? Well, it’s the truth; it’s a Dharmic statement. And I suspect it applies in exactly the same way to you too.

Obviously I get it wrong – quite often actually. I’m simply a human being who is flawed, who gets tired, angry, forgetful, distracted, and even just plain lazy.

On the Path

Which is another way of saying that, despite knowing right from wrong, I don’t always manage to act accordingly. So, what do I use as a guide, as a kind compass to steer me in the right direction? How do i in real life discern right from wrong? How do I know what path to follow?

When I was thinking about these questions, I thought, well, I just know: my intuition tells me how to behave, how to act. Clearly my intuition is not as foolproof as I would like, so thinking harder, I asked: is there a ‘code’ or something I follow that helps me keep on the Dharmic path?

Then it occured to me that, on a very much informal level, I try to follow Buddha’s Eightfold Path.

The Buddha taught this Eightfold Path as the means by which we might free ourselves from suffering.

The Path is not a set of commandments imposed by some outside authority. It’s not a set of rules or laws that we must obey for fear of punishment, either here in this life or in the next life.

What the Eightfold Path is is a series of pointers, a collection of concepts or ideas that can help us to navigate our lives directed by a moral compass that keeps us heading in the right direction.

The steps that make up the Eightfold Path are Right Understanding; Right Thought; Rght Speech; Right Action; Right Livelihood; Right Effort; Right Mindfulness; and Right Concentration.

A long time ago (and I’m sorry I no longer have the source) I read somewhere that one can summarise these eight steps with two short and direct sentences:

Be ethical in thought, word, and deed
Be a good, kind, and moral person.

You can probably guess what I’m going to say next: This is all way easier said than done. Well, exactly. For me it really comes down, once again, to aspiration, to trying.

In fact, one of the steps on the Eightfold Path addresses this point directly: Right Effort. Buddha recognised that it was never going to be an easy path to walk, so he reminds us that effort is as vital as any of the other steps. Perhaps, knowing how flawed I am, I would say it should be the number one step.

Swami Ramdas

Essentially what The Buddha is saying here is what Swami Ramdas, another favourite teacher of mine, once said (I have to paraphrase a little here):

Once you step on the path, you have already reached the destination.

Again, it’s the effort, the trying, that is the point. For me it’s actually The Way itself.

And that’s where I’m at. Deeply flawed; deeply and seriously lacking in the right ‘thought, words, and deeds’. But I try; I’m making effort.

Live a Righteous Life

Well, at this stage, I have to wonder what else I can add. It seems to me that the aspiration to be ‘ethical in thought, word, and deed’ – not forgetting the effort to persue that aspiration – is already the grounds for living a righteous life. And at least I’ve made a start over many (or is it just one?) lifetimes.

Do good, be good, seek knowledge, celebrate all that is sacred, beautiful and is truth.

I think that’s about it, don’t you?

Peace

My take on Dharma, Karma, & Living a Good Life Part 2

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The inclination to seek knowledge is, for me, a gift, a blessing. And we live in a time when there are so many sources, so many resources available, and many are freely available too. There seems to be no limit to what the genuine seeker of knowledge can uncover.

Yes, of course, we’re swamped with information from all sides. We are deceived by fake news. And everything these days is a commodity, a thing to be bought, sold, acquired, or otherwise used for profit in the material world.

All true. However, this is where one’s discernment comes into play. It’s up to each of us as seekers of knowledge (on whatever topic or subject) to discern for ourselves the truth or otherwise of the information we use to form the knowledge we are seeking.

In my last post, I began to talk about two notes that I made in my notebook. These notes were quickly jotted down while seeking knowledge from two different sources about two distinct topics. Feel free to have a look at that post here if you happened to miss it.

Do your duty
Follow Dharma
Live a righteous life

These three lines are the sum of what remains of a session with my teacher, Swami Tadatmananda. It’s his short, succinct summary of the teachings I was trying to absorb from him that day.

You’ve probably guessed I am not a great note-taker; I like to just let sink in what wants to sink in, absorb what resonates for me. Perhaps on that day, I felt the summary was all I needed as a basis for later contemplation.

With that in mind, I would like, in this post, to reflect on these three injunctions, try to work out how I’m doing when it comes to taking notice of them, and actually where I’m at with actually living by them.

Do Your Duty

What does it mean, ‘Do your duty’? And what does it mean, for me, to do my duty?

Firstly, let me try to define duty. Not from the dictionary meaning, not from some outside ‘authority’. No, this is me talking about how I define duty.

Duty, for me, is defined by the activities I choose to prioritize in my life. These are the things that I believe best serve my true, essential nature. Acting in accordance with this true nature includes responsibilities such as taking care of my physical, emotional, and mental health. While this may not always be easy and sometimes feels impossible, it is my duty because my mind and body are manifestations of my true self, of the divinity.

Duty, again for me, means persuing activites – in the world as well as within myself – that nurture, protect, and grow, who or what I percieve that Self to be.

This Self I refer to is not restricted to the apparently separate entity I call ‘me’. That apparent separation is just that, an appearance: Self is all there is; I am not simply bonded or joined with all other living (and non-living) beings: I am those beings, just as they are me.

As such, my duty is to act in ways that benefit (or at the very least do as little harm as possible to) all beings, all life. Here, I guess, we could talk about Karma. But let’s leave that for now. It’s enough to say that nobody can tell me – or you – what is our duty. In fact, the truth is I already know the full extent of my duty, as we all do.

The only thing lacking for me is what I might call a full disclosure of what that duty is. That full disclosure can only come from me – as in the Self. As they say, I might know in my head what my duty is, but I’ve yet to fully realise it in my heart. And if I’m honest with myself I can say that my aspiration to do my duty is a constant reminder and motivation to do always the best I can to fulfill my duty.

In some areas I think I do my duty pretty well, but in others I have a long way to go.

Courtesy of @travellinghermit3

In my next post (and the final one in this series: there just seems to be such a lot to think about when contemplating this topic), I will look at what it is to follow Dharma. Once again, it’ll be a very personal, subjctive answer because, to put it perhaps too simply, I like to think that I know right from wrong.

I hope this post has been of at least a little interest and value to you. I will look forward to seeing you here for my next post.

Thank you and I wish you peace.

My take on Dharma, Karma, & Living a Good Life Part 1

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Most likely I’m not alone when I say that when first listening to new information, a lecture, teachings or anything else for that matter, I will often forget either part of what I’m trying to learn or even all of it. In fact, I’m sure there are more than a few scholarly research papers that will tell us all about this universal phenomena with all facts and figures along with all the whys and wherefores.

Anyway, I was listening to my teacher ( Swami Tadatmananda) recently. He summarized the teachings he was giving on that occasion in three succinct, pithy lines. Thinking back now, I have no memory of the teachings being presented, and all I have is a quick note jotted down of the teacher’s summary:

Do your duty
Follow Dharma
Live a righteous life.

Fast forward a couple of days and I was watching a video about 19th Century English poets. Once again I’m not able to tell you the names of all those poets or what the show was about (actually to be honest, I got bored and stopped watching half way).

And, again, all that remains is a scribbled note about the pioneering of a particular rhyming scheme by one of the featured poets.

That revolutionary rhyming scheme is ABBA (where the first line of a verse rhymes with the fourth, and the middle two rhyme with each other). It’s as well that I did jot down a note: I have never been able to take in, much less retain in memory, all the technical stuff to do with poetics. Never.

But for some reason this particular idea appealed to me. Maybe it’s to do with how I was once a big fan of the Swedish pop group Abba? (okay, maybe I still am)

As it happens, my note on this appears in my notebook just below the first one I mentioned above. So, as I thought about ABBA (the rhyming scheme, not the pop group), I saw that first note and started playing with it:

Do your duty
Follow Dharma
Earn good Karma
Do nothing naughty

Okay, I know, it’s not exactly great literature is it? Never mind; it’s only an experiment. But, having said that, I do quite like this little, what shall we call it? This little ditty. It seems to be a nice, even quirky, little rephrasing of my teacher’s own summary.

This is all very well and good you might think, but what does it all mean? Does it actually mean anything? Well, my short answer is yes: for me it does indeed definitely mean something.

Actually, it means a lot. But as this post seems to be dragging on a bit, perhaps we will have to continue in another post.

Meanwhile, be blessed