Tag: incarnation

Bumpkins Go to Saint Helier

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

It is very difficult to get across to most people just how out of touch we are with modern living and specifically people density and noise. Aside from medics, tradesmen and checkout people, I speak with nobody other than the wife. This has been the case for quite a while, over six years. I have spoken in person to/with her brother and friends when they visited. I have had very few zoom type calls in that six year period. Certainly, less than two dozen. I do not speak on the ‘phone. Nor do I chat via email or WhatsApp whatever the hell that is.

In many ways I am a bumpkin, a pikey and a hermit. I am no longer accustomed to “sophistication” nor the high octane pace of somewhere like Saint Helier Jersey. {Population~ 30k}

I am unaccustomed to any social interaction.

Part of the purpose of visiting Jersey was to see how it felt to be surrounded by people and anglophone people at that. It is fair to say that I am still a little shell shocked. We were out of the compound for less than 48 hours and in the Metropolis for 24.

The fist thing I noted was just how frantic and ill at ease people were. The energy they were giving off was edgy and wanting to please, to fit in. The manager at Pizza Express asked us if we wanted the app…Why? I don’t use apps and we have not been to a Pizza Express for more than six years. I did not even have a ‘phone.

The people in Jersey seemed rushed and hassled compared to here. And boy were they loud when bullshitting each other. I noted several chunky “personal trainer” types, keen to exploit the Jersey dollar for fitness and “well-being”. There is money and it attracts.

The only calm experience, outside interaction, I had was when I sat on the bench outside M&S and a well-heeled woman older than me sat next. Neither of us were rushed. We shared silence for a few minutes. She went into Givenchy. The main street was a bit like a cross between high street Guildford and Bond Street London.

Jersey is clean and “posh”. It is also surprisingly multi-national with people there to meet the services sector demand. I used to hang out in posh places, South Kensington and earlier Mayfair / Piccadilly. I lived in Brixton.

The hotel we stayed at was very nice. We ate at the hotel restaurant. They played loud “party” music and people outside on the terrace were necking booze and smoking or vaping. The food was good and the service very, perhaps overly, quick. There was noise and laughter outside. I thought to myself that once I used to do that kind of thing. I would have been content as a Brit on the piss. It all seemed more than a little forced and false. It was hurried. There were ostentatious handshakes and kissy-kissy helloes.

I was the alien from another planet. I was able to order, in English, food from the pygmy African waitress. I was observing, earth.

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The rheumatologist suggested we move to Jersey for the “quality of life”. It did not seem that attractive to me. How do you explain quiet tranquillity with no social interaction and a gentle river running through the garden? That has quality and not a constant needy need for social interaction and social affirmation. There is no need for endless consumption, conspicuous or otherwise.

I am still sighing a little, a whole day later.

What is obvious from that visit is that it is probably not wise to live in a “built-up” area and that I do not miss the people in whose country I once lived. I do not need that English vibe.

It might be possible to live in the countryside and visit an urban “metropolis” when there is a need.

Unfortunately, I am like a sponge and can pick up all that emitted jangly nervous energy. It made “in town” sleeping hard.

Theoretically It would be possible to earn money tutoring wealthy kids in physics and chemistry on Jersey. But I don’t think there is anywhere there far enough away from “civilization”.

If I found Jersey difficult to hack, London would cause a complete meltdown.

Did I really get on the Victoria Line every weekday morning during rush hour? Really? And without any medication?

In terms of incarnation that seems like the most surreal incarnation that I have ever had.

Still more than a little shell shocked after only a very brief jaunt…

My Five Buddhist Incarnations – Dreaming

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

In around 2003 whilst living in London and working as a lecturer in Physical Chemistry at Imperial College in London I started having waking visions of myself dressed as a Buddhist monk / priest. These visions overlaid normal day to day reality and I was able to lecture to a theatre full of ~one hundred students on chemical reaction kinetics or in smaller groups, chemical applications of group theory, whilst these visions were resident. They persisted on the crowded Victoria Line tube trains. I had repeat visions of om mane padme hum tattooed in Sanskrit on my inner forearms. Accompanying these images was/is the sensation of tattoo. These visions lasted on and on for over a year.

I did not mention this to anyone because I thought it would not go down well in the Chemistry department. I thought human resources might not appreciate this and occupational health might be consulted.

I however was pretty sure that this was past life recall.

Obviously, it is impossible to prove scientifically, that any past life recall is real. At best there can be what the courts call, circumstantial evidence. Dreaming comprises some of this kind of evidence.

In 2009 I had a series of visionary telepathic conversations, early in the morning, walking in the woods near Tring with the master Djwhal Kuhl. He told me of five of my previous lives, two of which were Buddhist. He said that I had been a very close disciple of Siddartha.

The dream yesterday has added Nāgārjuna to the list of possible life-candidates.

Irrespective of accuracy or otherwise the theme of scholasticism and scholar runs through all the/my putative incarnations as does the theme of entrepreneurship. I am “on” the second ray, of the Elephant dreaming class and conditioned by love-wisdom, the teaching ray.

One dream suggests that I was Bakula a close disciple of Siddartha who came late to the path after a scholarly life.

Yesterday’s dream suggests some six hundred years later Nāgārjuna. Who was a “founder” of Mahayana and may have taught at Nalanda university.

Another dream has pointed at a saffron trousered Muay Thai trained Burmese / Thai incarnation, a monk/priest/protector.

Then there is dreaming evidence of a Japanese Vajrayana monk incarnation, with poetry.

{The feeling for me is that I also had a Japanese Zen life but no dreams as yet}.

The next two lives were not substantially Buddhist.

Of late there has been increasing “evidence” for a 20th century incarnation as a Tibetan Buddhist. So far there is no evidence of a named individual. If it was a sequential birth then they need to have died before or in early 1964. If it is a shared emanation then there is no strict constraint of time frame.

It is not for me beyond the realms of possibility that I have had five {six} incarnations with a dominant Buddhist flavour and of a non lay orientation.

It is not going to detrimentally affect my career prospects to write about this here and now.

I can just be some crazy eccentric old git living like a quasi-hermit.

“Look at the twp boy over by there…”

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Failure as a Human Being

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

I have a pet theory which states that most people are literally sleepwalking, they are caught in the hamster wheel of material success and social kudos and have completely forgotten the purpose of their current incarnation. They may have all the accoutrements of success but when the time comes to show their humanity they fail, they fail as a human being. That failure, the lack of courage, the lack of honesty at time of crisis can weigh heavy. It is at the core of “The Seed and the Sower” by Laurens van der Post. Jack Celliers could have saved his little hunchbacked brother from public mockery but he tried to save face and look good. He was offered the chance for his brother to be spared of the ritual, the rite of passage. He had his cubic centimetre of chance but did not take it. He chose poorly. Subsequently Jack became reckless with his life and a part of his story, his betrayal, is immortalised in the film “Merry Christmas Mr Lawrence”.

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“All of us, whether or not we are warriors, have a cubic centimeter of chance that pops out in front of our eyes from time to time. The difference between an average man and a warrior is that the warrior is aware of this, and one of his tasks is to be alert, deliberately waiting, so that when his cubic centimeter pops out, he has the necessary speed, the prowess, to pick it up.”

Carlos Castaneda

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A watered down version of this public humiliation happened to me in boarding school. In my common entrance English exam aged 12 I wrote a poetic piece about being set loose in a coracle from Cape Town Harbour under a moonless sky and by the light of the Southern Cross. It was in a way prophetic. My housemaster, “Bulldog”, chose to read it out in school assembly, without asking me. He eulogised about the poetry in my soul. I got five white bonus points for my house, Lincoln. I never wrote anything like that again until I was in my late thirties. I did not let go again. As a direct result of that moment, I chose chemistry, physics and maths, instead of English, Latin and French for my “A” level subjects. I pivoted away.

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Many people are convinced, adamant even that know where people are coming from, what they are all about and how they think. Not asking they never truly know. People in my experience prefer to tell me what they think I am thinking. Being introverted I am very unlikely to offer any narrative or opinion, unless it is on a subject about which I am interested. I could have written passionate here but I didn’t because I am past the stage of passions.

I have made a statement. People may take it at face value, they are very unlikely to ask me what I mean by that. So, they will be extrapolating from their own knowledge and, if interested, simply guessing.

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I can think of several occasions when I have been interacting with people where they have absolutely no idea about what I know. Where I could have given them many gifts of power. They were too interested in the sound of their own voice and keen to have a mutual bullshit session. They missed an opportunity which might have become profound. They did not ask they told. I let them carry on talking.

It seems to me obvious that a part of incarnating as a human being is to practise and learn humanity. By all the numerical and material metrics you may be a rip-roaring success. Yet if you fail to embody and express humanity you have failed as a human being. You may gob off about immigrants, sue people for throwing milkshakes at you. You may turn a social media platform into a den of iniquity.

The tendency to soap box in an adamant manner is not really practising an inclusive humanity. You may get millions of followers and become an influencer, have social kudos. But exactly what example are you setting?

Are you really developing your humanity?

Are you somehow missing the point of your current incarnation?

How are you doing being a human being?

Hmnn…