As human beings are invited to line up with increasingly polarised positions ... left and right, rich and poor, and the middle ground becomes a wasteland, reflection and refusal to play the game may offer a new and transcendent reality to explore ... not necessarily an ultimate reality or even the ultimate reality, but one less palpably preposterous ... this blogger is decreasingly convinced that consensus reality as promoted in the mainstream is worthy of attention ... especially as energy flows where attention goes ... best hold it in sceptical awareness ...
These weeks in Spain have been another kind of reality, sharing metaphysical speculation with Susie and Russ ... the trip to the DUK (for new readers the D has stood for Dis but feel free to read it as Damp, Drizzly and so on) was a day long lesson in the madness of mainstream reality, with visits to various hell realms en route ....
The Estepona to La Linea bus stops right outside the house and the trip to Gib airport is seamless, as is check-in at the modern and small airport ... the other benefit of using Gib is the free bus trip to Malaga Airport, along with free food and drink, when the Rock alongside the runway is invisible due to mist ... which happens ...
Malaga has a very modern and large airport, which is tricky to navigate in normal circumstances, let alone the abnormal ones prevailing with the transfer and rescheduling ... wandering around the bowels of B zone in search of Gate B39, with little human assistance, was a kind of nightmare ... preceded by a long queue to re-check in, another to be body searched, shoe-less ... eventually relieved by discovering Gate C39 was hosting our assortment of mostly Brit expats and tourists ... though a Slovene couple were facing onward journey complications worse than most ... and finally flying north 6 hours late, with a very modern and friendly crew (female captain, two male cabin crew) doing their best to placate the discontented passengers, many looking for compensation claims along with the goody bags ... Gatwick arrival is its own dystopia, with long queues, black uniformed border guards looking sinister alongside the logo balancing threat with insincerity ... "Welcome to the UK Border" ... automated passport control rather questions the ethos, but this Luddite heads instead for a stern human, who kindly permits re-entry to the country of birth ...
Two trains later and the last bus from Petersfield to Brockwood Park long gone, it's a taxi and the first philosophy of the journey with Joe, intrigued by his regular trips to the Krishnamurti Centre and the School ... arriving just in time to gain entry before bedtime and an hour after the front door was locked ...
Breakfast breaks also the philosophy fast with lively conversation ... Brockwood again feeling like home ...
Internet limited to one terminal and blog downloading postponed until wifi found ... maybe at the School ...
Fascinating conversations ensue ... Vijay and Briggite, Delhi residents and active in the revival of a retreat centre in the Himalayas. .. an invitation too ... Steve, chased out of Belfast 30 or more years ago by homophobic gunmen, now a Multi-faith Minister, still mourning the passing, two years ago, of his husband ... Adiba, founder of a meditation drop-in for busy City types at London Bridge ... Ducica, guest-helper from Slovenia and translator of K into Slovene and Croat ...
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