We (atmas/souls) are inconceivably, simultaneously one and different (with and from Brahman).
—Chaitanya

One of my favourite descriptions of our experience here, and what we might be.

From a book I’ve been reading:

Hindus do not labour under the ponderous certainties of Christianity or Islam, where human redemption is predictable in measurable ways. Hinduism, as practiced, is full of the mysterious possibilities of a tropical jungle.

Hindu metaphysics constitutes a truly magnificent body of thought [to this, I can attest, in my limited way]. But most Hindus have no inclination for the intricacies of philosophy.
—Pavan K Varma, Being Indian, pg 98

Thanks for the sweet comments. We are having a truly stupendous time in India. The people have been overwhelmingly kind and generous and hospitable and interesting. We have been repeatedly amazed, surprised, and awe-inspired. Every preconceived thought is reconceived, almost immediately, and I can almost burst out laughing (or crying) at my fickle, monkey-mind, my judgments, and the ongoing process of trying to improve as a person.

More and more I like the idea of increasing one’s humanity to increase one’s divinity.

The ephemeral nature of life, and its potential, is on thick, constant, colourful display here, by turns slapping me in the face and hugging me with great affection, until the two cannot be quite differentiated, for one truly, somehow, leads to the other.

A few quick notes, leaving out many wonderful experiences. of course.

Tim, you’ll be glad to know we had Christmas in Fort Cochin, Kerala, with a Christian family, with a thimble of wine, fruitcake and song. It was lovely and unpredictable. They lost their dad two Christmases ago, and were not up to celebrations, but we had them singing things like, at their choice, their father’s favourites: those traditional Indian hymns like Take Me Home, Country Roads, The Carpenter’s I’m On Top Of The World (the 30 year old son’s favourite!) and The Green, Green Grass of Home. The mom had a lovely altar in the front room of their 300 year old Portugese built (than Dutch and British lived) house (one conqueror after another).

She gave Sam and I cooking lessons, as we spoke of cardamon, masala dosas and God’s will–not necessarily in that order.

I sang Ever-blessed and Be Brave Tonight, to great warmth and a few tears, on a guitar whose strings were last changed just before the writing of the Rig Veda (app 2000 BC).

We also saw two way-under-attended remarkable concerts on back-to-back nights, with a remarkable tabla player. The first night with flute. The second night with veena (which is what the Goddess Saraswati plays). My jaw was on the floor, a golden Ganesha (the elephant) laughing at my amazement. I love that music, with the modern harmonium box in the back ground holding a tone–a sublime experience. They improvised on what are called ragas, which are different scales (76 in all, I think) that are said to create certain described moods or rasas. They did.

After the first concert, I went up on stage and the flute player Vivek, asked me my thoughts on the soul. I went off about sat, chit and ananda, advaita and dvaita thoughts, and he told me I think too much and need to breathe more. How flipping accurate. Is my mental, high-strung, over-excited, shallow breathing nature really that obvious?

Dang!

He recommended Suryanameskara (yogic sun salutations), which I had been doing obsessively since being at the Shivananda ashram for a week a week earlier. What are the chances? He demonstrated, and I swear I saw a flinch in his eyes (one I recognize well), and I think he might have strained his back, alas. Then again, I could be wrong. Either way, his flute playing (the Odakuzhal and Bansuri) was divine.

And before that we stayed with a Christian family in the backwaters of Alleppey. They were lovely. Supposedly this group of Christians were converted in 350ish AD by Arabic merchants (ah, the ironies). They were wonderful. And a guide there, a terrific fella named Thomas, traces his Indian Christianity to 52 AD, with the arrival, supposedly, of St. Thomas in India. I am a bit of a doubting Thomas about that, but it could be true.

Currently having an amazing time outside of Mysore, with a Hindu couple who run a small organic farm. The place is stunning and quiet (aah), and we have been treated beautifully, and fed traditionally, and gorgeously. The husband lived in Canada for a couple f decades, arriving just before the centenary, and we’ve shared stories. His wife, in her late fifties, I would guess, sparkles, and has never eaten meat, or an egg! Wonderful. They have a small temple in their backyard, and their own cows and a bio-gas system that works wonderfully well, thanks to the cow’s dung.

How heartwarming it is to see animals that are loved, appreciated for what they give (life and sustenance) and treated as if they have meaning, and emotions, which they so clearly do. As my dad once said, “Who cares if they have souls or not, they have @#$%^& feelings!”

So much more than I’ve written. A temple tour culminating in the Suchindram temple was mind-blowing and crazy, timeless and sublime, doing guru puj with no shirt on, covered in sandlewood and drenched in sweat, nine oil candles alive in this circular cavern celebrating the non-random mystery of the universe with a bunch of intense Shaivites, some probably in divine ecstasy, others seeking a little extra cash or entrance to some higher education institute. Sam saw an older woman weeping with joy and bhakti (devotion) as she chanted to Shiva, who is metaphysically thought of as transcendental Pure Consciousness, among other material energies (Father Nature, the recycler, the destroyer). Commercial Drive has a few Shaivites wandering, with matted hair, and tattooed (though they probably don’t know it), and the wild John the Baptist, walking out of the forest in a loin cloth and eating honey and locusts, would perhaps also follow that path (in fact, he did, in his own way), were he born a Hindu.

Anyway, Suchindram temple, with Swami Svaroopananda, was a once in a lifetime moment.

Life continues to amaze, this mystery, this inconceivable journey, the ephemeral, ever-changing world. Jai to compassion! Jai to kindness!

Lots of love,

Pete

When I say diversity, I’m not kidding. In this south west state of India (Kerala), the noises, colours and smells are wild and intoxicating (etc) and startling, and the people are exceedingly friendly. A smile mostly guarantees a traditional Indian headshake and big grin in return.

I just love that headshake. In the west the same gesture means no, being side to side. But in India, it also means no, in addition to sure, hello, yes, perhaps, good day, definitely, would love to, I’m sorry, good-bye, I don’t know, stop asking me stupid questions, plese come visit,where are you from and anything else you can think of. I’m tying to learn it, but like with break dancing and other movement oriented expressions, I can be classified as hopeless.

Here, where the literacy rate is extremely high, relatively speaking, the diversity is startling. The people, in my experience, seem to take a true sense of pride in how well the three major religions, Hinduism, Islam and Christianity get along (and there must be Jains, atheists and Buddhists, a few Jews in Fort Cochin and others as well). From the various religions, friends intermingle freely and with affection, excluding marriage for the most part.

My beloved Sam got Hindu henna on her hand from an Islamic woman while staying in a Christian house. I looked deeply for the commonality and it came quite clear: humanity.

I read before I left that one must not always look upwards for their Divinity, that one’s Divinity is found by increasing one’s humanity. Yet another worthwhile meditation.

In Appely yesterday, at a big temple festival (Hindu), all religions packed the street past a large Devi temple (the great Mother). Granted, the festival was more a large carnival of merchants than religious celebration–the Indian people are in my opinion far more pragmatic than ‘other-worldly’–but such harmony is heartwarming.

Further, the government of Kerala is actually communist, which sounds comically acronistic, but so it is. Kerala, in 1957, I have read, ushered in the first democratically elected communist government in history. In truth, it is a Social Democratic or State Capitalistic system (and who could now say the US isn’t?).

I heard in a speech from form Nobel prize-winning economist that, with the bail out, the corporations are now socialist while the less wealthy majority remain capitalists. Chomsky, of course, and many ohers, have been saying this for years.

Either way, with the Hindu temples, Islamic mosques and Christian churches, the sickle and the hammer makes appearances, generally stenciled onto brick walls here and there. Again, a land of surprises, paradoxes and inexplicability.

In their major books on rising cultures for the 21st century, Samuel P Huntington and Francis Fukuyama both largely left India out of their conversation. The reason, I am sure, is because they have no idea how to categorize this multi-layered passionate, tolerant, kind, remarkably indifferent (in that very human way) to pollution and poverty, pragmatic, democratic, forward-thinking, traditional, business-focussed, hierarchical, brutally poor, oblivious, engaging, incredibly rich, illiterate, deeply educated, religious, democratic nation (and on and on).

Suffice to say, India can not be left out of the global oicture in any sense of the word: past, present or future.

And that doesn’t even include the driving technique, which is simultaneously utterly impatient and stunningly, mind-blowingly, concessionary; in short, meditatively insane. And there is no–zero–visible road rage whatsoever–things people would be shot for in the States, and sworn at for in Canada, and given tickets for in both places. But pushing forth in traffic, horns constantly blaring, are just warnings to pull over, move over, shove over, right behind you, look out, passing etc. Extraordinary. Samantha closes her eyes and chants. I try to film it, but it doesn’t tell the tale.

Although day-to-day survival is likely very challenging for so many here in Kerala, and the threat of global warming on the rice farming tradition is palpably and visibly present (the water level will eventually sweep around homes), the spirit of the people is, to an outsider like myself anyway, so kind.

Oh, time is up here. Such a remarkable place. Excuse typos and spelling etc. Sending lots of love and hugs for the season, and the new year.

Lots of love,

Pete xoxo

Not even a minute to write. Gone to India for a while, to do some filming and other things. Back in early January. May everybody have a beautiful, wondrous next little while, and I hope to have some good stories upon return.

Be creative, love more, serve where you can,

Lots of love,

Pete

“…a look at history and perception of what we see, does, I think, lend some credibility to a traditional view coming out of the Enlightenment—it is at the core of liberalism, the ideals we are supposed to honour but disregard—which says that fundamental to human nature is a kind of instinct for freedom, which shows up in creative activities.”
—Noam Chomsky

“In many respects, the United States is the freest country in the world. I don’t just mean in terms of limits on state coercion, though that’s true too, but also in terms of individual relations. The United States comes closer to classlessness in terms of interpersonal relations than virtually any society.”
—Noam Chomsky

Well, not only is today, December 7th, the anniversary of Pearl Harbor, but the indefatigable Noam Chomsky becomes and octogenarian, having circled the sun some 80 times.

I am so maxed out by finishing Facing Ali and a short film/advocacy piece for refugees in Chad/Sudan, and leaving for India on Tuesday for more filming, that I can’t do this post justice.

Suffice to say that Noam is one of the most astonishingly generous, well, intellectuals!, that I have ever met. Seeing as he’s also consistently ranked as one of the most important intellectuals in the world, and flooded with requests, and still going more than strong at 80, this is truly remarkable.

EARLIER DAYS

In the 50s, his theories ushered in in linguistics what came to be called the Chomskyan Revolution. His ideas have had, according to Steven Pinker, a profound influence in linguistics, psychology and computer science—the most famous idea being, I think, Universal Grammar (which, of course, did not begin with Chomsky, but was taken to new heights). Pinker further calls Chomsky, paraphrasing, ‘even at 80 still the most influential linguist in the world today.’

It was also in the 50s—1959—that he took on BF Skinner’s massively influential “Behaviorism” ideas—badly described by me as saying we are essentially blank slates when we arrive—and, well, sort of intellectually pummeled it into submission.

I like this article on biolinguistics.

EIGHTY AND STILL FIRING

Elsewhere, of course, Chomsky is both loved and hated for his relentless attack on State Power, and his activism for the oppressed, for the underdogs, whomever and wherever they might be, all over the globe.

It is for that support that I so deeply admire what his writings have taught me about freedom and power.

Chomsky’s journey took to the printed world in the late 30s, I believe, when in the fourth grade he wrote an essay about the Spanish Civil War and the creeping threat of global fascism. His activism began in earnest in the early 60s, with the American invasion of Vietnam—and has continued unabated ever since.

His comments and interviews still make me rethink countless situations.

Who in this complex world can’t appreciate a comment like this?

A lot of the people who call themselves Left I would regard as proto-fascists.

Or this:

In the United States, the political system is a very marginal affair. There are two parties, so-called, but they’re really factions of the same party, the Business Party. Both represent some range of business interests. In fact, they can change their positions 180 degrees, and nobody even notices.

Or this:

The political policies that are called conservative these days would appall any genuine conservative, if there were one around to be appalled.

His essay “The Responsibility of Intellectuals” in 1967 had a big effect during this time of great social upheaval.

An excerpt:

IT IS THE RESPONSIBILITY of intellectuals to speak the truth and to expose lies. This, at least, may seem enough of a truism to pass over without comment. Not so, however. For the modern intellectual, it is not at all obvious. Thus we have Martin Heidegger writing, in a pro-Hitler declaration of 1933, that “truth is the revelation of that which makes a people certain, clear, and strong in its action and knowledge”; it is only this kind of “truth” that one has a responsibility to speak.

Americans tend to be more forthright.

When Arthur Schlesinger was asked by The New York Times in November, 1965, to explain the contradiction between his published account of the Bay of Pigs incident and the story he had given the press at the time of the attack, he simply remarked that he had lied; and a few days later, he went on to compliment the Times for also having suppressed information on the planned invasion, in “the national interest,” as this term was defined by the group of arrogant and deluded men of whom Schlesinger gives such a flattering portrait in his recent account of the Kennedy Administration.

It is of no particular interest that one man is quite happy to lie in behalf of a cause which he knows to be unjust; but it is significant that such events provoke so little response in the intellectual community—for example, no one has said that there is something strange in the offer of a major chair in the humanities to a historian who feels it to be his duty to persuade the world that an American-sponsored invasion of a nearby country is nothing of the sort.

And what of the incredible sequence of lies on the part of our government and its spokesmen concerning such matters as negotiations in Vietnam? The facts are known to all who care to know. The press, foreign and domestic, has presented documentation to refute each falsehood as it appears.

But the power of the government’s propaganda apparatus is such that the citizen who does not undertake a research project on the subject can hardly hope to confront government pronouncements with fact.

To a British journalist in 1984, who told Chomsky that he was not self-censoring with his views, and spoke freely, Chomsky replied:

I don’t say you’re self-censoring—I’m sure you believe everything you’re saying; but what I’m saying is, if you believed something different, you wouldn’t be sitting where you’re sitting.

I had the great fun of interviewing him once, in his office at MIT, and over the years he has responded (virtually immediately) to many emails from me (and thousands of others, to be sure) on many subjects. Talk about a living example of democratizing knowledge, empowering the individual and believing in solidarity.

Anyway, when it is understood what he is actually saying about Power—mostly State Power—he should be a remarkable source of ideas and insights for almost anyone. I know from countless conversations how misunderstood he can be—in my opinion, of course—in that what people hear him to be saying and what I believe he is saying are worlds apart.

For example, when Chomsky says:

Everybody’s worried about stopping terrorism. Well, there’s a really easy way: stop participating in it.

…some people think he actually means this completely—that doing so would stop all acts of terrorism. Of course he doesn’t mean that. He means that State terrorism is terrorism, and it participates, inspires and instigates countless acts of terrorism, and should be called in a free and honest press, by definition, what it is: terrorism.

One point of the comment is to say that to not recognize this, to not admit this, is profoundly hypocritical, dangerous and a sign of steep indoctrination.

He is also, obviously, not justifying other forms of terrorism, which are so heinous as to make any sane human being recoil in horror. But for some, to say that State military actions—from Russia to China to Iraq and everywhere—often fit the definition of terrorism, and are monstrous in terms of death and destruction (and terror), is to be justifying other terrorist attacks.

Curious—for me, anyway. For others, I guess they hear things differently.

Similarly, Chomsky is also sometimes called a ‘holocaust denier’, yet has written since the 60s that the holocaust was “the most fantastic outburst of insanity in human history.”

That puts it at the top of one hell of a list.

But back to my original thought, I don’t mean that Chomsky might not be wrong in his evidence and theories. I just mean that, whatever one’s point of view, if Chomsky isn’t heard at least in part as I described, a large aspect of what he is saying has been missed, and misconstrued.

Either way, if I wore a hat I would certainly tip it to Noam Chomsky, who has been an inspiration to me in terms of consistency, integrity and work ethic, and a expansive influence on my hopefully ever-expanding political and moral world view.

My remarkably privileged life and limited world understandings notwithstanding, I have a natural inclination towards writing and filming in support of unjustly oppressed underdogs, too.

And being spiritually inclined (whatever that means), I’ve also always appreciated Chomsky’s humility with regard to the ‘bigger questions’, which although unanswered, remain some of my favourite questions.

From Chomsky:

As soon as questions of will or decision or reason or choice of action arise, human science is at a loss.

As much as a friend can be a friend, though barely known, I consider Noam a great one, and I hope he can keep doing his thing, his dharma, in good health, for years to come.