The Reluctant Storyteller

Admittedly, once the sun’s gone down and you’re all danced out, there isn’t much to do in the desert …

I am 51 years old and aboard a Camel named Azell, at least by day, with eight members of Hazel Keyes Arabian Dance Class. Alright, we are belly dancers – having the time of our lives in the Sinai Desert. We have a support team that includes Giles the Oud player, Mohammed the drummer, and as many male accomplices as could be persuaded to attend on us. Six, if my memory serves me right. Spouses and lovers of the dancers – men who might be seen at every camp adorning the high places as if laying claim to all they surveyed. This may well be what men need to do, I say, tentatively. We women were more interested in finding discreet places to pee.

There are stories aplenty to be told: the horrendous journey from Cairo to Sharm-el-Sheik in a minibus, being offered sex at the ghastly hotel there and quitting the scene at speed with my integrity intact, learning to ride and stay astride a camel … Days of stark beauty nights under blazing stars …

And the dancing! Better demonstrated than described, but not here, not now, I don’t have my coin belt and veil with me … At sunrise, before breakfast, the dancers, and accompaniment, would head off to a suitably stunning view above a patch of sand, lay down our mats, and practice whatever we were to perform after supper that evening back at the camp,which, by the way, resembled Abraham’s and was erected daily by members of Faranjela’s clan.

Fourth day in, Chris, our guide explained, as we scrambled down into Powder Canyon, and the sand underfoot WAS just like talcum powder – that this was part of the route the Israelites had taken out of Egypt into the Promised Land.

To my utter amazement, none of the members of our party had any idea of what he was talking about, and Chris, unprepared for the level of interest, couldn’t fill them in.

‘Oh! I explained, You’re talking about the Exodus!’ And, encouraged to do so, I told the tale.’ I can’t believe you don’t know this! I said, genuinely puzzled. “Why would we, we’re from Stroud!” Was. Colena’s response. (Colena who set fire to herself trying to smoke something she’s picked in a very well-watered plantation we found, and hastily left, in the middle of nowhere. We let her put herself out)

For the rest of the holiday I was called upon every evening to tell a story. Fortunately, we arrived back at base camp during the Shipwreck of St Paul and I wasn’t called upon to interpret the Book Of Revelation!

Extracting Meaning Is Like Pulling Teeth

No, it’s not. I have told you before, somewhere, possibly on Twitter, that NOTHING is like pulling teeth, and I know this, having recently lost a wisdom tooth, and with it, no doubt a little wisdom. The HUGE needle … No, it’s too painful to recall, although, paradoxically, virtually painLESS these days.

Whilst sitting here in Redmond pondering what’ll happen to the Union Flag when we lose the blue bits, and how UKIP might respond when, no longer holding the WHOLE island, we have to become ‘Lesser Britain’, I have been contemplating The Science of Happiness and the Meaning Of Life. Over a cup of tea. Darlene gets in British tea, which as eny fule no, is the sweepings off the floor in the Tea Room, but there you are, it came with cards when I was six, and I love it.

Have I come to any conclusions? Well, yes. Life has no meaning, but that’s never going to work, so we have to invent one. This is a glorious purpose and I am spending a lot of time doing it.

I am spending almost as much time marvelling at the meanings my fellow inhabitants of this precious blue dot ascribe to their amazing existance. I’m not going into any great detail because I am in a good mood today, and have no wish to offend, but really, if you’re engaging in something that doesn’t bring you SOME sort of satisfaction, you really ought to stop it. Or if you’re hurting yourself, or someone else, you ought to stop that too.

I have given serious thought to becoming a Bhuddist, but there are some serious obstacles. ‘Steak’ and ‘not being able to sit still’ being two that spring immediately to mind, unfortunately, as I can’t see that either reflect well on my spirituality. But there you are, what you read is what you get.

I am going to pass you on to Tim Minchin now, because he is funny and young, and has something inspiring to say, and deserves to be heard: I love him. ( Like a son, Ray. 🙂 )

Tim Minchin: Nine Life Lessons:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yoEezZD71sc

Scouring The Universe

God within you wants to know Herself in you.

Sometimes whilst scourning the Universe looking for an answer to the unanswerable question, “What Is the meaning of life? ” I hear something that opens a window, and all sorts of things make sense. I’m not talking about TRUTH mind, as in something fixed, and eternal, no, just a glimpse of a something that makes sense for now. Tomorrow? Who knows? Tomorrow holds the promise of taking care of itself, which might necessarily mean bringing a different truth. There are, as you know as you get older, very few absolutes.

There’s the preamble. Here’s the Amble:

I have just finished listening to a Dharma Talk (and I WILL write up my visit to Darlene’s neighbours, the Buddhist Temple, soon, I promise… ) The teacher today quoted my opening gambit, which bears repeating: God within you, wants to know Himself in you.

When I was in Sunday School way back in 1955, Miss Fleet ( Thin, old, bun, bicycle, lovely… ) told me that God is everywhere. A five year old just nods. Very little is known about the ever-widening world, everything makes complete and wonderful sense, and I just accepted it. Of course I had no idea who God is, and that’s perfectly OK, because I’ve hung around Her skirts for nearly sixty years now, and I still don’t. I have learned that this is just fine with God, and also, to be a bit wary of people who tell me they do.

At Baptism, I was taught, God comes and lives in us. Don’t know what for, exactly, though I have always hazarded a guess that S/he popped in with the general aim of making me a better person, and good luck to Him/Her: Frankly, I could use the help. However, I am struggling a bit to make sense of this, because if that were the reason, S/he doesn’t aopear to be all that great at it. “God, “I might say, with real conviction, “You are pants at making us good.”

I am, as I have said before, a reluctant Theist. I believe in a Great Something Other, but have no idea what the GSO is. So, hearing that this pre-existing Entity IS indeed everywhere, but maybe not quite as I expected, is, well, Quite Interesting. Getting to kmow Herself in me , eh? As if I were, as you are, and everything is, an expression of Her (Lord! Give English a gender-free pronoun!, PLEASE!) and He experiences who She is through every expression of Himself, which is the entire cosmos, of which I am grateful to be a teeny-weeny part.

As this is really too much for me to take in, I wrote a poem.

I invited God to tea. For If
(And I say IF) we are to become
Lovers
We really ought to get to know one another better
First.

It was a great success.

Though, unused to juggling a cup and a plate on
His lap, God,
Was a little awkward. Just at first –
Shy, even.
But the cake went down well.
And for the rest?

He left me with a smile and a promise
Of great times ahead –

And an invitation to tea,
For you.

Happy Happy

I am a phenomenally happy person. I knew this before I enrolled on this EdX course from Berkely: ‘The Science Of Happiness’ I guess I wanted to know WHY, as that’s the way I am.

50% Genetics! My smiling and unflappable father springs immediately to mind. Thanks, Dad!
10% Circumstances. Yup. I am comfortably off, and I am content.
40% Social Connection. I can do that! Though being an introvert, I have to work on it. The upside is, I don’t need a LOT of people around me to MAKE it work.

What I’m really about here, is finding something to do with the ungodly hours I acquire, compliments of jetlag. It’s 0630 here in the beautiful State of Washington, and I have been awake since four-fifteen.

I completed Week One of the EdX course, took the quiz, which I did OK on, and wrote up my Three Good Things Happiness Exercise, which was to record in detail just that. Breakfast with Darlene and Carol, walking the dogs in Idylwood Park on the shore of Lake Sammamish, and the sense of achivement at getting my homework in on time, covered it for yesterday. I don’t know what today will bring, but whatever it does, I suspect I shall look upon all I have made, and declare it GOOD.

The Ice Cream Maker

Seven years ago, I thought, I MUST HAVE AN ICE-CREAM MAKER! I scoured the shop-sites for the best deal, and bought a shiny new Kenwood. I admired it, read the directions, invested in the cream and etc., and fired it off. Twice.

It now sits at the back of a cupboard as a permanent reminder that the pleasure of acquisition is an extraordinarily fleeting one, and that Ben and Jerry offer much easier alternatives, frequently at half the price.

I write this as a lesson to you on the futility of seeking pleasure in things, and an illustration as to why “Circumstances” – in this case having enough free money to spend on non-essentials- comes in at only 10%.

Far more effective happy- generators are, gratitude, Random Acts of Kindness, the company of good friends, and the support of family. To my friends and family I have two things to say: (apart from soppy things, like, “I love you”)

1. Don’t buy me any more stuff.
2. Want an ice-cream maker?