Bhagavān Institute – Found  – Wembley – Radio – Card – Dream – 22-03-2026

Here is this morning’s dream

The dream opens in a kind of school assembly hall with a stage and parquet flooring. The stage has theatre stye floor to ceiling curtains. In the main body of the hall are several people milling around. It is a kind of “spiritual” gathering. Marshalling them is a young man who is tall with a white granddad collarless shirt buttoned at the neck. He has long shiny jet black hair and is of a slightly tanned complexion. Each person is sharing their story of how they came to be upon a spiritual journey. I am talking with a young man about his start and it was via martial arts. I explain to him that I first started Zen meditation is karate class sat in seiza.

The man with the hair says, “what shall we call this gathering and that which is to follow?”

I say the Bagvaan {phonetically} Institute. In the dream I know that the spelling has an H also and is Bhag-van. I know that it is a term used in some Buddhist texts.

He thinks that the term refers to us and the society / institutions to follow. I know in the dream that Bhagavān refers to me. The reason that people will come is for me. He does not yet understand that it is I who will organise and bring life.

In the audience / gathering is a younger woman perhaps early forties. She is expensively dressed with dark hair and her bare stocking feet look incongruous against her business suit. She comes over to me and says, “I am so pleased to have finally found you.” She starts to tear up. I reach out to hug her. She withdraws. I explain that I wish to protect her because that is what we elephants do. She lets me hug her and she sobs into my shoulder. The sobs are considerable. She calms. She reminds me of an Australian Southerly Stalker I once knew.

The scene changes and we are in her car driving into North London. The gathering has been in the home counties. We have given another member of the gathering, a man, a lift and will drop him off at a tube station, Wembley Central. On the radio there is a talk programme in which I am mentioned in connection with the growing Bhagavān Institute(s) popping up all over. This is followed by a song in which Bhagavān is the theme.

We get to the tube station and I go in with the man to ensure he knows how to use the ticket machines. He is not British. I show him how to use the machine by putting some coins in and pressing a button. Out of the ticket hole a series of introduction / business cards starts to rapidly pile up like cards in a casino card dispenser shoe. They come out of the machine to make a deck of business cards with my name on and Bhagavān Institute address details. The song from the car is playing over the tube station loudspeaker address system.

The dream ends.

  • I am unsure as to whether to publish the dream or to keep it back. In the end I decide to publish it to go with the flow and see what might happen. I am aware of possible consequences. Where did that come from? Out of the blue.

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Bhagavān, nominative singular of the adjective Bhagavat, literally means “fortunate”, “blessed” (from the noun bhaga, meaning “fortune”, “wealth”), and hence “illustrious”, “divine”, “venerable”, “holy”, etc. Bhagavān is related to the root Bhaj (भज्, “to revere”, “adore”), and implies someone “glorious”, “illustrious”, “revered”, “venerable”, “divine”, “holy” (an epithet applied to gods, holy or respectable personages). The root Bhaj also means “share with”, “partake of”, “aportion”.

The Vishnu Purana defines Bhagavān as follows,

He who understands the creation and dissolution, the appearance and disappearance of beings, the wisdom and ignorance, should be called Bhagavān.

— Vishnu Purana, VI.5.78

“Spiritual” Journeys

I have used inverted commas quotation mark here because I struggle a little with how words have in a sense become tainted by multiple usage and being bandied about as PR. Spiritual as a word has had its impact and meaning downgraded to the point of near meaninglessness.

I am going to attempt to put into words something which I have hesitated to do. It is close to impossible. This cannot be undertaken without emphasising just how important a few years of my childhood were in my development, in this life. One constellation in particular left its mark deep in my psyche.

It was by its light during an English language common entrance exam that I foresaw events near two and a half decades later. It was the harbinger and the key of a volte face in life. I left the harbour alone in my coracle adrift upon the Southern ocean lit by its solace. I left Cape Town after being burned on table mountain.

Later I had another foreboding which was also to find consummation over a similar time delay. Each of these were pivotal. That foreboding prevented me making a UCAS university choice against the advice of my school teachers.

When I was young and in an English boarding school as an expat child I got to read the lessons and the prayers in church. While the others sat with parents. It was like a duck to water that I took to the lectern and the prayer “chair” deep in the nave. There I found St Francis of Assisi.

« Seigneur, faites de moi un instrument de votre paix.
Là où il y a de la haine, que je mette l’amour. »

« C’est en pardonnant qu’on est pardonné,
c’est en mourant qu’on ressuscite à l’éternelle vie. »

This man was in tune with the Mahayana bodhisattva ideal. His words touched.

Unfortunately those with the skill of a chameleon can adopt any mask, any direction, any character they choose. Believe me I learned how to blend. And in blending one loses authentic essence.

At the end of my schooling I took general studies courses in Buddhism, cooking and Rastafarianism. Ever Jah, ever loving, ever faithful. Rastafari. I read all that I could on witchcraft and alchemy. I made “friends” with the librarian in our town.

The Buddhism was presented in an intellectual descriptive manner in which the various fetters were enumerated for debate. Although I understood, the manner was for me boring and definitional. I sensed beyond that which was being professed. It was during intense meditation sat in seiza at karate that I learned that I had in fact been meditating all of my childhood. I used to sit and observe. I used to wait. I was touched directly by the dreamtime out in the shimmering bush of western Queensland. The aboriginal pointing stick had cleaved something open.

And then when I went to university I mostly forgot. By the time I was doing my Ph.D. research I figured that I had found something I was good at. So maybe this was the future. I enjoyed “pissing about with lasers”. I was to an extent, life and soul of the party. It was only in the early nineties that I started to withdraw, as if driven by a deeper current, out into the hills, the mountains and the countryside. It set up a kind of imbalance. On the one hand was a “normal” life and career. On the other there was silence and quiet. My reading was more intellectual philosophy, science and philosophy of science. I noted that despite mundane academic achievement many of “the greats” struggled with non-salary paying bigger questions.

I was offered a choice. Fort Collins Colorado or Bern Switzerland. One of those would have brought me quicker into contact with things “spiritual” than the other. The Swiss francs were certain, so I saw the Berner Oberland and learned painfully of “qualität”. Something which I tried thenceforth to express.

In the mid nineties at the place of my prior foreboding I was brought to my knees. Despite writing excellent research proposals I was stymied and unfunded. A grudge held by a “competing” senior academic could kill a proposal with a mere word. I had a breakdown. The answer to life the universe and everything could no longer be found in the laws of quantum mechanics and thermodynamics. It seemed there was more. It was around then that my ambition faded and the picture of a life academic dimmed. I began to search in earnest. I opened myself up wide. Again I largely forgot and tried to rebuild a life after breakdown. For some unknown reason money for research and start-up came more easily. I was “successful” for a while.

In the very early part of this century I was tested by power. I had a taste of it and did not abuse. Like Galadriel I refused the ring and was no longer sorely tempted thereby. It was around this time that a series of what might be called micro-renunciations began. In which step-wise I renounced or was forced to renounce the accoutrements of normal life. Each one was more difficult and profound than the last. Slowly life was stripped of all that made it busy and hectic. Until in the middle of 2006 I renounced all and walked off into the metaphorical “wilderness”. Dramatic as that sounds, at face value it looked simple, at core it cleaved and parted, severed and up-ended.

I did not become a wandering mendicant with charnel grounds for abode nor skull cup for beverage. Though adrift I most certainly was. I had already learned as a child, the nature of impermanence. Strangely without accoutrement life did not cease, the world did not implode, nor did it stop.

When you are thrust  from an Outlook calendar ruled life, with hours dissected into segments, with meetings set for you, with each action seemingly accountable, into nothing. The meaning of time changes in an unalterable and irrevocable way. It is no longer a spreadsheet thing. The boxes, the rice paper walls of the day, dissolve.

At end of 2008 I left the map so to speak. I began a series of meditations which went beyond. There was nothing, despite my research skill, which I could find written. These “meditations” continued in the UK in houses close to civilisation yet separate in the English countryside. I can say that the rigor of these was high and they continued for many years. In around 2010-11 I began having Buddhist dreams.

In the early part of the century whilst still teaching physical chemistry I had a series of waking visions in which I had “om mane padme hum” tattooed on my forearms in Sanskrit and with me in monastic robes. These visions were sufficiently powerful to be present whilst I was lecturing Chemical Reaction Kinetics to undergraduates in South Kensington. It was around then that I got to express my compassion for others, to care for them.

Overlaid on a “Toltec” background was a distinctly Buddhist vibe.

All the while I had a seemingly normal life as a married man doing for quite a while “A” level science private tutoring. The outer world and the inner world differed and markedly so.

To me as a member of the elephant dreaming class there is no problem with the scholastic wisdom teachings of Siddartha and the more dramatic Toltec corpus. The latter is a guide, when viewed with clarity, to the navigation of glamour and illusion. There is probably only one truth expressed via many different approaches. The Tower of Babel has a lot to answer for…

This is probably enough for today…