Into the vortex

Imagination is the real and eternal world of which this vegetable universe is but a faint shadow.

William Blake

The early morning shadows stretch long across the barren, winter rice paddies. Crisp air. Piercing sunlight so typical of this semi tropical island whose Southern province of Kochi abounds in palm trees. Last night I dreamed I had lost my staff and was weighing the cost of walking back to my starting point that day to retrieve it. What is a man without his rod and his staff to guard him? I had almost used it once-on a man..

Until every human fully grasps the ultimate fact of humanity we shall be inhumane. And that ultimate fact is that we are all living in a psycho-physical domain. There is no 'world' apart from your apprehension of it via a five channel cerebral Tv station. Astonishingly, we have been trained like lemmings to flee from such a simple truth and exterminate our reason as we tumble off the cliff face of 'appearances'.

"Of course there is a world!" ..ah yes I can hear the confident roars of over excited reaction to this most ancient of claims. But you only have to wake up to see the truth of this. Whatever lurks in your heart of hearts will find a way to become an 'event' in your so called world of flesh and blood. One is reminded of Leonard Cohen's haunting song 'Boogie Street':

'So come, my friends, be not afraid.
We are so lightly here.
It is in love that we are made;
In love we disappear.

Though all the maps of blood and flesh
Are posted on the door,
There's no one who has told us yet
What Boogie Street is for.

We are so lightly here and yet as I walked that long stretch down the South East coast of Shikoku towards Cape Muroto, where there is nothing but sea on the left and nothing but empty road ahead for two days, it was slowly dawning on me that a pilgrimage starts off like an invitation but soon becomes a heavy spell. Who had cast that spell was obviously the synchronicity that lurked behind my map of flesh and blood, like millions of tiny transistors lurk behind what you are currently observing on the screen.

Some call it the 'shadow' but that is a very poor word to describe the marvellous work of a consciousness which can conjure up events like Ali Baba's Genie on viagra laced with ayahuasca. Somehow, the speed of synchronic meshing sped up as I walked and prayed and walked and prayed ad nauseam. It was not angels who showed up-but demons.

I was counting my speed by measuring one kilo distance via signposts marked in decreasing numbers to Muroto. So it was 80, 79, 78 and so on. I could not avoid these signposts since the road, the only road, winds down the coast towards the cape and for a stretch of over twenty kilometers each kilo is marked. I simply had to count seconds as I walked and presto-kilos per hour. I am in good physical shape and so can clip along fairly steadily at between five and six kilometers an hour on stretches like these. Sure enough the count came out at 5-6 kph. A road works crew ahead and a red light forced me to stop.

As I waited for the light to change a truck slowly approached from behind. It felt like sombody was creeping up on me-a Japanese fan perhaps? It was not terribly unusual for people to come up to me in the street or in a coffee shop and introduce themselves with prolific bowing. Or be waiting at a temple they knew I had to get to that day and get their pictures taken. The goulish ego was thus primed for such an encounter just as the front windscreen came into view on my right. There looking straight at me was a demon straight out of the Buddhist hell realms.

Naturally he was dressed up as a middle aged truck driver with a serious attitude problem either about Westerners in general or about me in particular, because it was pure hatred and violence that filled that stare.
Staring is just not done in Japan. Eye contact is highly taboo. I mean real eye contact that is. So, to have a man who has crept up behind me in his truck, then deliberately stop so I can see him glaring at me, is an event worthy of serious attention. I looked back. I did not avert my eyes.

My right hand tightened around the staff. Though by no means a violent person, having travelled alone through over 80 countries by the time I even arrived in Japan, and often with no money thus at the mercy of the environment, I am also no daisy. Ergo I was ready to do battle if this guy stepped out of his cab since the murderous look in his eyes most certainly suggested that.

The lights changed. He drove off and for the next ten kilos I was ready for this nutter to leap out from behind some rock on the deserted coastal road, probably with a rusty old samurai sword or a baseball bat more likely and start raving about 'hairy beans' and the Japanese imperial family. In short he would insult me and suggest that we Westerners are defiling the sacred vibration of God's own country, Japan. Though such characters have radically decreased in my thiry three years here they still pop up in the countyside and occasionally are known to take it all out on foreigners, on 'outside people' or gaijin.

What on Earth brought all this on? Why today as I walk in perfect sunshine? Here, where even in December I can scramble down the rocks, strip off and swim in the still tepid Pacific to purify myself with massive loads of sea salt. This man's hatred was so potent that I had to wash him away. He never did re-appear and since nothing like this had happened in my regular life in Japan recently, the fact that it was clearly manifesting during a pilgrimage meant surely that the Lords of synchronicity were working overtime to get me the events I desperately needed to 'clean up my act'. Thus did the entry to the vortex begin...

Walking as art

All truly great thoughts are conceived while walking

Friedrich Nietzsche

What has been the most radical change in human habits since we literally first walked on two legs? What do we not practise these days that was to our ancestors as obvious a part of each day as the sun rising? The answer is of course, 'walking'.

If we were to get a supercomputer and program it with as much as we know about the cultures of the Earth, how we migrated and how we lived, perhaps we could could get a printout of how far the average human walked every day. That is until we invented the motor car. You only have to travel to any car-challenged culture to see that people walk a lot even still.

But compared to our average pedestrian predecessor it is no wonder that in the USA and the UK for example we physically look less and less like bipeds and more and more like Humpty Dumpties. We were built for walking..all animals of the Earth basically spend a lot of time on their legs do they not?

Walking is surely the most basic activity for humans. Our most ancient culture, arguably the Aborigine culture of Australia, could be said to revolve around the concept of 'walkabout'. Life was walking. Walking was life. No buildings were created, no dwellings for these nomads, but rather a non-stop meditation on the dual nature of the human psyche. Dual nature? Well of course-it becomes quickly obvious to anybody who walks long distances that once you 'get in step' the mind divulges aspects of itself to consciousness that normally get quelled by the ceaseless banter of 'reality'.

We awaken to the fact that we are a bipedal dream factory constantly accessing images that have absolutely nothing to do with the slowly moving landscape. We are creatures of the mind far, far more deeply than we are bodies on legs. When we stopped walking we started to devolve. By that I mean that all the technology of the world barely adds up to the simple fact that we need to walk. Not just for health-but for our sanity itself.

Pilgrim's Prosex

In my case Pilgrim's Progress consisted in my having to climb down a thousand ladders until I could reach out my hand to the little clod of earth that I am.

Carl Jung

In retrospect my headgear might have been a little shocking. Here I was in the middle of the city of Tokushima heading for temple 18 as the stone pillar behind me informs. The kanji for Shikoku, the island upon which I moved, is represented by the two characters of 'four' and 'country' signifying the modern day geopolitics of Ehime prefecture, Tokushima , Kochi and Kagawa. In a brilliant sleight of hand the kanji for four at the top of the sign post behind me looks like a road winding into the distance. Very Japanese touch I would say.

The red symbol on my head here is Shinto, not Buddhist. So here is a guy with a non-standard face (given that over 99% of pilgrims are Japanese) emblazoned with the three treasures of Shinto (looking like a triad yin yang) and carrying a staff from Mount Fuji. He wears a giant 16th century conquistador crucifix from 16th century Cusco in Peru unbeknownst to all and carries a small scroll with Buddhist Saint Kukai's image on it. In short this is not your average pilgrim-this man could be dangerous! Despite the fact that I speak fluent Japanese and since I do not walk talking, it would be undestandable if some people on the busy streets of Tokushima through which I had to pass were a trifle nervous. But since Japan is such a tremendously self restraining culture, my alien presence was quickly subsumed by hundreds of years of pure Japanese pilgrim 'vibes' that literally oozed out of the pavements and the mountain trails. I was soon to enter the 'vortex'.

It was August when this photograph was taken and that means high humidity and temperatures in the mid thirties centigrade. Liters of liquid are easily consumed as there is a plethora of vending machines everywhere save the hills. Going through cities can be very demanding since the highly complex map book depicts all paths in red-thus one must sometimes walk and read at the same time. Since I need reading glasses and carry a staff too it is a wonder I did not crash into people on the busy streets. Everywhere you go there is the magic of convenience store in this country. You can buy just about anything, anywhere, and though Shikoku is a far cry from the more economically prosperous Honshu, where Osaka Tokyo and Kobe dominate culture and business, here I could buy sheet wrapped underwear, an electronic dictionary and re-charge my cell phone all at one in the convenience store pit stop. This is a far cry from the poor bastards who traipsed along these cobbled streets hundreds of years ago with a rice ball, a bamboo water container and a heart full of woe in most cases.

You see this pilgrimage is not really about 'self realization' and 'spiritual enlightenment' at all. This is all about squaring up with your own deeply entrenched inadequacies, your failures and your lack of real understanding about just about everything. It is really about getting stripped down to essentials. So despite the fact that my ancient precursors on this route might have had less temptations abounding in the environment, like large titted women emblazoned on massive posters above, behind and sometimes actually physically on the street right next to me, the pilgrim's progress, or lack of it was essentially a psychophysical journey. As is your heart, thus is the road.

I had plenty of opportunity to see how that heart was full of less than pure pilgrim thoughts. On more than one occasion as I walked and had a fantasy especially about young women, young women would appear with astonishing alacrity. One day in Kochi somewhere the sun was going down as I walked with the Pacific Ocean on the left. It was downhill. That meant of course it was fairly easy going even after a long day, a welcome respite from the tougher sections. Walking is a highly stimulating activity sexually. That is pure physiology since a huge amount of blood is being pumped to and from the legs and transiting the genitalia as it flows. Erections are a common result, naturally. As all men know an erection will soon signal the brain for an appropriate fantasy which, if you are a highly visual type like me (in NLP there are three major types of perception: visual, audio and kinesthetic) can be conjured up immediately. Any woman's image will do, known or unknown. So there I am walking down the hill with a lump at the front of my dirt stained trousers alone and unseen. Traffic is almost non existent. A car is very slowly approaching me from behind, I can feel it is actually 'watching' me. I sense something, a female energy, a curiosity. Sure enough the car slows down in front of me and stops.

Two young women in their early thirties perhaps, in a cheap old car and obviously travelling together have rolled down the window and are inviting me into the car. It is getting dark they tell me and the town is a long way away. The lump in my trousers just wanted to leap through the window and grab both of them at the same time. Fortunately I still had a bit of cranial content remaining with which to judge the situation. Maybe they wanted to practise their English? I was unusual. I was a man. I was alone. I told them it was against the rules of my pilgrimage to get in a car.I remembered how Peace Pilgrim had always refused rides until she was quite old. She died instantly in a head on collision when she changed that rule. There was a really good chance I would get into a genital collision with these two young beauties I strongly felt as they smiled at me in the dusk. They were very, very friendly. There is something deeply attractive about the 'wild man' on his own I am convinced. This was not the first time it had happened either. I politely refused their offer and they drove off slowly. Breathing a sigh of belief and regret I watched their car pull slowly away only to stop again after a hundred meters. An arm came out of the window with something in it. As I came up to it she gave me two tangerines, and then drove off. They were truly delicious...

The sacred ring of protection

Belief is a wise wager. Granted that faith cannot be proved, what harm will come to you if you gamble on its truth and it proves false? If you gain, you gain all; if you lose, you lose nothing. Wager, then, without hesitation, that He exists. Blaise Pascal

At first I had wanted to walk the Camino to Santiago de la Compostella in Spain. Having studied its templar inspired history and being in need of a challenge as I turned 54 it seemed perfect. But I would need to be away from a career that demanded my attention for close to a month. What to do?

Sitting on the veranda of my home near Kobe it suddenly dawned on me that Japan has its own unique pilgrimage! Hadn't I seen those funny older people dressed up in white with staffs in their hands all over Japan? They were surely on their way to do that pilgrimage. The internet at times like this borders on the sublime. I had the information within 5 minutes and that day ordered the indispensable Japanese map book. Without that map book I would have truly gone off course. As it happened I simply sometimes went off course..

How to combine the spiritual need to do a Christian pilgrimage with a geographical need to do a Buddhist one? That was the question. Not that I hang my hat in anybody's ashram but I am most securely entranced by the impossible appeal of the Lord. It is not mission impossible when it comes to Christianity it is rather religion impossible. Who could ever have dreamt up a story like that? But what if it were true?

A fractal pilgrimage idea was thus hatched. I would use the idea that Japan is a fractal map of the world just as the Uk could be or your big toe could be if we are to take fractals seriously at all. Though having been a practising zen Buddhist for decades I was never attached to having to belong. 'When you meet the Buddha kill the Buddha' had always been my favourite zen expression. Ergo the Buddha outside is an illusion..

So I could walk and pray the ancient mantra, the simplest and the strongest I knew. 'Maranatha!' I could light incense and I could stand next to heart sutra choruses without feeling at all different. Though emptiness may be emptiness and form may be form, the emptiness needs a form to make it empty. Thus I pray 'Oh Lord come' not in any expectation of a long haired Jew but rather in the eschatological and thus highly illogical hope that I will awaken to the Christ within by calling for him to come. Again and again unto the ends of time.

I could read Rumi on the long nights and pay tribute to the Islamic genius. Anywhere you walk is after all everywhere you walk once you attend to the meaning of your language. So by no means having the temerity to call myself a Christian (knowing what the term really means automatically disqualifies me) I was very sure that I was going to encircle a Japanese island with a prayer.

Apparently the great saint Kukai who had first created this concept was a master geomancer amongst other claims to fame. By charging the environment with mantric power and thus planting vibrational seeds that would be temples he had effectively encircled Shikoku witha charm. Surely he would not mind if I worked my own charms on the environment? If he did he was no saint, that was blindingly clear, so although I was prepared to toe the cultural line on temple etiquette I was not going to parrot heart sutras in the hope of getting some karmic relief from the Buddhist pantheon. This was surely the motivation of busloads of pilgrims who were obviously no longer young. They were attempting to mend their ways with merit gaining penance.

But the ones on foot seemed different. Less ebullient. Less sure of merit. More prone to soul searching on the long interludes, sometimes close to eighty kilometres, between virtue dispensing temples. These were the ones I had become part of. A determined crew on this pilgrim's voyage. Only gradually did it dawn on me that this was not really going to fun at all. I had committed myself to a very dark road indeed since it is on this road that we inevitably have to face up to facts...facts about our own souls. The 'hard' facts.

The idea forms

Long hair minimizes the need for barbers; socks can be done without; one leather jacket solves the coat problem for many years; suspenders are superfluous. Albert Einstein

It was during those last stages of my pilgrimage in Shikoku that the idea for a documentary movie began to make its presence known. Walking and praying all day can have that effect. You can exorcise old demons and you can fight current ones all at the same time. You can access ancient memories as the smells of the countryside or the pollution of the city act as catalysts in the brain. Or you can simply allow the senses to freely enjoy the slowly unfolding landscape. As you do, ideas naturally arise as weeds grow by the kerbside.

I had just left temples number 68 and 69 which are actually the same temple with two different names. This is the only place on the long route around Shikoku island where you can get double stamps in your pilgrim's log book. You might compare it to doubling your money at a country fair's contest or finding out that you have actually gone further than you expected as a pilgrim that day. In short-a surprise bonus.

From there I followed the river to temple number 70 and had the inspiration to call a publisher. Since I am a writer with a dozen titles currently on sale I thought it would be easy to sell the idea of a book on pilgrims. It was not. That helped the idea for a movie to get established.

I had been on Japanese television on a number of occasions and really did not like the experience. That is apart from a cable television network that had done really good one hour programs on my 2012 ideas as well as my remote viewing classes held in Japan. Those specials had allowed me to express very radical ideas within a television format. The audience was relatively small but very connected.

That was back in May 2007 as the Japanese summer was getting started and I was enroute to the last 20 temples right in time for completion by my 55th birthday.

It is already September and though without funding I have made the decision to go ahead because the pilgrim in me has delivered a rather shocking idea. 'Do it without investors!' After all pilgrims do not rely on investors but on the strength of their beliefs and the robustness of their legs!

Let it be so as we begin this new adventure...

Pilgrimage end

A pilgrim is a wanderer with purpose.
Peace Pilgrim

I was exhausted. With a head burned into two colours from always wrapping a white towel around it and a body drenched in sweat, the circle was complete at just after six on a hot Japanese evening in July. I had completed the 1300 or so kilometres on the 88 temple pilgrimage around Shikoku island.

Though many complete the pilgrimage these days by car or bicycle the die hard ohenrosan (Buddhist pilgrims) walk the entire course. Since I am a busy person I had chosen to walk every month through four seasons to complete the circuit in exactly one year in time for turning 55. It took about 40 days in all.

The last temple is number 88 of course but I had chosen to fully close the circle, in more ways than one, by walking from number 88 back to number one-a distance of about 40 kilometres, or 25 miles. It was a rather poignant moment. Though having traveled the world most of my life I had never consciously been a pilgrim. But for this one year I had definitely not just been a visitor to ancient Buddhist temples. I felt strangely unfulfilled yet grateful for it all.

Though Westerners can occasionally be seen on the long roads that often wind through mountains and rice paddies, as well as along highways one would rather avoid, I had also been a rarity. I had not donned the traditional bamboo hat and white vestments since I am not a Buddhist. I chose a staff that had been with me to the top of Mount Fuji and had crossed the Andes on the Inca trail to Machu Pichu. It was thus unadorned with tinkling Buddhist bells and sacred mantras. But it had definitely seen some action.

Somewhere near the end of this pilgrimage it had suddenly come to me in a flash. From age 55 I was going to cease my focus as a writer and public speaker and I was to make a movie about pilgrims all over the Earth. Their journeys and their hearts would surely have much to teach us all. My heart had certainly been educated. The pilgrim's path is a spiritual one whether he hangs his hat in any one belief system or not.

Thus was 'The Earth Pilgrims' conceived. Gestation has begun and by 2008 a new life will be itself on the pilgrim's road as a documenatry movie on the internet. Here I will share with you that journey..