A celebration of the female pudenda

The latest edition of New Statesman contains a review of The Cambridge History of Welsh Literature, edited by Geraint Evans and Helen Fulton, published by Cambridge University Press at an eye-watering £100. I might perhaps not have read the review, since I’m unlikely to read the book even if some rich benefactor stumped up the price, except that its author is Rowan Williams.

He has clearly read and assimilated the 854 pages of this volume, and knows the subject thoroughly enough to comment on the chapters, gently suggest improvements that might have been made, and list a number of factual and proof-reading errors. I couldn’t possibly argue with any of that.

But what particularly enchanted me was his comment on one of the most regrettable lacunae of the book.

“Strangely, even scandalously, given the justifiable stress on the significance of women writers in the last century or so, there is nothing at all (beyond a single mention of her name) about the greatest of medieval Welsh women poets, the 15th century Gwerful Mechain, author of a delightfully uninhibited celebration of the female pudenda as well as a number of other verses on those primary poetic data, the natural world, eros and God.”

(I’ve researched and added the links for the benefit of those who don’t believe him.)

The former Archbishop’s erudition is beyond amazing; it’s terrifying. Is there anything this man doesn’t know?

False sisters?

We’ve spent this week in Salisbury, staying in Sarum College right in the Cathedral Close. It’s a place I could bear to live, if only I were a millionaire or a former Conservative Prime Minister (Ted Heath had a house here.) The joy of it all is to be able to share in Morning and Evening Prayer, together with a daily Eucharist, in a place of such aweful holiness.

But even holiness has its merry moments that make me smile. Like this morning’s reading from St Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians, where he’s going on about his qualifications as an apostle: namely, that he’s suffered so much more than all the self-proclaimed apostles who criticise or oppose him.

He boasts: “Five times I have received from the Jews the forty lashes minus one. Three times I was beaten with rods. Once I received a stoning. Three times I was shipwrecked; for a night and a day I was adrift at sea; on frequent journeys, in danger from rivers, danger from bandits, danger from my own people, danger from Gentiles, danger in the city, danger in the wilderness, danger at sea, danger from false brothers and sisters; in toil and hardship, through many a sleepless night, hungry and thirsty, often without food, cold and naked.” (2 Corinthians 11.24-27 NRSV)

Danger from false brothers and sisters? The Greek word translated thus is ψευδαδέλφοις – meaning pseudo-brethren or ‘false brethren’ in the KJV. I can only think the NRSV’s version is its inclusive language policy carried to absurd lengths: I can’t imagine that many of the dangers Paul faced were caused by women (pace The Life of Brian). But that didn’t stop my imagine wanting to discover the story behind these wicked women, these false sisters, who caused the saint such trouble.

Perhaps there’s an idea there for next NaNoWriMo?

In the Salisbury Information Centre

I went into the Salisbury Information Centre just ahead of an elderly lady. While I only wanted to browse and see what kind of information they had available, she had a specific inquiry that she put to the man at the desk.

Concerning the road closures that had been announced for Armed Forces Day on 29th June, when there will be a major parade through the city: What roads are going to be closed, and for how long?

“You’ll have to look on the Council website, we haven’t actually got a complete list here.”

“I’m 95, I don’t have a website,” she replied.

But to no avail. The Council was not distributing a printed list of road closures. The Information Centre could print the website for her but there were about 20 pages of it. They could tell her that the road between where she lived and the city centre would be closed for three days…

“Well, how am I going to eat, then?”

When you live alone, have no car, have to travel to the shops by bus, can’t carry enough provisions for three days — how can you cope with not being able to get to the shops for that long? When you have no computer, no Internet access — how can you obtain even the most vital basic information these days?

It’s a scary glimpse of how modern living marginalises and excludes the elderly. And by the time I’m 95, if I should live that long, it will presumably be even worse, even more difficult.

Politics and the Tao Te Ching

And then there is the other great Taoist classic, undoubtedly the Taoist classic, the Tao Te Ching: the Book of the Way and its Power. It also has a lot to say about the conduct of the state, how rulers should rule. Probably the best known aphorism is

“Ruling the country is like cooking a small fish.” (Chapter 60) We take this to mean that those who govern in accordance with Tao should not meddle too much. If you poke a small fish that you’re frying, it will disintegrate. But I think it also means you mustn’t neglect what you’re doing but need to keep an eye on it the whole time, so that you see the exact moment you need to do something. ‘Like cooking a small fish’ doesn’t just mean you leave it alone, as the extreme small-government people might have us believe.

But there’s much more good stuff. (Both the following extracts are from the J. H. McDonald translation) I love chapter 17:

The best leaders are those the people hardly know exist.

The next best is a leader who is loved and praised.

Next comes the one who is feared.

The worst one is the leader that is despised.

If you don’t trust the people,

they will become untrustworthy.

The best leaders value their words, and use them sparingly.

When she has accomplished her task,

the people say, “Amazing:

we did it, all by ourselves!”

And chapter 18 sounds disturbingly appropriate in our increasingly nationalistic times:

When the great Tao is abandoned,

charity and righteousness appear.

When intellectualism arises,

hypocrisy is close behind.

When there is strife in the family unit,

people talk about ‘brotherly love’.

When the country falls into chaos,

politicians talk about ‘patriotism’.

The version I’m reading at the moment is the more recently published translation by John Minford (Viking, 2018) It’s a bigger book than most versions. The Chinese original contains only 5,000 words. It practises what the Tao preaches about using few words. Minford, however, has chosen to accompany his translation with helpful commentary from some of the great commentators on the Tao Te Ching, especially the River Master and Magister Liu, together with some short Chinese poems that illustrate the theme.

He advocates a slow, meditative reading of the text which he calls Lectio Sinica, a Chinese version of the familiar Christian and monastic practice of Lectio Divina. This commends itself as a useful way of approaching such a strange yet deeply attractive text.

 

Politics and I Ching

易經

I’ve been fascinated by the I Ching for more years than I can remember. Maybe it’s having lived through the 60s and Flower Power and all that stuff, and being intrigued by some of the artistic, literary, and psychological associations like Hermann Hesse, George Harrison, and Jung; but I didn’t start looking at it more seriously until the 1990s. Since then I’ve kept taking it up and putting it down again, frustrated by its opaqueness and, quite simply, its foreignness.

And still I come back to it, and have a modest collection of different translations and books about it. I’m attracted to it not as a book of divination… who really wants to know what will happen, especially at this moment in history? It will be bad enough to find out when it actually happens. No, what appeals to me is the sense that it speaks with a voice of wisdom, a very different kind of wisdom from what we’re familiar with in the West, although often saying many of the same kind of things. It has a lot to say about how to develop moral character and right behaviour: how to study to become a better person; and I like that.

But still, much of what you find about it in books or on the Internet seems either mad, or unnecessarily esoteric, or alternatively just plain trivial. What has changed in the most recent time, has been coming across the idea that I might actually read it. (I know, I’m slow on the uptake… But the Changes don’t reveal their deep secrets to the person in a hurry. I think.)

Thomas Cleary, in The Taoist I Ching, insists that you cannot make any sense of this book, if you have only a limited knowledge of it, and this is especially true of any random approach (such as, only reading the hexagrams that result from some random process, whether counting yarrow stalks or tossing coins).

“Therefore, the first step is to read the book in its entirety, without pausing to judge or question, just going along with the flow of its images and ideas. … Ancient literature suggests reading one hexagram in the morning and one at night. At this rate, this initial phase of consultation can be completed in approximately one month. This may have to be repeated one or more times at intervals to effectively set the basic program into the mind.”

In fact, on this first read through of the 64 hexagrams (Book I in the Wilhelm/Baynes version), I’m going faster than just two chapters a day; I can come back to that more leisurely approach later. But the overview is already yielding wonderful nuggets: not least the quaint old-fashioned ideas that moral character is important; that it’s especially important in people with power and influence in the state; that everyone has a responsibility to cultivate it; that things go badly for everyone when moral character is lacking – especially aomng the people in power.

Take, for example, the Image of hexagram 12, P’i / Standstill (Stagnation):

The hexagram for this is ䷋: made up of the trigrams Ch’ien, the Creative, Heaven over K’un, the Receptive, Earth. These are complementary realities, but in this particular arrangement they are pulling away from each other, rather than working together, hence the idea of Standstill or Stagnation. (Don’t worry if this is all Chinese to you: walk with me for a while.)

The text for the Image reads:

Heaven and earth do not unite:
The image of STANDSTILL.
Thus the superior man falls back upon his inner worth
In order to escape the difficulties.
He does not permit himself to be honored with revenue.

And the commentary begins:

When, owing to the influence of inferior men, mutual mistrust prevails in public life, fruitful activity is rendered impossible, because the fundaments are wrong.

It seems to me you could hardly find a more accurate summary of Brexit Britain, and what’s wrong with the state of our nation and politics at the present time. People have simply lost all trust in our political class because the perception is that they are morally inferior people. It used to be the case that society, schools, the whole process of education and upbringing, taught that you should regard it as a moral duty to use your skills and gifts for the general good, not just for your personal advantage. Especially if you enjoyed any kind of privilege or position: and even receiving a free secondary, let alone tertiary, education, was an enormous privilege, bringing responsibility with it. Certainly that’s one of the things were were taught at my local grammar school, even if the invisible sub-text was that we would possibly be called upon to govern the Raj (or whatever the 1960s equivalent of that was) under the supervision of the gentlemen whose privilege had been to enjoy a public (sic) school education. This is no longer the case. The antics of the entitled classes, as exemplified by the Bullingdon Club and its many wannabes, is enough proof. The popularity with the Tory Party of the unspeakable Boris Johnson, and the absurd and terrifying likelihood that he will soon be Prime Minister, confirms it.

And all the while I’m sure there are many, many people in pubic office, perhaps even in Parliament, who really do have a notion that they are there to do good and to work for the common good. It’s just that their efforts are made invisible by the greed and wealth of those among them who continue to vote for measures that oppress the poorest and most vulnerable, and make their lives a misery. Theresa May appeared to say the right things when she spoke of making Britain a country that worked for everyone, but most of the policies of her Government shouted the opposite, and much louder. Francesca Martinez spoke for many, and earned the applause she received, when she said on Question Time that the Tories have blood on their hands, because their austerity policies have been a direct cause of 130,000 deaths.

There is much more in the I Ching about how rulers in particular, and all people in general who seek to live in wise harmony with the universe, should fashion their lives. Sadly, I doubt if the Boris Johnsons of this world and all those who admire them, so much as give a damn.

Adventures with a catheter

The title of my next book? A light-hearted, yet strangely deep and philosophically wise memoir of the experiences of a trainee urology nurse? Not quite…

This is the next instalment of my continuing health saga. In the last episode, I promised that ‘the next part of the adventure sounds so scary I haven’t even dared to google it’. Now read on, if you have the stomach for it…

The discharge summary after my TWOC just over a week ago was couched in a more breezily colloquial (yet also more coded) style than some of my consultant surgeon’s summaries have been.

Mr Price had a optical urethrotomy for bulbar urethral stricture on 15/05/19. He was discharged home with a urinary IDC in situ. Today, he presented to triage for a TWOC. He was otherwise well in himself. The IDC was removed with ease. He successfully passed the TWOC with 97mls PVR. We therefore discharged him home with safety netting advice which he acknowledged. Nil urology triage f/u needed.

Today’s scary part that I hadn’t even dared to google, because I really didn’t want to know too much about it beforehand, was innocuously advertised as an appointment at the ISC and Continence Clinic. That ISC is the sharp-toothed part: it stands for Intermittent Self Catheterization. The problem with urethral strictures, apparently, (whether bulbar or otherwise) is that the scarring can get worse again, causing the stricture to grow and cause renewed urinary retention. The way of preventing this, and keeping the urethra as open as possible, is to insert a catheter at regular intervals. Not to stay in, but just to remind that stricture not to grow.

We met K., the lovely nurse who was going to deliver this training. She produced three different types of catheter which she showed, described and demonstrated. It was a touch like speed dating, because she then popped the question, “Is there one of these that you feel particularly drawn to?” ‘None of the above’ was clearly not going to be an acceptable answer; but in fact there was one design which looked less unappealing, maybe I should even say more my style, than the other two.

Thereupon the next step was to actually try the thing out, watched with loving attention by K. and Alison (who was there to learn how it was done, in case I ever needed help or encouragement?) With reminders and a lot of that encouragement as we proceeded, I succeeded in catheterizing myself with the device I had been particularly drawn to. It is the weirdest of sensations, strange enough when it’s being done to you by someone else, but even stranger when you’re doing it to yourself. There was quite a lot of

“How far does it have to go in? Are we nearly there yet?”

“It has to go all the way into the bladder.”

“How will I know when it gets there?”

“You’ll know.”

Yes, you will, because when the end of the catheter arrives in the bladder, it immediately begins to drain urine, even if you’ve only just been to the toilet. It only took a few seconds to stop draining, since I had retained very little after the flow test that preceded all this. And then the catheter is removed. Slowly and gently. And this also is a weird sensation.

Much praise from K. (“You did really well.”) Much relief from me. I’ve always been a great fan of Lifelong Learning; but I never expected the syllabus to include this. But there is certainly a large amount of pride in doing something you could not have imagined doing, or even thought would be impossible.

K. tells me to do this impossible thing daily for the next fortnight, then every other day, then perhaps once or twice a week. Maybe ‘for the rest of my days’, as she put it. Or maybe it will only be when, or if, I sense the stricture is becoming a problem again. There’s a follow-up appointment in a few weeks’ time, which may shed more light.

They say that a huge percentage of NHS services are consumed by the over 65s. I’m beginning to have a much clearer understanding of what this means; and that I am one of those more frequent users. Thank God for the NHS.

O Land, Land, Land

Just started reading Kate Atkinson’s latest novel Transcription (just appeared in paperback — whee!) and I come across an epigraph which includes the translation of this Latin inscription in the foyer of Broadcasting House.

“This Temple of the Arts and Muses is dedicated to Almighty God by the first Governors of Broadcasting in the year 1931, Sir John Reith being Director-General. It is their prayer that good seed sown may bring forth a good harvest, that all things hostile to peace or purity may be banished from this house, and that the people, inclining their ear to whatsoever things are beautiful and honest and of good report, may tread the path of wisdom and uprightness.”

“…That the people, inclining their ear to whatsoever things are beautiful and honest and of good report, may tread the path of wisdom and uprightness…”

In the present car crash of British politics: the Brexit referendum, the implosion of the Tory party, the unfathomable triumph of the Brexit Party whose only policy is that they want to crash us out of the European Union even if it means leaving with no deal … I’m wondering if the first Governors of Broadcasting didn’t pray hard enough? Or, more likely, whether it’s ‘the people’ who have simply squandered their precious inheritance of honesty, good report, wisdom, uprightness and faith.

(The title of this post is from Jeremiah 22.29, the prophet’s lament over God’s people’s wilful deafness, refusing to hear and heed God’s message to them: “O land, land, land, hear the word of the Lord!”)