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Friday, 30 January 2015

He was the lens


I have been thinking a lot about my brother Mark, the brother who died almost 2 months ago.
For half of this life I have actively disliked him.
Mark has been the lens through which I have viewed myself. In knowing him, I have come to know me. Mark in many ways was my nightmare. I was desperately afraid that the remark from my parents "you are just like Mark" was correct and that I was indeed the mess that he so clearly was.
Thus I found my motivation. Because for three-quarters of it I have had not becoming like him as almost the only true goal I've had in life.
Mark was my Nemesis in the Classical meaning of the term., he was the Goddess waiting to deliver punishment should my own abundant arrogance grow too big for its own good. He was always the warning that should I get caught up in my own glory that I would fall. He was the nagging certainty that should I fail that the slope into the abyss was both nearby and very steep.
Mark was my most feared potential.
He was the shadow to my light.
Mark was the complete quiet to my raging, searing, shrieking passion.
He was the passive acceptance to my utter unwillingness to surrender.
He tolerated and understood what I did not.
Mark was the earthing point to the lightning that posessed me.
When I was at my most animated and sending bolts of thought and ideas,
Mark was at his quietest.
Whilst I have spent my life tearing myself apart in a relentless, ruthless quest to both know and reinvent myself. Demanding utter self knowledge and never for a moment listening to anyone else.
Mark accepted the opinions of others of him as a Truth.
Where I dared and challenged, harassed and badgered.
He accepted.
He ran and failed.
I stood and fought and wondered why the fuck I couldn't give in.
He doubted himself completely.
I never took my eyes off my self belief.
In all of my chaos,
In all of my demanding answers from the Gods,
There is one thing I have never understood.
Why didn't you fight!?
Why couldn't you shriek and rage?
Why with you being so much my opposite is there such a hole in me?
Why does a world without you seem that much emptier?
Why in a world where I am loved, is there that profound loneliness?
Perhaps because my brother you exemplified that better part of me.
You had the quiet where I was the noise.
You had the compassion where I had the scorn.
You had the contentment I will never know.
You were simply my brother.

Sunday, 11 January 2015

Loch Brewery & Distillery



I visited the charming Gippsland village of Loch last weekend. Loch is tiny, apart from the main street there isn't a lot to Loch....try say that when drunk...a lot to Loch.
What Loch does have is a brewery/ distillery. I'm always on the lookout for new beers & spirits.
I sampled the beers that this very new brewery has on offer. I couldn't sample the Gin they distilled just before Christmas because that sold quicker than I can drink....damn fast in other words. I also couldn't sample the whiskey they are making because that is currently being aged. Apparently vodka is also being distilled here...yet again I was left sad faced and unable to sample any.
The owners and brewers...whose names escaped me. Have decided to concentrate on their alcohol. So if you are wanting a meal with their fine wares you will need to buy it elsewhere and bring it to the brewery. Purists...we are here to brew and distill. They are sharing the wealth...there is some good food in either Loch itself or nearby Korumburra.
 
There are three beers on offer and their photo is above. A beautiful family snap if ever there was one.
The Amber Ale is crisp, bitter and clean. Surprisingly my four year old son was happy having a sip of Dads beer, so it isn't face puckeringly bitter. On a stinking hot summers day this would be perfect for easing the discomfort. I would drink it with fish or something quite fatty...pizza or a cold cuts platter...even antipasto.
The Best Bitter is less bitter than the Amber Ale. It is extremely drinkable. I wouldn't need either an excuse or a summers day to drink this. I would drink this with something simple....I'm having mental images of a very large glass of this beer and....I know hot dogs!!!! Yep, hot dogs with mustard, sourkraut...and weiswurst as the sausage. At the very least something Germanic in name, if not in origin.
The Dark Ale has coffee and chocolate over tones. For me this would work well as a dessert beer...chocolate mousse or 75% chocolate or even Black Forest Cake or with a game meat or fresh oysters. The combination of the chocolate, coffee and the saltiness and richness of the oysters would be utterly divine.
The beers aren't cheap...but then name a boutique brewery that is...they are about $8.50 a 500 ml bottle. They are a reason to stop in Loch on the weekend. The other place where you can buy them is the tourist information centre in Korumburra....none of the bottleshops or supermarkets in nearby towns stock the beers.
So I will give a sound cheer of encouragement. 4.5 glasses out of 5.

Belonging





As you know, I recently returned "home" to attend the funeral of my brother Mark. At the funeral I met "family" I literally hadn't seen in years, one for 30 of them.
Can we "belong" to people we don't know?
When I showed up at the cemetary to say goodbye to my brother I was someone that none of my siblings or my father had met before. Whatever version of me they had known or thought they had known has been swept away in the joyous whirlwind of change that the last seven years since I met Selina has been.

After the ceremony there was a wake. My first chance to meet people Selina had mentioned would be effectively strangers. And this is exactly what they were...strangers. We inhabited different mind sets, different outlooks, different ambitions, different life stories.
I was in a room of people who all knew each other and whether they liked each other or not, at least accepted each other. I was the unknown quantity and quality. I no longer share the same surname, instead the surname I have is one I chose for myself.
My life story has been utterly different from the stories the people who are my genetic brothers, sisters, father, aunt, cousin, niece, great niece, nephew and great nephew, brothers and sisters and fiance in-law have lived. I have physically and intellectually walked in places they barely know exist.
Whilst they have raised families and held down jobs, and been what society asks of them and little else. I have wandered. I have struggled with shadows. I have dreamt, thought, fought and cried. Finally I met and established a healthy relationship with what I am. I have sat down with my personal demons and beaten them at their own games. I have re-invented and reshaped myself so completely that I struggle to remember who it was that I started out as. Lately I have begun to rejoice in being an Aspergers. Being different no longer causes the pain it once did. Now I can accept the joy in having a mind that works in a very different way to the minds around me.
Being different is one thing. Attending university and being taught how to think is quite another. I have spent the last four years learning how to think in a way that my "family" does not, assuming they think at all. The last four years have turned my curiousity from an aimless, ill disciplined wanderer into a focus, into something that pursues facts with a devotion and an attention that is apparently quite the sight and by some opinions at least intimidating.
 The "operating system" of my mind has been changed and my intellect unshackled from the millstone of doubt during the course of being Tertiary educated. I know what I am and what it is that I want to do. I have the "big ticket approval" I have spent this lifetime so desperately wanting
Much of this is well known, I doubt if any of it is "news".
Still it leaves the question unanswered.
Biology isn't family. Mark himself proved as much. When he was dying the hypocrits who hijacked his funeral and mouthed insincere platitudes over his coffin were nowhere near him. More often than not Marks "family" were the people who treated him the worst. Yet he so hungered for and self identified as "belonging" to them, despite there being little or no evidence that they reciprocated these feelings.
For myself, I stood amongst this "family" and felt deeply alone. I knew and acknowledge that they have lived conventional lifetimes, yet I was unprepared for the gap that ached between them and myself. The gap "ached" because I had never expected it to be either so large or  to be such a space I was so unwilling to cross.
For them ET had entered the room and he talked about the places and thoughts he had been to. They struggled and ultimately abandoned the search for reference points and commonality. Yes, there once had been a little boy and then a teenager who had the same eyes. No, that person had left for the south a long time ago. And whilst someone who had the same eyes as that long departed little boy walked the room and took photo's with them, he was a memory to all of them. He was as dead as the man they had gathered to bury. The man in their midst was unknown.
To answer my own question.
No we can't "belong" to people we don't know.
Belonging requires knowledge and a shared identity, a shared history. Things I lack in regards to my birth "family".  And they are precisely what I do have with the family I am literally making myself. It is to Ariel, to Selina and to the as yet unborn Orson and William and whatever other children will bless this lifetime that I belong.
The Bowaters in Mackay....they are strangers I interacted with briefly and will likely never meet again. Whether I belong to them is a concept and a question that never enters the thoughts or dreams of any of us. It is irrelevant because it was answered the moment I entered the space they were in.
I entered that space not needing their acceptance or understanding and told them that in plain terms. In completing a Bachelor of Arts I have gained the acceptance of serious people. I also have the knowledge that I am by solid standards very good. I also took no effort in hiding what I am. I made no effort to hide the fact that in terms of intellect that there was a very clear intellect present in the room and I was the one who had it. They became aware that any time I wanted to I could rip them from whatever intellectual comfort zone they have...and still be at the entrance to what interests and motivates me. The deeper questions that occupy my pensiveness are beyond them. They inhabit a world unknown and unknowable to my "family".
When you are unrecognisable to the people you, on paper at least, "belong" to, then the question of belonging becomes irrelevant. In their company, the person I "belong" to is myself. I belong to the future I will have, a future that will be apart from and unknowable to the Bowaters.
I have answered my question.

Sunday, 21 December 2014

Positive Outcomes

 
I haven't been home all that long from attending my brother Marks funeral in Mackay, Queensland. I am extremely reluctant to let the death of my brother pass without some navel gazing.
One of the most irritating things I was told repeatedly by people who had no real idea of what they were talking about during the 4 days I was in Mackay was "You're just like your brother".  I found this deeply irritating because I am nothing like my brother, I didn't look like him and he and I couldn't have inhabited head spaces with less in common if we had tried.
My brother functionally committed suicide. I was told by my sister that whilst he had wet himself when he died....which we all do due to muscles relaxing....he hadn't shat himself. This means that he wasn't about to have a bowel motion....nothing in or near the rectum to expel. When I was helping clean my brothers flat out shortly after arrival on Tuesday December 16, I noticed that his pantry had a number of sweet biscuits, there was chocolate, there was Cola...the high fibre foods I had encouraged him to eat...were closed. This suggests that in his final weeks that my brother had abandoned a healthy diet and returned to one consisting solely of refined carbohydrates, sugars, caffeine and red meat. Precisely the type of diet that he had been eating prior to his first heart attack in March and cardiac unit at Mackay Base Hospital had told him not to eat. This decision to return to a diet that had nearly killed him at the start of the year was a conscious one. My brother had stopped making an effort at returning to health.
Mark's life was dominated by laziness and an unwillingness to take responsibility for his life. He took easily multiples of his own body weight in medications so that he wouldn't have to get to the messy business of dealing with his mental health issues. There was always going to be a magic tablet or new psychiatrist that would fix things for him.  Mark displayed a pathological aversion to what he needed to do and I have done. He never wanted to get his hands dirty dealing with the past and character flaws that handicapped him so clearly.
Mark wanted the positive results without the effort. The simple truth is that the world doesn't work this way. He once asked me: "What do you need to do Honours?"
I replied: "You need and passion. How fucking badly do you want it and how fucking passionate are you about it?"
This is true of life itself. The best lived lives have been those that have displayed deep passion for what they were living be it their loved ones, mountain climbing, literature, or research. The best lived lives are passionate events.
What also defines the best lived lives is responsbility.  We who live properly also take responsibility for who and what we are. We accept and admit our failures both as people and in the choices we make. You cannot rejoice in your success and passion without accepting your failures.
With my brothers life as an example of how not to live and die firmly in my mind, I have made the decision to deepen my commitment to the life changes I had begun implementing before he died. I will use my brothers failure to generate the motivation to seize the positive outcomes that he never did. My changes and decisions are permanent....just like my brothers were.

Sunday, 14 December 2014

A New Start


My brother has died. The body that held Mark Daniel Bowater is now a shell laying in a morgue in Mackay.
My brother, the person is now elsewhere.
Mark, as I've said numerous times, was a much nicer person than I am. He was kinder, gentler, more patient, slower to anger and much, much quicker to see the best in people. His entire life was dominated by people who he should never have given the time of day to. People who undermined him and set him up to fail. The person who did this consistently throughout his life was his own father.
Raymond Bowater just never gave Mark a break. He bullied, criticised, undermined and encouraged the worst in Mark. Mark was abused by his parents. He was different and for this he was treated appallingly. His parents beat him with the cord from an electric jug, he was fed dog food and he was never made feel that he mattered to them. In this time my parents would have been charged with abuse.
Mark kept his father in his life until relatively recently. The incident that helped Mark make the decision to exit his father from his life was the complete lack of concern by his father when Mark had his 2nd heart attack. Mark was argued with and told the doctors were wrong. Our father knew better.  I remember Mark telling me that this was when he knew that his father just didn't care...and this realisation hurt Mark deeply.
Mark was angry, deeply angry. He felt betrayed by his parents. He spent his entire life wanting to be loved by them and they had treated him like shit. He intensely disliked most of his siblings.
My brother wasn't perfect.
He desperately wanted to be liked by people and that was his single biggest failing. Because of the complete absence of parental affection, Mark spent most of his life seeking acceptance and love. He rarely found it. I wondered out loud to Mark about a year ago, that I have so much "cunt" in me and he so little. Mark was spineless and allowed people to treat him badly. I understand that this was because his parents had planted the message very early in his life that he was worthless.
Mark was a passenger in life and never took charge of it. He was also lazy. He wanted a magic pill to solve his many problems. The absence of "cunt" meant that he never adopted a combative approach to dealing with his anxiety and other mental health issues and because of this has left this lifetime with them intact.
I hope that death has given Mark the new start he so desperately needed. He certainly wasn't going to create one. Nor were his "family" ever going to start treating him as they always should have.
I love him dearly and will miss him for a very long time. I tried to encourage Mark to be the person he should have been. And it is because of this that I know that I at least treated him as he should have been treated.
Not skillful this entry. It is however, honest.

Wednesday, 3 December 2014

Was Aung San a Minlaung?




 Was Aung San a charismatic leader in a Western sense, or was he a uniquely Burmese creature who used concepts deeply rooted in the Burmese psyche and worldview?
I actually had to look up charisma. The word is used so frequently that I wanted to know if I was understanding it properly. The website: oxfordictionaries.com, had this to say on charisma:

Definition of charisma
Noun
1 [mass noun] compelling attractiveness or charm that can inspire devotion in others: he has tremendous charisma and stage presence
2 (plural charismata /kəˈrɪzmətə/) a divinely conferred power or talent.
Origin:
Mid17th century (in charisma (sense 2)): via ecclesiastical Latin from Greek kharisma, from kharis 'favour, grace'

And this definition certainly seems to describe Aung San.

In their essay “The Rise and Role of Charismatic Leaders” published in the Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science in 1965, Ann and Dorothy Wilner argue that charismatic leaders are more likely to arise in periods of intense change, in times of transition where the established order is being supplanted by a new order that hasn’t quite fully come into being. Charismatic leaders according to the Wilner’s are leaders who are without exception unifying figures. They co-opt cultural symbols. They have the ability to inspire love. Even their enemies admit to succumbing to their appeal. In a Burmese context this is true of the Minlaung, the Righteous King. It is certainly true of Aung San, every author I examined, from Viscount Field Marshal Slim to Maung-Maung, without exception remarks on Aung San’s charm[1]. Even in the midst of criticising other traits such as arrogance, these men observed that Aung San possessed a deep charisma. The Minlaung, holds a deeply central place in the Burmese concept of politics[2]. The Minlaung appear regularly in Burmese history, every time a dynasty begins to lose its hold on power, a Minlaung arises to set things straight again, they are part of the natural order of things. Far from being a relic of the past, the Minlaung is still a powerful force in Burmese politics into the 21st Century[3].

What isn’t mentioned by the Wilner’s as a characteristic of charismatic leadership and certainly applies to Aung San, is his extraordinary intelligence. Aung San was one of the intellectual elite in the Burma of his time. Only Aung San’s political activities prevented him from completing his studies at the University of Rangoon. Had Aung San not fallen in love with politics, and in particular independence politics, he was assured of a leading role in Burma.

In “Burma: A Socialist Nation in S.E Asia”, Steinberg remarks that Aung San was viewed by some of his followers as a reincarnation of King Alaungpaya who ruled Burma between 1714 and 1760[4]. I found this deeply curious until I researched Alaungpaya.  Alaungpaya it turns out happens to be the Burmese equivalent of the Siamese monarch Chulangkorn the Great[5], who ruled between 1868 and 1910. Chulangkorn is the monarch who succeeded in avoiding Siam being colonised by the Western powers Britain and France and brought much of what is modern Thailand under the governance of Bangkok.  Alaungpaya not only founded the last dynasty in Burma, he also expelled the British in their first attempt at controlling Burma and excluded the French permanently.

The similarities between Alaungpaya and Aung San are obvious. Both of them expel the foreign coloniser, which in both cases happened to be the British, and they both unify Burma, or in Aung Sans’ case, making an effort to. Both were from relatively humble backgrounds and both of them were militarily successful. Both are remarked on for the depth of their charisma. Both emerge in a time of change. With the connection to Alaungpaya, Aung San is directly connected to the last time the Burmese were powerful and independent. At the time of his death Aung San was involved in trying to bring the ethnic minorities into the fold of a unified Burma. He is a centralising figure who is directly connected to a glorious past.

This seemed as far as the connection would go. At the point where I was about to throw my hands up in frustration at just where this essay wasn’t going, I came across an essay by Susanne Prager that tied Aung San into an aspect of Burmese culture that I have hitherto been ignorant of, and it changed everything. In her essay “The Coming of the "Future King": Burmese Minlaung Expectations Before and During the Second World War” published in the Journal of Burma Studies Volume 8 in 2003, Prager writes of a Burmese prophecy that British rule would end and that a “future or righteous king” would arise, we have already met this person and he is called the Minlaung.  

In 1939, a certain verse was very popular in Rangoon, perhaps the British knew of it, if they did, they apparently didn’t understand it.  The version of it in Prager’s essay is below.

And on the lake a Brah’miny duck alights
When with a bow a hunter bold, he killed it;
The umbrella rod laid low the hunter bold
But the rod by Thunderbolt was struck.

Prager writes that the verse was pregnant with Millenarian symbolism, with the lake being the Burmese Kingdom of Ava, the duck being the Burmese ethnic group the Mon who had been a major power in the South-east Asian mainland, the hunter being no less than Alaungpaya, last two lines of this short verse referred to the British who are the umbrella rod and that a thunderbolt was about to lay them low. Little wonder that when the Japanese invaded and rapidly vanquished the British, that they were viewed as the thunderbolt. The point is, that in 1939 the Burmese were viewing British rule as an event that was about to end. A view that no doubt caused much amusement in the halls of colonial power in Rangoon and beyond, for the British had no plans to leave Burma. In this Millenarian world view, the appearance of the Minlaung was only a matter of time. In fact he was not only expected, if anything, he was late. The portents for the appearance of the Minlaung were everywhere, the rice crops were failing, the countryside was in disorder, the peasants were becoming homeless, morals were collapsing and the Sangha and Buddhism were in decline. The Minlaung was about to set aright what was awry.

As if the above was not enough, there were events happening in Burma that were a great deal more pregnant with change and symbolism than the British apparently realised. An entire culture was in the process of orientating itself towards their expulsion.
Whereas the newly established alliance was called “Freedom Bloc” in the English language, in Burmese it was called Htwet Yat Gaing, “Association of the Way Out.” This term alluded to a prevailing omen about the impending arrival of a magician, weikza Bo Bo Aung, who was supposed to help the Burmese in driving out the British and who would finally enthrone the Minlaung, the king to-come. After a public meeting of the Freedom Bloc in June 1940 in Mandalay, many Burmese testified that Bo Bo Aung had already revealed himself in the famous Mahamuni Pagoda (Ba Maw1968:93).

I believe that the name of the association is deeply significant. It operates on at least two different levels. The first level, as Prager argues above, is the level that is directly connected with the Minlaung, the other level is the implication that this association was The Way Out….of British Rule. That it is tied into the Minlaung prophecy only deepened the level of significance of the association for the Burmese and the depth of grief that was about to befall the British in Burma. To put it simply, the British were about to have a prophecy fall on them. I am left wondering whether the Japanese in a way actually did the British a favour by expelling them from Burma in a relatively tidy fashion when they invaded, for the impending revolt by large sections of the Burman population would have been messy to say the least.


We must remind ourselves that the Burmese in common with other Buddhist cultures, view time as cyclical, not linear. Understanding this is crucial to understanding events in Burmese history and it is not uncommon for non-Buddhist Westerners to experience difficulties with understanding time as being something other than linear. The Buddhist teaching of Anicca (Impermanence) means that dynasties, even foreign ones, are viewed in Buddhism and Buddhist cultures as ephemeral things. They come, they go. They arise, grow old and die, just like everything else. The colonial rule of the British was, in Burmese eyes, fated to end even as it was beginning. The British would come, and they would go, and the Burmese and their culture would remain.

 Another aspect of Buddhism that we must remember, and it is directly related to Aung San, Alaungpaya and the Minlaung prophecy, is the Buddhist teaching on Rebirth/Reincarnation. In Buddhism it is entirely logical and possible that you could have been in a past life someone such as King Alaungpaya. It was entirely logical and possible that Aung San could be/ could have been Alaungpaya. Theravada Buddhism teaches that it is possible to remember our past lifetimes. Alaungpaya himself as it happens, was a Minlaung.

Prager writes that the Nationalists in Burma actively co-opted the Minlaung for their own ends. Every action undertaken by Burmese Nationalists according to Prager, must be seen through this lens. Aung San and the Nationalists in Burma made calculated use of the Minlaung prophecy and were careful to be seen behaving in accordance with Burmese expectations and traditions associated with the prophecy. The formation of the “Thirty Comrades” was meant to fulfil the Minlaung prophecy. The blood drinking ceremony were loyalty is sworn, is a classic Minlaung tradition. Even the presence of a cadre of blood tied band of brothers is a Minlaung symbol. That Aung San and the Thirty Comrades left Burma and returned with the Japanese Army didn’t adversely affect the prophecy. What mattered to the Burmese was that they were Burmese fighting for Burmese independence.

According to Prager, Aung San went one step further and explicitly identified with the prophecy and presented himself as embodying the essence of the Minlaung. Aung San also identified himself as the current rebirth of King Alaungpaya (something it must be noted that his daughter cannot do, as she was alive at the time her father died. Su Kyi, however has been identified as another deeply powerful Buddhist concept. She has been identified as a Bodhisattva[6]). In Burmese terms, Aung San wrapped himself in a cloak made from two very potent threads of Burmese culture. Not only was he a Minlaung coming to restore order to Burma, he was also the last successful Minlaung returning to once again free his people from the British. Which of course with the help of the Japanese, he duly did. Aung San and the Burmese Nationalists took great care to fulfil and to be seen as fulfilling every aspect of the Minlaung. They very much wanted to be seen as fulfilling the verse I quoted earlier. We can imagine the utter potency of this to the average Burman. Aung San is not only a Minlaung which whilst important in a Burmese context, are hardly rare, he is also the embodiment of a man the Burmese looked back on with affection and pride, Alaungpaya was the last strong Burmese ruler…and he had returned for his people in their hour of need. I am left wondering whether the British ever stood a chance against such a man.

Now I will wrap this essay up. In it I have shown that Aung San was a charismatic leader, as defined by Anne and Ruth Wilner. Aung San essentially ticks all the boxes that the Wilner’s defined charismatic leaders as, in that he arose as a leader in a time of deep change, he co-opted cultural symbols, in this case the Minlaung and King Alaungpaya and he concentrated power into himself. The charismatic leader according to the Wilner’s is essential to the success of change and not too many of them are democrats by nature. Aung San is nowhere recorded as being what would be regarded in the West as a democrat[7]. What Aung San is, is a uniquely Burmese example of a charismatic leader, he was a Minlaung. At that point in time he was a completely new form of grief for the British, in that he was Western educated, understood modern Western politics and used deeply Burmese concepts in his efforts to remove the British from Burma.  Aung San stood astride two very different world views and used them brilliantly to achieve his goal of Burmese independence. Aung San was a charismatic leader, a Minlaung par excellence.

With this I give this essay into your gentle hands.



References
Aung-Thwin. M “The Return of the Galon King: History, Law and Rebellion in Colonial Burma”.
Baker. C and Phongpaichit. P “A History of Thailand”.
 Maung-Maung “Aung San of Burma”.
McCarthy. S “The Buddhist Political Rhetoric of Aung San Su Kyi” page 78 of Contemporary Buddhism: An Interdisciplinary Journal. Published online February 17 2007
Prager. S  The Coming of the "Future King": Burmese Minlaung Expectations Before and During the Second World War” published in the Journal of Burma Studies Volume 8 in 2003.
Slim. Field Marshal Sir William “Defeat into Victory”.
Smith. M “Burma: Insurgency and The Politics of Ethnicity”.
Steinberg. D “Burma: A Socialist Nation in S.E Asia”.
Steinberg. D “Burma: What Everyone Needs to Know”



[1] Slim. Field Marshal Sir William “Defeat into Victory” pages 500-5. Maung-Maung “Aung San of Burma” pages 5-15.
[2] Aung-Thwin. M “The Return of the Galon King: History, Law and Rebellion in Colonial Burma”.
[3] Smith. M “Burma: Insurgency and The Politics of Ethnicity” page 455
[4] Steinberg. D “Burma: A Socialist Nation in S.E Asia” page 114
[5] Baker. C and Phongpaichit. P “A History of Thailand” pages 52-8.
[6] McCarthy. S “The Buddhist Political Rhetoric of Aung San Su Kyi” page 78 of Contemporary Buddhism: An Interdisciplinary Journal. Published online February 17 2007
[7] Steinberg. D “Burma: What Everyone Needs to Know” page 142.

Sunday, 16 November 2014

A poem by Kipling...thanks to Nicci Brunt

IF.....


IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise: If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!