London etc.

Fast forward a month and greetings again from London. I am staying with the very dynamic and renaissance man Rupert Taylor, my friend who I will eternally be grateful for his role in introducing me to Vipassana meditation while in Japan. I am staying in his flat in Northern London, who he shares with another Irish meditator and which is leased by a German AT. After just a day braving the noisy streets of Milan, I am counting my blessings at having landed in such a wholesome environment :)

Sometimes meditating can feel like you're walking up a path that has withered away to a hard and steep rock cliff edge and there is no where to proceed to ahead, and yet despite this (illusionary) hopelessness, you stumble along far enough until you see the very easy entry way between two boulders and just like that you're out of it. This continually reminded me the importance of viriya and, as the title hints at, sampajanna.



But for now, present anecdotes first. I took two very tense flights from Milan two days ago to get here that involved traveling ticketless and standing in a chaotic security line where a British couple got in a shouting match with some West Africans for asking them to hold onto their bags, making connections with only minutes to spare. London is still struggling with its recent terror, with entire subway lines shut off, police everywhere, often hollering out directions for this or for that.


My first full day in London, yesterday, I was given a mission to take the bus to Waterloo station, secure a chained bike with a flat tire, change the tire (or tyre) and ride it home (the bike, not the tire/tyre). All went well until one stubborn bolt wouldn't come off, as hard as I pulled in sitting in the park across from the river Thames and Big Ben. I found a bike shop and they got it off, and in an alleyway hastily (and clumsily) tried to put it back together. I was doing a horrendous job, and an old Italian man passed by and with few words took it back apart and then together again with quick and able hands, refusing my plea to take him out to lunch for his help. I then navigated the medieval city streets (and pass the fascinating Financial District) to get back to Rupert's flat, exhausted, black, and bleeding (and nearly charged £30 for riding on the sidewalk instead of the madenning narrow streets).

This weekend we'll take some trains to the countryside and ride around on our bikes, staying with Rupert's family. Next week it's return to Uncle Sam!