I have recently read three books set in the turbulent world of Afghanistan. Two were moving fictional stories - Khaled Hosseini’s The Kite Runner and A Thousand Splendid Suns and the third an awe-inspiring true account of one man’s humanitarian work in Pakistan and Afghanistan.

I read A Thousand Splendid Suns first and it had a profound effect on me. Not only did the novel educate me on Afghanistan’s recent history, it plunged me into the daily reality of war and oppression. It left me feeling incredulous, humbled and deeply saddened as I began to fully comprehend what the Afghani people have experienced over the last few decades.

Three Cups of Tea, the story of Greg Mortenson’s adventures in establishing over fifty schools in rural Pakistan and Afghanistan, therefore came as a relieving reminder that, despite the stranglehold that hypocrisy and exploitation has on many parts of the world, it is still possible to breathe in lungfuls of fresh air.

Mortenson’s tale begins with a failed attempt to reach the summit of Himalayan legend K2. From there he goes on to make connections with the simple people of the remote mountain villages of Pakistan and takes a vow to improve the new generations’ opportunities by helping to build schools for those children left uneducated by the inefficiencies of local government. He particularly focusses on educating girls - a controversial matter in Islamic countries.

The book, written by Mortenson and journalist David Oliver Relin, weaves the story in threads of rich prose but keeps its feet firmly planted in the reality that created it. It follows his numerous journeys to and from Pakistan and Afghanistan where he inspires both deep respect and some fearful opposition from the local people.

Having been shocked by the injustices of the Taliban regime that I witnessed through the eyes of Hosseini’s characters, I was now left in awe at the sacrifice, determination and bravery that was demonstrated by Greg Mortenson’s story.

I thoroughly recommend all three books. They are all eye-openers. I thank Khaled Hosseini for helping me to understand something of what people of Afghanistan have experienced and I thank Greg Mortenson for reminding me of the power of human compassion and determination.

I recently came across the blog of a long time muse of mine, Labi Siffre. I was once in a second-hand shop in Manchester and the cover of his 1972 album, “Crying, Laughing, Loving, Lying” called out to me to buy it…

I had never heard of him, and the record was a little scratched, but I took it home and haven’t stopped listening to it since. I even hooked up the record player to the computer so I could make mp3s. Some time later, I saw him perform a sublime set of music and poetry - on race, religion, politics and people.

When I came across his blog, Into The Light, I saw a stream of poetry… This one really caught my attention:

as 123 as ABC

“life has no meaning without God” say many
but life has no meaning
full stop. period.

life is the muse, the inspiration
equalled only by existence
and these wonders inspire us
FIRE us to meaning

to not realize that is
profoundly
odd

and the customary way
to flee
responsibility

I write from New York - having just roared up the east coast in an aluminium snake of a train from Washington to stay here with some old friends from another hemisphere. The summer is well and truly Indian in the big apple, and the smell downtown is not unlike Delhi either. Despite the sticky subways, I’ve been enjoying vegan cuisine, Brooklyn community life and scintillating conversation. My friends, like me, have been recently introduced into the wonderful world of parenting and, naturally much conversation blossomed around this topic.

My friend quizzed me about what the difference between having one and two children was, my reply - its the same, just more. I think the hardest thing about parenting is the initial surrender of your old singleton values. Shifting your values to be centred around someone else other than yourself is not an easy or insignificant shimmy - however, I think it represents a great evolutionary jump in a person’s life journey. Why?

Let me explain a little. There is something unique that defines human beings- makes them what they are. This is their search for happiness! And not just ANY happiness, the nature of that happiness needs to be unbounded, ongoing, eternal. Anything less leaves one wanting more…….. The question is, how can humans fulfill this basic desire, in the form of a limited self-centred entity? The sad truth is that the small self we see in the mirror each morning is an inappropriate vehicle to try to hold all that happiness in and trying to do so causes us more suffering than happiness. All around me I see people trying to accumulate wealth, power, fame for themselves but do they succeed in fulfilling that original desire for infinite happiness?

America is, no doubt, at the heart of the capitalistic story that has dominated the last century. And capitalism, I have come to believe, is itself based on a self-centred philosophy - how much can I personally accumulate in order to be happy. The hierarchical systems of employment, government and social structure are all constructs to facilitate this style of self-centred accumulation. In fact, the whole nature of capitalist society seems to set its inhabitants up for ultimate frustration, because the successes it promises to many and grants to few, are ultimately self-centred and thus limited to the sphere of the limited individual self. And this is why I say that we are in a dangerous place in history, where the dominant socio-economic philosophy sets humans up to be frustrated and unfulfilled.

So, what do we do about all this? Well perhaps having more babies younger is a start. It would certainly shift society away from the anguish of self-centred accumulation. There has been an interesting debate happening in Britain recently over whether babies have become the new religion. It seems that the middle classes have taken obsessively to wearing the sling of progressive baby bearing and holistic child rearing. As I have said earlier, I see this as a step forward from career-centric or self-centric accumalists, because family oriented parents seem to focus on something greater than just themselves. I believe that the amount of happiness that a family can hold or bring is greater than the individual capacity of any one vessel in the family. Happy families… But even the family unit is somewhat limited.
So lets extrapolate this idea out? What if we become more community focussed? Will our fulfilment not increase still further as our cup of happiness becomes a water butt in a rainforest? How about if we work towards the common good of our one global human family? And then let your mind drift out towards those saints who serve the entire universe tirelessly with every breath - perhaps you can begin to grasp why they always seem to be smiling.

I think its time we told the man - self service ain’t no service at all.

Hold me. Hold me closer, until our bodies merge and our imaginations share their dreams like one mind. Dancing, swaying in the moonlight, we are lost together on the inky sands of the night-swept shore. Our fingers interlacing, skin to skin.

A river, carrying all water drops to the ocean, breathes a sigh of relief as she opens into the wide expanse of water, where all memories of her journey are lost. A vastness that envelops all fears and soothes them like a mother murmuring to her child.
Please hold me. I can’t lose You. You are too precious to me. You are me. Your love binds me to this reality - this world of shapes and colours; this dreamscape of signs and walkways.

In the leafy, shaded garden, seated on a grassy mound, a wise saint sits in stillness contemplating the elusive depths within. With such fearless determination he sits, as wind and rain beat his body. Only his chest moving as he breathes the life force into his cells.

I’m listening. Listening for stories in the whisper of the leaves in the breeze. What words can be woven from this web that surrounds me?
Ivy, watering can. Cobwebbed greek figure of grey plaster, flecked with green lichen and dry litter of autumn leaves. Yellow flowers for which I can’t find words to describe. Their petals like thin shavings of butter soaked in sunlight.

It seems more relevant today than ever.

(on YouTube)

In the immense, swarming hive of London, it is easy to avoid human connection. Much easier to avert one’s eyes or block out the city’s voices with the headphones of one’s iPod.

So, it came as a pleasant surprise when I stepped into the crowded bus on Tuesday morning and was greeted by an older man with a trim beard, sparkly eyes and a jaunty hat. Our eyes met and we smiled at each other for a few moments. During the short bus journey, I turned to look at him a couple of times and he returned my gaze. As the bus approached its third stop, I felt a hand touch my own. I turned and the gentleman said ‘Goodbye’, before he alighted.

The other passengers around me were oblivious to this exchange, but it touched me deeply. There was something mystical about the encounter.

The following day, on the underground, I noticed a young man examining his finger, which appeared to be quite badly cut and bleeding. He began to search in his bag for something. In my pocket I had some tissue, which I offered to him, He accepted it. He did not look at me, or speak to me further. Yet, I was left with a sweet glow inside for having been able to offer some help to a fellow human being, albeit in a small way.

Later, I was on an overground train from London to East Sussex. Two West Indian gentlemen said, ‘Good Morning’ and sat down opposite me. Throughout the hour-long journey we did not really speak, although they offered me some sweets and I said goodbye when I left the train. However, it felt like we had acknowledged one another in a simple, human way, often lacking in the London buzz.

My final encounter came on Friday. As Premasagar and I headed towards home from an evening stroll, we came across an elderly woman standing in the street. She appeared to be confused, so I asked her is she was OK.

Mistaking me for someone she once knew, she began talking to us. Her speech was a mixture of English and another language she explained was Greek.

It soon became clear that she was lost and could not tell us where she was staying. Her speech was repetitive and confused. While Prem called for help, I walked up and down the street with Pishpa clutching my arm. She was a charming lady with a warm smile and a quick sense of humour.

Eventually, an ambulance arrived. We took her inside the van and wrapped her in a blanket. The paramedics tried to find out more about her. Finally, she agreed to go to the hospital for some food and rest.

Shortly before leaving, I said to her, ‘Go to the hospital and get something warm to eat and drink and have a rest.’ She looked at me with a cheeky grin and said, ‘Yes, Mummy!’

Prem and I walked home as the ambulance drove away.

It would have been so easy to pass her by, to smile and walk on, but we didn’t. We stopped and connected with her, and she was safer and our lives richer for it.

On Saturday, 10th March, three Yogic monks from all around Europe, arrive in Manchester, UK to sing and play music. They are coming to raise money for underprivileged children and hopefully ‘raise the roof’ as well.

In support of the Student Action Manchester projects Chorlton Kids and The Ladybarn, the Ananda Marga Yoga and Meditation Centre in Chorlton, Manchester are staging a charity fund raising concert at Yoga Shala in Manchester city centre (map). Also featuring local artist, Kal, this event promises to be entertaining and inspirational.

All proceeds go to ‘Student Action Manchester’, who will channel the money directly to the children they support. This is possible because everyone involved, from the organisers to the artists, are freely volunteering their time and energy. All design, public relations and media work has been donated by Dharmasphere. Additionally, local food retailers Unicorn, Barbakan Deli, Chorlton Wholefoods and Forest Foods have all made generous donations of wholesome refreshments to be sold at the event.

The Chorlton Kids project helps children between 5-12 years old from a Manchester based one-parent safe-haven. These children are primarily supported to engage in arts & crafts activities and indoor games, and are also taken out on field trips. The Ladybarn project supports local learning-disabled children and young adults by facilitating arts and crafts pursuits as well as cooking and gardening activities.

This event is therefore a threefold opportunity: firstly, to enjoy a culturally rich evening of music in the heart of the city; secondly, to support a worthy cause; and thirdly, to share the spiritual inspiration of the performers!

Inner Song 7 @Yoga Shala, 1st Floor, 12 Newton Street, Manchester, Manchester M1 1AN (map). Tel: 0161 288 6918.

No fixed entrance fee - all donations appreciated :o)

Click the play button above to hear an interview with Dada Ravishekharananda & Dada Nabhaniilananda from Ananda Marga as well as Jess Etridge from Student Action Manchester at All FM radio.

Audio file downloads: 64kbps mp3 | hi-res mp3 | hi-res ogg

Enjoy!

I want to write and write and write.
Unfurl words,
curled like new ferns
inside me.

It is almost painful.
A joyful, beautiful pain
that breathes in
in-formation
through my senses.

Finally.
To pick up a pencil and
release, release.
Into this compact notebook
that promises to carry my dreams
on a sailboat into the night.

Oh, I just want to let them flow out
like rainwaters along the edges
of paved streets.
Flow out and trickle
into ears and eyes
and open like flowers
in moist mouths.

Moist mouths that kiss and whisper,
and relish shapes
of poetry.

Pi to me a Kingdom is.
Such perfect joy therein I find,
that it excels all other bliss
that world affords or grows by kind.

Though much I think I feel I want,
and still my mind permits to crave,
Infinity goes on and on,
the splendour falling wave on wave.