Blood money...

I see that Mr Tony Blair is in the news again (Daily Mail, Friday March 19, 2010), this time because of his fight to keep secret a lucrative deal that earned him shed loads of cash from the Iraq oil fields; after his illegal war of course. Apparently, TB said that this deal was commercially sensitive and he persuaded the UK authorities to hush it up for 20 months, which is 17 months longer than the usual period of 3 months anyone else gets. So you see, you can profit from crime; in this case war crimes. TB also cost the UK tax payer £273,000 for his recent Iraq probe appearance and his annual protection costs are around the £2million mark, which makes his level of protection higher than that of our illustrious Prime Minister, Gordon Brown. TB is so into money and power that he has constructed a complex web of companies and partners that allow him to avoid publishing full accounts detailing all the money from his commercial ventures - perhaps he has something to hide? Don't get me wrong, I am not jealous of this man's private earning power but I am sickened by his profit making from an illegal war and the fact that, as a tax payer, he costs me money as well. I can think of better ways of using my money, like arresting him for instance. One hell of a parasite this guy, and a war criminal too. What a career choice he has made.

Chickpea to Cook, Rumi...

Here's Rumi on the development of both the teacher and student, from the understanding of pain and change as persecution, to learning how to align with difficult experience in one's own, and others', self-interest. I thought that this poem connected well with my/our own lives in terms of personal growth and development.

Chickpea to Cook
Jalaluddin Rumi (translated by Coleman Barks)

A chickpea leaps almost over the rim of the pot
where it's being boiled.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

The cook knocks him down with the ladle.

"Don't you try to jump out.
You think I'm torturing you.
I'm giving you flavour,
so you can mix with spices and rice
and be the lovely vitality of a human being.

"Remember when you drank rain in the garden.
That was for this."

Grace first. Sexual pleasure,
then a boiling new life begins,
and the Friend has something good to eat.

Eventually the chickpea will say to the cook,
"Boil me some more.
Hit me with the skimming spoon.
I can't do this by myself".

"I'm like an elephant that dreams of gardens
back in Hindustan and doesn't pay attention
to his driver. You're my cook, my driver,
my way into existence. I love your cooking."

The cook says,
"I was once like you,
fresh from the ground. Then I boiled in time,
and boiled in the body, two fierce boilings.

"My animal soul grew powerful.
I controlled it with practices,
and boiled some more, and boiled
once beyond that,
and became your teacher."

Seems I've lost it...

From previous blogs, you would think that my running habit is so entrenched that nothing could stop me from running. Well, like me, you are in for a surprise. Yep, my running has virtually come to a standstill. Why? I don't really know just yet but I suspect it has come about because of a combination of different reasons ranging from being overweight and unhappy with my self-image – this so horribly confirmed by the less than flattering Mr Blobby photograph that my beloved took of me recently - to being mentally and emotionally tired from the constant worry of caring for an elderly parent while at the same time trying to live my own life. This I've lost it state of mine has been developing for some time now but since my recent return from Australia, it has got worse. This is probably due in some part to my being physically tired from the many hours of traveling and sitting in a cattle truck of a plane with its multiple human organisms circulating in and out of my nose for the duration. It was a nice new plane mind you but as an Airbus A380 holds a lot more people than your average Boeing 747, the risk of getting an airborne infection must increase exponentially. I wonder if they (Qantas in this case) have completed a risk assessment on the health hazards facing A380 passengers? I doubt it somehow, otherwise I would not have had to endure the closely packed confines of economy class with its piddly little seat pitches and oppressive atmosphere. Anyway, to return to my tale of woe. I know that I am physically run down; this is evidenced by the cold sore that has been living on my bottom lip recently and my dry, itchy and spotty skin. I know that I am mentally and emotionally tired; this is evidenced by the loss of fun or joie de vivre that I associate with running and the loss of drive to do anything else for that matter, except perhaps eat biscuits and drink lots of tea loaded with sugar. Funny thing is, that while in Australia, my running enthusiasm returned and I enjoyed early morning runs of varying distances and times on most days. In hind site, this temporary resurgence in my running was probably down to being over 10,000 miles away from home and therefore out of the loop as far as my mothers care was concerned and having the opportunity to explore new running grounds, especially the trails of the Churchill National Park in Melbourne, the running routes around Sydney Harbour and the beaches of the Great Ocean Road. Now of course, I am back to my particular reality and it has hit me hard. The cold weather doesn't help of course. The computer crashing and finding all my emails corrupted – thanks Microsoft – didn't help either and my car breaking down just before I was going off to do a days work really was a pain. Still, as my running coach says in his blunt Yorkshire way, 'you'll just have to get on with it' - bless him. As I see it then, I am nearly at the end of a major downward spiral; nearing the bottom of the pit so to speak and once I've hit bottom, the only way out of this mess is to climb back up again. Life is like that and I think I still have that ladder tucked away in the tool bag of my life somewhere.

I'll let you know if I make it.