A Trip to Lyveden New Bield

Lyveden New Bield is an Elizabethan building project unfinished to this day. Located in East Northamptonshire, it is now a National Trust property.

This grand shell was meant to be a summer house. It has been standing like this, without a roof since 1605, when - on the death of its owner - work was abandoned never to be resumed.

It tells the story of a rich family brought not only to ruin, but to extinction. The building was started by Sir Thomas Tresham, a staunch catholic, openly opposing the then newly created Church of England. The extortionate fines the family had to pay for not attending Anglican Mass were ruinous. Sir Thomas Tresham spent time in prison because of his religious convictions. His son, Francis was involved in the Gunpowder Plot and died in the Tower of London awaiting trial. His spendthrift son, Lewis lost whatever was left of the family's wealth.

I visited the place this summer and I took in the story with very mixed feelings. I would have sympathised a lot more with Sir Thomas' devotion to his faith had I not heard how he made his fortune. It was in the time when sheep was more profitable than having peasants work the land and sir Thomas had no qualms charging extortionate rents and driving the peasants off his land in pursuit of profit.

It was touching to see the never fired bread oven in the never used kitchen in that house that never got to be a home. And I could sympathise with Sir Thomas' homely pursuits – his letters show how he was thinking of his orchard and garden even when a prisoner in the Tower. But there was also the uncomfortably low back door for the servants. Even short people would have had to bend to get through it – what must have been like having to pass through that door tens of times a day, every day of ones working life? And – in the same vein – the back of the house was planned so that the comings and goings of the servants would be hidden from view – an eyesore that could not be tolerated to obtrude into aristocratic eyes.

I would have liked Sir Thomas better if he had cared a tad less about religious symbols and more about the many people working away to put money into his purse and to keep him comfortable in his home. On the way back from Lyveden I found myself thinking that compassion and true kindness have a timeless quality, which our truths - be they religious or scientific - very rarely, if ever, attain.

Vegetarianism – How Non-Violent Can You Get?

Over the two decades since I started practising yoga, I have met a good number of vegetarians. Many of them had given up meat despite the fact that they used to like it – out of commitment to non-violence. But does vegetarianism really mean putting food on your table with no animals being killed in the process? I myself have some doubts on that score. Just because we don't eat chicken, beef and pork, it does not mean we are getting our food entirely without sacrificing other lives.

We don't eat them, we eat their food
There are tens of species classified as pests in the UK only, from the notorious slugs and aphids to the less known carrot and onion flies. The monoculture way we grow our crops these days makes it very easy for pests to spread and multiply. If they had all the food they wanted, we wouldn't get our grains, fruit and vegetables.

We are taking over their habitats
Just by being alive, we are squeezing other species out of existence. We humans are reducing the habitats of countless other species, driving many to extinction. And not only the wildebeests, antelopes, big cats and elephants of Africa. It happens on every continent, in all places where humans live or have economic interests.

The inescapable fact is that being and staying alive on this planet involves a fierce completion for resources – food, drinkable water and physical space. This fact is sometimes difficult to square with our neatly laid out ethical principles. The living world has grown along food chains – many animals eat other animals. We humans are fortunate in our ability to get nourishment from a very wide range of foods. So we don't have to sacrifice other lives in order to preserve our own, but only up to a point. Take a closer look and non-violence is not as straightforward as it first appears to be. Even using disinfectant and house cleaning products means purposefully killing countless micro-organisms. Where does non-violence to other creatures end and inflicting violence on yourself begin?

Perhaps it is easier for us to maintain the view that all life is sacred if we avoid taking the lives of other creatures. The fact remains that in this world a life is often sacrificed in order to sustain another life. I do not think life is any less sacred for that reason. And there is all the more reason to be grateful for being alive. If you've ever watched Bruce Lee's film “The Silent Flute”, you may remember this dialogue:
“A fish saved my life once” says the master.
“How?” asks the disciple
“I ate it.”

We are extremely lucky these days to have the choice of so many foods and be well-fed vegetarians if we so choose. Looking at human history, it seems to me that this is more the exception than the rule. Even today there are parts of the world where life is tough and any kind of food is precious.

My own reason for being a vegetarian – or, I should say “mostly vegetarian” – is that it suits me. I feel better and healthier on a vegetarian diet. The reason for this “mostly” it that, as I've grown older, I have become less of a purist. Years ago, if I was a guest in somebody's house and they took the trouble to prepare a meal, I would have told them I was a vegetarian. These days, if the hosts ask, I will just tell them not to trouble themselves – I will eat whatever there is. And be grateful. True, I am no longer the committed vegetarian I use to be. I may be in danger of crossing the line to an outright omnivorous diet. But there is a silver lining – I am safe from the temptation to look down on non-vegetarians. At least in that quarter, I am delivered from arrogance.

Hermann Hesse's "Siddhartha"

I love allegories and symbols and there are plenty of them to be found in Hesses' books. Of the ones I read by this author, Siddhartha is my favourite.

The beginning of Hesse's story is similar to the legend of Buddha, but without any suggestion that  Siddhartha is of godly descent or even royal. He is a brahman's son, growing up in a comfortable home, taught by learned brahmans. He is a very gifted pupil, but the truth he is seeking is not to be found in the teachings of the brahmans. So Siddhartha decides to leave his father's house and become an itinerant ascetic. He spends the next few years learning concentration and meditation, practising self-denial, learning to conquer pain, hunger, thirst and fatigue - all in an effort to transcend his ego and discover the innermost part of his being, that reflection of the divine, the ultimate reality.

These many years of asceticism have not brought Siddhartha any closer to the the truth he seeks. (This is the point where the story departs from the legend altogether and Hesse's originality begins to shine). As Siddhartha realises asceticism is not the path, he hears rumours about Gautama the Sublime, the Buddha. He leaves the ascetics and goes to meet the Buddha and hear his teachings.

Seeing and listening to the Buddha convinces Siddhartha that “this man was filled with truth down to the least movement of his smallest finger”. Yet Siddhartha resolves that he will not become Buddha's disciple. Having met the wisest teacher, having heard the best possible doctrine, he realises wisdom cannot be taught. The only way to find wisdom is through his own experience, following his own path. A path which he begins to shape as he understands that his past attempts to destroy his self through asceticism and self-mortification were a futile effort, a self-deceit. Instead, from that day on, he would seek to know himself. "No longer shall I mortify and dismember myself in order to find a mystery behind the ruins." Equally, he will stop treating reality as an illusion, "the veil of Maya". The essence is not separate from the world around us, hidden behind things, but manifest in every thing.

His new path takes him further and further away from yoga and any form of self-discipline. He even seems to have forgotten his spiritual journey. As the brahman and the yogi fade away, so does the arrogance that shadowed these identities. As Siddhartha's weaknesses become apparent, so does his humanity - that which he has in common with all other human beings. The wisdom that has eluded the gifted pupil of both the brahmans and the ascetics, finally begins to dawn on him. Very slowly, his years of youth behind him, Siddhartha eventually becomes a sage - someone who has found contentment, who is at peace with the world and with himself.