The Sacred And The Profane

I had a bit of a mixed bag of a day yesterday. My friend Jinaraja came for lunch which, pleasant enough as it was just to have his company here, was further enhanced by being able to eat outside on the balcony. He came bearing gifts of chocolate, coffee and chanterelle mushroom paté, and I fed him with couscous & roasted vegetables with a mango and avocado salsa salad, followed by raspberries from his native Scotland. It was a dignified and uplifting occasion and afterwards Jinaraja sat with me over coffee and told me that he could see into my soul and that he felt that I could find happiness from within my own nature, and that it has nothing to do with external forces. I have the capacity, he was sure, to light myself up with my own brand of joy.

I felt from this experience that nothing can ever go wrong for me; that I only have to release this energy from within myself and opportunities for security and pleasure will present themselves to me readily. I felt peaceful and illuminated when he left.

And then, guess what? I spoilt all that harmony & balance by getting hideously, hopelessly and horribly drunk later on. The lovely Sarah D had called a gathering to celebrate the arrival of the Icon Magazine boys (up from London). Matt & Sam are an integral part of the ‘Unleashed’ business plan and so Sarah was certain that everyone involved with the project (and many others who are not, too) should meet them. I intended to have a few civilized drinks and then make it an early night – Jinaraja’s little talk had left me with an intention to be virtuous. But it was not to be. As more and more people arrived – like wildebeest gathering around a watering hole – it became less and less easy to drag myself away. The crowd was so large that we spilled firstly onto the terrace, then into the street, then across the street into Muse bar and beyond. There was a mad cacophony of babbled nonsense and there was ribaldry aplenty too. Far from exuding an air of peace and contentment, all I was exuding was an aura of alcoholic fumes and a quality of lechery and lewdness. The night ended in an act of debauchery so shameful that I can’t even mention it on a family show of this kind. So much for virtuous living.

This led me to wonder how long I can go on forgiving myself for my lack of personal integrity. Just how many times can I make excuses for myself, hoping that nobody will notice? Who do I think is giving me permission for this bad behaviour but myself, and who do I think is watching me? Avoiding negativity takes effort and vigilance; behaving in a mindful way requires a great deal of focus. Some Buddhist teachings recommend using white and black stones to represent the good and bad actions we have carried out during our day. This helps us to visualize our level of mindfulness (or not, as the case may be). Oh crumbs – my pile of black stones would be as high as the mountains of Tibet today, whereas my solitary white pebble would stand shivering alone in the cold.

The Buddha described our bodies as being like a ‘bubble in water’. It looks big and solid at first, but with just one little prick, it’s gone. Interesting analogy, don’t you think?