Ashton Boatman

Concerning Subud

This blog is mainly about my work on the wooden boats but, consistently, by far the most common keywords used to find it are "Subud Cult". This is strange as I've only made a couple of references to Subud and the Latihan. However, as I've been saying on the Subud Facebook page that we need to stop hiding our lights under bushels, I thought I'd better try to explain it a bit.

Let me begin by pointing out that I do not do cults or gurus and have never joined any religion (Subud is very clear about being an adjunct to faith, not a religion in it's own right).

The problem is, where to begin. Subud is weird. It is very weird, but it's also very real. My lifelong search has been for reality among all the illusions of the World and in Subud I think I've found it.

Now for the weird bit. Subud began in the mid 1920s when a young railway booking clerk was out for a walk and saw a light in the sky. This came down to engulf him and he had an intense spiritual experience that went on for months.

Have I lost you yet?

The man realised that he could and should pass a little bit of what he had experienced to others, so he did. A little group of people were "opened" to it in his homeland of Indonesia (then a Dutch colony). Those who had been 'opened' were able to experience at will, normally in 30 minute sessions, a spiritual exercise called the Latihan, which is Indonesian for 'Exercise', An organisation was formed to administer it which was called Subud, short for Susila Buddhi Dharma,

Susila Budhi Dharma is a book written by Muhammad Subuh Sumohadiwidjojo, the founder of the World Subud Association, in the city of Jogjakarta, Indonesia, in 1952. Its name corresponds to the three main qualities that are to be developed through the training in the Subud path. The name "Subud" is a contraction of these three Javanese words of Sanskrit derivation.

In the 1950s the practise of the Latihan was spread Worldwide, reaching Britain in 1957. Here it was taken up enthusiastically by many people who had been involved in Gurdjieff work.http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_Gurdjieff and particularly J G Bennett http://www.bennettbooks.org/AboutJGB.html

I joined in 2006 as a result of a strange combination of events. I feel like I was led to it. Joining Subud is not easy. They make you wait 3 months to make sure that you are serious. Subud is not eager to recruit spiritual tourists but only those who are genuinely interested in growing their spirits.

After my 3 month wait I was opened. This is when the ability to experience the Latihan is passed on. After answering a simple series of questions satisfactorily one of the more senior members said the words "I open you" * and the Latihan began. I stood there with my eyes closed wondering what on earth I'd got myself into. People around me were calling out "Allah" or stomping round like a native American war dance. This is nonsense I thought, then my hands became as heavy as lead and I had to lower myself to the floor. When my hands touched the floor the weight went away, but as soon as I lifted away they became heavy again. When the Latihan was over we all went to the kitchen for a cup of tea. Emuna, my partner (then known as Marilyn) told me that i had gone as red as a beetroot. Something had happened that was extraordinary, but I didn't know what.

Since then I've done the Latihan regularly. In the Latihan you stand still and wait. Amazingly, things happen without you willing them. My Latihan developed from simple twitches through walking backwards and spinning to loud, sometimes operatic, singing. What's the point? I don't know, but I am now in many ways a better person. It's very hard to explain, but I wouldn't go back to my pre Latihan existence for all the tea in China. In 7 years I've only met a couple of people in Subud who I haven't liked and I've never been asked for money. I've only once felt slightly pressured to study the writings and talks of the founder, who is known as Bapak ( Indonesian for Grandfather) as his real name is quite a challenge to Westerners. There certainly are people who treat Bapak as a demigod and would like it to be a cult with strict rules, but, at least in Britain, it's a very free and democratic set up. Although Bapak was, like most Indonesians, a Muslim, I've never known any pressure to join that faith. Having joined describing myself as 'vaguely Pagan' I now call myself a Panentheist

Panentheism (meaning "all-in-God", from the Ancient Greek πᾶν pân, "all", ἐν en, "in" and Θεός Theós, "God") is the belief that the divine interpenetrates every part of the universe and extends, timelessly (and, presumably, spacelessly) beyond it. Unlike pantheism, which holds that the divine and the universe are identical,^[1] panentheism maintains a distinction between the divine and non-divine and the significance of both.^[2]

In pantheism, the universe and everything included in it is equal to the Divine, but in panentheism, the universe and the divine are not ontologically equivalent. God is viewed as the soul of the universe, the universal spirit present everywhere, in everything and everyone, at all times. Some versions suggest that the universe is nothing more than the manifestation of God. In some forms of panentheism, the cosmos exists within God, who in turn "transcends", "pervades" or is "in" the cosmos. While pantheism asserts that 'All is God', panentheism goes further to claim that God is greater than the universe. In addition, some forms indicate that the universe is contained within God,^[1] like in the concept of Tzimtzum. Much Hindu thought is highly characterized by panentheism and pantheism.^[3][4]Hasidic Judaism merges the elite ideal of nullification to paradoxical transcendent Divine Panentheism, through intellectual articulation of inner dimensions of Kabbalah, with the populist emphasis on the panentheistic Divine immanence in everything.^{[5][further explanation needed]}

There are members who come from most mainstream faiths, and many with no particular religious allegiance.

* Since writing this I've been told that is not the form of words used, though that is how I remember it. Possibly I remembered it wrong. Memory is an inexact tool at the best of times, though most people prefer not to believe the psychological research that proves this.

Today we ran a couple of trips along the Ashton Canal between Portland Basin and Lumb Lane (Audenshaw) for the charity Refugee Action. Here's a few pictures.

A really enjoyable trip for those who showed up. We were a bit low on numbers and struggled to get round the collecting area in a reasonable time, but all who came enjoyed it and we got a big pile of stuff for the charity shop. As well as new people there were long awaited re-appearances by old friends Martin Nestor and Adrian Glasgow.

This n that.

In my last post I hoped that "Southam" wouldn't get stuck in a lock. Of course, she did. We set off with a boatload of sponsors and everything went fine until we got to the first lock, where "Southam" jammed. We could probably have got her through with lots of flushing and pulling, but, with lots of elderly people in the fore end, this seemed unwise. Instead we unjammed her and unloaded our guests, then worked "Lilith", the butty, through and bowhauled her to Mossley and back, leaving a couple of volunteers to mind "Southam". On our way we met a former volunteer who I hadn't seen for years. He offered to pull the boat, and helped us to bowhaul all the way back to Stalybridge after we'd winded at Mossley.

One of the sponsors said it was the best sponsors trip ever. It's funny how people seem to enjoy things going wrong.

Stuart has now left for warmer climes in India. The Hughes family are going to travel all round India before going to Nepal to build an orphanage..

Martin is making a great job of building "Hazel"s back cabin. Her hull is being caulked and today Mike Carter, the surveyor, came to have a look. He seemed pleased with what he saw. I was busy for most of the morning dealing with visitors, some of them potential volunteers. We're going to need a lot more organisational help getting the project up and running once the boatbuilding side of things is finished.

Cult Member?

I've noticed that the most popular search to find this blog is Subud Cult. That's strange as I think I've only mentioned my membership of Subud once or twice. It's also a bit unfair to Subud as it's about as uncultish as you can get. There's no glorious leader, I've never been asked for money, there's no orgies (shame but there it is) and there's no set of beliefs that you have to pledge your allegiance to. Emuna, my partner, reckons that the Church of England is more cult like than Subud. What it is is a vehicle for the sharing of a wonderful spiritual exercise called a latihan (Indonesian for exercise) that was first experienced by the group's founder Mohammed Subuh Sumohadiwodidjojo ( I hope I spelled that right)in about 1925). There are now small groups all over the world, but there is an understanding that Subud doesn't evangelise. Those who are ready for it will find it. I've certainly found the latihan has made me into a stronger and better, more human, person in the 6 years that I've been doing it.

Steve the Viking

Tomorrow I am going to attend what is becoming an increasingly familiar phenomenon, the funeral of someone younger than myself. In this case it's Steve the Viking, so named because one of his many interests is in Viking re-enactments.
Steve suffered a stroke about 7 years ago and was almost completely paralysed. His determination and sheer zest for life enabled him to fight back and gain almost full abilities again, determined to enjoy everything to the full, experiencing huge frustration every time his remaining disabilities got in the way.

He joined us about 4 years ago and became a regular on recycling trips. He would always turn up late, sometimes missing the outward trip altogether and meeting us at the other end. As soon as he got there he would prioritise the making of coffee, so strong that you wouldn't sleep for a week if you had more than two cups.

Last year Steve joined us for the trip with "Southam" and "Lilith" to Lincoln and back to collect oak logs for "Hazel". A couple of weeks beforehand I got a message from his brother asking for him not to be allowed to go for safety. This put me in a quandary. I already had concerns because of the scary combination of determination to be involved in everything and a residual unsteadiness as a result of the stroke. Were he to meet with an accident the coroner's remarks about me for letting him go in the face of family objections would be scathing. I told him he could come on condition that he didn't get involved in lock working, a rule that he reluctantly adhered to.

I reserved a comfortable bunk aboard "Southam" for Steve, unaware of one of his less endearing qualities, cataclysmic snoring! For much of the trip he had the boat to himself at night as no-one else could get any sleep. One person set up a bivvy for himself under tarpaulin on top of a freshly sawn log rather than endure the din. The fumes must have been overpowering. Nevertheless, we all enjoyed having Steve on board, he was always cheerful and good company, keeping us all alert through long days boating with endless cups of coffee.

I wrote the above last night. Today I've been to his funeral in Oldham. The crematorium was full of Vikings and many stories were told of Steve's good hearted and sometimes infuriating un-worldliness. As one Viking put it, "Steve will be welcomed to the fireside by the old gods and warriors, as long as they don't mind being interrupted in mid battle to look at the goldfish". I learned more about him. I already knew Steve was a keen walker, striding ahead with his stick, and his comprehensive knowledge of wildlife. I didn't know he was a painter and sculptor.

After the ceremony we all moved on to the Ashton Arms on Clegg St, Oldham, http://www.qype.co.uk/place/447221-Ashton-Arms-Oldham to participate in one of Steve's great interests, drinking the very finest of real ales. Many thanks to his family who arranged a very appropriate send off and organised donations to the Vikings http://www.vikingsonline.org.uk/index.htm and to the Wooden Canal Boat Society. Farewell to a goodhearted and wonderfully eccentric man.

Steaming "Hazel"s eyebrows!

Sounds painful, but that's been the main task today. I'm not sure what they're really called. They are the pieces of wood that go under the metal guard irons at the bow and stern of the boat. What pleasure boaters would call rubbing strakes.

There were four eyebrows to steam all together, so we did them in two batches of two, bow and stern. They all bent nicely, though there's always a bit of stress when it comes to steaming wood. The steaming equipment only just completed the job. When the second batch were nearly ready the pipe from the boiler to the steambox started to disintegrate. It's done 28 planks altogether, but for some reason todays steaming was the last straw for it. It was a bit much to expect a plastic pipe to take all that heat, but it did it, only failing at the very end.

I originally posted this in 2012, but it's still valid. Don't just sit there gongoogling, come and help. Even if you live a long way away there's stuff you can do.

More volunteers needed.

I've just been writing something for the WCBS committee about how we can develop online sales. At the moment, like most charity shops, we send a lot of stuff to the tip. You simply can't run a viable shop by keeping everything, and yet almost everything has a potential buyer somewhere. I've been experimenting with selling items thrown out by the shop on ebay, with a lot of success. The trouble is, I don't have the time to really pursue it. There is huge potential there to boost the WCBS income, get more boats restored and put into service for the community and reduce waste. The barrier to doing it, as usual, is finding a willing volunteer with the right combination of time, inclination and ability.

IT COULD BE YOU!!!!!

At the moment we're doing OK for volunteers on "Hazel",( Though, if you'd like to help, we can always do with more) but there are big areas of sales, publicity, engineering, and boat maintenance where we're really struggling. It's the self organising volunteers we really need. The ones who can just be given a few guidelines and left to get on with the job.
Any offers?

Let me know.

Hazel Sponsors Day.

"Hazel" sponsors are wonderful people. They sponsor "Hazel" for a day a year, at a rate of £28 a day. Some have raised considerably more additionally. Every year we arrange a day for them to gather. This usually involves a boat trip. Some have stuck with "Hazel" through the difficult years when it seemed like the boat would never get restored. Between them they raised most of the £31,000 now in the "Hazel" fund, which we'll soon be digging into as the grant funding is nearly spent.

This Sunday they're all invited to have a look at the boat, there will be food in the nearby pub, then a trip up the Huddersfield Narrow Canal to Mossley and back. It's only a fairly short trip, but trips on this canal tend to be rather adventurous. "Southam" has never been up there, so I hope she doesn't get stuck.

Tomorrow I have to arrange getting the boats up to Stalybridge and ready for the trip. We're probably taking 3 boats, "Southam" "Forget me Not" and "Lilith". Getting them up the 7 locks to Stalybridge is going to be a challenge. Those locks are always difficult.

It's going to be a busy weekend for me!

Why not sponsor "Hazel". Get involved with this amazing project. http://wcbs.org.uk/

Back from Shropshire.

It was Emuna's birthday yesterday so we went away for a couple of nights. She wanted to visit Stokesay Castle near Craven Arms in Shropshire, so I booked a couple of nights at the Castle View B&B nearby http://www.castleviewstokesay.co.uk/ This is run by a wonderful lady called Joyce Cook who made us feel very welcome. Emuna has been quite poorly lately so we had to pace ourselves, breaking up the day with lots of rests. The train down there was full of Scottish football fans heading for Cardiff for a match against Wales. We got seats,and they were well behaved, but the noise and general combination of alcohol and testosterone were a bit wearing. The late running of the train meant that we had to walk to Stokesay, only a mile, as we'd missed the bus. First we had fish and chips in Craven Arms, which was a rip off. I kept kidding Emuna that we were going to a campsite as we walked through the dark and rainy night.

The room was really comfortable. I got up early and explored a nearby wooded hill, Nortoncamp woods. http://www.megalithic.co.uk/article.php?sid=8026 I didn't know about the old hillfort and didn't get right up to it, but the woods were magnificent, though a little spoiled by the great gouges ripped through them for access by modern tree felling machinery.

After a really good breakfast we headed for Stokesay Castle. http://www.castlewales.com/stokesay.html Emuna had often seen this from the train as she travelled to and from Cardiff. She wanted a closer look, and it was no disappointment. More of a fortified manor than a castle, it has a bit of a mediaeval fantasy look about it and is surprisingly well preserved. We spent ages exploring the whole place, culminating in collecting windfalls from an apple tree in the moat. After also examining the simple stone church we returned to base for Emuna to have a rest. I walked to Craven Arms then made my way back by the more picturesque route along the river bank, inevitably getting my boots muddy.

Leaving my boots at the door I went up to our room. On the way I saw Joyce, who told me where to stop the 'bus for Ludlow. After a cup of tea we walked out to the unmarked bus stop and stood bravely on the verge as roaring artics battered us with their slipstreams. The bus runs but once an hour at best and carries hardly any passengers. At £2.50 each the return fare was reasonable, working out at about 25P a mile, but I often wonder if this is the best way to run rural public transport. Surely if they ran a minibus every 15 or 20 minutes then many more people would use it. The present arrangement engenders much timetable anxiety.

The 'bus dropped us by the market place near the castle after slowly picking its way through narrow streets made for horse drawn traffic. The town is a labyrinth of narrow streets and old buildings, rather spoiled by the amount of motor traffic that forces its way through.

We were now hungry, so we explored the market stalls looking for fast food. Rejecting the inevitable burger stalls, we found upmarket food in the form of an organic Gloucester Old Spot pork pie for me and a salmon sandwich for Emuna. The stallholder had a good line in insulting patter. The Gloucester Old Spot is a rare breed of pig, now even rarer as I've eaten one of them!

The citizens of Ludlow are noticeably stylish and upmarket compared to other towns. It is a place that speaks of wealth.

Lunch consumed, we headed for the castle. I was drawn to a motorbike and sidecar attached to a trailer parked nearby, then repulsed from it when I noticed that the trailer was decorated with small golden swastikas. Wanting to be charitable, I wondered if the owner was a Buddhist.

We passed a gaggle of young men and overheard part of a conversation- "If she messes about you want to slap her" remarked one youth. "I can't do that, I'm not Irish" replied the other. "Domestic violence and racism in one conversation" remarked Emuna, continuing to lament the lack of progress in attitudes among young males.

Ludlow castle was interesting, a proper big semi-ruined military castle with amazing views from the battlements and towers, but not as friendly as Stokesay. It looks impressive from the river banks below though. 

Emuna wanted to explore some of the shops that she had seen, so we headed into town. It certainly has a thriving centre, full of small shops, unlike the sadly dying town centres that I am so familiar with in post industrial Lancashire. She needed a prescription, so we found a chemist, then decided to go for a coffee. I had noticed that the ancient and highly decorative Feathers Hotel

The Feathers Hotel may refer to:

,_Ludlow boasted a cafe bar, so I suggested we went in there.

We went in by the front door and I was surprised and a little daunted to find that we were in the reception area of a Brief Encounter era hotel. It had clearly escaped modernisation and, if I had the money, I'd love to stay there. we were directed into the bar, which is a little more modern. Emuna ordered coffee and I a pint of really flavoursome locally brewed real ale.

The only other customers were two businessmen, one in his 40s and the other twenty years his senior, sitting on sofas near the window. I instantly developed a distrust for them both and, earwigging their conversation, came to the conclusion that they were probably trying to con each other. About halfway through my pint they concluded their negotiation and the older one left. The younger one, smoothly dressed with a smart suit and neat moustache, went to the bar and flirted confidently with the barmaid as he paid for their drinks. When he left Emuna asked "Did you notice the psychopath"? I had indeed had him down as probably a charming psychopath.

The Psychopathy Checklist or Hare Psychopathy Checklist-Revised, now the Psychopathy Checklist—revised (PCL-R), is a psychological assessment tool used to assess the presence of psychopathy in individuals.^[1] It is a 20-item inventory of perceived personality traits and recorded behaviors, intended to be completed on the basis of a semi-structured interview along with a review of 'collateral information' such as official records.

The PCL was originally developed in the 1970s by Canadian psychologist Robert D. Hare for use in psychology experiments, based partly on Hare's work with male offenders and forensic inmates in Vancouver, and partly on an influential clinical profile by American psychiatrist Hervey M. Cleckley first published in 1941.

An individual's score may have important consequences for his or her future, and because the potential for harm if the test is used or administered incorrectly is considerable, Hare argues that the test should be considered valid only if administered by a suitably qualified and experienced clinician under scientifically controlled and licensed, standardized conditions.^[2][3] Hare receives royalties on licensed use of the test.^[4]

"He seems to tick some of the boxes" she said "and he has high cheekbones and his ring finger is longer than his middle finger, which some people claim to be associated with psychopathy". "Did you notice the superficial charm"?

We left the bar and agreed to split up to do some shopping. I headed straight for the Oxfam bookshop for a browse. My eye landed on a book called "The Age of Absurdity, why modern life makes it hard to be happy". At £2.49 I picked it up. I also stocked up on old Ordnance Survey maps. I was really looking for a book on the Bishops Castle Railway, a fascinating and impecunious line that once ran from Craven Arms, so I visited a couple more bookshops, without success. In one I was told that there was a Bishops Castle Railway Society and I should contact them. http://www.bcrailway.co.uk/society.htm

Bus time was approaching, so I rang Emuna. She was lost, so I gave her directions back to the bus stop. On the bus I got out my new book. Emuna said she'd just seen it on a website and thought she ought to get a copy. I started reading and found it to be a fascinating, well researched and insightful analysis of why, in such a cornucopia of wealth, so many people are so bloody miserable.

After another rest back at the B&B we walked into Craven Arms for a meal at the Stokesay Inn. Another building that has hardly changed since the 1950s it was wonderfully nostalgic, but, though the waitress was an enthusiastic and likeable chatty teenage girl, the food was poor quality, meagre and overpriced.

This morning the plan was to walk into Craven Arms and have a look st the Land Of Lost Content before catching a train. http://www.virtual-shropshire.co.uk/visitor_guide/land_of_lost_content_guide.shtml We got diverted into a table top sale run by the old ladies of the methodist church (whatever will become of methodism when they all pass on, for there seem to be virtually no new recruits). We went in, bought a few items then sat down to tea and cake. Emuna was feling ill and just wanted to go home, so we headed for the station.

The train ( just 2 coaches, how ridiculous) was standing room only as it was packed with rather sombre Scots. They lost 2-1. We didn't get seats until Crewe.

It was a really enjoyable little holiday. We would have loved to stay longer. Now it's back to work on "Hazel" and getting ready for the "Hazel" sponsors day next Sunday. http://wcbs.org.uk/