A Fragment

The more habitual and repetitive life becomes,

the more we lose the wonder, the awe.

The more we lose the openness we once had,

when the whole world was apparelled in celestial light*.

But let us honour and cultivate this wonder and awe.

And though we may never return to a true child-like state,

let us not become embittered and closed-off.

Let us remain open and supple.

Let us remain good-humoured and sensitive.

Let us revere each morning sunrise, a miracle beyond words.

Let us cherish each passing season, each blade of grass, each gnarled tree.

Let us always be grateful for the wonder of life. 

 * Wordsworth

A Fragment

A poem can be a reminder of how things really are

A shock, a jolt, a lightning strike cutting through ignorance and amnesia

Perhaps a poem is also like morse code or a telegram signal, encoding a message but never fully revealing the soure

A poem is a collection of letters and words, abstract units that come together and form a cathedral, a sweeping murmuration, bristling with meaning, insight and truth

Particles coalesce and form beings

Musical notes collaborate and form symphonies

One becomes two, two become three, and the world dances in relational ecstacy

A Fragment

When I wake up, when I think, when I move about in the daylight, I see multiplicity

I see fields, rivers, birds, trees, flowers and people

Every individual thing going about its business, living by its nature, and eventually dying

I see all of this, the whole drama of life and death, unfolding before me in a beautiful yet tragic way

But at night, I am given new eyes

Within the bewildering multiplicity of the world, there is an eternality and oneness

There is a bedrock, a foundation of unbounded love, ageless and timeless

Everything emerges from this bedrock and returns to it, everything takes part in this endless dance

My words fall short here

Words are limited and conceptual whereas unbounded love is ineffable, limitless and beyond thought

The One enfolds the Many, the Many enfold the One

A Fragment

Did you know that we held each other’s hands even before we met?

Before time, all hands were joined

We have always known each other - did you recognise me when you first looked into my eyes?

But when we are born into the earthly world, we come to feel isolated

We forget where we come from, our true home

We become amnesiacs and somnambulists

We get entangled in our individual lives

Through our misguided feeling of separateness, we are plagued by anxieties and pains

And yet, when I look into your eyes, when I feel this love between us, I no longer feel separate and fearful

Through you, I am reminded of my true home

A Fragment

Every now and then

moments emerge which bring about profound newness. 

 

Imagine when you first encounter crocuses and hyacinths,

after a long winter,

arising from the cold ground.

Imagine the way an epiphany springs into your mind,

a momentous realisation,

forever altering the course of your life.

Imagine that unconscious arrest of inspiration,

when involved in a creative project,

miraculously bringing it all together.

 

It is as though a secret force is at work in the world,

steering these events on.

And though this force is eternally present,

it is made more apparent

in these auspicious moments of change,

when a seismic shift is felt within.

 

The evening we first met, an unassuming evening of gentle conversation,

held one such moment.

Saying goodbye, I stood on a precipice of decision,

and something akin to destiny took over my body.

A deeper force carried me along

when I kissed you for the first time.

 

I cherish this moment, the moment my life wildly shifted,

and our evening of gentle conversation.

An Autumnal Fragment

falling, still falling

I’ve forgotten who I am presently

I wish people were a little more present, presently present

Anyway, I just love the shapes of these trees, the grooves, crannies and textures of their bark

I love being surrounded by all this mud and all these leaves

I can smell the earth, the soil, I inhale the soul of the season

I feel autumn in my body, in my blood, I feel the transition

The flow of time is manifest as leaves release their dying gasps

Sprinkling the ground, the leaves are of many colours: mustardyellow, burntorange, winered, coffeebrown

I see fungi emerging from the ground and decaying pieces of wood

This feels like home

Others don’t seem to like winter, or the decay of autumn, but I’ve never had these feelings

I try to embrace every season, within every experience I try to see every other experience

As I wander the forest, pondering, I notice a proud horse-chestnut tree dominating the leaf-covered glade

Some of its leaves are

A Fragment

Did you know that you are radiant?

No matter how low, shameful or guilt-ridden you feel, you have always been miraculous and precious 

You have always been capable of giving and receiving love

It seems easy to numb and distract ourselves

Sometimes we do this our whole lives, we think this makes things more bearable

It seems easy to bury our heads, to surround ourselves with noise, to avoid the paradoxical plenitude of silence

But within every moment of your life, within every droll, mundane, commonplace event, there is a sacredness

Within every pain, every base desire, every longing, there is something wondrous and mysterious

So open your doors, step outside, and bathe in the warm sunlight

A Fragment

My home is darkness 

This is where I live and thrive

My winding tendrils stretch and curl through the earth

I seek the low places, the depths, the places people ignore and neglect

This is where I am most content

It is quiet here

I often hear rumblings but mostly I live in silence

In silence, touch becomes essential and sacred, I learn an infinite amount through vibrations alone

My dark home is built of soil and dirt

I am friends with the worms and mycelial threads

Yet I know that the world of light needs me and I need it

Although this dark, fecund, tactile world is my home and my preference, I know that the world of light, sound and sight is just as necessary

In essence, we exist as one

A majestic tree needs deep roots

A Fragment

The lake was quiet

A fertile stillness permeated the area

Some fluffy cygnets nestled into a swan

A breeze rustled the tree canopies, towering all around

A few ducks quacked and chased each other, playfully gliding through the water

Someone was practicing a saxophone in the distance, disembodied sounds, barely audible, faintly echoing across the universe

A centre of awareness and receptivity, I bathed in my surroundings

I strangely felt on the precipice of something, I don’t know what

Present, aligned, connected

In the bewildering whirlwind of life, this was a precious moment of peace and tranquillity

A Fragment

I traced the path lightly, as my feet kissed the Earth

A verdant, green-carpeted valley framed the river

The air was warm, balmy, fragrant

Life burgeoned and blossomed all around, in an array of forms

The whole world was ripe and teeming with joy

I trod past various birds tweeting and chirping to each other, their conversations seemed most interesting

Iridescent, neon dragonflies hovered delicately by the riverbanks

Emerald green leaves were perfused with golden sunshine

Bushes and trees were overgrown and overflowing

The river serenely rippled, nourishing the fertile area

I felt as a child again, the whole world was my playground

On this sunny day the cosmos sang to me the most beautiful song

I was overcome by Love

A Fragment

Consumed by thought, incessant thought

One afternoon I left the confines of my all-too-familiar room

Though tired in body, I cycled to the woods

When I arrived the turbulent ripples slowed

The waters of my mind began to settle

The cool afternoon breeze brushed away my frustration

There was a large yew tree surrounded by a fence, a plaque informed me it was 400 years old

I wondered to myself what things this tree had witnessed 

I thought of all the people who, hundreds of years ago, had also walked by this tree

I did not feel separate from them

This evening, the woods embodied tranquility

The canopies rustled above, swaying gently

Nature is medicine

Unlike my straight-edged room, closed off from the world, nature is wiggly

With its gnarled trees and twisted twigs

Home

Broken, lost, yearning 

We are thrown, limp and half-starved, on distant islands, an eternity from home 

Surrounded by an infinite, barren ocean, no one is coming to rescue us 

Our bodies, minds, souls are hungry, sick, weak 

Needing, longing, desperately we move through life

Our restlessness, ambitions and discontents are all shadows of one longing

We are impelled forward, but what impels us? 

We think, but who is the thinker? 

We act, but who is the actor? 

Sometimes we numb ourselves to ease the pain, filling every silence

Otherwise, it is too much to bear

But the restlessness never truly goes, the yearning never truly stops

Each one of us is Odysseus, seeking our return home

We move through life with forces seemingly bent against us

Do we give up? Retreat? Do we let these forces keep us down?

Or do we continue? Do we rise? Do we learn from our setbacks and grow? Do we plant our feet on the ground, send our roots into the earth, and reach for the skies?

The journey home is long, arduous - full of emotion, tragedy and laughter

Many of us never reach this place, many of us fail to realise that we never really left this place

But we all have the potential

Sometimes we need guidance and love, sometimes we need to surrender

We never left, we never left

The Book of Job

Man, this is a powerful story. The Book of Job has a complex message which is still relevant today. Job was a righteous man who did all the right things in the eyes of God. He was thus rewarded for this. But God, persuaded by Satan, decided to test Job in a harsh way. God destroyed Job’s livestock, killed his children, destroyed his house, and covered him in boils. Job understandably falls into despair and curses the day he was born. He laments and, at times, his faith in the fairness of God falters. Why has a righteous man been forced to suffer so much? But we learn from the fable that this is a narrow way of looking at things. This way of looking at things doesn’t do justice to the immense complexity of the universe - a universe which includes but transcends individual human concerns.

The story of Job warns us against descending into bitterness and resentment and encourages us to maintain our humility and faith in the cosmic order. It shows us that it is important, whenever possible, to be humble and grateful and to not feel as though the world somehow owes us something. Mark Twain once quipped “The world owes you nothing, it was here first”. This to me is what makes the story so relevant nowadays. I see a lot of bitterness and resentment in modern times. Many people seem to have forgotten what a miracle and wonder it is just to be alive. Through the story of Job, we learn that suffering and hardship are essential to life. Suffering and hardship give beings the opportunity to rise and face challenges. To develop and grow.

Through a revelatory vision, God provides Job a deep understanding of the cosmic process. God shows Job the majesty, vastness and complexity of nature. Through this vision, God seems to be advising Job that one should maintain perspective and shouldn’t dwell on individual worries. Job's primary response to this revelation is one of silence and awe. This revelation reminds me of a passage in the Bhagavad Gita, when Krishna reveals to Arjuna his full, divine form - a form described as “wonderful and terrible”. Krishna's full embodiment of the cosmic process is not only one of sheer wonder and creation but of terror and destruction. The vision gets so intense that Arjuna pleads to Krishna to return to his gentler form. We learn that the cosmos in its essence transcends human concerns and dualities.

Sacred Nature

Some thoughts inspired by the book Sacred Nature by Karen Armstrong

When experienced deeply and receptively, there is something about the world which is mysterious and awe-inspiring. There is an intelligent process going on. Some people have described this process as sacred or divine. To my mind, describing it as sacred or divine means one is recognising that there is a meaningful, beautiful process occurring - a process that we can never fully grasp in a conscious or scientific way. 

I'm not just saying this because it’s a nice comforting story and to alleviate my fear of death, but because this is something that I (and seemingly other people throughout history) have felt in their bones. They've felt it stronger than they’ve felt anything else. They can’t necessarily explicate these experiences in a linear way, but this doesn’t mean they are any less true or meaningful. In fact, I feel the most profound and beneficial truths cannot be rationalised or talked about in a linear, one-dimensional way. They can only be hinted at poetically and esoterically. Just because mystical experiences can’t be empirically proven doesn’t mean they should be dismissed. 

If we are receptive and sensitive enough to feel this mysterious cosmic process, then we realise how inseparable we are from everything else. Our usual feelings of isolation and insignificance dissolve and we begin to experience reality as it is. If enough people managed to have these experiences and interpret them accurately, then enough people would respect nature. They would not see nature as separate from themselves. They would feel a deep compassion, gratitude and thoughtfulness toward the whole world, including every being within that world.

I agree with the premise of Sacred Nature. Armstrong suugests that the world (primarily the Western world) needs to conceive of and feel nature to be sacred. This is something we used to do more, before the Enlightenment. We need to rediscover a reverential connection to the natural world. We need to humble ourselves to the mystery of the cosmos. 

Organised religion has done a lot of damage. But in our technological age, with our understandable distate of organised religion, we have swung too far the other way. As a result,  many rigid atheists have themselves become dogmatic. They have adopted the same narrow, linear ways of thinking that religious fundamentalists adopt. Dogmatism is the real thing to be challenged, and dogmatism can manifest in many areas.

I love the way Armstrong spends time looking at some of the Romantic poets and how they venerated nature. In terms of venerating nature, Wordsworth is unparalleled. Armstrong discusses Wordsworth's Tintern Abbey ode, a deeply profound and intelligent piece of poetry. I used to think of Romantic poetry as a bit flowery and off-putting, but upon reading it recently and learning more about it, I'm realising just how impressive much of it is. In his Tintern Abbey ode, Wordsworth sees nature as imbued with a force that "impels all thinking things, all objects of all thought, and rolls through all things". Wordsworth's experience of nature is a participatory one, where his very ability to think is pervaded by the same force which gives rise to the natural world.

Armstrong's argument is laid out carefully and intelligently. In the introduction, she spends time looking at how our ancestors concieved of nature in a participatory way and how they saw the whole of nature, the whole of the phenomenal world, as alive and intelligent. This includes even inanimate matter. People nowadays tend to scoff at this kind of thing. We no longer think of inert matter as intelligent or alive. But our modern way of thinking about matter isn't necessarily helpful or true. 

Crucially, our early ancestors did not think of God as a distant and distinct being, but saw God as a cosmic presence, a "force imbuing all things". This is the kind of God I can get behind. When we think of 'the stuff of the universe' as unintelligent and inert, this can lead to the attitude that we, as supposedly intelligent beings, somehow have dominion over it. But if we rediscovered a more animistic way of looking at nature, which sees everything as sacred, we would no longer disrespect nature in the way we've been doing.

Armstrong then moves on to the value of myth and suggests that rational, secular thought by itself cannot sustain a healthy society. Myths represent a deep, nuanced way of understanding the world. Through allegory and symbolism, myths can touch upon truths that secular thought alone cannot reach. This isn't to say we should go back to the past and it also doesn't mean we should take myths to be literally true. In fact, the whole point of a myth, in my view, is that it is not a one-dimensional, literal explanation of something. Myths are more complex than this. I think the main take away here is that the linear, scientific way of understanding the world isn't sufficient by itself. We require other forms of understanding to do justice to the nuances of existence and to enrich our lives.

There are aspects of Sacred Nature, however, that I’m not sure about. It would have been beneficial to explore the negative effects of organised religion more, even just a cursory mention would’ve been sufficient. This would have contributed to a more nuanced argument. I think because the book discusses religion at length, it seems remiss to have neglected discussing the dogmatism of organised religion and the violence that has been inflicted on others as a result. This last point is particularly relevant here, as there is a whole chapter in the book devoted to the importance of ahimsa (non-violence). To respect nature we must also respect other people, even if they disagree with us. There are also a few times when Armstrong says "in order to save the planet". I disagree with this statement, in the same way that George Carlin would've disagreed with it. It is arrogant to think to think that we, as a single species, have the power to destroy or save this planet. The planet is far more powerful than us. We might do harm to the planet and the other species on it, but we can't destroy it.

The Shining

Rewatching The Shining after multiple years, I was reminded of just how good a film it is. Kubrick does it again. I love the way the story gradually unfolds as we follow Jack’s descent into possession and madness. I love the unsettling, eerie score by Wendy Carlos (who also did the incredible soundtrack for A Clockwork Orange). I love the wide shots and the smooth, deep-focus camera work which immerses you into the supernatural atmosphere of the Overlook Hotel. I love the plot, based on King’s novel, which blurs the boundary between the psychological and supernatural.

There’s a tendency when it comes to Kubrick films, perhaps more so with The Shining than any other, for some people to read too much into them. This is evidenced by the 2012 documentary Room 237. But films like The Shining aren’t meant to be explicated. There is something in Kubrick’s style, a suggestive, ambiguous way of telling stories, which can make people over-analyse them. But listening to Kubrick himself, we learn that he wasn’t a fan of “verbal pigeonholing”. Listening to this 2-hour interview with Kubrick, we learn that he feels the meaning of a film shouldn’t have to be explained. He feels a good film should stand on its own.

What I like about the story of The Shining, in both the book and the film, is the way it forges a link between the psychological and supernatural. More specifically, it forges a link between the inner, subjective turmoil of Jack Torrance (the protagonist) and the outer, objective force of the Overlook Hotel. In the novel, Jack’s character is carefully built up with a lot of detail. We greatly sympathise with him. We learn he has a lot of inner demons and that he is vulnerable. This is why the hotel was able to possess him. In the film, though we briefly learn of Jack’s alcoholism and temper, his character isn’t nearly as developed as in the novel. Therefore, we don’t sympathise with him as much. I think this is one of the main reasons why King hated the film. However, King didn’t seem to realise that Kubrick wasn’t trying to replicate the novel. He was playing with it in a sense. It might be a King novel, but it’s a Kubrick film. They are both good in different ways.

The film is a little more subtle than the novel, in that it makes the supernatural aspect less obvious and apparent. We aren’t always completely sure whether the ghosts are occurring in the minds of the characters or not. However, one of the events in the film which clearly points to the supernatural force of the hotel is when Jack is released from the store cupboard which Wendy locks him in. The most plausible explanation is that the ghost of Mr Grady let him out. It is also clear that Danny has psychic and telepathic gifts. 

The haunted house motif is a relatively common one in horror literature. We have stories like The Fall of the House of Usher, The Turn of the Screw, The Haunting of Hill House. The Shining could be said to follow in this tradition. These other stories, particularly Hill House and the House of Usher, expertly describe how certain spaces can reflect and magnify their inhabitants' psychological states. The Shining also does this to some extent, but there is more of an explicit supernatural element to The Shining. I like the idea that certain spaces retain a presence, energy or residue from past events. It’s as though stored up in these spaces is all this historical experience. If something particularly horrific happens somewhere, perhaps the emotion and impact of that event will always remain in that place to some extent. I feel this rings true in real life too. Some spaces do have a presence. They almost have a life of their own. The Overlook Hotel, from this perspective, could be seen as a kind of being or entity. 

In The Shining, Jack Torrance is recapitulating the actions of a former inhabitant of the hotel. This is a powerful element of the story for me. In a strange way, this is related to Joyce’s Ulysses, in that Leopold Bloom recapitulates the peregrinations of Odysseus in Homer’s Odyssey. This plot device implies that we as supposed individuals are not separate from that which has gone before us. There is a kind of continuous line running through every aspect of our experience, past and present. This theme also comes up in Alan Garners book The Owl Service. In The Shining film, there is a powerful scene when Jack confronts the previous caretaker, Mr Grady, in the bathroom. Grady states, in a grave tone of voice, “I’m sorry to differ with you sir, but you are the caretaker. You’ve always been the caretaker”. The hotel has a hold on Jack and has forced him to repeat the violent, brutal actions of the old caretaker. This is further confirmed at the end of the film, as the camera slowly zooms in to a 1921 photo of a party at the Overlook. At the centre of the crowd, we see Jack. With the song “Midnight the Stars and You” playing, this is a perfect way to end the film.

There are multiple unusual references in The Shining which add to a lot of speculation about the meaning or “point” of the film. But these references are ambiguous and inconclusive. Also, we have already learnt that Kubrick doesn’t feel his films should be conceptually explained. Some of these references are to do with native American Indians. For example, the hotel manager states that the hotel is built on an Indian burial ground, there are large Navaho wall hangings in the hotel and there are food cans in the storeroom with pictures of Indian warriors on them. This has led many to say that the film is about the persecution of Indian people, but this isn’t convincing enough for me as there’s not much else that points to this. Another reference relates to mythology, and this is the large maze which features in the film. We see Jack at one point standing over a miniature model of this maze, with a demonic look on his face. He seems to symbolise the minotaur in Greek mythology. But again, there’s not much else in the film which points to this mythological link. It's tempting to say that these references were intentionally placed in the film to add to the overall ambiguity of its meaning.  

Another point to make here, which I think is fairly valid, is that films and filmmakers might unconsciously (or consciously) “bring up”, in a cathartic way, past societal events. I feel Godzilla 1954 is one of the clearest and starkest examples of this point, which could be seen as a reaction to the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. So, in The Shining, maybe the blood bursting from the elevator is indicative of the violence and war that occurred in the 20th century, which is what some people believe. But again, there’s nothing conclusive about this. 

Near the end of the film, the possessed Jack follows his son Danny into the maze to kill him. It is freezing cold and the floor is coated in thick snow. After a period of running, Danny uses his wits and intelligence to outsmart Jack, even though he is very young. Danny steps backwards multiple paces in his own footprints (which Jack was following) and after a number of paces Danny turns a corner and begins brushing the snow to remove his current footprints. Danny then hides in a corner of the maze. There is something about this aspect of the story that I love. It shows us that we can overcome problems and evil forces by assessing the situation at hand and using our wits. This is a special kind of intelligence that is very effective at overcoming problems in the world. It reminds me of Edgar Allen Poe’s short story A Descent into the Maelstrom. In this short story, the protagonist is on a boat with his brother when they’re both sucked into a maelstrom on the ocean. As they are initially being sucked in, the protagonist is struck by terror and worry. But after some time has elapsed, when he has almost resigned himself to his fate, he starts observing the inside of the maelstrom and how certain objects, namely cylindrical ones, are being absorbed more slowly than others. Eventually he lashes himself to a cylindrical object in the boat, hurls himself into the water, and gets himself shot out of the maelstrom and back onto the ocean surface. By resigning himself to the situation, he stops panicking, and is then able to assess what is happening and use his wits to resolve the problem. Brute force isn’t helpful in such a situation.

There are other little touches in the film which are worth mentioning just becausethey’re great. There is the scene with Danny riding his trike through the halls of the hotel, rolling over the iconic, geometrically designed carpet. I like the way the camera follows Danny here. We are in Danny’s world at this point. There is another scene with Danny riding his trike when he encounters the ghosts of the 2 twin girls. There's something undeniably creepy about old fashion ghost girls. These 2 were inspired by the famous Diane Arbus photo. If you haven’t seen Arbus’s photography yet, you should check it out. The fact that the twin girls were inspired by this photo demonstrates Kubrick's cultural knowledge and his ability to weave such influences into his films. “Come and play with us, Danny. Forever and ever and ever”.

Diane Arbus Twins

Another scene I love, which adds a bit of humour to the film, is when Dick Halloran, the chef played by Scatman Crothers who shares Danny’s psychic abilities, is sitting in his bedroom. As the camera slowly zooms out, a large picture of a naked black woman with a huge afro is shown on the wall in his room. From another perspective in the room, we see a different photo of a naked black woman. It's funny touches like these which can really elevate a film to a higher status.

Even though The Shining is a masterful, thought-provoking film, and even though I like showing my appreciation for it by writing this, we shouldn’t try to pin down the meaning of it. The Shining is great because it is ambiguous. Most works of art are great for this reason. 2001: A Space Odyssey is another clear example of this.