December 2006


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I just spent a couple of days transcribing an interview I did with Silvia, the wonderful Argentinian psychotherapist who runs the Ayahuasca Healing seminars in Bahia. It was a delight having her charmingly broken English in my ears. Here’s the transcript.

Have just finished reading Tom Hodgkinson’s wonderful book How to be Free.
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Perhaps because I’ve been through a rather turbulent year at work and have been wrestling with some of the fierce demons of the freelance life, this book fell like fructificant manna from heaven.

In essence, Hodgkinson says that we have been blinded and beaten into a crazy life where we work slavish hours to earn money which we are then hypnotized into giving back to the people who enslave us. So we work in Tescos for 50 hours a week, and then spend all our money in Tescos buying food and doing our banking at Tescos and landing ourselves with massive mortgages which chain us to a property for 25 years.

With rhetorically rose-tinted specs Hodgkinson looks back at Merry England, pre-Reformation Britain, where work was done communally, profit was seen as suspicious and usury was the devils work. Any fines and taxes went into funding feasts and communal projects.

Hodgkinson gives the example of a serf, a medieval peasant in the town of Foxton in the 1200s. Now most people don’t think much of being a peasant. But back then John Aubrey, for example, worked 1 days a week for his feudal overlord, in return he had a house and 18 acres of land. Plus a wage of 9s 8d a year and a handful of chickens. Think about that in terms of 2006: you work 10 hours a week for someone else and they give you a £650.000 property in the country (leasehold) and a salary equivalent to £30,000 and you have 6 days a week free to work on your garden, raise your animals and play with your children.

Compare that with our typical 50 hour week slaving for vast corporations with no money left over after paying massive mortgages on property that the banks own.

It’s a colossal con to think that we’re freer now that they were back then.

Hodgkinson is my age and the editor of the excellent Idler magazine. His answer to this back-breaking cycle of covert feudalism that the puritan work ethic has loaded us with is idleness. Express non-action. Laziness. Loafing. Taking the time to lie in bed and not stress about ‘getting things done’. Catching the bus and staring out the window. Growing your own vegetables. Not throwing things away all the time – being thrifty, because not spending so much money mean you don’t have to work so much.

He doesn’t mention it but meditation is a form of purposeful idleness. (He’s big on a jolly sort of existentialism – the tag line of the book is: ‘Life is Absurd. Be merry. Be free.’)   But Buddhism offers a different take on the whole idle question.
Over the years, with my experiences in Brazil and on the meditation cushion, I’ve also learnt to step back from what we assume is the correct way to live and acually ask: does this way of living really make me and the people around me happy? Does keeping up with the Joneses keep me smiling? Does the insatiable desire for new things, different things – the radical discontent which fuels capitalism – does that ever lead to permanent peace and happiness? Clearly not.

Sitting crosslegged and just breathing is a much more radical thing that it looks. We don’t need to spend any money. We don’t need to be discontent. We can be happy with so little.

Radical idleness will dissolve everything. That’s the core of the Buddha’s teaching. Finding peace means disentangling yourself from those inherited, brainwashed patterns that we swallow wholesale from our parents, our teachers and everyone around us. Perhaps it seems mad/selfish/irresponsible to be idle. But perhaps it’s mad/selfish/irresponsible to spend your whole human life doing something that harms you, the people around you and the environment. What’s altruistic about heart-corroding stress, no time for your chidren and a scorching hole in the Ozone layer?

The Buddha was quite clear about the need to disentagle. Meditation is all about dismantling of all the constituent bits and pieces of existence – form, feeling, perceptions, mental formations, consciousness – and noticing how they all work together and what they create. Sometimes what we see completely contradicts what we thought we’d see.

Just allowing ourselves a 20 minute breather twice a day is the cold-shower of reality that stops us walking sleepy-eyed into a hypnotic life of believing the hype. And those 2 lagoons of clear-sightedness also spill out into the day.

I’ve started doing a double-take every time I have a sudden urge to buy something when I’m out and about. I’ll be walking down the street and suddenly want a coffee or a new computer – and almost always it’s because an Apple ad or a shop pumping out caffeine fumes has planted that desire in my head. And noticing it, it annoys me. And rather than spending £2 or £2000 I feel happy to have beaten the brainwashing and go back to enjoying the winter sunshine or whatever else is happening around me before the advertising struck.
Studied idleness is the answer to the terrible stress we all live under; the stress that the world around us generates deliberately (stressed people buy more: because they’re out-of-control and because they need comforting). Disentangling from the web of the Puritan Work Ethic and sunning ourselves in the simple pleasure of the idle moment is the only way to be free.

Have an truely idle Christmas!

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They’ve been hovering on my dance consciousness for years. ‘Oh yes, those all-male, all-female types with the tricksy names’. (You pronounce it the Chumleys and Fanshaws… of course) but, of course, I’d never actually seen them.

Friends of mine Theo and Antonia had done a dizzyingly camp and wonderful duet in their show back last year by C&F choreographer Lea Anderson and I was dizzyfied by that – all 80s vogueing, choreographed arched eyebrows and cocked hips – but nothing prepared me for the dark wonder that is “Yippeeee!!”

The blurb mentions Busby Berkely and big costumes but it was Busby on crack. Esther Williams swimming in opium syrup. From the beginning when those interchangeably male or female dancers slid on in their silver court shoes into stark pools of side light, the tone was set.

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I love dance peices and theatre pieces that have a tone and stick to it. Create a world however unsettling and odd and stay coherent. “Yippeee!!” is like that. The wild noise terror/wonder of the Yum Yum band (the latest incarnation of Anderson’s longtime musical collaborator, Steve Blake) accompanied a relentless unfurling of hypnotic shapes and patterns. Duets of sinisterly camp asexual dancers with giant inflatable behinds or crazy careening fans of dancers with pom-poms and grim glitter.

It’s good and unsettling. Just as I like it. It bordered on the unbearable at times which is just as good art should be. (Poor Gary besides me was clutching his head in horror for most of it). But it was definitely the most exciting piece of dance I’ve seen in years – certainly the best that’s come out of Britain. And I am new fan.

Go see them. Don’t try and spell them, but see them.

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