Both Bryan and I were up at sparrow fart on our different land masses (Wales and Boston), to rendez-vous at Exter Station and drive to Totness. ‘He’s worth it’, we both agreed. He had changed both our lives, and these shifting moments were rich to reflect and recognise, and this a good moment: to celebrate Christopher’s 80th year on this earth.
Over 25 years ago now Bryan and I had met at a Budhgaya retreat, led by Christopher. My first taste of Buddhism, my first 10 day retreat. I’d been in India for nearly 2 years, helping to set up Greenpeace with Bob, learning about India, activism, Bob and India, and was suddenly aware that I had not lifted my head from those absorbing roadways, to see all around me the spiritual dimension. I took a train to Patna ostensibly to see Laloo Prasad Yadav, Chief Minister of Bihar (around 1995-1997) who intrigued me, accused of what was called the Animal Fodder Scam (convicted I see not until 2017!), but still loved and voted for. In his Trump like style, Laloo had called a Railala to gather support from his people. I noticed Budhgaya was a ;short’ train ride from Patna and so I thought I could ‘kill two birds with one stone’. After an 8 hour train ride, the day I arrived in Budhgaya Holi started. While this is a sweet spring festival of colours celebrated throughout India, in Bihar they throw bullets, and there was a curfew. I, the restless traveller, was a prisoner in the Burmese Vihar for 2-3 days. So it was, as I paced the restricted Vihar, on a notice board I found written on a faded piece of paper: ‘Christopher Titmus, Buddhist meditation retreat, January’. He was English, he would speak my tongue, he would do, I thought. Unusually I held to that commitment from March through to January when I returned to Budhgaya, and sat in the Thai temple, at the back of the Hall, for 10 days. There I met Sugata, whose life story I would write. There I sat next to Jaya Ashmore, whose retreat in Satal I would help support a few years later. There I met Bryan who would become my lover. There I questioned my belief/value roots, christian and other, and found them wanting. There I began my pilgrimage to the Buddha, Dharma, Sanga, through the teachings of Christopher Titmus. It was not always a smooth path and often I feel a very lightweight practicioner, but it has been a path I am most grateful for.
Just as dogs and I returned from brief walk after our 4 hour drive, Bryan’s train pulled in, and he walked out of Exeter Station – it felt like sweet synchronicity. Unchanged he is, now at 72 years amazingly. “I’ve had 4 letters published in the New York Times last year, which is unheard of. I’m in contact with the editor on first name terms.”
We gathered. What was it – 20 plus years later. ‘You’ve grown up’, I say to Ian, last seen in France. Christopher Dance, who has become an extraordinary activist, musician, who I see, with admiration on Facebook, laying down in a road, marching, holding vigil. From East Anglia (Chelmsford) via 10 years in India, he has settled comfortably in Totness, the people and climate suit him well.
According to Bryan, Christopher disliked surprises. He took it well. Entering the room, he stood still. As we 100+ eyes looked at him, clapped, sang happy birthday, he moved his head and eyes around the room twice if not three times. Testaments from those unable to come were relayed over a large screen at the end. A pleasure to see familiar faces, Odelia, Jaya, . It also begged news of others: David Martin?
Bryan: Christopher once told me to take a year off. I took 15.
Who would we be and where would we be, if we had not met Christopher, Bryan and I asked ourselves. Perhaps living some middle class life in an English village, perhaps teaching like my mother did. Bryan – yes, perhaps i’d be married with kids, teaching science. ‘I think of death every day’.
The venue, Hotel 7 Stars was by the Dart river running through Totness, and at the end Ian, Chris, Bryan I and 3 dogs walked along its river bank, breathing in the wild garlic.
Belinda, our Air BnB host, gave us good welcome into her home. She was extraordinarily gracious and accepting of having to wake me at mid night to let me know the dogs in the van were barking disturbing the neighbours. I collected Bobji and Brow, who shared in his unforgivng way, Bryans bed. Only sporadic sleep as I strained to hear if Kali was barking, and finally got up at 5, dawn breaking, and walked the dogs through footpaths. So it was I found Dartington, only a mile up the road, with its green table cafe, giant swampy tree, story, exhibition of Ben Nicholson’s daughters work. Even more excited to see an Agroforestry project beside one of the footpaths.
Later over breakfast, a somewhat fascinating conversation with Belinda, who described Dartington’s decline (mis management by London Trustees, and lack of vision). After Dartington College of Arts, (established 1961), was absorbed by Falmouth university in 2008, nothing took it’s place to build year on year. Belinda had an impressive way of expressing herself. I liked her.
I dropped off Bryan back in Totness, and dogs and I began the long journey back to Wales, to resume that story. Some conversations resonating along the way. Are you writing still, some had asked, reminding me that that was my passion then, writing the story of Sugata. Where was the girl who fell in love with Bryan then? He could not fathom the dogs, or my time with them, or look out into the land. And that was why I had loved him then, for he stopped the doing me, and paved a way into my head and heart. That time was gone, but I smiled to remember it, behind a wheel of a van, glad for it’s existence.
Kalikellett 