The Chinese Philosopher

Allam, from Bangladesh is gone, and I am still sitting on a bench in the vast concourse near Gate C5 of Bangkok Airport, my brain wallowing in muddy solitude, that state of suspended animation that prevails when there is absolutely nothing you can do but wait…

Suddenly I cannot ignore the persistent nearness of a Chinese young man bombarding me with telepathic waves of eager dialogue… Forced to abandon my meditative voidness I let him lead the inevitable conversation guessing his main objective is to practice a little English… He tells me he studied English at the Sichuan University of Chengdu, he speaks with perfect grammar and a problematic accent so I repeat his own words to make certain I have captured their true essence. I want to ask if he knows Mr. Allen, my friend, who teaches English at the Sichuan University, but fail to break his enthusiastic monologue about the world’s levels of society, as in Karl Marx ideology.

· 1 = Slavery
· 2 = Feudalism
· 3 = Capitalism
· 4 = Socialism
· 5 = Advanced Socialism

“For example, though not completely eradicated, Slavery at level 1, is not a major international concern,” he lectures me, “India at present is at level 2, but catching up. The Indian Government encourages landowners to subdivide and sell the land and often subsidizes sales. Australia and most western countries are on level 3, believing Capitalism to be the superior level. China, been a socialist nation is at level 4, but overpopulation is a problem that diminishes the odds for a fairer society. Northern European nations like Sweden, Norway, Denmark… are nearest to level 5, as they endeavour to achieve the ideal Advanced Socialism.”

From the loudspeaker an announcement invites passenger taking Flight TG 618 to Chengdu, please proceed to Gate C5 which is now open for boarding…

Bangkok Airport

The Airport was very busy indeed, but past hordes of travelers, duty free shops and Bangkok security, the concourse leading to the Boarding Gates, was the calm after the storm.

Did I look lonely? Did I look unusual? Was it my hidden charm, my inner light, or merely the view of a little old lady traveling alone that attracted the attention of a group of young men waiting like me for the Boarding Gate to open? A number of the young men suddenly sat on the floor and begin to play cards; others stood by, observing the game,

A handsome dark-skinned man sat beside me, 24 – 26 years old, he looked at me with penetrating velvet-chocolate eyes, he unzipped the small plastic bag containing personal carry-on items, reached in to pull out a small white tube, opened it and daubed a bright red substance to his lower lip. Not the heavy lipstick a woman or an actor would wear, but a creamy transparent balm that generates a red–rose glow…

Said he was on his way to his native home, Bangladesh, to visit his parents after completing his studies in Australia. “I drove taxi on weekends. Weekend night-shifts can be dangerous, but I earned excellent wages.” He spoke with an accent and to formulate words in English it was evident he had to use muscles, lips and tongue in a way uncharacteristic of his native language.

“Explain dangerous…” I enquired. “Sometimes clients are aggressive,” he replied, “Often when coming out of pubs, clubs or discos they may be drunk, or have no money to pay… in that case I let them go. I take no risks… Sometimes I have offers for sex. Many offers come from gay men, but I tell them I vowed to be faithful to my girlfriend. I have had offers from women too… older women…”

I believe him; he exudes a flowery scent and an intriguing exotic appeal…

Voyage to China

I had a yearn to visit my friend Allen who is teaching English at the Sichuan University in Chengdu, though it is not certain I ever seriously considered a trip to China until the 2nd or 3rd day of February when I entered one of the many FLIGHT CENTRE travel agencies that landmark Brisbane’s shopping areas. Carl, was a good looking, very pleasant travel agent and I was willing to be lured and seduced, so one hour later Thai Airways Intl. would fly me via Bangkok to Chengdu on March 1st , with a two day stopover in Bangkok 30 days later… I was ready…

Bangkok Airport was busy, and as I had not traveled Asia for many years I curiously perceived the hum of different cultures that filled the airport spaces…
A four hour layover between flights permitted the purchase of 2 – I liter Duty Free Chivas Regal which miraculously reached Chengdu. Miraculously, because no liquids over 100 ml, are apparently permitted on any flight… (I had forgotten that in Brisbane, after being pronounced dangerous, my 750ml bottled water was delegated to the rubbish bin…) In Brisbane I was also frisked and checked for explosives… No problem for me, airport security does its job and I am grateful for their attempt to keep us safe…

THE VIRTUE OF THE MYSTERIOUS

One who knows does not talk.
One who talks does not know.
Therefore the sage keeps his mouth shut
and his sense-gates closed.

`He will blunt his own sharpness,
His own tangles adjust;
He will dim his own radiance,
And be one with his dust.'

This is called profound identification.
Thus he is inaccessible to love
and also inaccessible to enmity.
He is inaccessible to profit
and inaccessible to loss.
He is also inaccessible to favour
and inaccessible to disgrace.
Thus he becomes world-honoured.

IMAGINE THE MYSTERIOUS

Tomorrow, March 1st I leave for Chengdu. In the past weeks I searched public library and websites for pertinent topics, while exploring China’s history and soaking-up valuable travel tips, I also discovered THE DAO TE CHING and LAO-TZU. Suddenly everything else seemed trivial:


There is a Being wondrous and complete. Before heaven and earth, it was. How calm it is! How spiritual!

Alone it stands, and charges not: around it moves, and suffers not: therefore it can be the world’s Mother.

I do not know its name but its nature I call Reason.

Constrained to give a name, I call it the great. The great I call the departing, and the departing I call the beyond. The beyond I call home.

Man’s standard is the earth. The earth’s standard is heaven. Heaven’s standard is Reason. Reason’s standard is intrinsic.

From: The Teachings of Lao-Tzu
Translation by Paul Carus

PORNOGRAPHY vs. EROTICISM

An unknown ( to me) web-traveler stumbles on this blog and sends a message. His name is Luke Reynolds, he has recently published a book titled – A NEW MAN – . I check out his blog http://reynoldsluke.blogspot.com/ Logging onto his web-site: http://www.lukewreynolds.com/ leads me to AMAZON where I see his book. Reading through the introduction and 7 favorable reviews I understand his, is the story of a young man redeemed from a destructive addiction to pornography.

I wish to ignore the subject, yet throughout the night my sleep is haunted by pornography dilemmas..

I suppose a distinct difference exist between Pornography and Eroticism… Eroticism is perhaps innate in our planet’s Earthly nature, to attract, to stimulate, to ensure continuity…That’s why Flora gave erotic shapes and scents to flowers… and Faunus bestowed alluring characters to ‘human beasts’, to wild and domestic animals… Gave stunning plumage to the birds... entire oceans he filled with colour and exotic patterns, coral reefs pulsate with orgasmic sensuousness… even insect and simple lichens have mysterious sexual powers…

Eroticism is a component of Human evolution… The cave dwellers had the Venus of Willendorf and we have Playboy Centerfold… Would the ancients have deemed Fertility Rites as pornography??? In Greece the Greeks decorated urns with sexual customs and traditions;
the Romans frescoed walls with copulation and carried phallic amulets…

For example would we agree to destroy the Nude in art, because a Giorgione’s Venus evokes sensuality, or bestiality as in the case of Leda and the Swan… or voyeurism as in Boucher’s The Raised Skirt… Should we eliminate even the last trace of nineteen century French Postcards because by 'Victorians and Puritanicals' were deemed scandalous??? Personally I find Cecat, Zichy, Rowaldson and many others…amusing and entertaining, and love the dark, mischievous eroticisms of Aubrey Beardsley.

I let the KAMA SUTRA and THE PERFUMED GARDEN plunge me into the mind and mode of other cultures, cultures less repressive than my own… I can view Japanese Eroticism with a smile…

I am aware not all that is available on today’s sex market is eroticism, but when eroticism crosses the border into pornography is for the individual to decide and control.

I agree exposure without moderation, devoid of judicious guide, can result in grave dilemmas for the souls of youths whose sexuality is an emerging force, for the mind of immature or sexually frustrated adults, where addiction is the result...

The ever-pleasure-seeking-Human-Beast has the ‘intelligence’ to become addicted. We are addicted to sex, by having sex beyond its original purpose of reproducing the species… we are addicted to food, (we eat ourselves into sickness) we are easily addicted to cigarettes, marijuana, cocaine, aspirins, wine, whisky, gambling, motor cars, TV watching...

Even religions become addictions…

O'HARE's CHICAGO AIRPORT

As a rule I avoid posting texts circulating the web. But these two stories touched me.
Can anyone verify their authenticity?...


STORY NUMBER ONE

Many years ago, Al Capone virtually owned Chicago. Capone wasn't famous for anything heroic. He was notorious for enmeshing the windy city in everything from bootlegged booze and prostitution to murder. Capone had a lawyer nicknamed 'Easy Eddie.' He was his lawyer for a good reason. Eddie was very good! In fact, Eddie's skill at legal maneuvering kept Big Al out of jail for a long time.To show his appreciation, Capone paid him very well. Not only was the money big , but also, Eddie got special dividends. For instance, he and his family occupied a fenced-in mansion with live-in help and all of the conveniences of the day. The estate was so large that it filled an entire Chicago City block. Eddie lived the high life of the Chicago mob and gave little consideration to the atrocity that went on around him. Eddie did have one soft spot, however. He had a son that he loved dearly. Eddie saw to it that his young son had clothes, cars, and a good education. Nothing was withheld. Price was no object. And, despite his involvement with organized crime, Eddie even tried to teach him right from wrong. Eddie wanted his son to be a better man than he was. Yet, with all his wealth and influence, there were two things he couldn't give his son; he couldn't pass on a good name or a good example. One day, Easy Eddie reached a difficult decision. Easy Eddie wanted to rectify wrongs he had done. He decided he would go to the authorities and tell the truth about Al 'Scarface' Capone, clean up his tarnished name, and offer his son some semblance of integrity. To do this, he would testify against The Mob, knowing that the cost would be great! Within the year of his testimony, Easy Eddie's life ended in a blaze of gunfire on a lonely Chicago Street. But in his eyes, he had given his son the greatest gift he had to offer, at the greatest price he could ever pay. Police removed from his pockets a rosary, a crucifix, a religious medallion, and a poem clipped from a magazine. The poem read:

The clock of life is wound but once,
And no man has the power
To tell just when the hands will stop
At late or early hour.
Now is the only time you own.
Live, love, toil with a will.
Place no faith in time.
For the clock may soon be still.



STORY NUMBER TWO

World War II produced many heroes. One such man was Lieutenant Commander Butch O'Hare. He was a fighter pilot assigned to the aircraft carrier Lexington in the South Pacific. One day his entire squadron was sent on a mission. After he was airborne, he looked at his fuel gage and realized that his fuel tank had not been topeed-up. He would not have enough fuel to complete his mission and get back to his ship. His flight leader told him to return to the carrier. Reluctantly, he dropped out of formation and headed back to the fleet. As he was returning to the mother ship he saw something that turned his blood cold: a squadron of Japanese aircraft were speeding their way toward the American fleet. The American fighters were gone on a sortie, and the fleet was all but defenseless. He couldn't reach his squadron and bring them back in time to save the fleet. Nor could he warn the fleet of the approaching danger. There was only one thing to do. He must somehow divert them from the fleet. Laying aside all thoughts of personal safety, he dove into the formation of Japanese planes. Wing-mounted 50 caliber's blazed as he charged in, attacking one surprised enemy plane and then another. Butch wove in and out of the now broken formation and fired at as many planes as possible until all his ammunition was finally spent. Undaunted, he continued the assault. He dove at the planes, trying to clip a wing or tail in hopes of damaging as many enemy planes as possible and rendering them unfit to fly.Finally, the exasperated Japanese squadron took off in another direction. Deeply relieved, Butch O'Hare and his tattered fighter limped back to the carrier. Upon arrival, he reported in and related the event surrounding his return. The film from the gun-camera mounted on his plane told the tale. It showed the extent of Butch's daring attempt to protect his fleet. He had, in fact, destroyed five enemy aircraft. This took place on February 20, 1942, and for that action Butch became the Navy's first Ace of W.W.II, and the first Naval Aviator to win the Congressional Medal of Honor. A year later Butch was killed in aerial combat at the age of 29. His home town would not allow the memory of this WW II hero to fade, and today, O'Hare Airport in Chicago is named in tribute to the courage of this great man. So, the next time you find yourself at O'Hare International, give some thought to visiting Butch's memorial displaying his statue and his Medal of Honor. It's located between Terminals 1 and 2.

So what do these two stories have to do with each other?

Butch O'Hare was 'Easy Eddie's' son.

HOLY WAR

Certain Jews Said to the Arabs: "Look what we have done for you, we found a desert and we transformed it into a garden."
The Arabs replied: "This may be true, but it was my desert and now it has become your garden."

Karen Armstrong - HOLY WAR -

CAUSE AND EFFECT

I keep in touch with my friend and mentor Allen Sutterfield. For the past 6 years Allen is fulfilling his destiny as English teacher at the University of Sichuan, in the city of Chengdu, China. Recently Allen sent me a List of 104 books he would like to have. 22 of those books I would read myself so I took the List to several (old and new) book stores here in Brisbane. As Allen had predicted the List provoked interest and a certain amount of excitement among booksellers eager to fulfill Allen’s desire. Many of those titles were not easily available, for example: No.15 on the list: MAN WITHOUT QUALITIES by R. Musil, was accessible at the price of $AU95 ( too expensive )… On the other hand No. 104, T. Tasso’s JERUSALEM DELIVERED can be perused on various medieval literature internet sites...

I purchased 4 books: James Mitchener’s THE SOURCE, E. R. Eddison’s THE WORM OUROBOROS, Sinclair Lewis’s ELMER GANTRY and Neville Shute’s THE CHEQUER BOARD. A hard-cover copy of Thor Heyerdhal’s AKU AKU I bypassed due to increasing weight and volume for my luggage, as I prepare to deliver the books personally to Allen in Chengdu. So March 1st, China-Adventure, here I come.

If any reader would like to comment on the List or… send Allen a book… the List can be viewed at http://hitchhickers-omnibus.blogspot.com/

A Blissful Past

Days, months, years pass, eternities evolve, often amazed, surprised, (not always super-pleased) I realize I am still here… It’s a long road… An ambiguous yet not entirely unpleasant road, though why I’m traveling and where it leads I believe I shall never know… Ok… I say to myself… Go… Go, no need for concern or look back, except… when out of dream-like fog emerge phantoms of the past…

And so, Ananda, I’m catapulted back in the 60’s, traveling to India seeking spiritual revelations, in pursuit of the antidote for the excesses of my youth…

I follow the yoga trail and sounds of Ravi Sankar’s sitar in quest of the bearded guru who will teach me transcendental meditation to nirvana… It’s all there, in the spiritual mist of India, but foiled by my mundane illusions I never attain that flash of inner light… It’s only a mystical mirage…