The Secret Life of the Manic Depressive

Bloody fantastic doco. I remember Stephen Fry's famous disappearing act but didn't realise it was such a long time ago. In this doc he's managed to interview a broad cross section of people, some famous friends others not but all with valuable insights into this condition.

The most beautiful part was when he interviewed a lady who used to be a manager of B&Q with her kids. Even the youngest was fully engaged in the discussion of their mother, all thought their mother had a precious gift.

It all made so much sense to me. It was so funny hearing all the different stories of people "going off on a mad one" chasing various goals which made sense to them at the time. He went through various peoples attempts at a cure, Richard Dreyfus spoke about Lithium, a London doctor said she took 2g of cod liver oil a day. I was suprised no one mentioned meditation or acupuncture as they are the only things which have helped me for any length of time.

Note to self

Happy New Year you bunch of hippies!

Its 9 pm and I haven't been to sleep yet but I've finally got round to eating something. I managed to stay up without doing any class A's just drinking Lager and Guiness. I had one dab of MDMA which just made me doze off for 10 minutes and then I woke up and carried on drinking.

New Years resolutions? I've got a few.

Give up smoking (already lapsed)
Try to meditate for an hour a day.
Try to do Yoga every day.
Go back on Prozac.
Try to form a stable relationship with a woman.
Start painting and sculpture again.

I can't carry on like this. Somethings got to change this year.

MORE GURUS

We had a fantastic journey back from the meditation centre five up in a landrover courtesy of charlie who has a fantastic website called elestial.tv. I will always remember going round and round a roundabout somewhere in between Glouster and Oxford with no idea which exit to get off on laughing and laughing.

I jumped out at Hampstead heath and stayed with friends. I was briefly tempted to go out and take some acid on a dancefloor but chose instead to pull back and fit myself back into London life a bit more shanti like. (see? meditation makes you talk like a fucking hippie)

On my way home an old friend called me and told me about a baba who gave satsang in a Brixton council house, so I went down still with a bag full of sleeping gear etc. Sure enough on the ground floor of a council house, behind a whole load of plants lived a peaceful Jamaican baba. There were maybe 12 people in the room listening to him. Mostly Spanish and Italians. When he finnished he brought out a massive pot of chai for everyone. He gave loads of huge hugs to people as the left which made me a bit nervous but when I got round to saying goodbye I got a hug too. All my English self conciousness left me as I melted into a huge genuine hug with a complete stranger.

If ever you are in London and need a hug go and visit Mooji.

BACK FROM GURUSVILLE

Well I'm back. Almost lost my voice yabbering after the 10 days silence. Mixed feelings this time. I haven't got the huge elation I had both the previous times I've locked my self in with the booming disembodied voice of Mr. Goenka but I kind of feel its my own fault as my rational mind resisted the teaching again about day 8.

They gave me a cell this time and I ended up sitting in it naked thinking I was going to meditate proper Sadhu style which is all very funny, but as no one is there to appreciate it its a bit of a waste of time really. I made friends with a lot of trees and a bird though.

I ended up literally split down the middle. The left side of me was in pure meditation, the right side of me was all over the place wondering if Mr. Goenka wasn't the mumbo jumbo guru my mum warned me existed in India.

If he just gave you the teaching it would be fine but Mr. Goenka lays the guruing on with a huge fucking trowel- but hey, I knew that the first two times I did his version of Vipassna. Hippies and Indian people love the guruing but it jars so much against the punk ethos I never knew I had until my first tangle with Mr. goenka in Jaipur way back in 1999.

Oh well, I met some fantastic people this time including a Norweigan guy who had been put in Delhi jail at the age of 19 and had learnt vippasna inside, he was with another Norweigan who had made a film about him and the widder story of the miracle of vipassna in Delhi jail. There was also a fantastic ex-crackhead with tatoos all over his body and half his face.

Mr. Goenka is growing on me. I didn't totally hate him by day 9 this time anyway so I must be making progress.

Off for another tussle with the gurgling toad-buddha Mr. Goenka Ten days in silence should kick all the habits which hold me back into touch. I've asked Samir, Abdullah and co not to get arrested before I get back.

When I think of what I have achieved since the last time I went inside my head courtesy of the dhamma dipa I feel pretty good. I thought someone in my country ought to be looking into Fundamental Islam a bit more objectively and I'm happy to have done it.

My mistakes? Not keeping a camera running at all times, but thats what this blog is for. Back in 10 days or so. As Mr. Goenka would say

May all beings beeeee haaaapppppeeeeeeee