tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-114385392024-03-07T22:51:57.227+13:00do not think of a blue elephantAdamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16688015658070286047noreply@blogger.comBlogger47125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11438539.post-1154529980758922212006-08-03T00:10:00.000+13:002007-02-15T15:22:13.293+13:00Back with a bang and a crashSo I'm back home in the land of Blighty, I slipped back into British culture like a comfortable pair of shoes, aided by decent cups of tea and HP sauce (a mixed metaphor that's probably now conjuring images of worn shoes filled with tea and brown sauce). The adventures of a month ago now seem like a distant hazy dream, one that you can remember as having been really good but with details that become more shrouded as time passes. I can still feel that a change has occurred however, a new sense of purpose and focus that was lacking when I left has definitely become apparent on my return, I've just got to keep that feeling now and not lose the ground I've covered.<br /><br />I've dropped back into the routine of work quite smoothly, it does help working for a company I like with people I like, though finding somewhere to live didn't prove to be as easy. Looking around at the shoe boxes that people have the audacity to call flats and seeing the money people are willing to charge (and presumably pay) for them I realized how lucky I was to have lived at my previous address.<br /><br />I had thought I'd found somewhere but after contracts had been signed and money exchanged it became apparent that I'd actually agreed to live in a war zone. A longstanding disagreement between my landlord and the resident of the flat downstairs, that I found out from the police stretched back over a year, cumulated (at the end of a week of smashed windows and police) in a brick being put through the window of the property I was renting. I left there pretty sharpish (though my girlfriend did point out that after Malaysia why should I be bothered about a few bricks and some broken glass?) and moved back to mum and dad's (thankfully I had that option otherwise I'd have been royally fucked). I've since got my money back from the landlord (though only after threatening legal action) and have now found another (quieter) flat that I can move into at the end of the month.<br /><br />As others have pointed out, you travel the world and do crazy stuff with no problems only to come back and get into trouble on your own doorstep. But the bad shit exists to make the good shit seem good, Yin and Yang you can't get one without the other and there has been much more joy on my return than sorrow.<br /><br />I think also I came back with the expectation that I would be just able to pick up where I had left off, which is the wrong attitude to have. This is a brave new world now and I'm going to have to work hard to build on the foundations laid in Malaysia, I think a bit of adversity is a welcome slap in the face to remind me that life is a struggle and if it wasn't it wouldn't be half so interesting.Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16688015658070286047noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11438539.post-1150620770048053952006-06-18T21:08:00.000+13:002006-08-16T22:04:35.300+13:00Blind, mentally Handicapped, Freedom Fighters and foreign Visitors<span style="font-family: arial;font-size:100%;" >So says the sign over one of the ticket booths in Agra Fort railway station. I had visions of a turbaned man in a kaftan, Kalashnikov slung casually over one shoulder, being asked if he wanted an aircon carriage into Pakistan, but unfortunately there were no obvious freedom fighters around while I waited for my ticket.<br /><br />India is a mad, mad place. It's a world of stark contrasts, grinding poverty and stark beauty, somewhere you cannot prepare yourself for you just have to experience. <br /><br />Since changing my plans in Mumbai I have been following the footsteps of the Islamic Moghul Empire, taking in the forts and palaces they left behind dotted across Rajastan. As I've traveled across the country I've been plowing through the last two books of Neal Stephensons Barorque Cycle, a trilogy of Novels set in the late 17th and early 18th century, and in one of those bizarre synchronous events that occur when you're traveling I opened the book to find one of the characters entering Rajastan on horseback just as I was crossing the border on the train. What struck me as I compared the world conjured by this historical fiction to the one I was experiencing was how little had actually changed, sure there's electricity, combustion engines and the like but as you stand outside one of the immense sandstone forts or Mosques that signified the moguls rein and look at the Bazaars and hawkers crowding outside you are struck by the fact that a Shah standing on the battlements a few hundred years ago would have seen much the same thing. <br /><br />Most towns outside cities consist of rude thrown together dwellings which acrete coral like into any available space, connected by dirt tracks that occasionally grow a thin strip of concrete chewed in at the sides like an apple core. Piles of rubbish abound and most days you'll run across several mounds of human shit (if you catch a train anywhere early in the morning you'll pass at least fifty people squatting on waste ground or perched on train tracks performing their morning constitutional). The Infrastructure in most places is pretty fucked, buses and trains are falling to pieces and filthy (though they still manage to run on time, British rail take note), power goes out regularly and large numbers still get their water from hand pumped wells. It's something I've always known about India, but until you actually see it (and in a lot of cases smell it) you really get an idea of how molly coddled and sanitized we've become in the UK. <br /><br />But still there is plenty of happiness here and the people are, in most cases very friendly and proud of their country, though I've found that there is such a massive gulf between the respective wealth of our two cultures as to form an insurmountable barrier. In the end you have to accept that you will always be seen through the distorting lens of the exchange rate and in a country of 1,027,015,247<span class="body1"> souls all trying to grab their little bit of the action then those who shout the loudest are the ones who survive.<br /><br /></span>My hair seems to be a big hit :-), I can't go three paces at any monument without someone running over shouting "Sir! Sir! Your hair!" and demanding to have their picture taken with me. My confused and smiling face must now appear in countless photo albums across India "And here's a random foreigner we met at the Taj Mahal, look at his hair!" <br /><br />I'm finishing my journey in Delhi now, staying in the Pharagange, a narrow corridor packed to bursting with hastily stacked dwellings, shops, restaurants, guest houses and hostels. Every available space is filled with something and walking through it one is bombarded to sensory overload. I've been here a few days now and everytime I leave my guest house I have to spend at least 15mins trying to find it on my return (and the roads a bloody straight line so it's not as if I can take a wrong turn).<br /><br />I like Delhi, more so than Mumbai. The hassle you get here is surprisingly less than everywhere else, possibly because there is more business to be had so rickshaw drivers tend to leave you alone after the 5th no (though not before trying to sell you some hash). I've had a few people try and run scams but once you give them back their spiel word for word before they say it they tend to leave you alone (there must be a training college for them somewhere because they all say the same thing).<br /><br />Anyway the adventure is almost over, I fly home in a few days and then it's back to normality (well in my own relative sense that is). I'm looking forward to getting back seeing my family, my friends and my girl. I've already put in my request, the first thing I want when I get home is to go down the local cafe for a fry up, a fry up with brown sauce, mmmmm. Funny the little things you're mind latches onto when you're away from the familiarity of your own culture.<br /></span>Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16688015658070286047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11438539.post-1149239295522792622006-06-02T21:28:00.000+13:002007-03-02T20:04:24.463+13:00Welcome to India<span style="font-family:arial;font-size:100%;">So Malaysia is now far behind me and I've hit the home leg of my journey through India. Even after spending 3 months outside of England India is still a shock to the system, if Malaysia was a foriegn country then India is another planet.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:100%;">I've began my journey in Mumbai (formally Bombay) the largest city on India's west coast. It's an insane place, a city of juxtaposistions, hastely constructed shanties vie with the stone edifces of the former Raj and overly dressed security guards sit with glassey stares outside plush department stores while a few feet away a beggers in flithy rags squat on bits of cardboard. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:100%;">It's also not a city you can become anonymous in. As a 6ft 2in white bloke with shoulder length hair, when you're striding around the city you're like a black hole dragging every, merchant, begger, drug dealer and cab driver in the vacinity towards you with the inescapable attraction of the exchange rate. In the 3 days I've been here I've had 4 people ask me to be in a Bollywood movie, countless people try and sell me dope, kids and beggers follow me with for streets at a time, taxi drivers make up prices at the drop of a hat, and every stall holder under the sun try to entice me with their riches. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:100%;">It is I admit quite draining walking around fending off the advances of all and sundry. But the people are generally friendly and cheerful, even when they're trying to rip you off, and as long as you keep a sense of humour about it it's not so bad but still it's nice to be able to retreat to a hotel room, shut out the hustle and bustle and recharge before another sortee.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:100%;">My plans have changed again since I arrived, Monsoon has come early (in fact the day I arrived) and Mumbai is awash with a constant stream of water from the heavens. Checking around down south it seems the weather is just as bad down there, I had thought about going to Goa anyway to see what it was like but a string of bad luck around buying my train ticket (that cumulated in a frantic couple of hours where I thought I'd lost my passport) convinced me the universe didn't want me to go south.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:100%;">Instead I've decided to head up north away from the rain, my train leaves tonight for Jaipur where there's a spectacular red sandstone hill fort perched above the city, from there I figure I'm going to head into the Thar desert for some camel treking then work my way to Delhi and check out the Taj Mahal and surrounding area.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:100%;">So no beaches just plenty of sand, still that's what I love about traveling, everything can change at the drop of a hat and as long as you relax and follow the flow things generally turn out as they should. </span>Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16688015658070286047noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11438539.post-1148377855928140942006-05-23T22:19:00.000+13:002006-08-18T18:35:18.743+13:00End of the beginningSo it's been a fucking mad 3 months, I've been punched, kicked and thrown into walls. Had rocks thrown at me and been set on fire. I've ached all over, had bruised shins and swollen ankles and I think I may have fractured a toe last week (I dunno it still hurts like a bugger). I've climbed magic mountains and meditated in sufi tombs. And last but by no means least I've sweated, a lot.<br /><br />So after all that was it worth it? Fuck yeah, I'd do it again in a heartbeat, it has been a truly life changing experience and I'm going home leaner, meaner and with more information than you can shake a stick at :-).<br /><br />Thanks go to Zianal for torturing me the last few months and sharing a small amount of his massive knowledge with me but mostly to Nigel, who has put up with my annoyingly cheerful face darkening his doorstep almost every morning, has graciously opened many doors and allowed me to steal a small amount of his chi, giving me enough material to keep me occupied for a lifetime.<br /><br />Thanks also go to Fong who has fed and watered me, given me lifts all over the place and been very gracious about the lanky foreigner sweating all over her nice living room floor while she's trying to watch her Korean soap operas. And finally thanks also to Lian and Min, just for being Lian and Min.<br /><br />All I've got to do now is practice the stuff for the rest of my life....:-)<br /><br />So next I'm off to India, I fly out Tuesday night and am currently planning to go South to Kerala (though this may change as I get there just in time for the monsoon...bugger). Well whatever happens I'm sure I'll have a few more things to post about.Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16688015658070286047noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11438539.post-1147943816351300772006-05-18T22:11:00.000+13:002007-01-29T07:02:25.946+13:00Khatam vidsHere are some clips of the Khatam (see earlier post) that a friend has kindly let me host on his server, enjoy.<br /><br /><a href="http://drussel.net/movies/silat_khatam/don_adam_weapons.wmv"><span style="font-family:arial;">don_adam_weapons.wmv</span></a><span style="font-family:arial;"> (7163 kb)</span><br /><a href="http://drussel.net/movies/silat_khatam/adam_fight.wmv"><span style="font-family:arial;">adam_fight.wmv</span></a><span style="font-family:arial;"> (6269 kb)</span><br /><a href="http://drussel.net/movies/silat_khatam/dons_fight.wmv"><span style="font-family:arial;">dons_fight.wmv</span></a><span style="font-family:arial;"> (30,578)</span><br /><a href="http://drussel.net/movies/silat_khatam/stone_vs_fire.wmv"><span style="font-family:arial;">stone_vs_fire.wmv</span></a><span style="font-family:arial;"> (7513 kb)</span><br /><a href="http://drussel.net/movies/silat_khatam/fire_vs_flesh.wmv"><span style="font-family:arial;">fire_vs_flesh.wmv</span></a><span style="font-family:arial;"> (6607 kb)</span><br /><a href="http://drussel.net/movies/silat_khatam/fire_walk.wmv"><span style="font-family:arial;">fire_walk.wmv</span></a><span style="font-family:arial;"> (2081 kb)</span><br /><a href="http://drussel.net/movies/silat_khatam/washing_in_oil.wmv"><span style="font-family:arial;">washing_in_oil.wmv</span></a><span style="font-family:arial;"> (3100 kb)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">(Note I've fixed the links now so they should all be working)</span><br /><br />Oh and I've taken the word checker thingy off the comments because people were complaining it wasn't working properly and stopped them posting. I've already had two lots of spam and some abuse so feel free to add to them. :-)Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16688015658070286047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11438539.post-1147943451061474322006-05-18T21:43:00.000+13:002006-08-18T19:03:06.796+13:00Training, training and more trainingWell things have been relatively quiet here for the last few weeks. I've mainly been drilling the stuff I've learnt over the last couple of months trying to etch everything into my synapses, make the most of my time before I start the long trek home via India and give Nigel and family a bit of a break from having the lanky foreigner jumping around the living room.<br /><br />Pak Zianal also told me yesterday that I've completed the syllabus for the White Tiger Thai Boxing. This doesn't mean I've suddenly transformed into some martial arts master, rather I've now learnt all the basic drills, conditioning and forms, all I've got to do now is go and practice them for the rest of my life :-). It was quite interesting yesterday, I joined in training with some of his Malay students (something I haven't done for a while) and the difference between when I trained with them when I first got here to now was startling. All my techniques were much more solid and had a lot more power and my shins weren't killing me after 15mins of kicking, just shows you what a few months of beatings will do for a mans character.<br /><br />On top of all the Silat and Thai boxing my form has improved no end with a lot of niggling problems if not ironed out at least in the process of being fixed and Nigels taught me a kick ass staff form that I've been dutifully practicing until my arms fall off, it's very nice and has lots of fa-jing training that's feeding back into my fast form which seems to be developing some oomph now.<br /><br />I've got about a week left now, my little sister is in Malaysia (passing through on a leg of her own round the world jaunt) and she should hit Penang next week, so we should have time to meet up for a few days before I leave for India. I've got a place booked up in Mumbai for a couple of days and then the plan is to head down South and work my way back up (a slight change of plan than previous but more realistic I think).<br /><br />I'll try and do another post before I leave, I've helping Nigel and Fong teach some kids martial arts at a local school on the weekend before I leave so that should be amusing.Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16688015658070286047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11438539.post-1146476693244133392006-05-01T21:12:00.000+13:002006-08-12T01:12:00.736+13:00DemoSo you think after having rocks chucked at me and being almost set on fire I could handle anything, but this morning standing at the edge of a small stage dressed up again in my Malay gear (which I have to admit I find most comfortable) waiting to go out in front of an audience I could still feel that familiar dry throat and gurgling tummy.<br /><br />Myself, Nigel, Fong (Nigel's wife) and Lien (Nigel's son) where all at the USM ABN-AMRO Arts and Cultural Centre in the centre of Penang performing a Silat Tari demo to help launch an art exhibition by a local artist Shamsul Bahari. One side of the small stage was crowded with the traditional instruments of a Gamalan Orchestra, metal bells and gongs hanging in beautifully crafted housings adorned with intricate carvings, the other half clear for us to jump around in.<br /><br />It may sound odd that a group of Europeans should be out promoting Malay traditional arts to Malays, and I'm sure there is some novelty value in it, but as Pak Zianal says; when people see that someone is willing to travel half way round the world to immerse themselves in Malay local culture and arts it helps to make people realize how much it is worth.<br /><br />Nigel took the stage first opening the proceedings with a Tari dance to the four directions while some of Pak Zianal's lads banged out a rhythm on the gongs and drums. As he finished the rest of us came on clutching small bowls of flowers, I passed Nigel his and Fong and Lien left the stage we began Silat Smarap. This is a dance, normally performed at weddings, where the participants each hold a bowl of flowers, one representing male and the other female (the female is distinguished from the male because she has the bigger bowl, which seems quite appropriate I think :-p).<br /><br />The idea of the dance is that the male has to try catch and touch bowls with the female while the female has to simultaneously tease and avoid the male, so the female is characterized by her creativity in avoiding the male while the male is distinguished by his cunning, trying to corner the female and use feints and tricks to lure her out. Apart from being great fun, my nerves were soon forgotten as I chased Nigel around the stage grins on our faces (I was the male, much to Nigel's annoyance but he could do the feminine moves much better than me :-)), the dance is a fantastic footwork and sensitivity exercise as you attempt to trick, tease, corner and escape from each other and because it's a dance it's less likely degenerate into a forceful contest.<br /><br />After Nigel had kindly conceded (otherwise I'd have been chasing him for hours) Fong and Lien took the stage and performed the same dance. One of the best things about Silat Tari is that it allows the exponent to bring him or herself to the picture from the beginning. Instead of having to conform to a set style, conditioned by set patterns of movement, the principles and basics allow the person to find his or her own way of moving. This means that when you watch a group perform Silat Tari, though it is obvious that each person is moving in a similar fashion, there is also a certain stamp or quality of movement that is unique to each individual. Therefore watching Fong and Lien do the dance was quite different to myself and Nigel, Fong moves with fluid grace and strength while Lien's movements have a focused intensity that you can feel across a room.<br /><br />Once they had finished the dance we all took our turns to perform various Tari, empty handed and with weapons (Nigel used a Pedang, a Malay single edged sword, while I had my trusty stick and Lien had a Kris) , to finish myself and Nigel performed a 'skit' whereby Nigel played the aggressive 'hard' martial artist, terrifying both the audience and the band stamping and shouting (he hammed it up beautifully and the hardest part was keeping a straight face), and I was the soft and flowing Silat Tari guy deftly avoiding and countering his blows (obviously we' been rehearsing this before and Nigel kindly uttered a blood curdling scream every time he attacked). The skit ended with Nigel crawling off the stage and Lien coming on to defend his fallen father, by running up my leg and elbowing me in the head (he was kind to me today as yesterday he landed a beautiful knee right on my nose while practicing).<br /><br />In all it seemed to go very well and both Pak Zianal and Nigel got positive feedback and seemed happy, which is the important thing on these occasions. Something that can be easy to forget coming from the West is the concept of Face, if you are performing a demo it's not just your own embarrassment you have to worry about if it goes wrong but that of your teacher and their lineage whose skill you are representing.<br /><br />Once all the excitement was over we got to have a proper look round at the art exhibition, the artist was a Penang local who I think had lived overseas in the States and Japan before finally moving back to Penang. The art was really good, with a diversity in style ranging from pen and ink miniature's and cartoons to full size canvases of everything from abstract images to landscapes. The two particular things that caught my eye where a series of pictures of tropical fish, their dayglow colours against a stark black background that seemed to fix them in it's embrace and a large canvas filled with intertwining tree branches reaching up to surround/ensnare a white dove at the centre.<br /><br />I'm glad that I had another opportunity to something out of the ordinary while out here but I'm also glad that the demo is over as these things are always nerve wracking, still it's good to get the chance to help in a small way to promote the local culture and art and hopefully give back something of what it has given me.Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16688015658070286047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11438539.post-1145244016176134302006-04-17T15:38:00.000+13:002006-08-17T20:32:21.600+13:00KhatamIt's after eight in the evening but I'm still sweating as I sit cross legged on the floor of Pak Zianal's living room, I'm not sure if it's because I'm dressed in the heavy black cotton of my Silat uniform, complete with colorful Sarong and headdress, or because I'm nervous. People bustle around preparing for the evenings proceedings, the call to prayer from the nearby mosque lilts softly in the background and the smell of incense and burning wood wafts through the door. Next to me a my friend, Don, also from England and my senior in our Martial arts organization sits dressed in similar garb, I look across out the corner of my eye and wonder if he is feeling the same as me.<br /><br />We are here for our Khatam, Khatam is an Arabic word that means 'last' or 'ending' it is also used to refer to the last prayers said at someone's death. In Malay martial arts it is the name of a ceremony that closes a students formal instruction in an art, where he or she must demonstrate that they can perform to a certain level in front of a group of their peers and instructors from other arts (who have the final say on whether or not a student has passed). This probably doesn't sound too bad until you realize that some of the tests on tonight's bill include fighting with some of the local students and going through certain 'ordeals' involving flames and lumps of rock.<br /><br />Finally as the call to prayer fades to silence Pak Zianal calls us out to begin. We sit on the bare concrete at the front of his house in meditation while Nigel, my teacher, opens the proceedings with the Tari. Silat Tari is form of Silat most often associated with dancing and like Tai-Chi often misunderstood as lacking in any martial application. As Nigel moves gracefully through his free form dance, arms waving in front of him as he moves into a low stance, you could be forgiven for mistaking the moves as that of simple dancing. However a good Tari, one that follows all the principles, should be able to have a martial application for any move within the dance.<br /><br />Once the proceedings are considered open we are moved to one corner of Pak Zianal's yard and the fun begins. One by one we have to go up and strut our stuff in front of Nigel (who is overseeing the proceedings) and a panel of other students and teachers. Myself and Don run through our Tari first empty handed and then with weapons (Don with a Kris and myself with a stick).<br /><br />Next comes the sparring, in this form of Silat sparring you have to show that you can fight using the moves of the Tari. So though we are fighting without any protective padding it's as much about style as it is about content. My opponent, Arri, is one of Pak Zianal's Thai Boxing students and a guy that likes to fight, but surprisingly I'm feeling very calm. We leap around the yard exchanging blows and weaving the patterns of Silat moves with our hands and feet, he's very fast and tough executing some crippling kicks at my legs and body but I think I give as good as I get. After two rounds of frenetic action we are called to stop, both of us grinning and panting, blood coursing through our veins, each of us disappointed we had to stop.<br /><br />Don's fight is almost the opposite of mine, while mine was a flurry of blows Don's and his opponents Fayiz is one of patience and strategy. We find out later that Fayiz is a regional champion in competition Silat and at almost got on the team to represent Malaysia in the South East Asian games, he moves with feminine grace and commands distance perfectly taunting at Don with his facial expressions and movement trying to get him to rush in so he can punish him with kicks and punches. Don though is having none of it, he stays outside of Fayiz's range and plays the same game waiting for him to cross the distance to him. It's like watching a game of chess both fighters testing each other in short bursts of action and then retreating to a safe distance. They are quite evenly matched, Fayiz executes some lovely side kicks at Don and at one point Don sweeps one of the kicks out of the way with his arm and lands a beautiful strike to the face which takes Fayiz off his feet. Fayiz however retains his cool and as he gets up he pantomime's surprise to the crowd, continuing to fight with a zen like composure.<br /><br />After the fights have finished the real fun begins, I have some ideas as to what the tests are as Nigel (who's done all of them) has made the occasional comment but I have little idea of the order or the details. The general idea is that you have to channel one particular element (fire, earth, wind, water) to negate another, so fire counters stone, water counters fire etc. Sort of like a mystical paper, scissors, stone.<br /><br />Pak Zianal calls me up first and gets me to stand on scrubby patch of grass with my back to the audience. I'm told to channel fire, I imagine it igniting in my chest and spreading until my whole body is aflame, I'm shaking and twitching with the feeling of energy in my limbs. I can feel Nigel standing behind me, I try to relax and keep my mind focused on the flames, I have no real idea what's coming next so I just try to keep my mind on the meditation. Suddenly Pak Zinals voice cuts through the night in a short sharp command, a couple of seconds later I feel an enormous blow between my shoulder blades, the air is knocked out of me and I take a step forwards.<br /><br />Trying to keep my composure I push the 'what the fuck was that!' thoughts out of my head and keep my concentration on the flame in my heart. Nigel asks if I'm OK and I nod waiting for what seems like an eternity until Pak Zianal's command barks out again and I feel the stunning impact for a second time, I still manage to keep my feet and after a third blow I'm told that this particular ordeal is over. Don then follows suit and I get to see the size of the rock just thrown at me, it's a solid lump of marble over a foot long and nine inches thick. I'm not sure which of us was in the better position, myself not knowing what was coming next or Don having to watch me knowing that he would have to do same in a few minutes.<br /><br />Next we switched to fire, Pak Zianal called me up and asks me to roll up my sleeves and trouser legs then with a flaming stick in each hand he runs the flames along my arms and legs, I can feel the heat of the flames on my skin and a sensation of burning but no pain as I try to focus on changing my whole body to water.<br /><br />After Don has had his turn with the flames we were subjected to more fire, lines of paraffin are drawn on the ground and Pak Zianal and his helpers bend to light them. However as they do so we feel the first spots of rain, there isn't much of it but it's enough to prevent them lighting the ground. Pak Zianal accuses me of using my Yoga powers to summon rain, though to tell the truth I just want to get on with it, I'm more worried about what test we'd have to do instead if they couldn't get the fire lit (some of the others that could have been chosen involve being hit with sharp prarangs or walking on broken glass). Thankfully someone brings out a pile of newspaper and lights it so we can proceed (you know you're in a weird place when you're glad of a pile of burning newspaper). Once the flames are going nicely both myself and Don had to walk through the middle of it, slowly, making sure both feet go through the flames (otherwise they'd make us do it again) . I can feel the flames licking around my feet, ankles and around my shins, but the sensation is the same as the flaming torches, a feeling of heat and burning but no pain. Afterwards I thought I'd burnt my right foot, but five minutes later the feeling had gone.<br /><br />I'm thinking we must be close to the end now, I try to remember what other tests we might have to do. Then we are called over to the corner of the training area were a metal pan had been set up over a flame, inside it's filled close to the top with boiling oil, sizzling away with bits of ginger floating on top. We both know what we have to do, placing our hands into the oil we have to rub it into our arms and faces, I went first initially hesitant then with more gusto once I realized I wasn't being burnt. Don came after, liberally applying the oil with such abandonment that he managed to splash Pak Zianal who gently mentioned 'You are getting it on me my friend'.<br /><br />Once this was finished we were brought to the front of the house, battered, bruised, slightly singed and covered in oil. I thought it was all over and breathed a sigh of relief. Then Pak Zianal pulled up Arri and placed him in front of me, speaking in Malay and pointing at his clenched fist, 'Oh bollocks' I thought. Arri takes a big stance and cranks up his fist punching me full belt into the stomach, I take the punch relaxing the muscles and letting the air out of my lungs but the blow still makes me step backwards. Next Arri hit Don who deals with it easily but still our ordeal wasn't over, one of the other lads Eddie steps up and delivers a low sweeping kick full power to my thigh, catching my hand in the process, my finger swells up immediately after the strike and I couldn't walk properly on my leg for a couple of days afterwards but I stayed standing. He tried the same thing with Don but I think he hurt himself more on Don's tree trunk legs than the other way round.<br /><br />Finally we were finished, Pak Zianal came up and shook our oily hands, congratulating us on our success. We gratefully dragged ourselves to the living room where we sat on the floor to eat a lovely meal prepared by Pak Zianal's wife, followed by music and dancing at the front of the house where the local lads show they are not only talented martial artists but musicians and dancers to.<br /><br />In all it was one of the craziest nights of my life so far, but by far one of the best. The tests themselves seem insane but follow a definite logic, they confront you with your most primal fears of pain, injury and death and force you to either overcome or succumb to them. We found out afterwards that many had failed the tests previously and been injured, but generally injury happened when fear takes over and hestitation occurs. If you fear the fire and pause you will get burnt, if you are scared and tense then when the stone hits you will be thrown of your feet.<br /><br />The whole evening is not just to prove your outer strength and skill (though that is equally important because the physical is the gateway to the mental and without that Yang there is no Yin) it is also to test your inner strength and control which is invaluable both on the battle field and in life.<br /><br />If you can enter into the right mindset you get an inner confidence that you know will carry you through. I knew, as I put on the Silat clothing before we left, that I was going to be fine, it's difficult to explain it's like a quiet calm comes over you and you know that whatever happens you'll be OK. The difficultly now is to carry that feeling past the Khatam into the everyday life, to let the lessons learned there gradually show themselves. A true initiation never ends and I will carry that night with me for the rest of my life, though Khatam may mean end it should also be seen as only the beginning.Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16688015658070286047noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11438539.post-1144401093723953902006-04-07T21:33:00.000+13:002006-08-16T14:59:40.806+13:00Shaolin MasterLast week I was training at the Shaolin Temple.<br /><br />Well ok not the real temple, I haven't been suddenly transported to mainland China, instead we visited the home of one of Nigels Martial Arts brothers, Master Wong, where he has built a fair replica in his back garden.<br /><br />Master Wong is a small rotund man, shaven headed with a little moustache and a permanent grin. A grin that was still on his face when I last saw him a few years ago, standing on his head with two buckets of water hanging off his feet, while two of his students used a sledgehammer to smash a concrete block balanced over his testicles.<br /><br />The temple is an impressive building. Built by Master Wongs own hands, it stands on the land next to his house. There is a large main training hall decorated with framed newspaper clippings of Master Wong and his students, behind this is a smaller room packed with a large altar, an impressive collection of weapons in racks on the wall and stacks of gaudy Lion heads for various Lion Dances. In the basement there is what one of our number described as 'the room of pain', it contains various training aids for strength and striking training. A large punch bag hangs from the ceiling stuffed with thin strips of bamboo, iron shot of various weights for grip strength lay on padded cushions and a large concrete ball with a rope handle sits on the floor for developing all over body strength.<br /><br />After our brief tour we return outside and get down to the reason for coming here, push hands. For the next hour or so two of Master Wongs students do a round robin of push hands bouts with me (so they get to rest and I don't) across the bare concrete outside the temple entrance.<br /><br />For those of you who haven't come across the term 'push hands' before, it's a form of controlled sparring common to Tai-Chi. It's similar(ish) to wing chun sticky hands or Judo Kumite, generally you can't punch or kick (though you can add that in if you want) but you can sweep, lock and push. The idea is that it trains close quarter fighting skills, working on speed, sensitivity and positioning to uproot and disrupt your opponent.<br /><br />Master Wongs boys were strong, fast and pretty skillful but I was pretty pleased with my performance. I dumped one on his backside a couple of times and even managed to get another in a headlock using tiger returns to the mountain (a move in the Tai-Chi Form, Dave you would have been very proud :-)). Nigel seemed pleased as well, he commented that when I cheated I did it just like him.<br /><br />After my hour was up, Master Wongs lads went through an impressive display of some of there forms and then we all sat and drank tea at Master Wongs special table come water fountain that he'd built at the other end of his yard.<br /><br />Other training is going well, I've finished the fast form and have now moved on to doing it with weights (which hurts but makes you do it properly). Pak Zianal has moved from hitting me with sticks to using an axe (the blunt side of the head so far thankfully). We also had a fantastic Journey to a Malay Mystic mountain, but that will have to wait until my next post.Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16688015658070286047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11438539.post-1143869862858472942006-04-01T18:34:00.000+13:002007-03-29T09:05:55.366+13:00New Key23 articleI've just put up a new article on Key23 about a visit to some Sufi tombs last week.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.key23.net/occulture/post/360">http://www.key23.net/occulture/post/360</a><br /><br />(Key23 is currently shifting servers, if you find the link above isn't working then give it a few hours and try again).Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16688015658070286047noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11438539.post-1142992175862431912006-03-22T13:45:00.000+13:002006-03-22T14:49:35.876+13:00Adam in chainsSo I've been busy, busy inflicting more masochist's agony on my poor aching body.<br /><br />Spent a few days last week visiting Fong's parents down in Batu Pahat, this is proper small town Malaysia and as such doesn't get many tourists, so myself and Nigel had to get used to being stared at everywhere we went. It's funny when you're in Penang it's not as noticeable, as they're quite used to seeing foreigners, but outside of these areas you really get reminded of being a minority.<br /><br />Fongs parents live in a large open plan Chinese style house which seems to be the social hub for the family (Fong has 9 siblings and most of them live in the area) so the place is always humming with activity. Fong's parents were very hospitable and took us out on a number of occasions for food, I'm just about getting used to the idea of rice and noodles or breakfast but it always seems odd eating what feels like an evening meal at 8 in the morning.<br /><br />I wasn't allowed to escape training while I was there, with Nigel making me run through forms and kick things out the front of the house and Fong taking me up a killer of a local hill (I say hill but it's a steep gradient and takes an hour to walk up) to keep up my fitness.<br /><br />We left Fongs family the middle of last week and after a brief 4 star luxury stop in KL we arrived back in Penang. If I was being paranoid I'd have thought Pak Zinual had been thinking up new ways to torture me while Id been away, because the first thing he had me do when I got back was spend 20mins meditating kneeling on a chain.<br /><br />I'd already become acquainted with his chains training method just before I left, he had 2 of them padlocked round my ankles to build up my legs and improve the strength of my kicks, when he First explained what he was going to Nigel jokingly said 'Is going to have them round his neck next?' to which Pak Zinual replied 'How did you know?'. Nigel finds he whole thing most amusing and has is now referring to me as 'The Chained White Man'.<br /><br />The kneeling thing is a new one though. Sitting on the concrete at the back of Pak Zinual's house, the chain placed in a loop between my shins and the ground, I spent about 20mins letting my body weight sink down on the the loops of metal. I can say for certain that it definitely focuses the mind and once you concentrate on the breathing, sending the mind somewhere else, it is actually surprisingly bearable. The worst part is getting up as the blood rushes back into your limbs and you try and rub the chain pattern out of your flesh (or dragon skin as Pak Zinual calls it).<br /><br />Outside of Pak Zinuals training, Nigels not been letting me off the hook. He's been re-teaching me the Fast Form (which I've learnt before and forgot), making me shaped dents in his walls during push hands and teaching me a couple of others forms of Silat.<br /><br />The Silat is very interesting. The first, Silat Tari, is basically a method of traditional dancing but is also supposed to contain the highest techniques of the martial art. You learn a series of basic hand movements and footwork patterns as well as certain animal aspects (Monkey, Snake, Tiger, Dragon, Cat and Deer) and mythical personalities from the Ranayama (an Indian poem also popular in South East Asia). From this you basically enter free form movement (with or without music) moving how you feel the body should move, generally you find the movement principles will spontaneously appear during the dance and you can change the appearance and flavor of the dance by adopting one of the animals or characters.<br /><br />The second is the Gerak Diri, I'd like to go into more detail with this another time, but basically you are taught to take yourself into a trance from which you again move spontaneously but in a more overtly martial manner. The idea being that if you open yourself up and move naturally you'll defend yourself in the manner most appropriate to you. This does have some parallels in Chinese arts like Spirit Boxing but Nigels points out the Gerak Diri seems more holistic and pragmatic.<br /><br />Later this week Pak Zinual is going to take myself and Nigel on a little pilgrimage around some important Muslim tombs in Penang and at the beginning of Next month we're going to go to Gunung Ledang a Mountain in the South of Malaysia with many myths and legends associated with it. So stay tuned for more Malaysian madness.Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16688015658070286047noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11438539.post-1141806602656020522006-03-08T20:49:00.000+13:002007-04-03T04:41:34.866+13:00In the footsteps of John ClaudeBefore I left for Malaysia Nurul (my friend and project manager at work) bought me a copy of the film Kickboxer as a light hearted going away present, jokingly referring to it as my 'training manual'. It seems irony has a habit of coming back an biting you when you're not looking.<br /><br />Thankfully I've yet to developed a Belgium accent and oversized ego, or the ability to do the splits between two chairs (Sorry Ken and Nurul) but some of the things I've been doing this week remind me a lot of that film.<br /><br />Training with Pak Zinual is tough. I've been prowling up and down a bare strip of concrete at the back of his house running through punching Juros (basics) with two lumps of metal clenched in my fist. Afterwards we go to the front of his house where he gets a lump of wood and sticking it into a hole in the concrete gets me to kick it until my shins are the lovely purple colour, pausing only briefly to shadow box the leaves on his trees or rub Thai Boxing liniment on my sore legs.<br /><br />Training here is pretty old school, there's no air conditioned gyms and specialized equipment. It's like the martial arts equivalent of Salvage Squad, find stuff lying around and make use of it.<br /><br />Some of his boys came over on Monday and they set me up with a bit of impromptue sparring to see hwo I'd do, apparently I acquitted myself well, though Pak Zinual did make the comment that 'perhaps I don't like my face so much' (referring to the habit I've got of sometimes forgetting to cover my head ;-p).<br /><br />On top my external bruising and aching Nigel hasn't been letting me escape on the internal pain of Tai-chi front. Running through the form time and time again, holding postures till my legs shake and making subtle adjustments here and there I can already feel changes for the better. Nigels also started teaching me some meditation and breathing exercises linked to a more mystical type of Silat (the name of the indigenous Malay arts) which relies on utilizing the four elements and their corresponding manifestations.<br /><br />In all the first week has been physically tough as my bodies been adjusting to both the rigours of continual training and the heat. However this is what I wanted to come here for and if what I've learned this week is anything to go by I should hopefully have picked up some very useful new skills and improved my older knowledge by the time I return.<br /><br />This weekend we're going down south for a few days towards KL to visit Fong's Family (Nigels wife) and visit some of the local Chinese masters. So expect another update towards the end of next week when I get back.Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16688015658070286047noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11438539.post-1141541328759946742006-03-05T19:00:00.000+13:002007-03-27T22:58:59.160+13:00ArrivalsWell after a truly, um, unique experience flying Air India which made the title of my earlier post quite apt - we're talking a plane that had seen better days in the seventies (hand rests hanging off and Christ it still had the bad wallpaper), still it's not many flights you get an Indian flute player and his tabla accomplice blaring out Indian Ragas a few rows back - I arrived in Penang.<br /><br />Penang a bustling Island metropolis where Sci-fi skyscrapers sit next to battered Chinese shop houses, where Daotist temples burning fuck off great incense sticks compete with Buddhist Watts, Indian temples and Malaysian Mosques, where a car ride anywhere is taking your life in your own hands. Penang a riot of cultures, religions, people, smells and heat. Since it's inception in the 1800's as the British Empires first foray into Malaysia, Penang has always been one of it's more cosmopolitan cities. Growing rapidly from a small fishing village to almost a state in it's own right this place has always been slightly different from the rest of Malaysia.<br /><br />I've just about aclimatized now. I had horrendous jet lag for a few days and the heat is intense, the whole thing left me drained and confused, but I'm starting to feel more relaxed and settled now. Training proper started yesterday with Nigel going over my form in the morning and picking out some bad habits I'd developed (got to work on sinking my chest and rounding my shoulders), then we traveled over to Pak Zinals place for me to start my Maui Thai training. Pak Zinal (Pak a respectful term meaning Uncle) is as nicely describes him a bit like those legendary martial arts masters, a humble unassuming man who doesn't stand out from the crowd but has a depth of knowledge and experience that seems bottomless. Already a highly respected in Malaysian Silat he followed his love of Thai Boxing and traveled to it's homeland, learnt the language and a tradtional family style known as White Tiger which is what I'm going to be learning from him while I'm here.<br /><br />After a formal initiation where I had to give him a knife (the knife representing me the student) and read an oath he had me begin my training, demonstrating the basics of the stance and blocking then testing me out by whacking me with a stick (see I told you all I was going Malaysia to get hit by men with sticks and you all thought I was joking). He then had me moving up and down the space behind his house running through basic punching and kicking drills until my arms felt like they were going to fall off, finishing off with some conditioning exercises including some evil fingertip push ups (all you have to do get in a press up position, put your weight on your fingers then shrug your shoulders. Christ it hurts).<br /><br />Today I have a day off (my only one of the week) and my body is very sore, I keep finding aches in places I didn't know I had muscles in. Still this is what I wanted, masochist's that I am and I know as the weeks progess my body will get used to the heat and effort and the pain will lessen (well slightly).<br /><br />At the moment I can only get near a computer about once a week when I come into town so I'll try and update every Sunday, however as I explore a bit I might find an internet cafe that's nearer so I'll be able to update more frequently. I'll let you all know.Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16688015658070286047noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11438539.post-1141147937239861822006-03-01T05:35:00.000+13:002006-11-03T19:41:56.280+13:00Flying into the Abyss<span style="font-family:arial;">So this blog has been quiet for the last couple of months, life in the real world has taken up too much of my time to allow me to post anything of note and I never wanted this space to become just another area for me to simply paste links to other sites. However circumstances have changed now and I should hopefully not only be able to post regularly for a while but I'll also have plenty of interesting things to post about. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Tomorrow I hit the road. My current life is packed away in cardboard boxes, stowed in my kindly parents loft, my new life fits neatly into a backpack and is defined solely by usefulness and weight. With my tortoise like home on my back I'm crossing the high seas and landing in Penang, Northern Malaysia, for 3 months. There I'll be training martial arts until I can walk on rice paper without ripping it, do mid-air box splits in slow motion and master the 'Five Point Palm Exploding Heart Technique'. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">In Carlos Castaneda's 'The teaching's of Don Juan' the titular magician said that travel is a method of initiation, now I believe whatever you think of this fictional/real characters existence he was right on this account. Like the fool in the tarot stepping blindly into the precipice you throw yourself out into the unknown, deprived of sleep, shifted from your time zone, detached from the sign posts of culture and peer group that have constantly reflected your own assumptions, you are forced to confront how much of what you perceive as you is simply a collective hallucination, a product of your environment and the culture that nurtured you.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">It my hope that I can share some of this initiation here in the virtual world, so expect blood, sweat, tears and waxing on and off...Next stop Malaysia!<br /> </span>Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16688015658070286047noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11438539.post-1130940496193237662005-11-03T02:06:00.000+13:002005-11-15T06:16:36.880+13:00Supreme Ultimate<span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">Recently I've been trying to consolidate my thoughts on what the nature of the divine is to me. These thoughts have been spurred in relation to reading some of the excellent blogs from the burgeoning online Gnostic community (my two favourites being </span><a style="font-family: arial;" href="http://www.snant.com/fp/">fantastic planet</a><span style="font-family:arial;"> and </span><a style="font-family: arial;" href="http://egina.blogspot.com/">Ecclesia Gnostica in Nova Albion</a><span style="font-family:arial;">), my own experiences attending Susan Greenwood and Jo Crow's excellent shamanism workshops, </span><a style="font-family: arial;" href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/exec/obidos/ASIN/0679776397/qid=1131986510/sr=8-1/ref=sr_8_xs_ap_i1_xgl/026-4297707-7799629">The Spell of the Sensous</a><span style="font-family:arial;"> by David Abrams, Jonathan Miller's </span><a style="font-family: arial;" href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/bbcfour/documentaries/features/atheism.shtml">Brief History of Disbelief</a><span style="font-family:arial;"> which is being repeated on BBC2 and visiting my lovely girlfriend up in the wilds of Wales.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:arial;">It seems when often when people talk of their belief or lack of belief in a divine figure many seem to fall into the trap of relating to God in their own image. They see the divine as essentially anthropomorphic and possessed of human qualities. So when bad things happen, be they natural disasters or human calamity, they invariably consider that God is either a mighty pissed malicious bastard to be feared or can't exist, because if he (generally it's a he) did he wouldn't allow these sort of things to happen.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Some interpretations of spiritual systems hold the belief that this Earth is ultimately fallen, that the pain and misery in the world is a result of it's imperfection and that either the commonly worshiped God is in fact our main jailer, or we are deep down no good bastards who deserve all that's coming to us.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">This has always been my main stumbling block with most forms of transcendentalist mysticism and why I've never got on with a lot of interpretations of the bible. From my own limited perspective the world to me seems to be one of the most amazing and efficient systems, a self perpetuating ouroborous entity constantly devouring itself to create itself, and our presence and participation in this world is what defines us. I can't bring myself to view the world as a broken lesser thing that lives in the shadow of spirit, to me the world works fine, our problems come when we forget we are a part of it.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Mired in our own petty human concerns we can easily forget we are just a tiny, tiny thread in a massive tapestry of life (not just human life, all life) that stretches out seemingly to infinity in more directions than we can define in our limited vocabulary. We never left the garden of Eden, it's all around us, the only fall was the fall from connection to isolation. If we just stop our collective navel gazing and take a moment to pause and really notice the world around us, the cat prowling along the wall beside us, the bird song heard above the hum of traffic, the moon hung silently in the sky passively observing all with her gentle gaze, we might realize this.</span><span style="font-family:arial;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:arial;">The jealous fire and brimstone god, the jailer Demiurge is just a reflection of ourselves projected out into the world and then mistaken for reality. We hold the keys to our shackles we're just too afraid to use them.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">That infinite 'something' that binds us all together, the sense of being embedded in something larger, that to me is 'God'. Not some Daddy figure in the sky that we cry to when we're scared, fear when we've been bad and blame when we feel wronged. Not Jesus, Buddha, Krishna, Allah or any of the other masks we've felt the need to force on it when those brave people come back from the edge of experience and try to explain what they've seen. We may find it easier to describe The Divine to others by giving it a human face but the danger here is that people make the classic error of mistaking the map for the territory and worship the symbol instead of looking for the experience themselves.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">We need to stop looking out from inside, instead we should just get out into the world and play.</span><br /><br /></span>Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16688015658070286047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11438539.post-1130505664969676412005-10-29T02:17:00.000+13:002006-08-13T12:17:40.163+13:00Key 23 is backKey 23 is back after it's makeover and looking very nice to.<br /><br />I've still got to sort out my links here and finish going through correctly formatting my essays (starting to wish I hadn't written so many now :-p) but you can look at the finished product here:<br /><br /><a href="http://key23.net/">http://key23.net/</a>Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16688015658070286047noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11438539.post-1130338773917890062005-10-27T03:56:00.000+13:002006-08-13T11:33:46.173+13:00Key 23The links to my Key 23 articles are not working at the moment because the site is going through an upgrade, I'll change them once the site is back up.<br /><br />Until then you can laugh at our ugly mugs on the home page (I'm the first picture):<br /><br /><a href="http://key23.net/">http://key23.net/</a>Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16688015658070286047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11438539.post-1129827607864144562005-10-21T03:27:00.000+13:002005-10-25T01:27:17.123+13:00Eyes turned inward<div style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;">So I'm currently reading David Abram Spell of the Sensuous and I've got to say what a brilliant book. The guys writing is beautiful, lucid enough to explain a complex subject without over romanticism and wild conjecture, yet poetic enough to conjure his spell over you and drag you right into his worldview.<br /><br />His basic premise is that we as a species have lost touch with nature and our surroundings, that our comodification and exploitation of the natural world comes from our philosophical tendency to separate our-selves from the world around us. Our mind/body or spirit/mind dichotomy alienates from our surrounding and turns us into observers rather than participators of reality.<br /><br />For example when I look at another object, say a blackbird, I see an object labelled blackbird rather than another intelligent entity that's sharing the experience of reality with me. Or if I rest my back against a tree, I consider only that I feel the tree against my back not that the tree can also feel me.<br /><br />This was especially poignant for me because I had started reading the book while waiting at Paddington station for a train up to Wales to visit my girlfriend. As I stood there, surrounded by an edifice of steel and glass, overflowing with of hundreds of people about to travel all across the country crammed in little wheeled boxes. I was struck by the overwhelming sense of dislocation cities confer on their inhabitants.<br /><br />Within nature our senses are encouraged to turn outwards for our own survival. In order to find food and shelter we have to be aware of the subtle changes in our surrounds and engage them in a dialogue. Here nature is capacious, dangerous and awe-inspiring and living in it one must be aware of it's moods and fancies like a volatile lover, one moment soft and gentle the next flinging the plates across the room.<br /><br />Contrast this with the man made space of cities, nature here is tamed and paved over by the accretions of our own consciousness. I believe with our senses barraged by constant stimulation and surrounded by thousands of tribes all forced to live in one village, we have been forced to turn our attention inwards for our own survival. Constructing mental spaces as a barrier to maintain our sanity against the press of strangers around us, inhabiting the space between our ears and pushing nature away to only be experienced in safe areas of parkland and woods. As I've mentioned before I've come to see cities as objectifications of our own collective consciousness, so it's no wonder that surrounded by our own mental space we've forgotten where that space ends and nature begins, choosing to mistake the earth as an object to own instead of a shared space to live.<br /></span></div>Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16688015658070286047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11438539.post-1129754378594723342005-10-20T09:27:00.000+13:002005-10-20T09:39:38.610+13:00Golden ApplesFlicking through tv channels before work this morning I landed on the Cartoon Network to be greeted by the Grim Reaper and two annoying children arguing over a golden apple with a K on the side.<br /><br />Intrigued I watched some more and found out the program was called <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Grim_Adventures_of_Billy_and_Mandy">The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy</a>, it features the re-occuring character of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Grim_Adventures_of_Billy_and_Mandy">Eris</a> and her golden apple. I wonder if <a href="http://www.rawilson.com/main.shtml">old Bob</a> knows one of his creations is popping up in a kids cartoon?Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16688015658070286047noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11438539.post-1129569934822409272005-10-18T06:22:00.000+13:002005-10-18T06:25:34.843+13:00All quiet on the western frontBeen a tad quiet in posting recently, mainly because I've been trying to finish a new article for key23. However I'm pleased to say it's now finished and up <a href="http://www.key23.net/occulture/archives/2005/10/17/body-talk-learning-to-listen/">here</a> so expect some more posts soon.Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16688015658070286047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11438539.post-1126282823676794202005-09-10T05:10:00.000+13:002007-03-14T03:39:46.156+13:00Gotta Love SynchronicityReading <a href="http://www.timboucher.com/journal/">Tim Bouchers journal</a>, I came across this lovely <a href="http://www.primitivism.com/ecology-magic.htm">extract</a> from a book by David Abram. He seems a fascinating <a href="http://wp.rutgers.edu/courses/101/link_o_mat/abram.html">character</a> and what I've read of his writing so far seems to converge exactly with my own musings at the moment regarding the interaction between consciousness and the environment.<br /><br />Looks like I've got another book to add to my already huge 'must read now!' list.<span style="text-decoration: underline;"></span>Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16688015658070286047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11438539.post-1126025222536426732005-09-07T05:42:00.000+13:002005-09-07T05:47:02.543+13:00Interview with a GnosticI've been enjoying Jordan Stratford's blog on contemporary gnosticism recently, reading his posts has been quite illuminating if you'll pardon the pun. Anyway he's been <a href="http://www.timboucher.com/journal/2005/08/24/jordan-stratford-interview/">interviewed</a> on <a href="http://www.timboucher.com/">Tim Boucher's</a> website, definitely worth a read.Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16688015658070286047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11438539.post-1125931045529193392005-09-06T03:36:00.000+13:002005-09-06T04:57:57.193+13:00They're in the trees, they're coming!<div><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" ><span class="485064212-05092005">After attending Susan Greenwood and Jo Crows previous <a href="http://donotthinkofablueelephant.blogspot.com/2005/08/tree-hugger_03.html">shamanic workshop on tree's</a> I've been trying out some journeying at home to see if I could recreate the contact with the tree spirit I had on the day. Due to general busy-ness and my own regular practice I've only been able to work with the journeying twice more in my own time, however the results on both occasions have been very interesting.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">14/08/05</span><br /><br />I used a shamanic drumming mp3 by <a href="http://www.etherstream.com/page/search.aspx?artist=Frauke+Rotwein">Frauke Rotwein</a> to induce the journey, came on very fast, though I had been meditating for about 1/2 hour previous so I was already in an altered state when I started.<br /><br />I was back at the Yurt in Brighton where the workshop took place, remembered the place quite vividly, began inside the Yurt and walked out to the tree where I'd experienced my previous journeys. Spent a few moments by the tree becoming re-acquainted, then the tree spirit appeared pretty quickly (I do know her name, but it doesn't feel right using it within the public sphere).<br /><br />We spoke a lot more this time, she said she was pleased to see me and glad I came to visit. At this point I lost my focus a bit and my attention began to waver so she instructed me to feel my feet on the ground and smell the air, which instantly brought my attention back to the journey.<br /><br />She then explained that she wanted to explain more on how the tree acted as a bridge between worlds but that she would do that the next time she saw me. At this point I felt drawn back to my body and I said my goodbyes and went back to the Yurt and my seated body.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">20/08/05</span><br /><br />Used drumming Mp3 again, but this time I also incorporated my <a href="http://donotthinkofablueelephant.blogspot.com/2005/03/towards-light.html">mind-machine</a> on a setting designed to produce a deep theta state in order to see what affect that had on the journey.<br /><br />Began again in the Yurt and walked back to the tree. The spirit appeared, this time I asked what sort of offerings I could bring the tree, she said anything like food or something I'd made.<br /><br />She said this time she'd show me how to use the tree to move between worlds, either the upper or the lower I had to choose one. I decided the upper (no particular reason why, just felt like the right one at the time). She instructed me sit on a tree branch, I did as asked and the tree began to grow upwards as a rapid rate. The branch took me up past the tree canopy and through the cloud cover, up above the clouds I stepped off the branch and began to walk across the cotton wool surface (which needless to say took my weight). In the distance I could see a city skyline, I walked towards it soon coming to a jetty like structure on it's outskirts. Climbing onto the jetty I walked into the city, a combination of Moorish architecture and glittering sky-scrapers. There were beings there but they were distant and difficult to make out and it didn't feel like the time to make contact with any of them. Instead I just wandered around a nearby plaza </span></span><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" ><span class="485064212-05092005">for a little bit</span></span><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" ><span class="485064212-05092005">, before I decided to head back.<br /><br />Coming back the way I came, I descended back into the forest on the tree branch, said my goodbyes and returned to the Yurt and my body.<br /><br />You can see a progression with both journeys, both in the complexity of the experience and the length of time the journey took. It was interesting on the first occasion to attempt a journey after having spent time previously meditating (I'm currently practising a combined meditation practice where I and watch my thoughts, then gaze on a red triangle to the exclusion of all other thoughts and then switch back to watching my thoughts etc.), the speed I entered the experience was definitely quicker because there wasn't that normal surface chatter to quiet down before the trance state took hold.<br /><br />The use of the mind-machine on the second occasion I think definitely helped make the experience stronger, which would make sense because the theta-state is associated with the hypnogogic state the mind enters just before sleep, a state highly conducive to a visionary experience.<br /><br />The other fascinating thing is how the Yurt and the Tree Spirit are becoming integral parts of the process. A physical space I have visited has now entered into my own mythical symbol system as a gateway between worlds which I can visit from any geographical location, while the tree spirit seems to be becoming an integral guide and teacher in this process.<br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The concept of 'the otherworld' is an integral part of most, if not all, shamanic practices. Could this concept be a codified way of explaining the bridge between our subjective and objective experience? When I'm in a journeying state I'm aware of my body in a room sitting with it's eyes closed but I'm also aware of being somewhere else, aspects of my waking world are now part of the 'otherworld' and parts of the 'otherworld' encroach into meatspace in a feedback loop of meaning. The otherworld doesn't appear to be separate realm but rather an overlay of meaning that envelops our environment with like a blanket.</span></span><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="485064212-05092005"><br />I'm just idly musing here, these are just concepts that are drifting around my head at the moment and I'm not sure if I've got the words to explain myself correctly yet. Even if we reduce this down to the most mundane (though still incredibly magical) experience of a process that is solely contained within the electrical processes of my brain, it doesn't make the the journey's any less remarkable. Here I have parts of my subconscious using narrative to teach me techniques for better accessing my own creative faculties, my brain teaching my brain how to work more efficiently. Now that is pretty cool.</span></span><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"> </span></div> <span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" ><span class="485064212-05092005"><br /></span></span></div> <div><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" ><span class="485064212-05092005"><br /></span></span></div>Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16688015658070286047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11438539.post-1125413555729070562005-08-31T00:46:00.000+13:002005-09-14T04:16:05.786+13:00Objectifing the subjective<span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;" >Went to a talk on <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Magick">Magick</a> and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Psychogeography">Psychogeography</a> at <a href="http://www.treadwells-london.com/">Treadwells</a></span><span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;"> the other Friday and as usual a lot on interesting stuff was brought up which left me much to mull over</span>. The speaker, </span><a style="font-family: arial;" href="http://www.llewellyn.com/bookstore/author.php?id=38605">Julian Vayne</a><span style="font-family:arial;"> a </span><a style="font-family: arial;" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chaos_magic">Chaos Magician</a><span style="font-family:arial;"> and member of the </span><a style="font-family: arial;" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Illuminates_of_Thanateros">I.O.T</a><span style="font-family:arial;">, outlined how he used Psychogeographical techniques as a way of expanding his magickal practice into his surrounding environment. He gave accounts of several rituals he'd engaged in that used the landscape as an active participant in both a structured and freeform manner.<br /><br />In one instance he gave an account of a group working that involved taking a 20/30 people on a guided tour of Bath following a specific route and intent. This mobile ritual involved performing certain actions at designated stations (for instance speaking glossolia into mobile phones) and culminated in the whole group running back to the starting point of the tour singing 'row, row, row your boat' as a mantra. As a contrast he explained of another working which involved an ambling walk along a path performing whatever ritual, exercise or invocation felt right at that time and location.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">His ideas struck me as very similar to the <a href="http://donotthinkofablueelephant.blogspot.com/2005/08/tree-hugger_03.html">Shamanic workshop</a> I'd attended a few weeks previous where we were encouraged to form a </span><span style="font-family:arial;">dialogue</span><span style="font-family:arial;"> with aspects of the environment (in this case trees). These ways of working both </span><span style="font-family:arial;">seem to </span><span style="font-family:arial;">encourage the intermingling our subjective and objective experiences into a personal narrative structure, one that's ripe with symbolic meaning but anchored in the physical plane.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">The other thing that seems common here is that both view our interaction with the world as two way conversation. We write meaning into our surroundings (many have written of how our world is perceived through a veil of own our preconceptions and maps) but our surroundings also write back to us. Whether this be the position of heavenly bodies for navigation, droppings indicating the location of the hunted or the overt manipulation of advertising symbols. The world is always talking to us and we are always listening, it's just most of the time the conversation takes place below the level of conscious thought. However by beginning to pay attention to this subtle interplay between us and our environment I think it's possible to make process overt, if we cut our internalized mental chatter and turn our consciousness outwards, we can become more aware of the messages we are receiving and use them to develop our own methods for communication.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">This idea of layers of meaning in our surroundings, subtle architecture of imagination, appears to be especially </span><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="font-family:arial;">poignant</span></span><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"> </span><span style="font-family:arial;"> in the man made structure of cities. Think about it, cities are the product of our hands and minds, the subjective made objective. They are human imagination ossified into brick, stone, concrete and glass. Walking through a city (especially one as ancient as London) is like walking through the collective unconsciousness of the culture that created it.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">It reminds me again of Susan Greenwood's explanation of the 'Web of Wyrd' in her book <a href="http://www.key23.net/occulture/archives/2005/05/24/magical-consciousness/">'The Nature of Magic'</a> we are each part of an interconnected whole, a matrix of overlapping stories each making up a grand narrative. Normally we're so caught up in our own little soap opera's we don't notice our interaction with the wider story of </span><span style="font-family:arial;">existence</span><span style="font-family:arial;">, the act of magic then could be seen as recognizing our part in the story and becoming an active in it's creation as opposed to just a mere jobbing actor, tiredly repeating someone else's lines.</span>Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16688015658070286047noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11438539.post-1124660663703143092005-08-22T10:23:00.000+13:002005-08-24T06:03:42.903+13:00Search and Destroy<span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Last month my long time Tai-Chi teacher Nigel Sutton was over in England on one periodic visits from Malaysia, where he's been living for twenty odd years now studying marital arts full time.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;">Nigel's main art is Tai-Chi, but he has trained in various Chinese Kung-Fu systems (internal and external) as well as holding teaching qualifications in several indigenous Malaysian Silat styles. So yeah he's pretty good and his visits always leave my brain (and body) hurting.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">This visit we spent a lot of time going over Tai-Chi's fighting aspects. Tai-Chi can be an enigma to a lot of westerners, when it first appeared in the west it was touted as an alternative health method and it's martial origin's were often either downplayed or ignored. The most common reaction to Tai-Chi when first encountered is 'it's just moving slowly and poncy arm waving isn't it?' (amusingly this confusion is non-existent outside of Europe and the United States).</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">It's true that taken at face value the slow movements of The Form (which are the core movements of Tai-Chi and what most equate with the whole art) do not seem martial in the slightest, but by actually practicing the moves and understanding the underlying mechanisms one can see what is actually happening.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">Tai-Chi is </span></span> <span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: arial;">primarily</span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> a principle based art, there is a great saying (which I can't for the life of me remember where it's from) 'Teach a man a technique and he has one technique, teach a man a principle and he has a thousand techniques'. The Form first and foremost teaches correct posture and efficient movement, these are the cornerstones of Tai-Chi and everything else is built on them.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">This brings me back nicely to the stuff that Nigel was playing with this time around. Tai-Chi is a close range art, it's strengths come from short range attacks, relaxed strength and heightened sensitivity to an opponents movements. Combined these are ideally used to over-power the attacker by gaining control of the their centre of balance and turning any energy used against them. With this in mind Nigel has come up with 5 points that break down how Tai-Chi works in a combat situation.</span><br /><br /></span> <ol> <li><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Cover the distance - the most dangerous point, the practitioner has move in past the opponents weapon's (fists, feet, whatever) into a comfortable fighting range.</span></span></li> <li><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Control - once you're within range you </span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> then </span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: arial;">have to close down the opponent's options using ting-jing to take control of the their centre of gravity. Ting-jing can be roughly translated as listening energy, it's a skill trained within Tai-Chi where you become fine tuned to a persons balance and movement so you can 'stick' and follow them.</span></span></li> <li><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Unbalance - once you have control of their centre you can then take them off balance, both </span></span><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="font-family: arial;">physically</span></span><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> and mentally (often just the act of getting into someone's space is enough to unbalance them mentally). This can be in the form of a lock, a throw or a strike.</span></span></li> <li><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: arial;">pressurize - now you have them at a disadvantage, you keep them there. Using your control of their centre and strikes/locks/throws you prevent them being able to gather their wits and re-gain control of the situation.</span></span></li> <li><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Destroy - the obvious, once you have them off balance and confused, you end the situation decisively and generally nastliy. Yes this isn't very pleasent but then again violence of any kind seldom is.</span></span></li> </ol> <span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The important thing to remember here is that once you get into range and gain control, you keep it. Not allowing your opponent to regain their composure or balance.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">Another thing that Nigel brought up that is worth expanding on here is the that 'the best arts are reactive and not active'. This is one of those sayings that seems quite basic on the surface but holds a lot of meaning.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;">If you instigate an attack then there is a conscious decision to make that attack, even if this is just a flicker on across the brain, there is still a lag between thinking of making a move and actually making it. However if you react, simply by instinct, then there is no conscious process so therefore no lag time, this method is summed up in the Tai-Chi classics as 'he moves first, I arrive first'.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">Obviously you want to make sure that whatever your action is it's one relevant to the situation, this is where endless hours of repetitive training comes in. By ingraining certain ways of moving into your synapses through training the Form and other exercises, then testing that movement under pressure in push-hands and sparring, you train your body to react instantaneously to an attack without the interruption of conscious thought.</span></span>Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16688015658070286047noreply@blogger.com2