A LESSON IN SPIRITUALITY, PART ONE

Someone wise said once that you shouldn’t study religion, philosophy or spiritual discipline without a teacher. It is so easy to misinterpret something or to take a step in a wrong direction while reading old books. You need someone to help you to understand not just ‘What?’, but ‘How?’, and most importantly, ‘Why?’. And it’s not just books and texts we should learn from….Sometimes, you simply have to open your eyes and to look around. You might stumble on something or someone, who will teach you something invaluable. Will you learn anything or not – it’s entirely up to you. 

An old Jewish alcoholic (a contradiction in terms), told me once, ‘You worry – you die. You don’t worry – you die. So… Why worry!?’. Isn’t that one of the most fundamental spiritual concepts of all times? 

An old homeless man invited me once to share a drink of ‘Bormotucha’. I found him in a very picturesque dump behind the train station in Moscow suburbs. He made himself a cosy nest from the old wooden planks and some rubbish. He was sitting in the old armchair in a front of the campfire. There was something aristocratic in the way he presented himself…he looked like a lord, sitting in the library room in his family castle, listening to Beethoven, nursing a glass of 50 years old single malt and enjoying a priceless Havana. He looked like a lord but he smelled of something very organic and very fermented. I didn’t mind, as I was living rough for couple of weeks and was a bit stale myself. I had some tobacco on me and a bottle of ‘Bormotucha’ as well, to contribute to our summit.

The evening was a success. We made ourselves warm and comfortable, we raised our bottles, we drunk to our health, we lit our ‘papirossas’ and we started to converse….To my surprise, this man turned out to be a former Party member and a physicist. This relic who smelled like a chunk of a Roquefort spread on a slice of Parma Ham had a fascinating story to tell, and what a story it was!

His name was Pavel. He was born in a little village in the middle of nowhere. He also came from the very poor family. At the age or 17, he left home, travelled to Moscow, got himself accepted in the University, graduated with the ‘Golden Medal’ and eventually ended up in the most prestigious ‘closed’ institute working for the Ministry of Defence. Pavel became an expert in some kind of particle weaponry. He married a daughter of the Party official and moved into the ‘Government House’. They were given a full access to the ‘Beryoska’ shop, where demigods of the Soviet elite would be driven to in their black ‘Volga’ cars, to buy caviar, salami, sturgeon, Georgian Brandy and foreign clothes. His daughter was sent to the Moscow University. Everything was going well. Pavel became a Party member himself and his life became a true Socialist dream. 

Then something bad happened. Pavel came up with a theory. A very frightening one as well. Something to do with the Earth critical mass and all of us being completely and utterly doomed. He started to make alarming statements to his friends and colleagues. Soon enough, he got a very polite anonymous phone call, gently suggesting that he better start concentrating on his project and stop spreading panic and false rumours. He wouldn’t give up. He wrote a letter to the Ministry of Education, trying to prove the validity of his theory. His daughter got expelled from the Moscow University. Pavel wrote an article for the local scientific paper. His bosses took him off the project. He got himself a radio interview where he said that we all are going to die. Soon. His security clearance was removed. He organised a one-man protest in front of his Institute. In response, a ‘voluntary’ demonstration of ‘concerned workers and colleagues’ was put together. Academics and professors were reading from the scripts, expressing their concern about ‘our comrade, who seemingly got influenced by the enemy propaganda and succumbed to panic and defeatism’. Pavel announced that if he is not taken seriously, he will write to his Western colleagues. Our tireless protectors and teachers (aka KGB), decided enough is enough and went for the kill. They removed him from the ‘Beryoska’ list of Olympians. That was it! No more salami for our bold friend. That did it. His wife, who couldn’t even imagine a life where she is forced to go shopping on foot, mingle with the ‘plebs’ and to buy the half-organic matter from the ordinary Soviet ‘food’ shops, filed for divorce. She called Pavel ‘a traitor of Socialist ideology’. She denounced him publicly and went to live with her parents, who were still living in the land of smoked sturgeon and Bulgarian cigarettes. 

Pavel reacted in a quite radical manner. He decided to cut his head off. In public. Thankfully, he was rudely interrupted and brought to the hospital, where his head was successfully re-attached to his body. He suffered a catastrophic memory loss, his cognitive functions were severely impaired and as the result, our mentors and protectors from KGB decided that he is no longer a security risk. He finally got kicked out of the hospital and was told to go back to live with his parents. He didn’t want to go to his parents, because they have denounced him as well. (A very common practice during our times). 

The thing is, Pavel didn’t lose his memory and his brain was still functioning very well. While he was in a hospital, he finally realised that he got himself involved in a very dangerous scenario and decided to simulate a total brain malfunction. It probably saved his life. So, he got out a ‘new man’ and took a residence in the city dump. I don’t think I ever met more happy and content person in my life. At some point of our conversation he told me, ‘Here is your typical circle of life. I started this cycle by sitting near the campfire, smoking papirossas and doing nothing. I was discontent and ambitious. I got up, I studied, I worked, I earned fame, position, power, money, comfort and unlimited supply of foreign sausages. I had it all, and then I lost it all. Now I am at the end of my ‘circle’. I am exactly where I started. The difference is – I am happy now. It took me 40 odd years to go from one campfire to another to appreciate the true worth of something so simple’. 

You can make whatever you want from this statement. You call it as philosophical as you wish..  Me? I had my doubts. You cannot possibly survive on Soviet made ‘Kolbassa’. Whatever the fate of our planet was…. if you have a can of real stewed meat in your fridge, eat it and forget about the end of the world. That’s what I thought at the time, but as I was brought up on a processed cheese ’Friendship’ and on something called a ‘Tourist Breakfast’…..I think I could be forgiven for being so shallow and materialistic. Anyway….anyone who survived 70s, ‘Pirozki s kotyatami’ (Pastries with kittens), Portwein ‘Kavkaz’ and ‘Livernaya Kolbassa’ widely known as ‘Dog’s Happiness’….they will understand and they will not judge.

I have another example to share with you, but I have to interrupt myself.. It’s quite late, and I have to be up early. Tomorrow I am going to the place called ‘The Dock’ in Carrick-on-Shannon, to record a live album with my dearest ‘NoCrows’. We also have a beautiful Lisa Lambe on vocals and not less than beautiful Martin Tourish on accordion as our honoured guests, so it’s going to be FANTASTIC!!! 

My next story is going to be about a former UK police driving instructor, who taught me the most important lesson of all. 

It goes like this, ‘Humility is a virtue, Don’t be an arrogant ass’.

Love and Peace!

Good Night!!!