Yorkshire Souls experiencing the Brahman

"And then a scholar said, Speak of Talking. And he answered, saying...
In much of your talking, thinking is half-murdered. For thought is a bird of space, that in a cage of words may indeed unfold its wings, but cannot fly."

From The Prophet, by Kahlil Gibran.

The words were on my mind because my family and I were at the Yorkshire Sculpture Park last weekend. We encountered these Yorkshire Souls: these alphabet-lattice figures sitting under a tree hugging their knees. From certain angles, or in certain light, they were hardly apparent, they melted into the background. From other angles, they looked solid.

We walked through the Yorkshire Souls, and their big brother The House of Knowledge, and looked out at the world through their alphabet lattices. The view from inside the Yorkshire Souls was sort of like my view of the world itself. I perceive the world through words, symbols, which automatically distances and separates me from the world I am perceiving.

The way Paul Simon put it:

"...From the shelter of my mind,
Through the window of my eyes..."

The world seen through words and alphabets is maya, only an illusion. I have to step out of the beautiful alphabet-lattice of maya, step out of the Yorkshire Soul, to experience truth, to experience the Brahman. Many spiritual practices are about escaping this illusion of maya and directly experiencing reality: Vipassana Yoga, or the Trappist practice of silence, or the Japanese tea ceremony, or perhaps even the Mevlevi dervishes, dancing themselves into a trance to escape the boundaries of the self. Today, I could taste a little of that sense of liberation, just by looking through the alphabet-lattice of the Yorkshire Souls and stepping back into the sunlight. Wow.

Were other people who came across the Yorkshire Souls similarly reminded of maya and the Brahman?

I wasn't sure. So I asked my daughters what they made of the Yorkshire Souls. My nine-year old said "They must be chatterboxes. They have so much to say." My six-year old was reminded of a trick the children play on Mam'zelle in Malory Towers. Mam'zelle sat on a stool and came away with a bright pink "OI" on her black-skirted behind. Maybe the children played a similar trick on the Yorkshire Souls' beds, so they were completely covered with alphabets. Which makes sense, because the Brahman can be experienced by a chatterbox, or in children's pranks, just as much as it can be experienced in the sanctum sanctorum of St Peter's Basilica, or in an ice-cave at Gangotri.

More pictures of the Yorkshire Souls and The House of Knowledge are here. The Jaume Plensa exhibit that these Yorkshire Souls are a part of is still on, and is totally worth a visit.

Lover's Bridge, Sofia, Bulgaria

I spread my map out across the reception desk, pointed to a scribble on a chit of paper, and asked the concierge, "How do I get to this restaurant?"

"No problem, sir." the concierge gesticulated broadly towards the Hilton Hotel's glass frontage. "Just walk across the Lover's Bridge, through to the end of the park, and the restaurant is just two streets away." He bent down to ink the restaurant on the map.

"Lover's Bridge?" I asked, remembering the Bridge of Sighs in Venice and Pont Neuf in Paris. "It is right here, near the hotel?"

"Yes sir", said the concierge. "Very famous in Sofia. Loving couples always come there. It is very nice, sir. You will see on the way to the restaurant." So I joined my colleagues in the hotel lobby and set off for dinner at the restaurant, half imagining a scenic, pastoral walk over tinkling streams.

It turned out that Sofia's Lover's Bridge is a concrete pedestrian walkway, across an enormous eight lane motorway. It is topped by a McDonald's golden arches logo, advertising a restaurant located in the traffic island between the traffic lanes. It is flanked on either side by government issued informational posters about Bulgaria's cultural and archaeological heritage. There were plenty of business people in suits walking over the bridge on that sunny summer evening; there were also a noticeably large number of young couples holding hands.

I asked my Bulgarian colleagues about this Lover's Bridge at dinner, about how young Bulgarian couples feel about romantic rendezvous a few meters above roaring traffic. They explained that at one time this bridge passed over a stream. During the Soviet era, it was found that the path of the stream was ideal for a motorway through the city. So, Soviet engineers built a motorway over the stream. The stream now emerges from under the motorway a few kilometers away from the city. Despite this, the bridge remains an favourite romantic spot. Nobody really minds cars instead of water. Above all, Bulgarians are a pragmatic people.

It was after dark when we walked back from the restaurant to the hotel. The atmosphere on the bridge was now distinctly steamy. My colleagues and I could not help but observe that love was now blooming on the concrete walkway, while the molten yellow stream of traffic flowed underneath the young lovers. A busker started to play as we approached the end of the bridge. He was playing Californication, by the Red Hot Chilli Peppers, in English.





More pictures of my walk across this bridge are visible here.

Dhrishtadyumna and Serena Williams

Once upon a time, King Drupada ruled over the land of Panchala. Drupada was wise and just, his subjects were happy and loyal.

However, King Drupada was not as strong as he was wise. He was drawn into war against the Kauravas of Hastinapura, and was comprehensively defeated. He was captured on the battlefield, bound in chains, and presented as a prisoner to Dronacharya, the victorious Kaurava commander. Drona showed mercy on Drupada and spared his life, but annexed half of Panchala.

Humiliated, Drupada swore revenge. He prayed to the gods for a valorous son who would defeat the Kauravas and kill Dronacharya, and performed the putra kameshti yagna. Lo and behold, from the sacred flames rose a perfect warrior, fully armed and ready for battle: Dhrishtadyumna. This fire-born warrior fulfilled his destiny. Dhrishtadyumna was commander-in-chief of the victorious Pandava army through the great eighteen-day war at Kurukshetra; he slew Dronacharya on the fifteenth day of battle.

Yet, as the eons passed, Dhrishtadyumna remained an uncelebrated character. Children are traditionally named after other Pandava heroes like Arjuna, Bheemasena, Krishna, Abhimanyu and Satyaki, even Yudhishtra, but not after Dhrishtadyumna. The defeated Kaurava commanders Bheeshma, Drona and Radheya are all arguably more revered than Dhrishtadyumna, the victorious Pandava commander.

I think this is because Dhrishtadyumna was never more than a warrior, he never became a hero. He was born complete. He therefore never went through the hero's journey. His character was not forged in the crucible of events, like, say, Bheeshma's vow of celibacy, Duryodhana's embrace of Radheya as a true kshatriya, Bheemasena's fury after that fateful game of dice, or Arjuna's reluctance to wage war on his grandfather. It was never obvious that Dhrishtadyumna fully felt the shame of his father's defeat, or of his sister Draupadi's humiliation. His character and destiny were a given, preordained by his progenitors. Therefore he remained a bit of a cynical automaton, more a Terminator-like android than a real hero worthy of adulation.

Dhrishtadyumna's spiritual descendants are modern sports "professionals", who are brought up from birth to fulfil a single, narrow aim. These modern-day Dhrishtadyumnas include a vast number of Soviet era athletes, mass manufactured by the communist machine to win Olympic medals. Tennis once had a surfeit of these bloodless, colourless, insufferably boring androids, especially between the Borg-McEnroe era and the Federer-Nadal era. Anyone want to watch Thomas Muster vs. Michael Stich?

When Serena Williams first came on the scene, I didn't warm to her, I didn't especially want to see her play. She seemed to be just another android, another avatar of Dhrishtadyumna. Serena was conceived by her parents, literally, to win the sweet prize money now on offer in tennis. The only self, the only personality, young Serena seemed to have was her parent’s warped ambition.

Over the years, however, Serena changed. She distanced herself from her pushy dad (he no longer attends Venus vs. Serena matches holding a placard that reads "Welcome to the Williams' Show”). She became a shopping-addict, and went through therapy. She threatened to shove a tennis ball down a match official's throat. She learnt to look sweet and starry-eyed at press interviews. She kept improving her game. She glammed it up at the Oscars. Serena went through a freak injury - she stepped on broken glass in a German night club, and that developed into a life threatening pulmonary embolism, which stole a stole an entire year of Serena's prime. She went through a string of failed relationships with rap artists and sportsmen. She dished out boyfriend advice to Caroline Wozniacki: “I told her never look through the guy’s phone,” Serena said. “That is the worst thing you can do. I told her most relationships end.”

Basically, real life happened to Serena. Real life changed Serena, and in those changes authentic self was created. Serena’s humanity is apparent now in a way that Dhrishtadyumna’s never was, which is why watching Serena play today is so much more compelling than it ever was.