There was a time when I wanted to be a Roman Catholic. I was reading G.K Chesterton and he had me backed into a corner with the bludgeoning force of his wordplay . Like Chesterton I had a craving for authority in my life. It's one of the deepest of human needs, I think- the need to belong to a pack and the need of the pack to have a leader. Thankfully it can be outgrown.

I love the art of the Middle Ages- which is, of course, overwhelmingly and inescapably Catholic. Catholicism was the air they breathed back then.

Catholic art went wrong at the Reformation. It ceased to be a universal language and became parochial. It was no longer entirely sure of itself and became hectoring on the one hand and sentimental on the other. The first artist to display these tendencies is Michelangelo. After him, the deluge. There is no Catholic art worth a damn after the 17th century.

I suppose I should say something about Catholic teaching. Insofar as that teaching is specifically Catholic as opposed to broadly Christian it is obviously piffle. Totalitarian piffle, at that.

The modern church reposes on the glory of its past. We cut it some slack because it built Rouen and Chartres and once employed Michelangelo. But that's the only thing that differentiates it from outfits like Scientology or The Unification Church. And if one of those were to be hit by something on the scale of the Irish paedophile scandal we'd have no hesitation in calling it an "evil cult".

Charon, the ferryman of the dead, has survived into modern Greek folklore (or, at least, 19th century Greek folkore) as a personification of death- part angel, part bogeyman. My friend sovay posted some fascinating material about him yesterday- which prompted this....

The Lord Charon

For Sovay

He is not a lord like Milord Byron;

None of us is beneath his notice.

He sits in bushes and spies on us.

When the moment is right we go into his sack.

He empties that sack in a dreary garden

Where souls are planted in long straight rows,

Sending up leaves as thick as your hand

And a stalk with clusters of shiny, black fruit.

THE THOUGHTS OF SENG TSAN

1. Choose at random, shake the dice; when any old road is as good as another the journey is pleasant.

2. Never state a preference. The only way to paradise is not to desire it.

3. When you prefer one thing to another you are declaring War.

4. The whole world belongs to you until you start to discriminate.

5. You can be busy or you can be still; These are not opposite states but different expressions of the Unity.

6. The meaning is in the root not in leaf or flower. Understand the inner self and you understand the world.

7. History is an illusion. The quest for truth is futile. Merely stop having opinions.

8. Forget about right and wrong; these terms are simply confusing.

9. Right and wrong both proceed from the Unity- and both betray it. Be clear about this and the complexity of the world will no longer puzzle you.

10. When right and wrong no longer puzzle you, they disappear. When the mind is in repose, it ceases to be. To quieten the mind let go of its object, let go of the object and quieten the mind.

11. The one who thinks and the one who is thought about both proceed from the Unity.

12. You and I are one in the Unity and each contains everything that exists. When everything that exists is one and the same how can prejudice arise? Walk the road in calm acceptance. Nothing is easy; nothing is hard. Opinions create difficulties. More haste, less speed.

13. Desire is never moderate. Desire is always mistaken. Let it go and things become clear. Nothing you do can alter their essence.

14. Take things as they come, and the journey will be smooth; you will suffer no annoyance. Desire fogs the vision and makes our thinking sluggish and faulty.

15. Prejudiced thinking disturbs the soul, so what is the point of it? If you wish to make the most of your life you must love the world as it is.

16. When we love the world as it is we show we understand it. The wise let things be but the ignorant are restless. In truth all things are worthy of love, but the ignorant pick and choose. They create illusions and fall madly in love with them: How ridiculous this is.

17. The ignorant are torn by desire but the wise have no likes and dislikes. Good and evil, right and wrong, the lovely and unlovely- all are illusions, conjuring tricks, insubstantial pageants. Reach for them and your hand goes through them.
18. Without sleeping there is no dreaming. The unified mind loves the world without desiring it. When we see all things as manifestations of the Unity we are back in paradise.
19. When you cease to ask, “why?” you have attained eternity. Where is the motion when the wheel stops? Where is its repose when it moves again? Stop thinking in abstracts and even Unity becomes a meaningless term.

20. In the end there are no rules. The philosopher finds the roots of all actions in himself.

21. Retain nothing, remember nothing. All is empty; all is light, pure, tranquil, full of repose. Neither thought nor imagination will bring you to this.

22. In eternity there is no me, there is no you. When asked who you are, reply, “undivided”.

23. All is equal to the undivided mind. It contains all that is. The wise of every nation share this knowledge.

24. This knowledge exists beyond time and space. It experiences eternity in an hour. It embraces all possibilities.

25. The grain of sand is no smaller than the universe.

26. The real and the unreal: what is the difference? Shun the place where they think they know the answer.

27. The One in All, the All in One- understand this and you can forget about your spirituality.

28. Where there is wisdom there is no conflict. Where there is no conflict there is wisdom. My words exist in time, but time does not exist.

The Times just published a list of the 100 best books of the Noughties. I find I'm familiar with about six of them. One or two others are sitting on my shelves waiting for me to overcome my reluctance and take them down. The book I'm reading at the moment- Jonathan Littell's The Kindly Ones- get's in at #67. Whoever wrote the notes calls Maximiliam Aue- Littell's narrator- "incredibly nasty"- which rather misses the point. If Aue were just another evil nazi and not- as he actually is- charming, thoughtful and morally plausible the book wouldn't be nearly as disturbing.

We were at the edge of last night's great storm. A little to the north of us they had heavy rain and flooding. Ailz says she'd like to have all the chimneys taken out, but I rather like to hear the wind whimpering in the flue.

I was watching a documentary about traffic wardens in the City of Westminster yesterday evening; it showed a very bad side of human nature. If wardens were there to assist the public and enforce the law it would be one thing, but they're not; they're there to make money for the private company that's running the show. As one of the wardens complained- more in sorrow than in anger- the system lacks "spirituality". The wardens- under pressure to issue lots of tickets- turn mean and sneaky, which makes their victims angry- which makes the world an uglier place- and all to make a small number of rich folk even richer.

CANOPUS, HERAKLEION, MENOUTHIS

Once they danced here in tavernas,

Pigged on cakes and calimari,

Shagged divinely in the myrtles,

Praised Serapis, Lord of plenty,

While the flute-song, lightsome, winsome

Jigged above the sounds of water.

Light, bright water, sun-shot water,

Thickening as the diver searches

Silts in which white marbles sicken.

The Romans only had symbols for numbers up to a thousand, so how did they cope with really big numbers- a million for instance? Surely they didn't write MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM......?  This was keeping me awake last night. 

I looked up the answer this morning. You put a bar across the top of a number and that shows you've multiplied it by a thousand. So a million is M with a bar across the top.  

Like so....



Simplicity itself!