Welcome back!

This is the second podcast in the This Is India collection. It tells of Cesca and my journey high above the sweltering plains of India to the mountain retreat of Ooty. We recorded it last night and both really enjoyed revisiting what was one of the most pleasant sections of our trek around this enormous country.

Ooty holds the envious position of being high enough to be cold by Indian standards, but still within the heart of the country that it overlooks. It has a a very famous train service, upon which the dedicated crews work tirelessly to bring tourists, locals and travellers alike up and down from the plains of Kerala to the high station at Ooty. The people here, completely the most English influenced of Indian peoples, dress uniquely, worship in their own way and all exhibit the strength that high station living gifts those who endlessly pitch their lungs against the thinning air.

We hope you enjoy it and as before we have setup a slideshow of pictures of our time there that we will refer to as we talk on.

If you like the podcast, please consider leaving a comment or spreading the news on facebook, twitter or whatever is your personal social medium.

CLICK to play:

.
.

Click the more to get the alternate player, comments and links from the podcast:

Links:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nilgiri_Mountain_Railway
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ootacamund

Related Posts

• This Is India Podcast
  Hello and welcome to an experiment! Cecsa and I have sat down and recorded a podcast of our time …
• Mysore
  “Can you take us to this hotel please?” I asked the tuk tuk driver. He shook his head, “No, that …
• Basho and Cesca visit Bangalore, and kind of wish they hadn’t
  Bangalore is a strange place because it is just like cities at home. Almost slap bang in the middle …
• Goa: The Beach Life
  I lay on my back and tried to relax. The sound of rolling waves crashed back and forth in the distan…
• The Ellora Caves
  One of the unique things about India, and one that you never quite come to terms with, is the trains…
• Sunset in Mumbai
  The November terrorist attacks on Mumbai was something we had worried about before landing in the ci…

The story of a simple Buddhist priest travelling from India to China in the 5th Century doesn’t sound like something that would make for an interesting novel, but the after effects of this solitary man’s journey still reverberate today. In all parts of the far east, the name Bodhidharma is still very well known. In Japan, for example, little girls have Bodhidharma key-chains and all sorts of other cultural influences and footprints can be found. And not only in the geek fringes or the religious halls, no his is a visage often seen in paintings; most of the time shown as an old priest with a particularly fierce expression of concentration, and it is for this ability that he was most highly prized. Bodhidharma didn’t bring Buddhism to China or Japan, but he started a school of Buddhist thought that spoke to something deep inside the Eastern people that heard it. Spoke to their marrow with a simple and unselfish message of compassion, dedication and submission.

This effect changed them forever.

Can anyone claim to “know” the east without knowing the message of this man? His sandals touched the ground lightly, but his teachings thundered across half the world like a spreading earthquake. This was the effect of the Chan school of Buddhism, known in Japan and in the west as Zen.

As with many classical figures from Buddhism, and indeed many other religions, Bodhidharma’s journey has a few undisputable facts that have been the skeletal bones around which many tall tales have been spun. Some tell of his almost magical ability to stare, even to the point of literally “drilling” into rock with his eyes. Others say that he cut off his own eyelids, so that he couldn’t fall asleep when meditating (something that gets you a whack around the head with the stick in Zen training). All these tales have been worn smooth like pebbles on a beach and over the last thousand years have come to a “standard version”. That Goran Powell  diverts from the standard version in A Sudden Dawn is not relevant at all. His tale is the mythical idea that Bodhidharma not only brought Chan to China, but also brought Kung Fu along with it. That Kung Fu descended from India is almost too obvious to be true and many have seen traces of Yoga in the Chinese martial arts. The idea is that Bodhidharma was born into a martial class in India, which became knowledge he carried with him. Knowledge that he taught and that he used. However, such origins are hardly conclusive, as it is worth noting that the Buddha himself came from a martial class (again in the “standard version”), and he certainly never raised his staff in anger. Anyway and regardless, it is a very enticing idea and the martial reputation of the Song Buddhist monasteries such as Shaolin means that there must be some explanation to how the knowledge travelled from India. That is unless, like the calculus, it was discovered in two places at the same time. I am quite happy to imagine that it was Bodhidharma who brought it, whatever the real history.

The other “deviation” from the standard version is that he walked. Common lore says that he caught a boat, but this is mainly due to the belief that walking into China from India was impossible. Nothing could be further from the truth. The walk to Tibet from Himachal Pradesh is not for the unprepared and unfit, but it isn’t impossible. I have been to the starting point and spoken to guides who say it is not only possible, but that many amazing sights and temples await the brave. I plan to do it 9 years from now (Chinese government willing.) Bodhidharma could certainly have done it if he picked his time of year.

In many respects this novel is in the classic old-fashioned genre of Historical Action Adventure. Whereas very modern writing is obsessively focussed on the details of exactly what happened, here we have an attempt to tell us why. Why did Bodhidharma tell the Emperor of China that he had achieved nothing by building hundreds of Buddhist temples? Why did he sit in a cave staring at a wall for months? The answers that Goran finds to these questions illuminates some of the fundamental truths of Zen and the genre this novel belongs to is the same as that of Siddhartha by Hesse and Musashi by Yoshikawa. It is a genre that is fascinated with the East, see’s it through a certain idealised point of view and gazes at it like one would gaze at a beautiful flower. It is somewhat similar to Shogun, in that its idealised depiction of the characters and situations follows certain tropes. So here Bodhidharma is a giant of a man, able to amaze all around him very quickly. He has a diamond-hard stare, a firm staff hand, a kind heart, and knows his Buddha Nature like no one has since the great B himself. He is also a folk hero and protector of the weak, someone who is humble (a priest) but also someone able to stand up and be counted amongst the highest in the land (and to back-chat the Emperor of China!). The reason that Goran gets away with this is that by all known accounts Bodhidharma was exactly like this.

I loved this book. I found that it spoke to me personally in many ways. Firstly, the action is well written and clearly from someone who knows the martial arts inside and out. I have trained with and under Goran in Goju Karate and I can attest that he has a very high level of skill with the Bo Staff, which is the “weapon” wielded by Bodhidharma in the novel. The fighting depictions raised my pulse level and I found myself imagining the fight in my mind. And this wasn’t the cold style of combat writing, again more modern, that permeates the works of writers such as Iain M Banks and William Gibson. Goran brings the emotionality and desperation of combat into the writing enabling an intimate connection. These fight scenes bare this emotion out on the page and the reader is taken along with it. An effect similar to watching Star Wars for the first time and something of a rollercoaster ride. This feeling is also there with the other emotional scenes. There are a number of sex scenes in the book and they are handled well by not being over written and too involved. They also, mostly, manage to stay away from the purple overused prose of sex writing (again something that terrifies modern authors; because they fear the winning of a “bad sex award”). Goran handles the fact that we know Bodhidharma makes it to Song, by putting those he travels with under the hardest pressure and in danger and although I guessed the end scene I was still deeply involved with its conclusion.

The second way it touched me was that, as mentioned above, my wife and I have almost exactly covered the journey made by Bodhidharma in the novel. We have stood in the mountains of Northern India looking at the mountains of Tibet in the distance, we have stood on the other side (we flew over) in the Tibetan city of Shangri-La where I drank Yak Butter Tea (its horrible!). We have walked Tiger Leaping Gorge . We have seen the Buddhist treasures of the Emperors (now in the Forbidden City in Beijing). We have even been to a great Chinese martial-arts mountain (although, being Daoists, we went to Wudang Shan rather than Song). Reading about Bodhidharma’s journey and realising that Cesca and I, unconsciously, echo’d it was a great pleasure and brought memories of China flooding back to me – what an amazing place and people! I cant wait till I get to that part in the writing on this site (it’s not long now before the Buddhism parts of our journey start, with a visit to the Bodhi Tree in northern India.) This definitely increased my enjoyment of the book and made me long to return there. If you have an urge to visit the far east, this book may well be your tipping point!

Finally, there is Zen itself. Zen is a jewel; a world treasure. It is incredible. The happiness that comes from a Zen Satori will stick with you forever, touch you deeply and change you in many ways. However, obtaining a satori is one of the hardest things it is possible to do, because you can only do it by not trying, by breaking down barriers in your mind, in your life and accepting a big leap. While Buddhism in general demands dedication and practice, learning and the gaining of wisdom, Zen cuts through all this with a transmission outside the scriptures. Its formation comes from the famous sermon given by the Buddha where he stared a flower and said nothing. However some Buddhist sects claim that this never happened. Whether they are right or wrong is not relevant as the Buddha definitely said, “Buddhism is like a raft across a river. Once to the other side, you no long need the raft.” You cant argue with that! Goran handles the Zen parts of the book exceedingly well. Bodhidharma’s own enlightenment moment is swift and not drawn out – which to my mind is correct and just as it should be. Zen is romantically un-romantic. No great peal of thunder. No Vangelis music and no Matrix slow-mo. Just a switch in your head. Bodhidharma’s understanding of Zen is driven by strife and is grasped only after going through traumatic experiences, and this shows that Goran too clearly understands Zen. In a book where Zen is the “main” character, exemplified by Bodhidharma, this is the vital element in the book’s literary success.

I loved it and feel it would read well for people interested in Bodhidharma, Buddhism, historical fiction, martial arts, the far east or even just a good read. I think, you will surely agree, that this is almost everyone.

8/10.

Regards,

Basho

_______________________

Buy A Sudden Dawn from the following link:

(Please read our Recommendations & affiliates policy linked in the sidebar)

Facebook fan page for the book

.

About Goran Powell

Goran Powell’s martial arts training spans more than 35 years, and today he holds the rank of 4th dan black belt in Goju Ryu Karate. He is a qualified instructor with Daigaku Karate Kai (DKK), one of the United Kingdom’s leading clubs, and assistant coach to the successful Mixed Martial Arts team, DKK Fighters.

There follows a selection of images regarding Buddhism and Bodhidharma from Cesca and my travels around the world. These images contain a few spoilers, but if you like what you read in the book, these may help your imagination.

Related Posts

• The Good Man Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ : Book Review
  The first line of Philip Pullman’s novel reads: This is the story of Jesus and his brother Christ, …
• The Buddhist Wallpaper Collection: Free To Download!
  Donate to orphans and download now!…
• Sennybridge, a Basho film about “The Chernarus Conflict”
  A  few weekends ago my airsoft brothers and I were players at the TA Event’s, “The Chernarus Conflic…
• Kick Ass Movie Review : Basho has a problem with this one
  Kick Ass is a film that draws a line in the dirt and invites you to place yourself on one side or an…
• Dell Alienware M11x Review: Portable Gaming Heaven?
  When I was considering taking a year off, I started looking around for a computer that I could take …
• The Ellora Caves
  One of the unique things about India, and one that you never quite come to terms with, is the trains…

“Can you take us to this hotel please?” I asked the tuk tuk driver.

He shook his head, “No, that hotel burned down.”

“Burned down? I just spoke to them on the phone…”

He held his hands apart and looked slightly hurt that I was doubting him, “Hotel closed,” he insisted, “I take you to one much better.”

Time for the Bad Cop.

In India, catching a tuk tuk and negotiating the fare – or even the simple existence of the destination – is a national pastime. Not one driver, in three months, took us where we wanted to go without comment, argument or an all out fight. At first, this grates on the nerves and then you cant help but be brought down by it. Then you feel victimised for being western and (relatively) rich. You start to think that they are all out to get you personally. However, it is none of these; it is an official sport. Take it as a sport, a sparring match, and you suddenly find it fun.

And you develop tactics.

Our tactic is to use the old Good Cop, Bad Cop routine, but with a twist. The twist being that I, the large white man in slightly military clothing, am not the bad cop. Cesca is. There is something about confident English women that is like Kryptonite to a tuk tuk driver. We sometimes really played it up. Cesca would fake anger at the guy and then I would step in and take his side.

“But Darling,” I would plead, “he has to earn a living, I am sure he is not ripping us off.” I would then give the driver a look, one I practiced, which said ‘Hey buddy, look at this, I have an angry white women here. I know you need to rip us off, you know I know, but please let’s just defuse this bomb before it goes off and we both look embarrassed’. It was a kind of shared-trauma pleading look.

Worked 90% of the time. The 10% is a story for later…

It was very easy to feel a little guilty about such behaviour, but honestly this is just part of the game as well. There is no White Man’s Burden, I didn’t owe anyone being “gouged” (the travelers term for rip off rides).

Cesca looked the guy in the eye and scowled – something she is very good at, “We want to go to this one please?” She said proffering the Lonely Planet aloft.

This guy was not cracking, “I not take you to that one,” he said.

Time for Phase Two.

“OK. Darling, lets get another tuk tuk,”  I said and gave him another shot of the look. We made to leave and walked towards the waiting line of tuk tuk’s, whose drivers had been listening profusely and were already making welcoming motions to their vehicles, but the driver sprung out of his seat like it was momentarily electrified.

“OK OK. I take you,” he said and returning to his seat he kicked the beaten motor into life.

So, the hotel DID exist after all and, of course, it wasn’t burned down.

Mysore is Beautiful with large and very wide streets, which are exceedingly long and inevitably lead to some grand Victorian building. Mysore’s grandest building is exceedingly grand, dominating the skyline and giving balance to every other structure around. If its size was not enough to impress, then its extravagance more than made up for it. The entire, gigantic facade was covered head to toe in light bulbs (switched on every Sunday night.) It is a dazzling sight and well worth the trip to Mysore on its own.

Of course, Mysore is also bloody hot. I was starting to get affected by the heat and dust of travelling through India, even the CC Class, airline style, Bangalore to Mysore train had not improved my feelings. I felt dirty.

Where as, in Hampi, this feeling was part of a general return to nature in the cities it just made me feel awful. Add together those long streets to get anywhere and I made an executive decision,

“We shall hire a guide,” I announced.

“A guide?”

“Yeah, well a driver and pay him for the three days we are here. It will probably save us all sorts of hassle walking around all this. I gestured to the expansive concrete Victoriana all around us.”

“Where will we find one?”

“Don’t worry,” I said, “he will find us.”

And he did.

Of course, our tuk tuk driver knew exactly who to call, could setup the entire deal and was the man to make our stay most welcome (head wiggle). After a quick bag drop at the hotel, he left us at the palace early in the day and we made our way through the ticket barriers and gardens to the cool shade inside. This was, for me, the first time I would visit a Raja’s palace, and certainly not the last, as Rajasthan is well named.

Mysore palace is enormous and winding. The gates are large and literally built for elephants. Inside family treasures and cultural artefacts abound. A raja is the central focus for the entire area, he is the largest land owner, the employer and the boss of everyone he meets. Thus his art is a strange mix of civic pride and self congratulation and their homes and private chambers reflect their obsessions and wealth like no other rulers I have ever known. Fine glass and art in room after room twist around the buildings like a maze. Always with a civic angle added so as to make the experience alike walking around a particularly wealthy mayor’s office. Here a chair he dispensed justice on, here a giant painting of him defending the locals against invaders; sword flashing and astride a fine white stallion — whose name and deeds are also the stuff of legend — a sort of Indian Shadowfax; taking on elephants and beating a bloody path through the enemies lines. Aside all this are grand ballrooms, large staircases and intricate detailing. You could be forgiven in thinking that the entire experience was taking place in Versace, London or Moscow, that is, until you see the religious parts.

Religion is a funny one here.

The royal family here worshiped the consort of Shiva; Druga, which is the Devi Pravati in Demon-Fighting mode. If that wasn’t complicated enough, then the story of what Druga did certainly is. Basically the short version tells of her being unleashed on a horde of Universe-invading demons at the last moment; saving all life. She fought them all and, apparently, retained her sense of humour the entire time. A strange sense of humour to be sure, which to me looked to be about impaling demons and collecting their heads. Still Each to their own. Druga could be a bit fierce, while still looking lkie a catwalk model in a Valkarie outfit. It all sounded like a Anime movie to me.

We walked around this splendour for a few hours, enjoying the best audio tour I had listened too since the one at Buckingham Palace before heading back to the hotel.

“Your room not ready,” the manager told us.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Man still in it. He refuse to leave.”

Cesca and I exchanged looks.

“Let me talk to him.” I said.

Up three flights of ridiculously steep stairs and a maze of identical corridors later we were outside a corner room with the porter. He knocked and stood back. The door opened to show a European man in, and I am not kidding, a string vest. He looked me up and down. Then looked at Cesca and then back at me again.

“I’ll get my coat,” he said.

The room was hardly worth the hassle; no fan and no view. We settled in and fell asleep together.

When we awoke, the night had drawn in and we went out to search for something to see. Our trail led us back to the palace, but the place was transformed. Every Sunday they illuminate the building in 9600 bulbs covering every inch and thousands of people come to see it.

The effect is incredible and it was a very romantic occasion, only slightly ruined by Cesca insisting that she took innumerable photographs. I waited 40 minutes in silence, standing next to her, with her cursing the camera and me every time I said anything. 40 minutes turned into 1 and a half hours. It might not sound much, but is was a lifetime.

I reached my limit.

We had travelled together for many many months by this time. I should have been able to handle the stress of being around someone 100% of the time, but I had had enough of the camera coming between us. It had felt as if I was second to the device. I know it was stupid, but I couldn’t take another click. Back in the UK I had bought a camcorder so I would have something to do at these times; you see I tried to mitigate and understand the the issue, a classic reaction, but even now I have to kill the sound in my films, why? because you can hear nothing but Cesca’s camera clicking away.

All these frustrations came out and I walked off into the crowd, which swallowed me instantly. It was very busy by this point, something akin to a major music festival, and as I pushed through something came to my mind. It was a conversation I had 12 months previously. One of the people who had inspired us to make this journey was talking to me in the pub on his arrival back.

“Was there ever a time, you know…” I asked him.

“Know what?” he replied.

“Well, where you were ready to just walk out on your girlfriend and leave her.”

He considered this for a moment.

“Yes. Once. I got angry with her and walked off, and as I stepped away the crowd swarmed all around me and I suddenly realised that if I didn’t turn around, that this would be it; we would loose each other.” He looked me direct in the eye. “It is never worth it Bash’, turn around and realise that. Shit happens, but love is forever.”

I stood in the crowd remembering those words. I was a couple of hundred meters away from cesca by now, more than enough to lose each other in an Indian crowd. My stubbornness had pushed me this far, but my friend’s words had come back to me and stopped me in my tracks. I suddenly had the feeling that if I took only one more step, I would not see her ever again. It came with a stunning revelation: I realised that I had not been this far away from cesca in over 7 months. I stopped and looked over my shoulders. Cesca was the other side of this sea of people. I pushed back into them and made my way back to where I had left her. She was still in exactly the same place: taking photos of the palace. She hadn’t even realised I had gone.

“Will you please stop with the fucking camera!” I shouted.

She looked up like thunder.

“Please?” I asked.

“Please what?” She snapped.

“Please listen to me,” I began, “I love you. I need you. I respect you. I know you want to make the best photos in the world and I support you. I bought you your camera after all. I also bought this camera,” I held my camcorder aloft, “for you, I just knew that I must keep up with you. But please, for me, for love, for this journey we are on together, spend your time here… with me. Not with those who will see those photos. With me. I am here with you. I am right here!” She looked down at the floor and I continued, “I am supposed to be sharing this journey with you and the camera is getting between us!”

She looked up, “Maybe, photography is really important to me!”

“Look at the palace,” I said. She turned to look. “Thousand of people worked here every day of their lives. Great kings visited through those gates, elephants rode around these grounds.”

“I know.”

“I want to share this special moment with you. I want you to share it with me. So share it with me!”

She turned and looked at me in the eyes. I could see that the fires of rage had cooled a little.

“Ok,” she said resigned.

I took her hand and we espied the vista in front of us. For the viewer it is one of the most impressive sights in India. For a couple, finally together, it was breathtaking.

We made up that night and the next two days were spent enjoying the area together. We had an amazing afternoon at the market, trying many of the scented oils for which it is famous.

Then we jumped in our taxi and drove out of the city and up to the great temple at the top of Charmundi hill. This was great fun and not a little impressive, but also filthy and surrounded by innumerable tourist shops.

We decided to move on as the heat was oppressive. We contacted an agent and booked on a bus out of town and up into the mountains above Mysore. We started to worry about the experience when half way to the foot of the mountain the bus stopped and the driver refused to go any further without us paying more money. This was pure daylight robbery and we complained loud and angrily. To no effect. Given the choice of being dumped in the wilds or pay up, we paid. The bus took a narrow road through a game reserve and eventually the road rose up the side of the mountain.

The journey up to Ooty is famous for its extreme danger. 36 nerve shatteringly tight turns lead to the top and each year people lose their lives by misjudging the assent.

The view made up for most of this, but it was a buttock clenching feeling rising over the plains and into the sky. At the top we came to Ooty. It was our first time in the high parts of India and the experience was immediate. We gratefully departed from the terrible bus and took in the town.

The first thing that strikes you as different up here is the reduced temperature, which drops from the high 30’s found in the plains cities to a much more palatable mid 20’s. Also the air was wetter and was much more akin to London in the summer. The town itself is collected against multiple hills and squatting atop steep roads. The buildings are of a different style and it took me a moment to realise which. They looked British. The British influence on India is always to be found in the highest places. Change not only comes slowly to such mountainous regions, but also the British spent most of their summers up at places like this to avoid the heat below. Consequently, these high places are like stepping back in time. I even spied a large Christian church on one of the hills.

Both Cesca and I started to relax. We approached the first in the line of tuk tuk drivers,

“Can you take us to this hotel please?” I asked him, showing him a page from the Lonely Planet.

He shook his head sadly, “No, that hotel burned down.”

Cesca and I shared looks and she nodded.

Game on…

Regards,

Basho

Related Posts

• Sunset in Mumbai
  The November terrorist attacks on Mumbai was something we had worried about before landing in the ci…
• Our Pilgrimage to Gandhi
  **UPDATE – LOTS OF NEW IMAGES!* Welcome back to the travel blogging. Our amazing, 12 month, aroun…
• This Is India Podcast 2
  Welcome back! This is the second podcast in the This Is India collection. It tells of Cesca and m…
• Basho and Cesca visit Bangalore, and kind of wish they hadn’t
  Bangalore is a strange place because it is just like cities at home. Almost slap bang in the middle …
• This Is India Podcast
  Hello and welcome to an experiment! Cecsa and I have sat down and recorded a podcast of our time …
• Goa: The Beach Life
  I lay on my back and tried to relax. The sound of rolling waves crashed back and forth in the distan…

Before we start, I should add a caveat to this article. I am a philosopher and a Daoist. As such, I suppose, I am not the best person to judge. I offer only my own understanding of the form, which is limited. I do not claim to have a “monopoly on the truth”, nor to be a teacher. Any mistakes are my own. But since, as we shall see, Daoism is mysterious — I can hardly be blamed for that!

Introduction

I am often asked, “Just what is Daoism?”

This is a natural enough question, as since I “came out” as a Daoist many people have been genuinely interested. What the question really asks is, “Please can you encapsulate the concepts of Daoism into a single sentence and communicate that to me?” The person then normally looks a little askance as I singularly fail in the attempt:

“Well,” I begin, “it’s, er…”

“Yes?” they ask, waiting on my answer, clearly forming the opinion that I cant be a very serious Daoist without being able to enunciate at least that.

“It’s complicated…” I manage after a ruminating struggle, made plain on my face.

These are not particularly comforting moments in my life. I once attempted to write an answer for a work colleague and accidentally sent him a blank email with the subject, “Daoism is…”

He wrote back, “Are you trying to make a point, or did you miss off the text?”

I wasn’t, but I wish I had thought to do so. I could then create an email that reads:

Subject: What is Daoism?

(THIS MESSAGE IS LEFT INTENTIONALLY BLANK)

Some people would perhaps even get it from that. It is possible a new Buddha would be created by a mind meltingly universal satori brought about by such an elusive answer. It would become some sort of public service. But it would not help the large portion of the rest of us (including me) .

NOTE: Daoism is the translation into English of a Chinese word. There are two ways of doing this. The old way invented by the English, translates it as Taoism. The newer way, invented by the Chinese themselves, gives us Daoism. Both mean the same thing. That is why the city of Peking  is now know as Beijing. The city didn’t change its name, the way we translated it changed. I will always use the Chinese way.

When trying to define Daoism, most people first get hold of the famous book of Daoism, the Laozi, more commonly known as the Dao De Jing, and start reading. Some of the poetry in that great work rubs off on you and like someone fumbling with a jigsaw puzzle formed of a million blank pieces, you start to catch the edge… of something. At least the DDJ makes it very plain why naming Daoism is so hard. Right on page one, line one:

The Dao that can be named is not the true Dao.

Dao means “way” and it means “way” in every possible, er, way of saying “way”. So it means, “The way (to something)”. It means, “My way (of doing things)”. It also means “The way (of life)”, “The way (the universe works)”. But, as the line suggests, it is mysterious and you cannot name the Dao, you cannot point to some of it, you cannot pick some up down the shops and you cannot write down its definition in simple language. It is the blind spot, the blank space between the lines, you can no more nail it down than catch lightening in a bottle. It is the living meaning of the saying:

The map is not the territory.

It is all around you, in you, linking the universal heart beat and behind your eyes. If I am starting to sound like Master Yoda from Starwars, well now you know where they got the idea of The Force from.

But reading the DDJ raises more questions than answers. The DDJ is a very old collated-series of ancient sayings, it points to no deity and has no single author. It is attributed to Master Lao, but he almost certainly never existed and what remains was already ancient when it was collected into the current form and split into the two parts. Trying to force these sayings into some sort of fully sensible and coherent form is one of the major hurdles one has to come to terms with when reading the DDJ. Indeed, it has thousands of translations into English and all of them fail to capture the original perfectly. I personally have 20 copies in formats as diverse as podcasts, Penguin editions, master scholarly works, bowdlerised poetic rewrites and iBooks digital copies. All are different and all are, as the famous saying goes, “Fingers pointing at the moon. Concentrating on the finger means you miss the heavenly glory above”. You miss the point.

Master Lao.

The same goes for the other major Daoist work in English, the Zhuangzi, which is a fun book to read and full of Master Zhuangzi poking fun at peoples perceptions. But no clear answers.

Master Zhuangzi.

It is at this point, a lot of people give up; they fumble with the subject for a while and then slowly leave it safely on the shelf. Only the stubborn continue to look further into it, and they don’t like what they find. Reading into the history of Daoism brings no golden age of philosophical freedom, in fact it brings up all sorts of “other types” of Daoist endeavours full of cults, crazy gods, Celestial Masters and drinking mercury to live forever.

To western eyes, this part is a real turn off. So, they ignore it, and you get the “break” between Religious Daoism and the so called Philosophical Daoism. Let me assure you that break is not really there. It has been created by western philosophers with limited access to the works of the subject and taking the small parts they see as something else. For Daoism is a religion, not a simply a philosophy. That it is a strange religion does not change the fact that it contains a religious experience at the heart of it. That is a necessary part and cannot be worked around by wishful secular longing for a Eastern path that doesn’t “get weird”.

So, I am going to take up the challenge of communicating what is Daoism in two parts. Firstly, I am going to give a brief history of Daoism. That’s the easy part. Then we are going to, if not capture lightening in a bottle, at least be standing atop a hill during a thunderstorm with our fingers in the air.

Daoism: a short historical primer.

Daoism started as a shamanistic collection of cults and religious practices in ancient China (around 1000 BC). It mingled with the folk religion of nature worship and contained a dew principles that stuck. These are such ideas as personal transformation. This first took the form of talismans and mysticism, but also developed external alchemy that was basically trying to produce potions to become immortal. That proved popular and many cults and sects were merrily trying all sorts of poisonous brews to become one with the gods in heaven while others were busy codifying Daoism into a religion with a canon and gods. Around this time (4th Century BC) some written works appeared that would later become the most recognisable Daoist thoughts such as the DDJ and the Zhuangzi. Eventually this transformed into the idea of internal alchemy (3rd century onwards). No longer searching for elixirs, the Daoists searched inside themselves through such practices as meditation, sexual magic and living in caves. This practice gave us the notion of “chi energy”. Daoist priests, philosophies and practices were in the heart of the culture and with the arrival of Chan (Zen) Buddhism influenced it even further. There were even Daoist states in China back then. But China’s history is one of various cultures rising and falling. Another great master was born and his influence on the Chinese is still felt today. Master Kong, who is known in the west as Confucius, had teachings seemingly at odds with Daosim, but nothing could be further from the truth and all three practices spiralled around and through each other, in and out of the corridors of power for the next few hundred years. They influenced each other immensely as shown in this classic painting:

Song painting in the Litang style illustrating the theme “confucianism, taoism and buddhism are one”. Depicts taoist Lu Xiujing (left), official Tao Hongjing (right) and buddhist monk Huiyuan (center, founder of Pure Land) by the Tiger stream. The stream borders a zone infested by tigers that they just crossed without fear, engrossed as they were in their discussion. Realising what they just did, they laugh together, hence the name of the picture,Three laughing men by the Tiger stream. Source: WIKI

Also worth noting is that there was no real split of religions between Chinese classes, with Daoism being the stuff of the country folk for example. That false distinction is not really there. Emperors were Doaist, Daoist priests were at court performing ceremonies to keep the country in harmony, while farmers followed the paths of Confucian thought and family structure. Over these years Daoism gave rise to many of the things we take as Chinese, such as Tai Chi, the Ying Yang symbol and speaking like Master Yoda. Chan Buddhism moved on to Japan, via the influence the Chinese had over trade back then, and became Zen Buddhism. One of the keys ways of “getting” Daoism is to “get” Zen Buddhism as they are very similar indeed. Eventually, Daoism and Confucianism met with the unstoppable force of Maoism and were both sublimed and crushed in equal measure. The Maoist revolutionaries knew that they could never totally eradicate Daoism as it contains a large amount of “folk” belief that resides in the cultural psyche, and so they selected a particular form of it and put the governmental stamp on it.

That is an incredibly short version of the history of Daoism. But what I hope it highlights is that Daoism is a little strange for a religion:

1. It has had gods and deities at some times and not at others.
2. It has been an immortality cult for while and contained shamanistic magic at others.
3. It has “borrowed” from Buddhism, but also given back to the middle path.
4. It has had celibate priests in the heart of empire and yet has had sexual magic practiced in the mountains.
5. It has two main books translated into English, but neither author knew about the other, neither would label themselves as Daoist and at least one of them is legendary.

I can appreciate the problems in trying to understand such a changing and seemingly constantly moving target! Western intellectuals have worked hard for hundreds of years to try and bring the wisdom in Daoism under their command. The traditional method of doing so is the finding of commonalities amongst the various beliefs, after all, no matter how many strange and diverse Christian sects there are; they all believe in Jesus as the Saviour; that is what makes them Christian. It is what gives them their religious comfort. Daoism is comforting, but not until you have worked a lot of it out. Given the five contradicting points above this is not an easy exercise.

Another method, and one expounded by such philosophers as Alan Watts, was to not only draw a line between the various “Daoisms” of antiquity, but to highlight by reference to the religion it most heavily influenced; Zen.

The great Zen Master: Bodhidharma

One of the main ways in teaching Zen is through the master ignoring his students. Often the master will reject a new applicant outright and in such a forthright way that the student will give up there and then. “I have nothing to teach you,” the master will say. The pupil will, if he is earnest, persevere with the master and many stories and legends abound regarding this strange situation and how various adherents have dealt with it. The most famous story is told of the Indian Zen Master Bodhidharma, who rejected a pupil again and again until finally the pupil cut off his arm and demanded an audience. The great master agreed to meet with the pupil and took him under his wing.

This story only makes sense to Western eyes in that we know that one must strive to understand and that one must show commitment and diligence. But actually there is a secret here:

The Master truly had nothing to teach.

Zen is about coming to your own realisation. It takes a lot of time and work and the master will help you, although not in a way you might appreciate. Should he accept you as a student, don’t expect to receive anything that could be construed as an “answer” to Zen. That is, don’t presume that Zen has esoteric knowledge and concerned only with moving through stages of learning. In fact, the most similar western experience to Zen training is probably Army Drill School. The army takes in “normal” people and turns them into killers; people with the will to kill. This is not easy. They do this by working you physically until you drop, regimenting your life and stripping you of your identity until you can be mentally reprogrammed. Zen is similar to this, but instead of forming you into a killing machine, the Zen master strips you of your illusions, pares your personality down to its core and then makes you look at yourself. He does this by forcing you to answer impossible riddles, making you work in the fields, attend very very long ceremonies and hitting you with a stick if you are are not meditating properly (or even if you are). This effort can take a lifetime, but finally you break the distinction between body and mind, between self and universe and wake up. You realise that the personality you hold so dear, that special “me” you think is yourself, it is a blank sheet of paper with no writing on it. It is not there at all. You are not apart from this Universe at all.

Daoism is similar to that, just without a Japanese guy hitting you around the head with a stick. In Daoism you have to hit yourself.

There is no set way to do this, no definite doctrine to follow and no master to teach you. There is only yourself. I came to Daosim by bringing myself into the present. It sounds easy, just concentrate and here we are, in the now. But it really isn’t. Being in the present means feeling at one with your body, at one with the sense of the world around you and by letting the mind go blank. This is the habit of a lifetime for me, and I went through many stages of things before getting there. But what made it click was climbing a mountain.

There is a mountain in China called Wudang Shan.

It is one of many Daoist peaks of startling height that can be found all over this giant country. It is quite famous for being the birth place of internal Kung Fu styles such as Tai Chi. Walking up it is quite an experience. There are 20 thousand steps up Wudan before getting to the top and it is an exhausting journey.

The endless stone steps tower above you, winding upwards seemingly into the heavens. Along the way there are many temples and the steps often lead you through the courtyards. Each of these temples has an increasingly strained mystic name which each subsequent temple tries very hard to trump.

So the harmony temple may be followed by the grand harmony temple, the majestic temple of great tranquillity and so on ad nausea, all the way up the steps. This naming convention seemed to me at the time to be a cute cultural translation and something quite un-purposely funny, but actually it had a definite point; the idea that you are rising to heaven and everytime you think you have made it: you haven’t and there is more to go. Along the way you meet many people on the same journey. You see rich and poor alike. The rich are carried up in palanquins, totally breaking the point, and this is most discouraging. More encouraging, but not perhaps comforting, are the groups of little old Chinese ladies you meet that even at the tender ages of what looks to be 150 can hop up the steps like a heard of mountain goats.

After hours of climbing you arrive at a large temple and then upwards still more until you finally come to the top, which is above the clouds. you are here, the pinnacle of China’s attempts to reach heaven. Here sits a large golden temple and some very old Daoist priests.

After an age, you walk back down. for me, and I didn’t know this at the time, I was not the same guy walking down. My trip into the clouds had prompted me to leave something behind and to gain the courage to be what I wanted.

Experiences like that are something of a slow burn for most of us. It took another 2 months before I felt a change in myself and what I believe. I suppose that was simply how long it took me to “check” my beliefs inside. Most of the time people simply remember that they believe something, they don’t check. Many religious practices are geared towards sustaining belief so you don’t have to check it. Filling up the bucket, my old priest used to call that.

So, what exactly are the beliefs of a Daoist?

Many philosophers and religious teachers, not to mention a lot of Western Intellectuals have found a common set of traditional Daoist thoughts. Although not stretching all the way back to 1000 BC, I don’t think anyone can manage that. Often you hear people refer to historical Daoism becoming “recognisable” as we come closer to our age. So, let us start with the big one:

Dao.

The Tao that can be expressed is not the eternal Tao; The name that can be defined is not the unchanging name.
Non-existence is called the antecedent of heaven and earth; Existence is the mother of all things.
From eternal non-existence, therefore, we serenely observe the mysterious beginning of the Universe; From eternal existence we clearly see the apparent distinctions.
These two are the same in source and become different when manifested.
This sameness is called profundity. Infinite profundity is the gate whence comes the beginning of all parts of the Universe.

There is a reason that Western films and culture like to steal gently from the Daoists. It is because Daoism concerns itself with something that is all around us, that it the fundamental core of us and indeed the core of everything, but is hidden from view.

Consider this:

Scientists have worked out that the elements that make up the human body are the same as those found in the core of stars. In its beginning, the Universe was not even. If it were, if matter was laid out in neat rows, then galaxies, stars and life would never happen. Instead the gaps in the lattice of matter mean that gravity acts to pull matter together. This process eventually collects enough matter that it undergoes collapse and explodes, leaving behind a star. In this super-heated ball, more advanced elements are formed and they fall in layers inside the star. At the end of its life, it no longer has enough energy to hold itself up and collapses, but because of the layers of elements, energy is released in the form of an enormous explosion that we call nova (super-nova and hyper-nova).

This burst of energy, released by the stars death, flings the more interesting and exotic elements into space. But, as before, these elements are uneven and some form through the attraction of matter to matter by gravity into planets. On one particular planet the elements gave rise to life, and by forming complex molecules with strange chemical patterns, this life ate, reproduced and died. It also evolved under the same principles to eventually form a creature; the first animal. This animal, our common ancestor swam around the primordial soup until it too reproduced and died, but leaving behind generations of new creatures: faster, stronger, and more determined. One of these took the most important step on behalf of life on Earth. It took a step onto the land, giving rise to larger animals and eventually to us; humans.

But through all this, the elements that make up the creatures haven’t changed. They are still the remnants, the sparks and debris, from those exploding stars. You, me and everything around you is formed of those elements.

You are made of stars.

Doesn’t that make you feel connected to the world, the sky and the Universe? You imagine that you are apart, that you were born into the world without being asked. That you don’t belong to it. But, actually, you grew out of this Earth in exactly the same way that an apple grows out of a tree. You’re a fruit. You’re a cantaloupe. You are not separate from the world, in fact you cannot be separated from it.

And you know what? Neither is anything else. Look out into the country and you will see the light play across the hillsides. Can you separate the valley and the hill? Just because one side is dark and the other light? The whole world, the whole Universe, is fundamentally connected. It is the nature of the Universe. It is the way the Universe works. It is the mysterious Starmaker, it is the spirit behind the beating life-energy of spacetime. You cannot grasp it, because it is chaos, it is formless, it appears passive because it works on such a grand scale that nothing you do bothers it. All life is sustained by it and would not exist but for it.

It is the Dao.

The great Tao pervades everywhere, both on the left and on the right.
By it all things came into being, and it does not reject them. Merits accomplished, it does not possess them. It loves and nourishes all things but does not dominate over them.
It is always non-existent; therefore it can be named as small.
All things return home to it, and it does not claim mastery over them; therefore it can be named as great.
Because it never assumes greatness, therefore it can accomplish greatness.

The Universe wants you to live with it. It is ready to catch you if you accept it. If you want to be happy, live in accordance with the Dao; the life energy of the Universe.

The question is How?

Ah, well, now you know why Daoism has changed so many times. How can one live in accordance with a mysterious spiritual nature that defies understanding? There are a number of ways, and the  DDJ, Zhuangzi (among the other Daoist works of which these are but the central texts of a huge canon), have many things to say about how to live with the Dao and in accordance with it.

These principles are worthy of entire articles in themselves and indeed there is much you can read out there to assist. They are, like Dao, also endlessly translated, here is the outline of two:

De.

“That which things get in order to live is called De.”

De is the second core principle of Daoism along with Dao itself, its rough translation means “inner integrity” or “virtue”, but it basically can mean to grow, to ascend, graciousness and even heart as in “heart and mind.”

It is virtue in the sense alike a medicine has the virtue of healing. For the Daoists, this virtue comes from living in accord with the Dao. For me, the most helpful definition is the Indian concept of karma. In the west karma is not well understood. Karma is considered to be the end result of an action you performed in a past life. When actually karma is the effect you have on your next. The effects of karma happen forwards. If you act in the accordance with what brings good karma, if you act with wisdom and inner integrity, then you are having a positive effect on your future. To have De means to be really naturally good at something, to become righteous. You are acting good.

“When they clearly understand the Dao and De (Virtue),

they then understand benevolence and righteousness.”

Wu Wei.

“A person like that could ride through the sky on the floating clouds, straddle the sun and moon, and travel beyond the four seas. Neither death nor life can cause changes within her, and there’s little reason for her to even consider benefit or harm”

Wu Wei is “non action”. Acting without acting. This does not mean “doing nothing”! It is best thought of as “not forcing.” For me I bring my martial arts to the fore with this principle. In martial arts the most masterful skill is in getting maximum effect for minimum effort. Many martial arts are based around finding and mastering ways of achieving this. But, they basically follow the idea of a fulcrum. A fulcrum is a pivot point and the point at which other things can revolve with multiple times the effect. In the martial arts this is best seen what is known as the soft styles that enable even the most gentile motions cause tremendous results.

I was once thrown by Don Bishop who is a 7th Dan in Shodokan (Tomiki) Akido. He asked me to attempt a stab at his stomach using a rubber knife. Now, Don is in his 70’s and a small frail looking old man. However, looks are deceptive for he is one of the powerful martial artist I have ever encountered. But, how does he generate so much power in such an old and small body? I, 6ft 2 and 18st, lunged at him as hard as I could. Don gently moved aside and using only one finger on each hand pulled me in such a way that I totally over balanced. Then, at the perfect moment, he changed the position of his fingers only by a few inches and suddenly I was thrown right over my own head. He had moved hardly at all, hardly used a jot of effort and yet had thrown me across the room. Was this magic. No, this was Wu Wei.

The other example I can give was with another martial arts master. This time it was Kendo sensei Jeff Humm of Hizen Dojo in London.

Kendo Sensei Humm

He was giving his normal end of lesson berating to the class and singling out a few choice lessons for black belts and beginners (like me) alike. He was explaining to a senior grade about a counter to a head strike technique. After a few puzzled looks he tutted and called for a sword.

“Hit me,” he said to the student. Now the sensei was not in armour and not wearing a helmet. He was also just standing there in his glasses. The pupil, naturally, performed the strike very slowly and gently. Sensei Humm waved his hand, “No no no, with effort.” The class slightly held its breath as the student drew back his hand and with a brilliant loud scream flashed his sword down at the sensei’s unarmoured head. But, the sensei was no longer there. In fact at the absolute precise moment he had moved very slightly so that not only did the students sword miss, but he had somehow cracked the student a clean ringing blow on the top of the head. I sat watching this dumfounded by the skill. Acting while not looking to act, that is what it means for me.

The essence of his life is perfect.
He can cry all the time without losing his voice.
His inner harmony is supreme.
To be aware of inner harmony is to abide with reality.

These principles, together with many others detailed in Daoism, help me try to live in harmony with the Dao. I am, of course, only human and not a master at it, but I persevere (without trying too hard to!) All the principles combine and complement each other and gives rise to the truly virtuous human being. A man who masters the principles and lessons of Daoism, who lives perfectly in harmony with the Dao. He/she is The Sage. The concept of the sage is key to Daoism. The sage is the master of life, but he is also a man who sees reality as it is.

What does that mean?

As I have said in my prior articles on philosophy, many of the things we cling to in the world are not actually real, they are figments and creations of the person thinking them and culture that they live in. Human judgement on what is right and wrong or what is beautiful or ugly are in the mind of the speaker, not the universe. Following the principle of Wu Wei, the sage realises that it is our clouded minds that create these distinctions and judgements and he refrains. Thus, Daoists do not see the world as a toy of man, and are often said to be deep lovers of nature. They realise that man is a part of the animal kingdom and do not consider man to be other than an animal. However, Daoists also realise that life requires that one creature eats another, so not so many will be vegetarians. A dead animal is a dead animal. It should be respected, loved, cared for but to eat one is no bad thing.

In many ways the sage is similar to Plato’s theory of the Philosopher King.  A man of great natural wisdom, living within nature and strong in will, but able to see what must be done. When he acts it is gentile, but powerful. Such a sage has no fear of death, but more importantly he has no fear of life either.

So, that’s a little bit about Daoism, what it is for me, and as I said at the top, “It’s complicated,” yet simple. I always keep in mind the first lines of the DDJ and I always try and capture the humour of life found in the Zhuangzi. I don’t think I have a compete understanding of it, but I am trying all the time to learn and appreciate more about this most amazing of religions. Daoism is like a template on the nature of reality and the Universe. One can believe in a god and still be a Daoist, and indeed this is the form found today in China. One can certainly be a Buddhist and a Daoist. One can even follow many of the teachings of the Christ and be a Daoist.

Following the Dao, using De and Wu Wei brings the person naturally to gain the “Three Jewels” of Compassion, Moderation and Humility and these, I hope you agree, are some of the highest virtues of all.

A good soldier is free from violence.
A good fighter is free from rage.
A good winner is free from competition.
A good leader is humble before the people.
This is called the attainment of non-contention,
Or the application of the strength of others.
It is also called identity with the ultimate
Beyond space and time.

Regards,

Basho.

Quotes: Various translations of the Dao De Jing and the Zhuangzi, most – if not all – of the translations are online here: http://home.pages.at/onkellotus/index.html

Related Posts

• Wudang Mountain: A Basho Film
  In 2009 Cesca and I visited the amazing slopes of Wudang Mountain. The mountain is located roughly i…
• What is consciousness? Is it the “self”? Is it “me”? Basho argues no!
  You are in possession of the one of the universe’s most mysterious objects. Your personal copy of th…
• Kick Ass Movie Review : Basho has a problem with this one
  Kick Ass is a film that draws a line in the dirt and invites you to place yourself on one side or an…
• The Good Man Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ : Book Review
  The first line of Philip Pullman’s novel reads: This is the story of Jesus and his brother Christ, …
• The Harsh Judge
  For most martial artists, being mugged in broad daylight is an unlikely occurrence. Fit, aware and c…
• Is the Insanity Defence Itself Insane?
  As with my first article expounding my political thoughts, philosophical views and religious methods…

A  few weekends ago my airsoft brothers and I were players at the TA Event’s, “The Chernarus Conflict”. This was a 24 hour Milsim game using the, freshly revised, BattleSim rules developed by Iain of TA Events.

To those of you who play computer games, the country of Chernarus may ring a few bells. As anyone who loves the Arma series of games from Bohemia Interactive will tell you Chernarus, or Black Russia, is a fictional post-USSR country somewhere in the East that is used as the main game location. TA Events have licensed the entire storyline from Bohemia meaning that players at the event could sign up to the various factions found in the series. When someone says that you should get out from behind the keyboard and get some exercise, these events enable you to re live the brilliant, in-depth storyline for (almost) real. A detailed account of the factions and background to the event can be found here and it has a very professional depth to it not usually available to airsofters.

.The real-life location was no less impressive. The Army FIBUA site of Sennybridge in Wales is a complete “fake” English village in which generations of UK warriors have trained in FIBUA (Fighting In Built Up Areas). The level of detail in the village is very impressive. Not only is the village replete with gardens, walls and buildings, but it also has a church with gravestones! Even more than this, the houses have built-in speakers hooked up to a centralised system that can be used to deliver synchronised sounds to the player. So, when the Marines call in an airstrike the sound of the helicopters can be heard in all the houses surrounding the target. This turns up the immersion to the max.

Another attempt to keep the realism high was the game rules themselves. BattleSim is a strange beast. Not quite as ultra-real as the Milsim games at Stirling Airsoft, but definitely miles more involved than normal skirmishes. The teams were all structured with roles and responsibilities. There was designated snipers and support gunners and normal riflemen could only carry 600 rounds into combat. What weapons you could use was also mandated. Not here will you find some of the more “speedball” over the top M4 Patriots with dual box mags, and even secondary weapons had to be in keeping with the role. For example, a sniper had a pistol backup, not an AEG.

A complex medical system was in place that meant that when a player got hit he had to refer to a randomly drawn medic card and read the instructions therein. It was a great idea in principle, but it did have a few drawbacks.

For example, a player could (card permitting) be “medic’ed” by anyone. Thus in the film where I took out 8 out of 9 players in a house, I had effectively achieved nothing. That last player, medic’ed the “injured” players and the house was back up to operational. It is an unfortunate fact that mechanics that appear a good idea in theory and on paper, rarely work in the heat of combat. Similarly, players naturally find way around complex rules. In my  opinion, and as a creator of more than a few airsoft games myself at the late Electrowerkz, rules in airsoft should be like water flowing down hill. A golden rule to ask oneself when devising game is, “is it easier to follow this rule than not?” If not, then don’t be surprised to find that people will not follow them clearly. I certainly saw quite a few people not playing the medic rule correctly, but this was mainly due to them not understanding it as we only had a very short briefing on it.

For us DAs: we followed the rules as best we could, but when we found a player of ours who’s card mandated a medical evacuation that would have exposed the position to being overrun, well… we just shot him and saved the call. The chaos of battle was all around us all day. Something that many players were not used to and reacted against, but this was their problem, not the event’s. TA did have a few hiccups with the collecting of deaths as they had not provided a large number of players with “tags” and so their deaths were never logged and the marshal in our command tent had no idea of our objectives, but all in all the event was quite well run. I saw only one player not taking his hits all event and that is to be applauded.

Part of Team Delta Alpha marshalled overnight in exchange for a free game and I was part of a small band selected to role-play the part of “NAPA” villagers for the first hour or so. We had a lot of fun dressing up as moustached locals, with Keith really getting into the spirit with a brilliant costume resplendent with comedy beard; you can see him in the film dancing to Trip’s Russian ringtone. Also the team leaders of Delta Alpha were invited to become “Commanders” and run the US Marine team. The commanders had a lot of fun with this, doing impressions of R. Lee Ermey (the drill instructor in Full Metal Jacket) crossed with General Patton. The night before I helped DA1 write his speech to the troops using Patton’s famous address to the third army and the beginning of Arma II. Under the commanders we setup out the traditional two units of DAs, led by a Section Leader and Deputy (should the leader be killed). This structure worked quite well in play, but we may change things around a little next time.

USMC deployment in Chernarus consists of 27th Marine Expeditionary Unit (Special Operations Capable), which is supposed to overturn the balance in the civil war in the favour of Chernarussian government. Marines are skilled in asymmetrical warfare and are backed up by superior weapons and technology.

The DA faction: the US Marines

The game niggles, together with the ugly weather on Saturday, meant that the fighting spirit flagged in the latter part of the first day.

This was good.

Good?

Sure, Milsim is milsim. In real life, do you think that the troops are pumped all the time? No. They learn to pace themselves or they suffer tiredness and moral lapses too. This wasn’t a quick shunt around Electrowerkz before having a beer, this was fighting all day with no relenting. Even having lunch meant setting up a perimeter and eating with eye protection on. On this day all the DAs were made to Man-Up and fight on. Personally, when I found events confusing, I relied on something I once read in a Flashman novel,

“When you are tired and unsure whether to walk or run, look to your officers and march to the sound of the guns.”

Thus I let others worry about the storyline and I charged when told, held when commanded and slotted anyone dressed in green. One of the problems in house to house fighting is that people tend to not want to assault and you end up with with people in windows just plinking at each other all day. The DAs were having none of this and would always ask for permission to assault forwards. A few times this led to all of us being hit and killed, but for the times it worked – it really worked. For example, on Sunday morning, we assaulted a key house, slotted all 6 defenders, and consequently dominated the entire village for the second day of play.

I, personally, loved this event. I enjoyed the challenge and I hope this comes across in the film. I salute TA for attempting such a complex event and I could tell that they worked very hard. I think there is still some way to go with the rules and a print out of the objectives wouldn’t go amiss (after all we paid over £80 for the event.)

Was it worth it?

Yes definitely, I am sure the problems will be smoothed out through constructive feedback and TA Events listening to their client base.

About the film

For a while now I have been trying to find a way to add “context” to the filming of airsoft play. It is often very hard to tell what is going on, who was shooting who and where the enemy are on the screen. I have been trying to think of an answer to this for weeks. Finally I hit on the idea of us being “spied” on by a US Satellite who could act on behalf of the viewer and provide an overlay to bring the “tactical view” into the film.

I hope it worked.

Airsoft is not scripted. Everything you see is as it is. Often situations don’t pan out how you would like (as a filmmaker), and you cant cut what you didn’t film. My answer, at the moment, is to saturate the event with cameras and hope to catch some gold nuggets. On this event I got one shot I absolutely love, that of DA1 firing his Support Gun over my head. I love that shot, not least because he was shooting at someone who had just slotted me! The BB’s streaming out of the barrel look great. I hope to capture many more like that in the future.

Anyway, here is my film of the event. I have had fun making it, although it was a lot of work to cut the 20GB(!) of footage down– a one moment it was over 24 minutes long! — In order to upload it I have had to split the YouTube version into two. Of course the Vimeo version is full length (I love those guys).

Please leave any comments at the bottom here.

Regards,

Basho.

Vimeo Version:

Sennybridge, a Basho film about “The Chernarus Conflict” from Basho Matsuo on Vimeo.

YouTube Part 1:

YouTube Part 2:

Related Posts

• Operation Zulu
  The DA’s have played some unusual games over the years, but this was a first for us: this was the fi…
• Airsoft Adventures Podcast
  Welcome back to OC, Cesca and I have been away for two weeks as she has been creating a prize winnin…
• Band of Delta-Alpha : A Basho Film
  The Ground Zero Weekender is the biggest yearly event on the UK Airsoft calendar.…
• A Sudden Dawn: Book Review
  The story of a simple Buddhist priest travelling from India to China in the 5th Century doesn’t …
• Malvern 2010 Show Garden – Losing Control, Releasing Nature
  When Cesca first showed me the drawing plans for the UCS garden at RHS Malvern, I knew that it was g…
• Kick Ass Movie Review : Basho has a problem with this one
  Kick Ass is a film that draws a line in the dirt and invites you to place yourself on one side or an…

When Cesca first showed me the drawing plans for the UCS garden at RHS Malvern, I knew that it was going to be special. But nothing could prepare me for the final result. More a large scale high-art installation than a garden; it is playful, fun and definitely sending a message that we can all understand.

I have been reading a book recently, called “The World Without Us ‚” in it the author, Alan Weisman, writes of how nature – that pervasive force – would take over after we are gone. Concrete would fall down, buildings would crumble under vines and the remains of humanity would disappear; and quicker than you would imagine. Of course, for us Daoists we don’t see the human and so called “natural” worlds as different at all. They are all parts of the same thing; and it is only human arrogance that distinguishes us and our achievements. When we see meta,l and we think that it is not a “natural” substance, we forget that we stand upon a 50 trillion ton ball of the same stuff. Given the size of the Universe, our small scratches on that metal ball amount to a glint of light in a million years of sunshine, but we don’t see it that way. We still think we are in control. As Weisman shows in his book – that is the ultimate illusion.

And so it is with the UCS garden, losing control leads to organic growth and non-human cycles of birth and decay taking back the ground. Returning to the rhythm all of its own. It wont be rushed, it is like the blowing playful wind, and as gardeners we might conduct this orchestra briefly, but we hardly could claim control of it.

We work with it.

So, I looked upon Cesca’s and friends’ work and read its title and I considered what it meant. I think it means that we may stop listening to the song of nature when we build our concrete pillars and throw away our rubbish, but that song is only just out of earshot; and awaiting to erupt upon our works when we turn our backs from it. Even the most ugly structures return to beauty. A fence, a bucket, a sign, a pool of water – given time – are visited and reseeded. We just need to lose “control” and release our nature; our natural ability to live in harmony with this planet. That is what I think attracts many out into the gardens of this world, and what makes some gardens great, that one word; harmony. It suggests a tune, a gentle tune carried on the breeze, whistled by Gia herself upon the wind and waiting for you to hear it.

Making this garden was backbreaking work for a lot of people and I salute them all here. I watched for the final week of the preparations, seeing what was a simple patch of grass become the garden. There were many risks: the planting could have looked “planted”. The whole effect of such a work required the highest knowledge of nature, how the seeds would catch and how the plants might spread. Such risk was then doubled by the redoubtable students with their choice of a 360 degree view on the final piece. That is, you could walk all around it and it left nowhere for any mistakes to hide. That took courage and demonstrated confidence and the RHS noted the skill and spirit in the garden and upped the marks accordingly.

Some visitors didn’t understand. For they: a garden is an expression of man’s supposed dominance over nature. But they can be safely ignored as ignorant of the truths this garden exposed; man lives IN nature, as a part of it. And lo – look what beauty we can create together! As partners, not master and slave.

The film: My rather poor footage (I really need a tripod for this sort of work) and the fact that my camera was struggling to focus through its armour (ready for airsoft use it the field) meant that I could only capture some of the wonder to be seen here. I also decided to capture footage with nobody in it, for while I could have made a film about “the story of the garden being built”, I decided that the story in the garden was more important and that is what I aimed for. The cutting was back in Sony Vegas (version 9 now), my brief dalliance with Adobe being well and truly over; at least for the time being; due to its incomprehensibility.

I hope you enjoy the results, please leave a comment below or feel free to ask a question.

Vimeo version:

Malvern 2010 Show Garden — Losing Control, Releasing Nature from Basho Matsuo on Vimeo.

Regards,

Basho

Related Posts

• Sennybridge, a Basho film about “The Chernarus Conflict”
  A  few weekends ago my airsoft brothers and I were players at the TA Event’s, “The Chernarus Conflic…
• Outside Context New Zealand articles now on iPhone
  The most common question I have been asked by people after returning home is, “which was your favour…
• Band of Delta-Alpha : A Basho Film
  The Ground Zero Weekender is the biggest yearly event on the UK Airsoft calendar.…
• Hong Kong City Blues : A Basho Film
  The magical night skyline of Hong Kong…
• Temples of Angkor : A Basho Film
  We visit the amazing Angkor Wat, Cambodia…
• James and Cesca’s Xmas message!
  Happy Christmas everyone! Here is a short film of Cesca and I giving all our Christmas greetings …

Bangalore is a strange place because it is just like cities at home. Almost slap bang in the middle of India, it sits like a jigsaw piece put in the wrong box. To some, it is the epitome of the “two tier” society outsiders see when they look this country. But that is just in mean economic terms, and when you actually get here you soon realise that Western ideas of how society structures itself into two halves down purely how much cash is in your account is the worst of models. It just doesn’t work in India; there is another dimension to the whole thing, a special dimension of multi-layered religious and social tiers laying next to each other for a thousand years. Most of the time, India provides a refreshing change for visitors. How much money you have does not define you and your world.

And then you come to Bangalore…

Like an enclave, an aberrant experiment from a westernised think-tank or a sad glimpse into the future, Bangalore encapsulates India’s movement. It will take a very long time to become the norm, and I am sure that the people will fight it, but if India is the future economic power that the west fears, then This Is India 2030. But is that my wearing nostalgic glasses for the “raw” India? I must admit that in moaning about Bangalore in this way I feel like John the Savage talking to Mustapha Mond at the end of Huxley’s A Brave New World.

“So you want the dirt, the grime, and the children dying in the street, the mud, the religious chains, the unbreakable and the unbearable unfairness?” He asks me.

“Er yes –“ I answer before he cuts me off with a wave of his hand.

“You’re welcome to it!” he says.

I guess he would be right, but I still don’t like it.

Bangalore is a part of India that western people often imagine. Home to the famously outsourced call centres of banks and Indian high tech. The basin of Indian programming companies, hammering out some of the world’s best products in all sorts of verticals. It is a city being built up all around itself. There is the endless work on the sky train that will be finished any millennium now. Shopping streets unlike anything I have seen outside of Mumbai and some of the best high end coffee shops in the country. We stopped there for only a few days after our visit to the ancient heartlands of Hampi, because Cesca needed a new power cable for her laptop and we found one in a Singapore-like technology mall. It also had a Cannon showroom, camera shops galore, laptop outlets and privately run computer stores.

It was really quite dizzying after Hampi and not designed for the tourist. Or at least the non Indian tourist.

It was here, perhaps because I had nowhere to really visit and so I was in the room a little more, that I noticed something about Indian TV advertising that still makes me chuckle. It was one of those things where you see something from the outside or skewed in some way that suddenly makes you realise that it is very strange or that you suddenly understand it in another way. An example would be the film Bladerunner, which I watched maybe 10 times before some girl at a party pointed out that Deckard was also a replicant. Suddenly, the entire film was phase shifted in my mind and I saw into the heart of it in a way I never had before. This was like that. It says something about the aspirant nature of India, Bangalore and the want for being, what the west would call, the “haves”.

It was adverts for motorbikes.

Or more exactly adverts for mopeds made to look like motorbikes.

They all basically went along the same lines. A very handsome guy is asked by his friend how it is that the ladies love him. He explains, in that way that is kind and offhand – because he is soooo cool, that basically, “chicks dig his bike.” Cut to short excerpts of film showing women, usually the type of rich Indian women who has self confidence, money, western clothes and yet is somehow from a previous generation in sexual ethics. They all see this guy on his bike and almost swoon. This can in some cases become a little sordid. I saw one advert where a women, walking with her children, hides them to appear sexually available to his bike riding Lothario. The guy rides manfully into shot, looks right into the camera and taps his chest with his hand, like he is saluting a Roman Emperor, and says, “Tak Tak Go!”

End advert.

Quite apart from the misogamist, anti-women, anti-respect nature of the ad – what women would hide her kids like that: it was sickening! – the thing that makes the add really stand out, and it makes you suddenly realise you are being sold “fnords”, is the guy’s bike.

All that macho, sweaty pro-male bullshit about how sexy this bike is and it is 100cc. Yes, 100. I know two guys in the UK, real men who love their wives and care for their kids and take care of business, who have bikes over 1800cc. The idea of acting “cool and hard”, the idea of acting “special”, on a 100cc bike is frankly hilarious. And it made me feel better about India’s strides to ape the (almost broken) western model of society and wealth, because with ads like this – clearly – they have some way yet to go.

Not that our hotel room was a nice place to sit either. In fact it was the hottest and most uncomfortable night’s sleep I had in India. We couldn’t even use a sheet to cover us, it was that hot. Our room was in one of the innumerable travellers hotels and not anything I would want to revisit. As I pulled back the cover, a bed bug ran out. It was here that we formed the two bed bugs rule. One, I will put up with. Two, well, we are moving to a new hotel!

This was our view out of the window, ‘nuff said:

We left and moved on to Mysore with great happiness.

That entry coming in next weeks podcast!

Regards,

Basho

Related Posts

• This Is India Podcast 2
  Welcome back! This is the second podcast in the This Is India collection. It tells of Cesca and m…
• Mysore
  “Can you take us to this hotel please?” I asked the tuk tuk driver. He shook his head, “No, that …
• Goa: The Beach Life
  I lay on my back and tried to relax. The sound of rolling waves crashed back and forth in the distan…
• This Is India Podcast
  Hello and welcome to an experiment! Cecsa and I have sat down and recorded a podcast of our time …
• The Ellora Caves
  One of the unique things about India, and one that you never quite come to terms with, is the trains…
• Sunset in Mumbai
  The November terrorist attacks on Mumbai was something we had worried about before landing in the ci…

Welcome back to OC, Cesca and I have been away for two weeks as she has been creating a prize winning show garden at the prestigious RHS Malvern Show and I have been camping alongside her revising for my diploma in Combating Financial Crime. Now we are back and on schedule for the summer. Here is what you can expect from the OC over the next few months:

• This Is India podcast 2. We already have this one mapped out and it includes the Shiva temples of Hampi, the tech capital of Bangalore, the majestic palaces of Mysore and the high mountains of Ooty, where we meet up with one of our top travelling companions for the rest of southern India: Gweny.
• Kerala. Enough said. This is a wonder.
• A review of Robin Hood – should it provoke one?
• A Basho film of the Mall.
• A Basho film of the forthcoming 3 day milsim event at TA, Sennybridge, including our Magpul send-up!
• A Basho film of the Malvern garden.

Anyway, before all that:

The Airsoft Adventures Podcast!

This podcast is not on our travels, rather it is about the sport I play with my team mates, the sport of airsoft.

I have been playing airsoft now for 7 years, which is an easy date for me to remember as I started my first proper skirmish on my stag night. I went on from there to play regularly at the old London site of Electrowerkz and was soon drafted into the Dark Angels (as they were then known); a 30 strong team of serious CQB players. Soon after that I was asked to join the marshalling team at Electrowerkz and rose to become a senior marshal and even ran the venue on my own a few times. Unfortunately, Electrowerkz closed on the day I left to go travelling and the Dark Angels became team Delta-Alpha. They have gone from strength to strength since then and have successfully branched out into playing military simulation games as well as appearing on TV, a music video and as “resistance security” for the Sarah Connor Chronicles London launch party. This year, a vote was taken to reduce the “publicity” side of the team and focus on the airsoft and I was raised to become of the 5 committee members. We now prowl around the airsoft circuit, sometimes being hired as a scripted enemy, but always reminding people that Team DA plays a very committed game at a very high standard of fairness and honour.

If you have an airsoft ground, if you need 30 very well equipped and motivated players to come down and kick your local boy’s asses, and if you can find our website, then maybe you can hire: The DA Team.

Today’s podcast takes a look at the differences between playing at the Mall in Reading, which is a CQB venue in 250,000 square feet of disserted shopping mall, and a Stirling Combat mission, which is a serious roleplay milsim event run by ex SAS members and not for the faint hearted.

In this episode we cover:

• What is playing the Mall really like?
• Do Stirling players really torture each other?
• Will villager Trip fight for the Taliban team of oppressors, or the American team handing out biscuits?
• Is the Mall’s safety brief really 50 minutes long?

All will be revealed right here, so please click to play!

If the above doesn’t work try the direct link: http://www.outsidecontext.com/wordpress/wp-content/podcast/TheMall.mp3

Supporting Media

During the podcast, reference is made to the following 12 man kill streak caught on camera by Basho:

This is the first podcast on this subject and we hope to be able to do many more. If you would like to appear as a guest in the next one (over Skype) then please let me know via the comments form below.

Related Posts

• Sennybridge, a Basho film about “The Chernarus Conflict”
  A  few weekends ago my airsoft brothers and I were players at the TA Event’s, “The Chernarus Conflic…
• Operation Zulu
  The DA’s have played some unusual games over the years, but this was a first for us: this was the fi…
• Band of Delta-Alpha : A Basho Film
  The Ground Zero Weekender is the biggest yearly event on the UK Airsoft calendar.…
• This Is India Podcast 2
  Welcome back! This is the second podcast in the This Is India collection. It tells of Cesca and m…
• This Is India Podcast
  Hello and welcome to an experiment! Cecsa and I have sat down and recorded a podcast of our time …
• Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2
  The gravity caused by this game has prompted many developers to move their game’s launch dates so as…

You are in possession of the one of the universe’s most mysterious objects. Your personal copy of this object differs in function only slightly from all the other similar objects in our solar system. It is the part of you that feels pleasure and yet it is also the part of you that knows pain. It is a part of your body that you cannot see, but it is also that which you rely on to make sense of what you observe. It is built of more than 33 billion neurons, linked in a mesh up to 10 thousand times each, making a total number of connections greater than the observable stars in the sky. It is the true wonder of planet Earth; for it grew here in the same way apples grow on trees.

It is your brain.

And while we can explore the furthest reaches of light-enabled space, we cannot claim to have begun understanding this small lump of tissue we each possess. Our sciences regarding it are crude at best and mostly replying on mere observation. That sum of knowledge eventually comes down to this: which bits you should not poke. On the other hand, our mental science experts, doctors and scientists try to reduce the functions of the brain down to an increasingly morbid collection of faculties about which they then bicker and argue about endlessly.

And every single one of them has missed the point…

Like the people locked up in Plato’s cave they are looking at shadows on the wall, dancing in firelight, and totally missing the magic trick. I suggest ignoring the slight of hand, diving in and seeing if we can make head or tail of it on our own. So, let’s try this:

Hold up your hands so that your thumbs and forefingers are touching and then hold them out at arm’s length. What do you see? What have you formed?

A triangle.

But, is it actually there? Is it not defined by the gap between your hands? Isn’t it really formed of nothing. There isn’t really a triangle there; it is negative space.

Oh, there is a triangle you claim…

Ok, then pick it up…

You haven’t created a triangle. You have bound a negative space in a shape, which from your point of view is similar to, what they told you at school, is a triangle.

It is your brain saying that it is triangular. It doesn’t exist other than that.

Take your hands away. Where is the triangle now?

And yet, your hands still at the ends of your arms?

The difference between these two things is the mental back flip you will have to come to terms with in this article.

OK, another example for those with furrowed brows…

Imagine (or cut out) three blue squares all the same size. Put them on the table. These three objects conform to what, they told you at school, are squares.

They are square objects:

Now place them in the following order:

What shape is there in the middle?

You can say to me that it is a triangle. Right? You can work out its length, its height and its width. You can do all sorts of things with it. You can even say exactly how much weight it would support if it were in steel or in concrete.

You can also destroy it.

In the end, it was only conceptually real. It wasn’t really real. You can talk about it all you want, but it wasn’t really there.

You are applying form to it with your brain.

You do this to your notion of “self”. Your “self” is not really there. It is the gap in you made by the meeting of all the objects that make up you.

It is negative space.

Now that we have that cat in the chicken coup, let’s start:-

One of the most common mental illusions, one that almost everyone falls into, is the identification of the “self”. Most people identify perceived mental states (collected into what we call consciousness) as somehow comprising and illuminating this self. In other words, they believe that they are in control of the consciousness to such an extent that they identify totally with it.

Many people, if asked and pressed to identify the self and its consciousness, would say that the consciousness is something in the head, perhaps a few inches behind the eyes, or between the ears. They also think that they are in control of it like a captain in a ship or a driver in a car. The body is the car and the conscious mind is the driver who directs the car into action directly through the will. From this comes the idea that the self resides in the body and yet is separate from it in some manner that is unknown. After the body dies, it goes somewhere else.

Where? Who knows, but one thing is for sure: Dead people have no consciousness.

It is clear that all the stories, fables and myths of all the cultures are founded on this unmistakable observation and the formulation of potential answers. Usually very complicated ones involving magical kingdoms in the sky or underground. That makes sense. After all, the dead person’s consciousness, their self, sure isn’t around here anymore.

Science laughs at this. But science is wrong to do so. It all follows logically. In fact science is doing a pretty bad job of coming up with answers regarding the self and consciousness as well. For these people thinking about this problem is simply a matter of reductionist dogma. Entire tomes and uncounted reams of paper go into arguing whether mental states can be literally counted and consciousness explained in simple terms of reference, as if attaching a term to something somehow enables it to be real.

It just appears real. Or at least your “self” appears real. Some people believe that other people are mere ghosts or robots. This is a common form of fantasy entertainment.

All of these arguments start too far “up the tree” and not at the root of the situation. The truth is that consciousness identified as the self is not real. Consciousness is an illusion in exactly the same way that the triangle was.

But before going any further, I want to speak of this in simple terms with an example of oranges.

I like oranges.

Should someone throw me an orange then my hand will always rise to catch it. If I deconstruct the chain of events in this circumstance then I come to a startling observation; my (so called) conscious mind has little to do with my effort at all.

Most descriptions here would start with the orange being airborne, but let us move a little backwards than that.

Firstly, the person throwing the orange will usually warn me that an orange is “incoming”.

“Do you want an orange?” they will ask, often brandishing the orange aloft for me to view in their hand.

They do this to let me see it, and secondly to enable my brain to start calculating how the affirmative response may be achieved. My brain will have already worked out that the person is likely to throw the orange to me. It does this by instantly remembering everything I know about this person. If it is my brother, then oranges’ will soon be aloft. If it is my wife, well, she will always pass me an orange like a gentlewoman should. All of this memory stuff happens in an instant and then my brain really gets to work and all sorts of new things happen at once.

My brain works out if I am hungry and if I like oranges.

Many women would say that the male brain ends its decision processing at this point, but in reality that is a crude explanation for the richness of what my brain is doing.

It actually performs thousands of calculations in that split second. From how healthy does the orange look, to will I have to wash my hands after and where is the nearest sink? It also considers if you have washed your hands recently? As well as perhaps wondering why am I worrying about cleanliness so much these days? or will this orange be a really juicy one or like that last one I had, which had been sitting around for ages?

Where does the brain get all these questions from?

The brain is full of memory connections formed from the linking, copying and combination of concepts into memories. Some concepts are stronger than others and the links between them, forged into large enough conceptions, become what we call opinion. The most important aspect of memory is that it appears to us as history and is the way in which the brain perceives the passage of time.

Time, of course, is also an illusion but that is another article.

Suffice to say that an opinion is a collection of memory connections that has been formed via the perception of history. At a higher level the brain is collecting, mapping and storing memories all the time. Like a stream of information, data, is flowing through the eyes, down the ears and across the skin. This is the endless information of the senses. It flows into the brain in the form of electrical signals, or at least that’s how we can detect its flowing, and the brain sorts it all into different forms.

Out of this massive signal, the brain picks out how I feel about oranges (in particular this orange I see in front of me and in pedantry how I feel about you holding this orange that I see in front of me).

“Yes please!” I say in return.

The orange is hefted aloft and flies through the air towards me.

Now the brain is able to go into another mode. Out of all the data coming into it, it is able to single out the orange in flight. It calculates its trajectory in a microsecond. It then orders signals to be sent to various parts of the body. It does this by finely calculating which nerves to pulse and which to switch off. A fascinating and very complicated ballet unfolds as signals bounce around my muscles in my arm and other parts of my body like my shoulders, legs and hips. All of this is amazingly routed through memory again as I am able to avoid objects around me, recount the hundreds of thousands of things I have ever caught, the known weight ranges of oranges, the past grips that have worked well in orange catching situations and even the danger of catching the orange too tightly and thereby ending up covered in orange juice.

I catch the orange as though it was easy.

From the start of this orange flinging section maybe two seconds have passed and my brain is not even tired. But, something occurs to me:

In all the millions of calculations that the brain performed; in all the pulses, memories, actions, movements and expressions; I did not “will” any of it. I did not “think” any of it. My body acted on its own to catch the orange and indeed this does shock me, but come to think of it, my brain acted on its own as well.

I did not muse through my so called consciousness to make the decision to have the orange; I did not make a logical list and consider the points of orange eating. I certainly did not control my arms directly nor pump blood to my lungs to take a breath.

I, me, my “self”, was not involved at all. I did not even will the motion. Many people think that the body is awaiting the consciousness to say “go”. But, actually, all the options, all the thinking and all the doing was outside the will.

But not the effects.

I was aware of what was happening, but not in control. Not in control? But this is my body! My actions, my mind, my “self”, my will!

Well, was it?

Which part of your consciousness was involved?  None, the brain did it all on its own. And that got me thinking. I started thinking about the other things that this wonder flesh lump between my ears does without my say so.

Driving. Fighting. Shooting and running to name but a few.

When I drive, sure decisions are made, but does my consciousness make them?

No.

My mental perception of the orange event, especially the catching of the orange, was behind that of the brain’s. The sequence of events is difficult to unravel, but when it finally comes out the consciousness only knew after the fact.

The “I” knew last.

Why does my body move without my “self” saying? And I don’t mean in simple crude ways, I mean in all ways. Why does my consciousness get in the way when I am driving or fighting or shooting? Why, if I let the brain get on with it, do I perform better?

These are important questions because they outline the shape we are building with the blocks that the brain gives us. The shape of me. The sides of the “self”.

We know that our consciousness can be affected by many things. Poke us in the brain, punch us in the jaw and fill us full of beer (often this list operates in the opposite direction) and we notice an affect on the consciousness. Take LSD and we notice consciousness expand. Take a class in yoga and we notice it change shape.

Clearly it is controlled by the brain.

One of the highlights to these questions is the actions of memory. Memory is, as I said, the recording of history in the form of various types of neurokinetic links between bits of the brain. Like a mesh, all connected and yet separate. A matrix of the past. Why do we perceive one thing happens after another? Because the brain is recording it somewhere second by second. It happens so fast that we don’t even notice. Second by second the brain records, assimilates, turns back up the right way and presents.

But in which order? If I am not “thinking” of an action makes little difference to whether the brain does it or not. The brain manages to do everything automatically. I perceive that I am still breathing. Still on a train. Still waiting to get home.

Waiting is the answer. The brain is clearly aware of time, but the consciousness drifts. Why is this? The clue is in the nature of what Einstein called Spacetime. You see, time and space are not actually separate. They are one. They are indeed different ways of looking at the same thing. The brain is a real thing; it records the “passage of time” correctly. Can’t fool the brain. It knows when you are hungry, when you are tired. What of the consciousness? That can be fooled very easily. Simply make me bored and time drags on and on. Make me excited and time rushes passed like, well like a train.

Could it be because the brain is in the real world, and therefore effected by space time, whereas the consciousness is not and can therefore become detached from it? Nevertheless, my consciousness is directly affected by the operation of the brain and not able to act separately from it. The question is does it control the brain? As we have deduced it doesn’t. In fact, it happens to be at the end of the chain when it comes to even knowing about things.

But, you say, if I want to pick up a cup, I can do so by my will!

Really? We have shown that the brain operates separately from the consciousness. This we knew, what is new is the causal relation between them. The brain runs the conscious, not the other way around. The brain is paying attention to the world around it. You are the brain, the brain is you. The brain controls the picking up of cups and other objects. It is not too much to understand the brain as having much more influence on the decisions that you think. Your consciousness doesn’t try order the brain to pick up the cup, nothing orders the brain at all. The brain is the thinking organ. It hears, thinks, decides, controls and picks up the cup.

So what the hell is the consciousness?

I am not suggesting that there is nothing in control of your body’s actions, I am just saying that the brain is actually what does it, because you are the brain, you are your body. You are not separate. The consciousness is the memory of the brain’s actions.

The brain needs to be able to mesh together the data coming into it to be able to make decisions. It needs, what is in effect, a focused light of sensation. Now there are so many sensations coming into this part of the memory that the brain meshes only some together. The brain does this. This is like spotlight thrown onto a wall of shapes. The spotlight of the consciousness. The point at which the brain joins together the data-streams, so that it may use this data to function, is the consciousness.

The conscious is just a function of the brain when writing to memory. We have come to identify ourselves so much with these endless perceptions that we mistake it for the “I”, the soul, or the “self”.

There is no “I”.

There are millions of memories being written all the time, to use a metaphor: millions of perceptions being posted into boxes or millions of waves of data crashing together. The conscious is the foam on those waves. The clashing of signals.

And like the output of a TV, it projects a picture. Sure that picture is in full colour, full sound, full experience, but it isn’t in control. The TV does not feed back into the studio and change the program. It is just a projection.

This is what Plato was going on about. This is the truth behind David Hume. It is the point being grasped at by Bishop Berkley. The consciousness is not the real “I”. We draw the data together and believe that the mental mashup, the energy of the brain crashing sensations together, is somehow in control. Well, like in the TV metaphor, the brain is the real viewer. It is using the consciousness to make decisions, not the other way around.

That is why if you “think” too much you get in the way of being able to act. Because the brain is spending too much energy turning up the fidelity of the signal and not enough processing the effects. That is why you can narrow the focus of your mind. In actual fact the is brain narrowing its focus, your consciousness just experiences it. That is why you get drunk and forget. That is why LSD works. That is why you can experience the world as boring. That is why the so called “self” can be in a mood.

The brain is making the sides of the triangle and you are mistaking the sensation of consciousness for the “self”. But, like the triangle, take away the walls; take away the brains signals, and consciousness cannot form. That is why “you” die. That is why how you see yourself is different from how others see you.

That is why you dream. That is why you feel love. That is why you consider yourself alive and that is what we identify as living. Having a consciousness is an illusion of having a separate “self”. In actual fact the brain is the sum total of you. It is in control of your mind, not the other way around.

This is why sometimes answers, “Just come to you”. They are not coming out of thin air, the brain – you – has worked them out, but not shown the consciousness.

Enjoy it. Enjoy the knowledge that “you” are surfing on the shoulders of one of the galaxies’ true wonders. It will look after you, this little fleshy lump is you after all. You are it.

You are wonderful, little brain. I love experiencing your actions; I thank you for being me and for showing me myself. I promise to take care of us both and together we can go out and experience the entire universe.

So, having come to this conclusion, what does that mean for the science of the mind?

It makes no sense to talk about consciousness as separate from the brain. The conscious states are an output signal, the brain makes decisions based on them, but those decisions are all, entirely, what is called sub-conscious. The illusion of decision making by the conscious arises from the passage of time and historical memory. The brain makes all decisions and the consciousness is not involved. The brain does all the thinking, including the thinking about the brain thinking. It is more than capable of being self-referential.

So it makes no sense to talk about consciousness in any way that suggests control. Or of decision making and of it being the “self”, soul or “you”.

That is the worst type of illusion. The brain is in charge. The brain is capable of processing everything we ascribe to the consciousness, which only acts as an output signal matrix of sensations clashing together. Our over-identification with this sensation matrix as the self is holding science back.

Regards,

Basho.

Related Posts

• What is Daoism?
  Before we start, I should add a caveat to this article. I am a philosopher and a Daoist. As such, I …
• Kick Ass Movie Review : Basho has a problem with this one
  Kick Ass is a film that draws a line in the dirt and invites you to place yourself on one side or an…
• The Good Man Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ : Book Review
  The first line of Philip Pullman’s novel reads: This is the story of Jesus and his brother Christ, …
• Is the Insanity Defence Itself Insane?
  As with my first article expounding my political thoughts, philosophical views and religious methods…
• Killing for Pleasure?
  This post is a break from the normal schedule. It is a corollary to the “Philosophy Bites?” post a f…
• Philosophy Bites? (Killing in War)
  I regularly listen to the podcast Philosophy Bites presented by Nigel Warburton. In each episode, a …

Kick Ass is a film that draws a line in the dirt and invites you to place yourself on one side or another. Or, rather, it hands you the stick and asks you to draw your own line. The super hero action genre is ripe for satire as Superman, Spiderman and Batman are leftovers from the 50’s that have had to move from their post WWII, Reds under the Bed, pro America trope to trying to come to terms with modern times. Many movies have travelled this territory by satirising the ridiculous background stories, powers and cringeworthyness of modern super heroics such as the recent Watchmen. And perhaps unintentionally in the form of the Spiderman movies, which are so beyond pathetic that the only thing I can remember is a wet T-shirt.

In Kick Ass we have all the elements of a standard “super hero” journey. The voice over, the sad life in school, the lust after the school’s best looking chick, the bullies and the obsessive compulsive masturbation fantasies. Yep, all present. Geeks must truly have inherited the earth, and must be earning millions, for films to try so hard to show them in such a positive light. Then the first person dies and it is the only person in the film who doesn’t die violently. It is Kick Ass’s mother, who drops dead in the opening montage. Nothing is made of this and she sort of fades from view. Nothing changes for the “hero”.

My Spidey-sense started tingling at this point.

I watched an amazing film once by Japanese director auteur “Beat” Kitano, called Boiling Point, in which the main character was a looser. After being struck out at baseball, he heads to a toilet shack and sits down. From that point his life changes and leads rollercoaster-like into confrontation with local Yakuza, ensuing violence and things being blown up. It was only after one character went into battle wielding a pineapple that my senses told me that something was amiss. Sure enough, the film appears to end with a fade to black… and then suddenly shows the looser still sitting in the toilet, he flushes and runs out to meet with his comrades.

The whole film had been a fantasy.

Kick Ass is like that. I kept thinking that after the credits would be a moment where he would wake up and it would all be a dream. Or more like a nightmare.

Trying to take a stand against crime, but for some reason wearing a costume – not that he has a secret identity to protect – the hero immediately feels for the lack of martial arts lessons and gets stabbed and run over on his first attempt. This leaves him with the ability to withstand more pain and on his second attempt, saving a guy from a gang kicking, he manages to outlast his three opponents to win the conflict.

Admirable.

Less admirable is the horde of people just watching. Why did no one call the cops? Or help? No, they just record it and put it on YouTube. Suddenly, his super hero identity has fans, lots of fans. This brings him to the notice of lots of people. Meanwhile the local crime lord is tracking down who has stolen his drugs, which he is doing by cutting people’s fingers off and putting other people in industrial microwaves to explode. The real culprits are the other super heroes in the movie, psycho vigilantes Big Daddy and Hit Girl.

They are truly an amazing father and daughter team of psychopaths. Big Daddy is this century’s winner of the Most Inappropriate Father Award who is on a punisher-like killathon working through the ranks of the crime boss’s henchmen and he has taken his 11 year old daughter along for the ride. By using comics to manipulate her mind and teaching her how to kill he has turned her into Hit Girl.

And Hit Girl is cool.

One definition of coolness is this, “The making of something that is difficult look easy”. That is why wearing sunglasses makes you look cool; walking in the sun requires that you squint. Squinting is effort. Wearing sunglasses you make walking in the sun look easy, therefore they are cool. Hit Girl makes killing look easy. She effortlessly slices up a drug-den of aggressive and violent “bad people” and inavertedly rescues Kick Ass from another serious ass kicking. In another scene she displays some of the best CQB gun play I have ever seen in film. She employs gen-3 night vision, the Mozambique drill, strobe lights, CQC knife/gun holds, tac-reloads and even ‘search and asses’! That this is being performed by a little girl, too young to fancy, made my spider sense go into overdrive.

I finally snapped when Kick Ass not only got the girl he had been lying too for weeks, in the most unlikely way, but he fucks her in the parking lot of the comic book store. I had that moment where you pull out of the film and wake up.

And suddenly it was all clear.

This film, with all its knowing winks to other super hero franchises, it’s horrific depictions of murder (such as a horrible moment where Dexter Fletcher is squashed in a car crusher by Hit Girl – and you see it all), its casual depiction of goodies & baddies by virtue of their masks, the Tarantino-inspired music and everyone but the main characters having nothing to do, is a satire. But not of what you think.

In one scene, the background characters see, as we do, the torture of Kick Ass and Big Daddy on screen. They are rescued on camera by a furiously shooting Hit Girl who then – having not broken sweat — casually shoots out the camera. They then comment to each other in a reflection of the thoughts going through the audience, and what do they say?

“I think I am in love with her.”

“Dude she is like 11 or something.”

Not a single word about Kick Ass and Big Daddy being brutally tortured, beaten to near death and Big Daddy being set on fire. They don’t care about that. Just like we don’t when we are watching. We already know what is going to happen, Kick Ass must survive, Big Daddy must die, but we don’t care at all. All we care about is how fucking cool Hit Girl is.

Yep, this film is a dark satire; It is a satire of us.

We film-watching idiots who sit through this stuff because it is cool, the comic reading fantasists living only on the internet. The porn watching, hentai viewing, YouTube nation that loves ultra-violence. The grosser Kick Ass was, the more the audience giggled and sighed like we were in a “feely” from A Brave New World.

The film is actually asking us, “Is this really what you will put up with?” Do we really want to apologise for an 11 year old shown slicing people up with a cute grin because it is a “cool” movie? Are we really going to accept whatever is thrown into our eyes and ears and make arguments that it is OK because we are completely desensitised to it all? Have we not played games with similar moments? Watched worse things on the net? Do we “care” about anything?

No, because this film kicks ass.

90% of the audience missed the point, missed that joke was on them, that they are the losers sitting around watching super hero movies rather than living a “real life”. Today I glanced through the comic in the bookshop and in the original version of Kick Ass, Big Daddy is eventually shown to be a liar and not an ex-cop with a grudge. A real nutter fantasist ruining his daughter by making her into Hit Girl. Also, Kick Ass doesn’t get the girl. And why? Because he is pathetic and had nothing to offer her.

That would have been a more satisfying ending than Hollywood’s version that hides the real target of the film’s satire. So, yes, Kick Ass handed me a stick and I have drawn my line. It was not where I was expecting to draw it on walking out of the film, but it is where I want it.

Kick Ass – do not want.

6/10

Regards,

Basho

Related Posts

• The Good Man Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ : Book Review
  The first line of Philip Pullman’s novel reads: This is the story of Jesus and his brother Christ, …
• A Sudden Dawn: Book Review
  The story of a simple Buddhist priest travelling from India to China in the 5th Century doesn’t …
• What is Daoism?
  Before we start, I should add a caveat to this article. I am a philosopher and a Daoist. As such, I …
• Sennybridge, a Basho film about “The Chernarus Conflict”
  A  few weekends ago my airsoft brothers and I were players at the TA Event’s, “The Chernarus Conflic…
• What is consciousness? Is it the “self”? Is it “me”? Basho argues no!
  You are in possession of the one of the universe’s most mysterious objects. Your personal copy of th…
• Dell Alienware M11x Review: Portable Gaming Heaven?
  When I was considering taking a year off, I started looking around for a computer that I could take …