Trip to York

Just back from a trip to York and thought maybe a blog about it would make a change from such subjects as "emptiness" and other such ramblings. 

For those far and wide unacquainted with York, it is a very historical English city which still retains a very unique flavour. It still has most of its old city wall and the Minster is one of the largest cathedrals in Northern Europe, a cathedral what was begun to be built in 1220 and not completed until 1472.

We travelled to York by train, from London Kings Cross. At this station we snatched coffee at Starbucks, a "mere" £6.50 for two. In a recent interview with the Starbuck's boss, Howard Schultz, revolving around their rather low tax payments in the UK, he said:- "It's very hard to make money in the UK". One wonders just how much Starbucks would need to charge to make profits easier to come by! (While in York we had two breakfasts of scrambled egg on toast - each with three eggs and two slices of bread - one side of bacon, and two "bottomless" coffees, all for £6.49. It seems that Wetherspoons DO have the knack of making money, as they pay good levels of tax)

Anyway, enough of that; we normally use Costa's anyway. 

The first picture shows Mr and Mrs Dookie catching the Virgin East Coast Express to York, close scrutiny of which might suggest why Virgin are having their franchise removed for this line - apparently they too find it difficult to make a profit. 

After a good nights sleep at the Premier Inn, we headed into the city centre, passing through one of the main gates into York. 

One of the Main Gates into York

We were heading for the Jorvik Viking Centre, where recent excavations have revealed old Viking ruins. The centre has a mono rail tour where below ground you can experience the reality of Viking life way back in time. As well as the sights, you are treated to the sounds and smells. A few photos below:-

It was here that our trip took an unexpected turn. Mrs Dookie took a tumble, broke her glasses and cut her face. A first aider was soon on hand, an ambulance called and we were very soon on our way to A & E. Our UK papers are full of the "crisis in the NHS" with even dear Donald Trump putting forth his "wisdom" on the issue. Well, all I can say is, "crisis, what crisis?" An ambulance there in twenty minutes, a quick trip to the hospital, seen within minutes, three nurses in attendance at various times. Friendly chats about our home county and finally one of the senior nurses escorted us out of the hospital and showed us the way to get back into the City - just a short walk away. Well, there you are, and not a penny to pay.

Mrs Dookie, neatly stitched around the eye, was still able to tour the Minster and enjoy its magnificence, stained glass and all, after which we retired to the hotel. 

An example of the stained glass at the Minster

The following day we paid a visit to the National Railway Museum which houses what must be the largest collection of old steam locos in the world. Entry is free. Enjoy the following photos if you are a steam enthusiast:-

Dookie looks cool in his shades

Mrs Dookie avoids the side with the awful shiner

The Mallard, still holder of the steam speed record - 126 miles per hour. 

Locos much like this thundered past our home in days gone by, steam belching from the chimney. 

After this Mrs Dookie retired to the hotel, feeling the effects of her tumble the day before. Dookie headed for the shops, taking a look at the Shambles, a well known street full of souvenir shops and what not.

The Shambles, where Dookie avoided spending money

I kept my money in my pockets, but did lash out later, treating Mrs Dookie to a new pair of sunglasses at Primark, a classy designer pair costing £1. As a friend of the family said upon hearing of this, "you always did know how to treat a lady."

That was about it. A good trip with some unexpected twists.

Searching for the Bull

Well known in the land of zen are the Ox Herding Pictures, a set of ten. They begin with the bull being lost and end with a happy soul returning to the market place. In between it gets rather messy, much like life itself. 

Various commentaries can be found to the pictures and one I have begins with a chapter heading "Searching for the Bull". 

Looking for the bull

The commentary begins:- The search for what? The bull has never been missing.

Thinking about this it seems to me that it opens to the question of theodicy, human suffering. Though "never missing", nevertheless for the bull to be "found", we must necessarily pass through all things. As W. H. Auden writes in "For the Time Being":-

For the garden is the only place there is, but you will not find it 

Until you have looked for it everywhere and found nowhere that is not a desert.

Meaning can therefore be found/implied in even the deepest suffering; though, as I see it, only if all eventually "find the bull".

A poem often accompanies the first Ox Herding Picture, the opening line of which is:- 

Alone in the vast wilderness, the herdsman searches for his bull in the tall grass. 

Which for me brings to mind the opening of Dante's "Divine Comedy":-

I found me in a gloomy wood, astray, gone from the path direct.

In a gloomy wood and gone astray (Gustave Dore)

East or West, it seems, sensitive souls reach the same impasse! 

Yet paths, ideas, creeds and beliefs, do diverge. While Dante moves inexorably towards the Heavenly Vision, he leaves behind the less fortunate, congealed into eternal states of pain. 

"Abandon hope all ye who enter here" indeed! 

Suffering is no longer redemptive, but punitive.

Such is "justice". 

While in the Ox Herding Pictures the final scene depicts the sage, bare chested and bare footed, returning to the market place with "bliss bestowing hands." All are found, and all is still on the move.

Back to the market place

"Without troubling himself to work miracles, suddenly dead trees break into bloom"

Some may prefer the Dante version.....

.... but each to their own.

I wonder how anything can reach a conclusion. I wonder just what is the image and what is the reality.

To whom would we bestow "bliss" within a "concluded" reality? 

Possibly the journey itself will always be home.

Spoiler Alert! 

At picture number eight both bull and searcher are "forgotten."

"Whip and rein, bull and man, are all gone and vanished" 

"When all worldly wanting dropped away, holiness too, lost its meaning."

(It seems to me that zen is not so much a transmission outside of words, more a transmission/communion of heart to heart, which can include words)

I'm only here for the sandwiches

I thought I would break my silence. Not so much with another blog, more a diary entry. 

My sole purpose

Looking back I see one blog on what I called a "Growing Trend", this about the growth industry of Humanist Funeral Services. But a few days ago I found that the more traditional service was still alive and well! It was the funeral of a cousin of Mrs Dookie, whose name I will change to David in order to protect his complete innocence. I'm the guilty one here.

The service was held at a strict Baptist Chapel, of which David had been a member. In fact, a number of years ago we had attended the funeral service of his mother, memories of which were still seared deep within my mind. Memories of the rather lengthy sermon, devoted not to David's mother, but to the call of Jesus, the weight of our sins, and the various threats to the unredeemed. A old guy had sat at the back of the hall who had awoken every five minutes or so to cry "halleujah" before returning to the land of nod. Fortunately he was absent from this latest service.

Well, just to say, we all knew what was coming, but were bolstered by the memories of the food served on that occasion in the hall behind the Chapel after the service. The sandwiches had been good.

We were given a lift to the Chapel. I had never met the driver before but guessed where his own sympathies lay when he "Praised the Lord" when he managed to nab a parking space in the rather restricted parking area outside. Those arriving later would have their faith tested. 

Just to say that though I was not very well acquainted with David, he had often figured large in my mind, purely because he had resembled in many ways an Old Testament Prophet - big beard and flowing locks. Another suggested John Knox. 

John Knox 

Nevertheless, he came across as a rather quiet, even shy, man. He did have an old red car, what we call in the UK a "bone shaker", parked in his front garden; and I still have nightmares from the one short journey I had made in it. It came through in the sermon that David had spent time with those in prison, helping with letters and suchlike. A good man. 

Alas, the rest of the sermon was as it had been before. Not exactly fire and brimstone, but as near enough to make very little difference. No matter that as far as 90% of the congregation were concerned he was preaching to the converted, who made this known by a constant flow of "yes, yes's" and other affirmations. Perhaps the preacher had his eye on others, like myself, those who he was unsure about. And did he have another distant relative of mine in mind, a Jewish man, when he stated that only those who know Jesus could say "our" Father? Who knows? 

Well, his sermon was basically a statement of Creed, based upon the "inerrant, infallible Word of God", a word, he asserted, that the "foolish" question. And of other theologies but his own? He could sum them up in just a few words:- "They are all utter nonsense!" A profound insight; and one greeted with many titters of appreciation. I would have welcomed a deeper discussion, but it eventually became time for the sandwiches, and so I welcomed that instead. 

Utter Nonsense

Someone, or more than one, had also been busy baking cakes. The lemon drizzle looked particularly tempting.

Related Quote:-

They do Him wrong who take God in just one particular way; they have the way rather than God.

 (Meister Eckhart, 13th century Christian mystic)