Punk Meditaton
Nobody told me Stiff Little Fingers would be doing gigs in the fifth dimension. I thought it would be Archangel Michael on the harp and quiet contemplation at the sublime beauty of isness. But apparently not.
For all you old punk rockers out there it is good news. I've been to the fifth dimension this week and they serve beer and have mosh pits.
At the end of a pretty intense week organising and structuring the Self Undevelopment course I received an unexpected offer of a ticket to see one of the bands from my youth. So stepping out of the examination of the soul and its relationship to egoic consciousness I met my best man and oldest friend (Indi) for a little unexpected time travel.
When Harry Potter boarded the Hogwarts Express he was transported to another world, a different dimension if you like. Well the Northern Line last night was a similar experience. If you want to give time travel a shot then disembark the tube in Kentish Town and go into the pub on the corner.
It was over 30 years since Indi and I last saw SLF and as we entered that pub we were back in 1980. Heaving with 50 year old skinheads and punks it felt strangely familiar. But a warning to those wishing to experiment, time travel certainly piles on the weight and really pushes the price of the beer up. Those hard men of the1980s were no longer so intimidating. In fact they were remarkably civil. There was no spitting, no punch ups, a gentle good humour and excited anticipation.
Jake Burns the wiry punk of thirty years ago is now a fat old bloke, very much in keeping with his audience, who between songs spoke of his battle with depression. Just as in 1980 he has incredible presence and when he thrashed out his Punk anthems like Nobody's Hero and Alternative Ulster there was no doubt, I was back in the 80s. So much so that Indi and I found ourselves in the mosh pit jumping around with all the other fat old punks, the light shimmering on a sea of bald heads and receding hairlines.
Then something happened. As I made occasional eye contact with those around me there was a sense of connection. The music resonated something I had long since forgotten and moved me to a place I would normally associate with meditation or heightened awareness. It was as if those dreams of youth, the willful rebellion ,the power of the lyrics were felt by all (or maybe just me) in what I can only really describe as a spiritual experience. A realisation of the connectedness of all, but at the same time a keen appreciation of my humanness.
In another world, in another space, in what felt at that moment as a lifetime ago (actually the night before on the telecall) I had been describing how the intense presence beyond egoic consciousness is available at all times, regardless of the circumstance, if only we could recognise and acknowledge it.
Well I got direct experience of that last night.
The spiritual experience is many things to many people but last night for me it was a loud, sweaty, joyful celebration of humanity. It was confirmation for me that there are no rules on how to realise the sublime. Meditation is great, yoga is brilliant, even take a Bony Nobbins course if you wish, it really doesnt matter how you get there, but acknowledge and appreciate when you are.
I'm just going to write my Punk Meditation course...any takers?.
Go easy, tread lightly, stay free
Bill