Category: Buddhist

Squeamish About Death – Place Your Bets

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I think it fair to speculate that many are afraid of death and the concept of dying. Opinions differ on the nature of afterlife, if there is one, and although reincarnation is a widely held concept there is no direct physical proof, rather circumstantial evidence. People are curious about what happens when you die. If one is simply extinguished then death is not to be feared whereas loss of life might be.  Time wasted is regretted.

People say “it is tragic that so and so was taken from us” when in fact death is a wholly natural process, at least on our planet. Few say, “it is natural that he passed away.” There is much social conditioning around death.

Humanity has a hang up about death.

I saw my first deaths up close in the Zambezi River aged ~11. One man died by drowning the other by crocodile. I had to write the account for the local police because they, grown men, were unable to write. Somewhere that report of death in my scruffy childish handwriting may still exist.

No matter how strong your faith, what your teachers tell you, nor whatever is written in books, from a philosophical point of view, whatever your opinion about death is, is simply that, opinion. There may be aspiration or wish. In effect you are placing your bets on what may or may not happen. This may be conscious or simple laziness. People can drift sleepwalking towards their death. Some contemplate it up close and personal. I’ll speculate that it is better to be prepared.

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To think about death can be seen to be morbid. On the other hand it might be wise to take advice from the inevitability of death and change your actions accordingly. No matter how squeamish you may be about death, dying and the death process, it awaits you. Your allotted time, your length of planetary sejour are finite.

If you are placing your bets on there being no heaven or hell, then you could be in for a surprise when you find “yourself” conscious therein. If you are shit-scared of dying then the process for you will be very uncomfortable. If you are relaxed and ready, then whatever happens will be more facile.

According to religious theory you cannot get away with placing a spread bet, covering all options. You need to choose, decide and commit.

If you are somehow still conscious after death and visit your old “haunts” to see what is transpiring, you could be in for a surprise. If you came to check up on me, to say hi. That might be a surprise for you. What might you say? If I was less surprised than you, would that be surprising for you?

If the light simply goes out there is nothing left to worry about.

At the end of the day, literally, how you approach death depends upon where you have placed your bets in life, what your opinions, points of view and actions have been.

Death although it can be in a public space with people, is largely personal. I don’t believe that you can bullshit death. You may try to be in denial, but death will not care. You are effectively alone on your own when you die. That may not be brain consciousness as we know it. But there is nobody “there” with you on the “inside”.

I don’t think that being squeamish about death and dying is wise.

Arhats Pratyekabuddhas and Bodhisattvas – Hagiography

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I have a pet theory that the hagiography of all religions exaggerates and glosses. From knowledge of human behaviour and Chinese whispers, things passed down get embellished so as to confer kudos on the teller, the raconteur. Rarely are things made greyer and more boring. This means that taking things with a pinch of salt might offer some balance.

To the faithful there is nothing quite like a miracle to prove truth and religious figures are given, in narrative, super-human abilities and qualities. These days they would be told with enhanced computer CGI and special effects on a big budget. Bigging up martyrs and buddhas is good PR for the various churches. Who in the past had control of the proles as a raison d’être. The Sacerdotes have always had ritual magic and theatre in their playbook. Simplifying the message to an all fire-consuming hell and blissful pearly-gated paradise could be writ large on the side of big red double decker “Brexit” bus. Nobody could come back to provide a TripAdvisor rating for either holiday destination.

What if all that exaggeration has gotten completely out of hand?

Christianity, depending on flavour has a host of saints. Jesus’ crew, his disciples, are sanctified and portrayed. That depiction has taken place over two millennia. They are represented as holy. When if you think about it, they were learners, disciples, in the act of being taught and trained. Similarly, Buddha’s sixteen {18} arhats are seen as holy, saintly. When they were hanging out listening to Buddha and learning his ideas. It is said they achieved enlightenment. Lessening of burden is enlightenment, full liberation may not be the same as the partial enlightenment.

People pray to the saints and the arhats.

The canon’s of both Buddhism and Christianity were/are written by human beings and therefore by logic are coloured with bias and wishful thinking. There may well be some idealising.

Mahayana promotes the bodhisattva ideal where enlightened or near enlightened beings come back to teach out of the kindness of their hearts for the benefit of all sentient beings. This is seen by some as more worthy. Whereas the haughty arhats are too arrogant to teach, the pratyekabuddhas who do it all by themselves are not sufficiently omniscient to teach. They leave no legacy. They shun the sangha; they are not one of the gang. They are too arrogant, snobby, aloof, to be with normal people. The arhats, perhaps at one with the awesome and austere nature of reality and universe, lack the cosy human compassion are biased against and not as “nice” and the smiling friendly bodhisattva. They cannot be arsed to come back time and time again, the bastards.

People who do not know what these states of consciousness are like, make judgments thereupon. This {scholarly?} interpretation gets incorporated into the ongoing cannon, the creed, the gospel. People like definitions and will roll out comparison between, all knowing, earning bragging rights about something which they do not know. One could look it up in “Buddhism for Dummies”.

Religious thinking likes its “signs”. A rainbow appearing when someone achieves Parinirvana.

What if all these processes are entirely natural, relatively low key and nothing to shout about?

The hagiography diverges from reality…what is natural becomes miraculous. Which may inhibit application. The idea of a miracle is out of reach; the idea of continuous improvement and stepwise attainment is less daunting. Toning it down might increase genuine uptake of practice.,

Status pissing contests are a common human practice and are to be found in religion and science. People like to bullshit each other and pretend to know shed loads.

I have a pet theory that the hagiography of all religions exaggerates and glosses.

Karma and End of Life

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In my opinion it is very unwise to discount the effects of karma both as an individual, as a group or as a nation. Karma suggests that behavioural causes have inevitable effects. Our actions create our future. There are consequences.

Of course, there is no compelling reason why you should pay heed to my opinion. I am not some big cheese new-age book-selling guru, nor have I been recommended by hosts of followers {paid or otherwise}. I am not famous and I have no introduction written by a senior religious figure, a lama with a throne. My provenance if unknown and/or dodgy.  I am a retired person living in the countryside without cult or church. Perhaps a lone eccentric in a quiet by-way of a vast internet.

In the philosophy of karma, what you sow you reap.

It is not a great step to imagine that harvest comes towards the end of life. That harvest might be of a dual kind, material financial to retire on and spiritual karmic to set up the next evolutionary step, the next life. By the time you reach the autumn of life one might speculate that one has learned good from bad. One may have acquired a modicum of wisdom and life experience. In the light of that knowledge what you do towards end of life is more important because you can no longer plead inexperience or ignorance. As knowledge increases so does karmic import, karmic impact. You know better. You may not behave consistently with this knowledge.

The time in and around your {natural} death is the harvest of karma from this life and the others which precede. One might die well or cling on to the starboard bow with all your energy, afraid of letting go of the ship of life. In order to die “well” it is perhaps wise to pay off any residual karmic debt {if possible} before passing. This is because karmic debt accrues interest. One might wish an enabling birth subsequent.

But if you are of the “phew I got away with it” mentality under no circumstances, might you feel it necessary to settle accounts. You might take your smugness to the crematorium. You may remain stubbornly convinced, entitled even. As the crem gas burners light, you may look on and still think, “I told you so, there is no life after death!”

Even if you do not believe in karma, in the philosophy of karma, your words, deeds and bile add up. Karmically, you deny karma until such time as karma makes itself irrevocably obvious to you. You can struggle but karma is “bigger” than any petty human. Sooner or later “you” learn and your dogmatic adamant insistence to the contrary is shown to be flawed and inaccurate. This can come as quite a shock!!

For example, if you had unresolved karma with me, once divested of your stubborn personality vehicle, we might meet on the cusp of the dream, in the in between of worlds after physical plane death. There you cannot pretend not to have seen me or make an excuse because you are busy. I, still living, would not be surprised to see you but sure as hell you might be. What might you say?

At one time I briefly considered working with end of life care. But when I thought about it, I might go down like a lead balloon with friends and family.

From a Buddhist perspective having a “good” death gains karmic merit, it is a stepping stone, to the other shore of liberation. Being awake and conscious at withdrawal eases the transfer of emotive unpleasantness and thereby lessens the ongoing karmic burden. Panic and fear are not helpful; resistance is ultimately futile. Because of modern medicine I have had six more years. In the old days I would have died when I broke my femur.

I have a pet theory that modern medicine has complicated the workings of karma. That makes sense because karma too must evolve. Human choices are more nuanced than they once were. The temptation to strive to have life on you own terms and to try to dictate to the universe is strong.

In my dreams I have foreseen meetings {after their death} with a number of individuals with whom I was once acquainted. To my knowledge most of them still breathe earth air. If my dreams are predictive, we shall meet again in a “place” with which I am the more familiar.

What I am hinting here is that karma does not cease on “dying” but persists into the in-between experience on going. The slate is not wiped clean. How you live your life at and towards the end matters.

As I suggested at the beginning it is unwise to discount the notion of karma.

Memories – Alzheimer’s – Still Alice

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The other night we watched a film “Still Alice” the purpose of which was to get the viewers to empathise with the Columbia University professor Alice who develops early onset Alzheimer’s disease. It portrayed the impact on her and her family as she lost cognitive function and recall. There was no CGI, sex or violence in the film and it was engaging, well written and well-acted. A nice change from the glitzy, violent and insubstantial. It was a bit sentimental drawing on the American idealism of family and career. It showed how when someone devotes all life to career it can be taken away. Where value is placed can be fragile.

It is pretty easy to prematurely self-diagnose Alzheimer’s as one moves towards dotage. In our case the need for linguistic engagement outside of our proximal relationship is minimal. One could say that I am out of practice talking shite.

Modern psychology is very normative in its approach and there are a series of behavioural norms which, if there is divergence from, evokes a label of illness or syndrome. I don’t know where the set of societal norms are garnered from, what the statistical evidence is or whether the ultimate arbiter of “they” decrees what is normal. I don’t know who drew up and populated the Venn diagrams.

In the film there was mention of “memory makes us who we are”, there was thumbing of family photo albums and old holiday film footage was played in the narrative.

Human perception is never 100% objective and any recall of past events is subject to selective perception and selective memory. Humans are biased. We have selective recall. The memories, the bedrock upon which we build our re-collection of life are not entirely sound. In the film the protagonist identified as a clever university professor. That identity was removed when she started to lecture poorly. Her entire personal legend fell into question. The film suggested she suffered during this process, trying to cling on to her faculties and her legend.

A saccharin rose-tinted view of the past is perhaps the tearful key to enjoy the twilight years according to many. Looking back wistfully sustains as incapacity and incontinence sets in. Our past “glories” provide a nice warm feeling which is not a leaking catheter. The ability to live partially in the past is seen good as the quantity of future available fades.

I am certain that how I hold memories of the past differs from many because I have recapitulated my life numerous times and worked hard at erasing my personal history {not in a browser}. I’ll speculate that were a psychologist to investigate my recall of life memory they might note a difference to norm.

I am not beholden to past nor do I cling on to it. Nevertheless, it has a causal relationship in how I interact in the now. I have a decent scientific training and could, if pushed, sustain a scientific conversation or persona.

One could argue that I have forgotten who or what I once was and have morphed into an anti-social bumpkin. Look how far he has sunken! What a fall from intellectual grace! How sad, what a shame!

But that would be facile.

This addiction to creating “memories” or “Insta-stories” is counterproductive to the pursuit of liberation. The concretising enhances the urge for rebirth. The constant re-telling of “family means everything” is often a lie and something we are encouraged to provide in our PR stories for public consumption. There is a big illusion concerning “family”. To err from ideal is seen as bad even when the ideal itself is an illusory construct. We are complicit in the propagation and recounting of this illusion.

This means that although I can appear approximately normal, the underlying psyche in my case differs markedly in that a shared basis is not there. I do not think the way I am “supposed” to.

About a decade ago I had cause to re-learn university level physical chemistry. It took a while. I had big difficulty because some of the so-called proofs which I once accepted without question no longer seemed adequate to me. They seemed short-cut. Yet thousands of undergraduates receive degrees every year by correctly reproducing them and applying them mathematically to exercises generated by faculty. I have no doubt in the physical applicability of much science, because we can build rockets that work. I am not entirely convinced that the methodology is as perfect as we imagine and profess. There may be some element of kidding of self along the way.

Maybe I have lost my science ability, my science faculties.

The film touched briefly on the notion of identity, or self, and hence self-perception. Something which Alzheimer’s gradually erases, if I understand correctly. In some ways my notions of self are gone already even though I maintain some cognitive function and have near zero resident social-event memory. There is nothing which I cling to and not very much which keeps me here, incarnate, on earth.

This notion of self, seen as good, is also behind war and conflict. The gist of the film was that maintaining the sense of self and still being the same person underneath despite all the loss of function and memory was a good thing. I am still…despite…

I am not sure that it is, from the point of view of liberation. Karmically if you place a lot of stock in intellect and its application, then to have it withdrawn is a major challenge. One which could set you up well for the next life. Sometimes our worst fears manifest and that is not necessarily a bad thing. Our challenges at end of life can be the most profound and the most enabling for our onward evolution.

In the end, for all of us, our current notion of self must dissolve and pass whether quickly or otherwise.

Self is impermanent.

Revisiting the “Thai” Incarnation – Ong Bak

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I mentioned earlier in the blog that around 2003 I started having visions of myself as Buddhist priest / monk with om mane padme hum tattooed on my forearms in Sanskrit. This tattooing suggested the Sak Yant of Thai, Laos, Vietnam, Cambodia / Burma, I could not see the colour of the robes in those visions but was certain that the calligraphy was not Tibetan.

More recently I had an “Indochina” dream, a link is below.

One could say that the Buddhist Muay Thai dream resulted from me watching Tony Jaa in the early Ong Bak films. But I don’t think so.

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As a regular user of Watkins books where one can find much on “spirituality” I frequented Cecil Court near Trafalgar Square, London. There was an artefact shop opposite. There I purchased this Buddha / Avalokiteśvara. He is sitting in our hallway to this day.

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At the time I was talking with a chemistry student during her final year research project on statute patinas joint with The Royal College of Art. The shop has moved probably to Camden. I had a long conversation with proprietor about how the village from which he sourced the statuettes used special techniques to create ancient looking patinas.

Many years later following on from a dream I visited a Thai Forest Buddhist centre, Cittaviveka, also known as Chithurst Buddhist Monastery. This was not far from where we lived in the UK.

When I had the “Thai” dream in 2023 I was genuinely quite surprised because I had mentally ruled out Indochina. But today that notion has again resurfaced. The hair-do on the statute is very Indochina – style. I have said “Thai” but it could be elsewhere on the peninsula.

The Buddhist thread is linked to the pen-pal of the wife’s mother who was the daughter of a Sri Lankan ambassador and a Pali Scholar, the author of a Pali dictionary and important to the spread of Buddhism to London. This is the Theravada link.

The monk I spoke with at Cittaviveka had looked after Christmas Humphreys. A key figure in bringing Buddhism and meditation to London.

In that dream for the first time, “I am wearing only some saffron-yellow trousers.” I am clearly Asian.

Hmnn…

A Bit of a Nodal Point…

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It has been an observable in my life that when life trajectory is approaching a nodal point for change, where different paths might offer, that things tend to stack up like London buses running behind schedule. Events converge, apparent available time runs out and a number of crises manifest. Things start to get hectic and it is difficult to keep clarity.

At the moment we have the selling up house and buying a smaller one choice. That might be in France or UK. In any case a move. I could do science “A” level tutoring in the UK for a few extra quid a month.

Also, there is an increasingly pressing need for me to get replacement hip surgery, which adds to the mix. Unfortunately, I could not find contact details for a traditional Fairy Godmother on the internet. Hence, the joints are only going to get worse and the pain is unlikely to diminish.

We have the Myeloma sword of Damocles hanging over as per usual.

The feasibility of a nanna-flat in the UK looks OK. There are less bungalow type houses here. The cost of living in the UK is a lot higher. We are in the administrative system here and could qualify for a 10 year right to live card next year.

I am not seeing anything new that I want to do in our garden of two acres, so the time to move is now or around now. That is also the feeling. There are a few before sale internal DIY tasks which I/we can hack. All of this is very normal and mundane.

I know from what I am picking up subjectively that there is a small finite possibility that events could transpire which would markedly change the trajectories. They are related to my Tibetan Buddhist dreams. They hint at a trajectory far away from nanna-flats, Zimmer frames and secateurs.

That febrile trajectory is not close to taking shape, though inquiries may have been made today. It is a lot quicker to ask me direct than to speculate.

A simple small win on the lottery would enable. It would buy room to manoeuvre on the house move front. It would not have to be much…

I have had some more titanium put in today. I have an implant fitted in my jaw into which a false tooth will be screwed at a later date. So, yippee, antibiotics for a week.

Stuff continues to stack up…

Buddha Says, “Don’t Be a Drama Queen!”

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One day when he was sitting under the Bodhi Tree a question popped into Buddha’s mind.

“Why do people make such a big fuss about everything, why are they overly dramatic and highly emotional about their normal lives and how they think life ought to be? Why are they forever whinging and complaining about their lot?”

And then he had it, the essence.

“Don’t be such a drama queen!”

The Bhagavad, the Tathāgata, the Venerable one, the Blessed, had come up with a simple piece of advice which would help people ease the imagined burdens in their lives. To lighten their imagined loads and to thereby enlighten them.

“Don’t be such a drama queen!”

He had found the precious jewel of wisdom. If people could live life as it is rather than with an overly dramatic soap opera style overlay there would be much less suffering in the world. People would stop flailing about and over-reacting. Calmness, harmlessness and peace might abide.

So, whenever you find yourself reacting to a situation remember and enact the precious jewel of wisdom garnered under the mighty Bodhi Tree.

Buddha says, “don’t be such a ridiculous drama queen about everything!”

Savoir distinguer douleur physique et souffrance ajoutée.

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Sallatha Sutta (SN 36.6)

La flèche : Savoir distinguer douleur physique et souffrance ajoutée.

Traduit par Jeanne Schut

Excerpted from The Dharma of the Forest

« Moines, une personne ordinaire a des sensations de plaisir, des sensations de douleur et des sensations qui ne sont ni agréables ni désagréables. Le noble disciple bien entraîné connaît lui aussi des sensations de plaisir, des sensations de douleur et des sensations qui ne sont ni agréables ni désagréables. Alors, quelle différence, quelle distinction, quel signe distinctif y a-t-il entre le noble disciple bien entraîné et la personne ordinaire? »

« Pour nous, Vénérable, les enseignements ont pour origine, pour guide et pour arbitre l’Éveillé, le Bouddha lui-même. Il serait donc bien que vous nous expliquiez le sens de votre question. L’ayant entendu de la bouche de l’Éveillé lui-même, les moines s’en souviendront. »

« Dans ce cas, moines, écoutez attentivement ces paroles. »

« Nous écoutons attentivement, Vénérable. »

Le Bouddha dit alors: « Lorsqu’une personne ordinaire ressent une douleur physique, elle s’inquiète, s’attriste et se lamente; elle se frappe la poitrine, pleure et se désespère. Ainsi, elle ressent deux sortes de douleurs: l’une physique et l’autre mentale. C’est comme si un homme était blessé par une flèche et qu’on lui en lançait une seconde juste après; il sentirait la douleur de chacune des deux flèches reçues. De même, lorsqu’une personne ordinaire ressent une douleur physique, elle s’inquiète, s’attriste et se lamente; elle se frappe la poitrine, pleure et se désespère. Ainsi, elle ressent deux sortes de douleurs: l’une physique et l’autre mentale.

« Ressentant une douleur, la personne y résiste avec amertume. Du fait de cette résistance et de cette amertume, une tendance sous-jacente de résistance à la douleur physique remonte à la surface de son esprit. Sous l’effet de cette douleur, elle se tourne vers la recherche de plaisirs sensoriels. Pourquoi ? Parce qu’une personne ordinaire ne voit aucune échappatoire à la douleur en dehors des plaisirs des sens. Du fait qu’elle recherche le bonheur dans les plaisirs sensoriels, une tendance sous-jacente d’avidité pour les sensations agréables remonte à la surface de son esprit. Elle n’a pas connaissance de la réalité ; elle ne sait pas que toutes les sensations agréables apparaissent puis disparaissent, qu’elles sont aussi attirantes que dangereuses et qu’il est difficile d’y échapper. N’ayant pas cette connaissance, une tendance sous-jacente à l’ignorance des sensations neutres remonte à la surface de son esprit. Qu’elle ressente du plaisir, de la douleur ou une sensation neutre, cette personne est comme enchaînée par ses ressentis, elle s’y identifie complètement. Voilà pourquoi il est dit que c’est une personne ordinaire, quelqu’un qui est piégé par la naissance, le vieillissement et la mort, par le chagrin, les lamentations, la douleur, la tristesse et le désespoir. Quelqu’un qui est enchaîné par la souffrance.

« Par contre, moines, lorsque le noble disciple bien entraîné ressent une douleur physique, il ne s’inquiète pas, ne s’attriste pas, ne se lamente pas; il ne se frappe pas la poitrine, ne pleure pas et ne désespère pas non plus. Il ne ressent qu’une seule sorte de douleur : une douleur physique, pas une douleur mentale. C’est comme si un homme était blessé par une flèche et n’en recevait pas une seconde juste après; il percevrait la sensation causée par une seule flèche. De même, lorsqu’un noble disciple bien entraîné ressent une douleur physique, il ne s’inquiète pas, ne s’attriste pas, ne se lamente pas; il ne se frappe pas la poitrine, ne pleure pas et ne désespère pas non plus. Il ne ressent qu’une seule sorte de douleur: une douleur physique.

« Conscient de cette sensation douloureuse, il n’y résiste avec amertume. De ce fait, aucune tendance sous-jacente de résistance à la douleur physique ne remonte à la surface de son esprit. Sous l’effet de cette douleur, il ne se tourne pas vers la recherche du plaisir sensoriel. Pourquoi? Parce qu’un noble disciple bien entraîné sait que l’on peut échapper à la douleur autrement que par le plaisir des sens. Du fait qu’il ne recherche pas le bonheur dans les plaisirs sensoriels, aucune tendance sous-jacente d’avidité pour les sensations agréables ne remonte à la surface de son esprit. Il a connaissance de la réalité; il sait que toutes les sensations agréables apparaissent puis disparaissent, qu’elles sont aussi attirantes que dangereuses et qu’il est difficile d’y échapper. Ayant cette connaissance, aucune tendance sous-jacente à l’ignorance des sensations neutres ne remonte à la surface de son esprit. En ressentant du plaisir, de la douleur ou une sensation neutre, il n’est aucunement enchaîné par ses ressentis, il ne s’y identifie absolument pas. Voilà pourquoi il est dit que c’est un noble disciple bien entraîné, quelqu’un qui n’est pas piégé par la naissance, le vieillissement et la mort, par le chagrin, les lamentations, la douleur, la tristesse ou le désespoir. Quelqu’un qui n’est pas enchaîné par la souffrance.

« Moines, voilà quelle est la différence, la distinction, le signe distinctif entre le noble disciple bien entraîné et une personne ordinaire. Le sage qui a pleinement réalisé le Dhamma n’est pas charmé par les objets désirables selon les critères du monde et les situations non désirables selon les critères du monde n’éveillent en lui aucune résistance. Désir et aversion n’existent plus en lui. Il a atteint l’autre rive. »

To paraphrase:

Whilst physically incarnated pain is very likely, how you respond to this phenomenon is up to you. You have a choice.

Pain is inevitable, suffering optional.

Senior Tutor – Waifs & Strays – Great Compassion Dream 13-05-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream. I have often thought of my stint as Senior Tutor as a karmic payback caused by my own days of depression and misery.

The dream starts on a dreary wet grey council estate multistorey housing facility. There are runway balconies connecting the apartments. This is grey and tatty. There is a smell of piss and there are graffiti tags. The feel, the air, is of decay and danger. It is in South London, the rough side of Brixton. I am approaching a red door. There is music and a whiff of skunk cannabis.

I knock on the door and ring the bell. There is some talk inside, someone goes to the net curtain and checks through the window. The music goes off and a young white American man answers the door. He has blonde skanky corn-row dreadlocks. He is both surprised to see me and not surprised at all.

I explain to him that I have come looking for him because he has been cutting classes and not turning up for lab work. I ask if I can come in. He is reticent to let me in. I explain that it is ultra-unlikely that I will be shocked by what I see. I have been to drug dens before, and I will not judge him for a few spliffs.

He lets me in, and we sit in a scruffy lounge area where there is “party” debris. He ushers to his flat mate to leave us alone. I ask him what the problem is. He says that he has some debts and has to earn a little money on the side. He is into some gang related problems. I say that if he wants, I can come to talk with his gang contact. He does not think I can hack it. I explain that I have talked with gang bangers before. They do not scare me.

I say that he needs to find some way of balancing his work at university and his gang activity. He needs to stay off the class A drugs. I suggest that he comes back to college and tapers off his involvement in selling drugs. Otherwise, I will come and talk to the gang. He realizes that I am serious.

The scene changes and I am in an office, my office. It is in a university hall of residence, and I am tutor / warden there. It is late in the evening. There is a knock on the door and a young woman is there. She has been crying. I let her in. She says that the American man from before has suggested that she talks with me. She is highly suspicious and on edge. I invite her in and have her sit in my living room. I say to here that it is my job to look after the lost and the wayward. I have seen most of it. There are few surprises. I deal with boy girl problems, coming out issues, parent problems, depression, hyperactivity. I can advise on finances, condom coming off type problems. I can refer to health services. I deal with handicap and disability. Sometimes I just listen for a while. I can change her tutors if they are being arseholes. As a Buddhist I am well placed to discuss faith from all perspectives and am non-judgemental and widely read. I can hear “confession” if there is something she wants off her chest. Try me I say. I will see if/how I can help. I pass her a box of tissues to dry her eyes. I say that I am not an ogre. She smiles.

A while later in the morning I have another knock on my door. It is a young man a dwarf with achondroplasia.  I let him in. Now I am wearing maroon monk’s robes with a yellow under vest. It is my job to “simply love them” to offer my great compassion. I usher him in, and he plops onto the soda. I ask him about his general health and how his dwarfism may be hindering his studies. He says that he has some thyroid problems which are handled medically and that from time to time the arthritis is his hips plays up. I say that if he runs out, he can have some of my hip arthritis pain killers. I joke that we should go dancing. He says that the girl from before, has by word of mouth, suggested that he talk with me. I ask him how I may help. He says that he needs to get some height aids and a reaching device for high shelves. I say that I will sort it. He has been in trouble with the warden for being drunk and disorderly. I remind him that because of his low body mass he should not try to drink pint for pint with the other students. I will tell the warden he has been to see me.  I say that my door is always open. He notices my rosary on my left hand which is made out of antique yellow-amber beads. I explain to him that I am not easily shocked and am not prone to judgement. He wishes me a good day and leaves.

Next, I am in the corridor outside my flat and another young male student approaches me. He taps me on the shoulder and asks if we can have a word. We go to sit in a coffee bar. He is agitated and keeps glancing over his shoulder. He says that he is in deep trouble. I ask in what way and what his name is. He is sat on a sofa, and I am sat cross legged on the carpet of the coffee shop. He says that he does not want to give me his real name. He gives me his passport name. The one he uses. He is Eastern European / Russian. I ask him to tell me is real name. Anayin, or something like that. He writes it in Cyrillic for me. I know this to be the name of an exiled Russian mafia boss. He is having problems with immigration and the Home Office. His father has a security services protected identity. He says that the officials are being shirty with him. I suggest that for his next meeting I come with him. I can show them my University Identity card and confirm that his application and attendance at university is all in order. He is doing well in his studies. I say that my manner of dress can have interesting effects on uppity officials. It wrong foots them. He agrees and we will keep his familial identity between us. He says that the girl who came to see me before is his girlfriend and that the morning after pill has worked according to her recent self-pregnancy test. I suggest that he needs to be more careful because the last thing that either of them needs right now is a baby. The studies are hard enough. I punch him playfully on the arm.

The dream ends…