It’s Not You, It’s Me

Reading, Seeing and Hearing the outrage from all directions I can understand why we were told never to discuss politics, sex or religion. Then they told us of our government’s holdings of Krupp shares in WW1, and Imperial Japanese War Bonds in WW2.  Then came my own experience of facing an ‘enemy’ in Southeast Asia armed with the same weapons as ours: Sam Colt’s AR15, and some of whose officers had trained with me in England.   (Btw the late Col Gaddafi was in the same group, then a lime-juice-drinking young Lieutenant showing no sign of subsequent extremism except when the choice of dinner was pork or bacon.)

I am reminded of the admonition of the first Zen Patriarch ‘Seek not the Truth nor Cherish Opinions.’  Is anyone right?  Is everyone wrong?  Is there any solution to anything, except exiling their leaders to Koh Pha Ngan, confiscating their clothing, and feeding them mushrooms?

 

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The Tao of Who

Tao is Old and Tao is New
Tao is False and Tao is True
When they ask the Tao of Who
Tao is Me and Tao is You

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Garden Dream

After 22 years suspended between heaven and earth I have a garden.  I see it now peeking through the windows of my mind the step I go down to flatten the grass with the souls of my feat, an achievement of my story, mystery and myth, trees, flowers, leaves laid in noonday dreams, pierced by shells shocked by colors bedded by bamboo borders.  Lighting up the center parked among yellow blossoms the barbecue, visible by satellite, roasts the beknighted loin and my mouth waters the meadow, the green and ancient forest to the east where things begin.  White tigers fly into the sunset where its brief light expires but to be sure it will rise again to allay the apprehension of humans unsure of anything but the need to play taxes and keep occupied until it’s all over the papered cracks of social greedia.  But all is not lost in thoughts of magic, the thorn of the north pricking the lips of the south, fire and water fusing like an overloaded circle it circling the clitosphere speaking its own linguage like the cherries in my morning see real the flakes of corn.

Opening my eyes I see the real, the green wilderness of grass and nettles, docks and brambles and know to manifest this dream I must hie me to the garden center and purchase gloves and a hoe, shears and a rake however reformed, leaving Nadal noisily laboring to manifest his dream.  I have the secateurs left me by my Dad who loved making things and doing things and in whose hands a few sticks of wood would become a cylinder for a garden hose.  They are white-handled with well oiled volute springs, sharp edges to prune and shape and nipple in the bud.  He had always the right tools for whatever job and on reflection so do I: I make do with vision and teleology and know that whatever path it takes to take me there it will.

But don’t we all have this gift, this mind-picture that can fulfil dreams?  Using it of course is another story because so often I hear ‘if only’ and now I take my own medicine: if only I go to Homebase for metal I will make a start on the alchemy for our home base, our little garden of weeds feeding their last on mother earth.  I’ll be back, armed with rotary mower, so shrink, shrivel and cower, little aliens, your summer’s lease has reached its date.  Give way to morning glory and rambling rows of silver bells and cockle shells.

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First Step Second Step Third Step Quickstep

Moving home for the first time in twenty-two years, my advice to anyone thinking about it?  Well, I nearly wrote ‘don’t’ but, actually, looking beyond the boxes that fill my vision, I am happy to continue this visit to the mundane dimension sharing this new home with my Beloved.
Just south of Crystal Palace, we are half a mile from where my parents lived, a mile from my grandparents’ home, and this after threequarters of my life so far travelling on all continents except Penguinistan.  Looking back, it was quite easy to move when moving often: and since giving away all my worldly goods in 1991 – except for a few sweaters and a motorbike – quite simple.  Staying in the same place quite naturally leads to accumulation: gathering moss?
Now, settling in box by box, item by item, step by step, we are both grateful to the practice that helps us cope with the stresses of this and that.  I have always taught, and if you’ve been on any of my courses you will know already, that it’s not what happens that stresses us out, but how you respond: and the six healing sounds really do come in handy.  My Beloved, who after living in the same place with me for seven years and a day, was having a moment…..”Until, just thinking about Fusion, I already feel more relaxed and centered, and know everything will be fine, step by step, box by box.”
 
June 17th FREE TALK: Taoist Secrets of Love with Kris and Anamarta. All Welcome. No Pre-requisites. Kentish Town Studio, 141-145 Kentish Town Road (Side Entrance in Castle Place), Camden, London NW1 8PB
 
June 19th Jade Arrows Advanced Iron Shirt Chi Kung, with Kris. All Men Welcome. Kentish Town Studio, 141-145 Kentish Town Road (Side Entrance in Castle Place), Camden, London NW1 8PB
June 21 & 22 Healing Tao Foundations Step 1 with Kris and Anamarta. Wisdom + Action: Visualisation, Dynamic meditation, Power Qigong = Stress management, Grounding, FlexibilityAll Welcome. No Pre-requisites. Kentish Town Studio, 141-145 Kentish Town Road (Side Entrance in Castle Place), Camden, London NW1 8PBCompletion of this event entitles you to a discount on the Tai Chi Teacher Training (below*)
June 24th, and July 1st, 8th, 15th, 22nd TAI CHI WEEKLY London, with Kris and Anamarta.  Beginning the new Cycle of 5, last before the summer break and great opportunity to warm up for the Tai Chi Summer Retreat and or Tai Chi Teacher Training.  All Welcome. No Pre-requisites. Kentish Town Studio, 141-145 Kentish Town Road (Side Entrance in Castle Place), Camden, London NW1 8PB Completion of the cycle entitles you to a discount on the Tai Chi Teacher Training (below*)
Thursday 26th June – All women are welcome! 6.45 to 8.15pm
Jade Circle – Just Practical: going straight to practice, no previous experience is required.
Welcome the Summer within, with a special unconditional love meditation – open your heart to receive and express the energy of love. No Need to Book! just come on by, starting 6.45pm to 8.15pm
@ Kentish Town Studio, 141-145 Kentish Town Road (Side Entrance in Castle Place), Camden, London NW1 8PB
June 28th & 29th Healing Tao Foundations Step 2 with Kris and Anamarta. Greater Alchemy of Yin and YangMotivation, Increased confidence; managing the special energyPre-requisite: Step 1. Kentish Town Studio, 141-145 Kentish Town Road (Side Entrance in Castle Place), Camden, London NW1 8PB Completion of this event entitles you to a discount on the Tai Chi Teacher Training (below*)
July 11th thru 14th Healing Tao Foundations Step 3 FUSION of the 5 ELEMENTS Supreme Alchemy of Yin and Yang: Detoxing the past, Neutralising fear, managing emotions and habits, strengthen your energy field, enhance grounding! Steps 1 & 2 are pre-requisite. Kentish Town Studio, 141-145 Kentish Town Road (Side Entrance in Castle Place), Camden, London NW1 8PB  Completion of this event entitles you to a discount on the Tai Chi Teacher Training (below*)
July 24th & 25th Quest Festival Kris & Anamarta present a FREE TALK ‘The Art of the Bedchamber’ and a WORKSHOP (£15) ‘Taoist Secrets of Sex Magick’ Quest Festival Newton Abbot Devon TQ12 3AF
 
July 25th thru 30th TAI CHI RETREAT & Summer Training Camp All levels from Beginner to Advanced are welcome to Tai Chi annual camp. Arrive Friday evening and start Saturday. Daily timings are 7am to 5 pm. Dynamic Tai Chi: Form, Structures and Applications, Push-hands, Sticky- and Tricky- hands. Learn Tai Chi stick and staff!SOUTHWEST WALES Dolfelfed, Llanycefn Pembs SA66 7QJ.  Completion of this event entitles you to a discount on the Tai Chi Teacher Training (below*)
 
August 6th, 7th, 8th Boom Festival Anamarta presents Jade Circle ®, Kris presents Jade Arrows, together we present Taoist Tantra. Idanha-A-Nova Lake, Portugal


*August 31st thru 7th September NEW 7-Day Intensive Immersion Tai Chi Certified Instructor Training Sierra de Grandola, Alentejo, Portugal.   Just 3 spaces remaining now! Whether you want to qualify as a Tai Chi Teacher or simply hone your personal practice to the max then this is for you!  A 7-day Residential Training to teach the Mantak Chia-based 13-Movement Form, Master Lim’s Push-Hands, Healing, Meditation and Self-Defence Applications, and Iron Shirt Chi Kung/Qigong.  Comprehensive instruction includes Benefits, History and Traditions of Tai Chi…and no pre-requisites.  You will see how to learn, practice and teach from the beginning if you are a Beginner, and as a Practitioner you will get a lot more (secrets of Dim Mak* Master Level)
Big savings and discounts await you if you’ve already completed our Tai Chi Weekend Intensive, or a full 5-week Cycle of the weekly Tai Chi, or our Tai Chi Summer Campor any of our Nine Steps to the Tao. And even if you’ve done none of the above you can still get the earlybird discount.  It could be You if you don’t delay reply today!
Click Reply to register your interest and I will send you full information on how much you can save.  (Please Note: Savings / Discounts are not shown on the catalog / public listings and are available only to those who have completed the Healing Tao Trainings listed.)
 
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Read How to become a Taoist Master Practitioner with a click here

Click for the full Calendar of Courses, Dates, Locations and Costs

 

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The First Step

Journey of a Thousand Miles – of course you’ve heard it before  – starts with a single step.  But which way?  Witch way or Wizard Way?   When I  dropped my career and picked up my rucksack I just knew there had to be more than the mundane, more than the struggle, more than the slings and arrows of the mortal coil.  I knew there was something. 
Half a lifetime going with the flow showed me it flows in only one direction: the law of least resistance leads at best to apathy, worst the unkind of mental slavery that locks you into doing the same you’ve always done, thinking the thoughts you’ve always thought.  Round about then the little voice inside started reminding me my nature is dynamic, I like new thoughts and to do new things.  I saw the light and found a new career, still like any path with plenty of ups and downs but since then when I go to sleep at night I’m happy I’ve spent a day doing what I love, in places I love, with someone I love.  And wake up feeling gratitude to the universe for providing the resources to live the life I chose, and to my inner self for choosing it.
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Reflections on a Hell-bent Youth: 2 – The next Step

Rumor had her a virgin. He stepped over that threshold himself, a few months before on a warm night up-country in the tractor-driver’s hut. Mwala in an idle moment lasting half the day asked, ‘Done it yet?’ knowing full well he had not.

‘Not yet,’ said Harry, springing to attention in a dark place down there, bending forward hand-in-pocket to conceal in his khaki shorts a stalk of lust for a high-breasted coffee-colored coffee-picker in ragged homespun that hid nothing.  Worn by Kate Moss it would be high fashion.

‘She likes you,’ said Mwala, lounging against a tractor wheel.

‘That one? Bikira?’ He whispered in awe as she went by, arrogant as a supermodel, sunlight glinting off the four-sided drum of plucked cherries on her head for which morning’s work she would receive one sumuni – half a shilling.

Mwala shook his head. ‘No. Yes, she probably likes you, certainly likes you, perhaps even adores you, how could she not, ha-ha, ha-ha,’ forcing his face straight, ‘but she herself has not yet done it!  And would be worth many cows fewer if it happens before she marries.  No,’ he pointed with his chin, ‘Over there,’ at what could have been Bikira’s mother, a Kamba woman with leathery breasts, soon to be bouncing on top of Harry on a rickety African bed like a squeaky trampoline.

Mwala put his head round the drape before he finished.

‘Everything good, young man?’ Firelight reflected off his broad copper-skinned face.

Harry’s ancestors had their consummations witnessed, but that thought came later. Mwala’s pork-pie hat flung a shadow on the mud-and–wattle wall.  Funny, what you notice when it’s not just your mind on other things.

‘Yes, for Gods sake,’ Harry cried, jerking his way to the first hot squirt inside something other than his fist.  Well, not entirely true.  Horny young beast, he took advantage of little orifices encountered on his wanderings in the African bush: holes in rocks, forks in branches…why, one steaming day he even whipped two green plastic cushions out of the Jeep, placed them side-by-side on the ground and aligned his throbbing teenage manhood between.  Excited by the grip of hot plastic, he pumped to onanecstasy.

This was some decades before entering the world of tantra that elevates masturbation to meditation, a spiritual practice removed from the guilt-edged pleasures of boarding school where priests preached purity from the pulpit before sliding hands up altar-boys’ legs in the sacristy, settling in the confessional to hand out penance after eliciting the fullness of the sin.

‘And how many times?  And did you take full pleasure?  Every time? And did you do it together?  And were you touching or just watching?  And how many of you together?  And did you climax together…Aaah!’ as with each question the words came faster and Father Confessor’s breathing heavier.  They swore they could hear his cassock coming up and his hand going down.

‘Did you think he was really wanking?’ said Piers Minor, later expelled for submitting a drawing of an anchor on the letter W in the competition for a new school emblem.  He ended up in finance, turning his hand to banking before being exposed, poetic justice.

‘Course he was.’

‘Father Feeley had a stiffy, I saw it.’

‘Yeah, Jones, bet you felt it.’

‘It’s only three Hail Mary’s if you do it alone.’

‘You don’t have to tell them.’

‘It’s supposed to be confession!’

‘Do priests confess?’

But back to the farm.  Next day, morning roll call, in front of the whole coffee-picking gang, some eighty men, women and totos, she presents Harry with two live chickens, a brown and a white hanging by their legs.  Everyone was laughing and he was burning.  Burning for more but he remembered feeling something wasn’t there, down there up-country in the bush, but at least now he knew where to find it, an experienced sixteen-year old ready to give a girl a good time.

Soon he found one looking for just that.  Or was it hope springing eternal like the joystick in his pants?

More…it’s here

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Reflections on a Hell-Spent Youth: 1 – First Kiss

Lean and intellectual, broad-minded and narrow-lipped, Meg Ryan haircut, but secretly I preferred Hedda’s little sister Betski, rounder-hipped, more succulent if you like, and I did, but at fourteen the art of deception yet unmastered with bated breath I screwed up courage and did it.

Lounging on hot towelled concrete by the pool at the school where our parents tortured the minds of budding morons, hers at mathematics, mine at French, neither subject much called for in the colonial wilderness of the nineteen fifties, we had spent the morning, in fact the week: really the whole of the summer vacation, inching closer.  When the touch finally came – I think it was toes – and didn’t at once retreat, my heart took up the hammer and started banging away like a jack rabbit.  But then I felt something else wanting to join the jack-hammer rhythm and it wasn’t the blues.

Those days of tight swimming trunks, ah the agony, the embarrassment, roll over quick, face down, press into the towel on the hot concrete, ah the pleasure, ah the shame, ah why can’t those big shorts be the things to swim in, ah can’t even stand up except there, no hiding place, can I roll down the grass slope for a quick jerk behind the bougainvillea?  But competition lurked and I knew if I left the scene Powerdive Pete would be at Hedda’s side before you could say Jack Robinson.  And Hedda was a prize not to be shared.

And it was my toe touching hers, mine, so I did it, hoping, praying, longing for one thing to lead to another thing and that roll down the slope would find us in clover, laying down and do it again.

You know when you’ve thought of something, some magical momentous moment, seeded by movies of professional lippy-suckers, watered by a thousand times imagined, nurtured in pictures in your mind, practiced on the back of your hand before doing something else with the front, and then, finally, in the fantasy of a glorious climax, you do it…

Watch this space…

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