Chapter 6 No evidence of stairgates

Thursday 5th August

Ben sat at John Henson’s desk in the former Bodhiisha Temple Rehabilitation Unit. There were two piles of folders on the desk in front of him. The pile to his left contained the twenty folders he had already read. The other pile held the remaining unread twelve.

The folders were records of the military personnel treated at Bodhiisha during the previous five years. The ones he had looked at thus far had contained no surprises. Each showed some benefit to the patient from a peaceful, relaxed environment that had been enhanced by the practice of mindfulness and talking therapies of one kind or another.

What surprised Ben was not the outcomes but the fact there were so few files. The average length of stay at Bodhiisha seemed to have been about three months, and there were ten beds in the specialist unit. During the course of five years, there could have been a throughput of two hundred people. Surprisingly, he was looking at a collection of files that represented just fifteen percent of that number. Why was the unit running virtually empty when Ben knew there should have been a much greater nationwide demand?

In principle, that should have been a simple question to answer. There was, however, nobody to ask.

There were no staff at the unit due to its closure, three months previously, and the monks with whom he had spoken had simply worked with those referred to them – without enquiring about numbers or the referral criteria.

The one person who would have been able to give him a more useful answer was the Head of Rehabilitation, John Henson.

John had shown Ben the filing cabinet in which all the records were kept, but Ben had not opened it until after John had been admitted to Lakenheath Military Hospital – apparently experiencing the unintended after-effects of something akin to a bad LSD trip.

John’s admission had occurred on the morning after Ben had arrived. Since then, John had uttered nothing other than enigmatic references to a stairgate and a date – the fourth of September.

Ben had recognised the fourth of September as being the much-publicised date on which Beth was due to pass closest to the Earth. He had no way of knowing, however, whether that coincidence was of any significance. Ben considered the astronomical event to be interesting but, otherwise, no more than a curiosity. This was even though millions of people around the world had placed much greater importance upon it.

NASA had been quick to reassure that no prospect existed of Beth colliding with the Earth. Nevertheless, thirty percent of Americans, regardless of their religious convictions, now thought that P/2015 Y1 might be the harbinger of some apocalyptic event.

It seemed that Beth might be the same comet that had been described as the star of Bethlehem. She was also the brightest and most spectacular comet recorded in modern history. Those were notable facts, but Ben felt disconcerted by the way they had been sufficient to instigate a fervent conviction amongst millions of people that something of cosmic significance was about to occur.

For Christians, that might be the return of Christ. For other sects, that might be the end of the current world and a subsequent afterworld in which their beliefs would be vindicated. On social media and on the streets, UFO groups were promoting their convictions that Beth was a spacecraft containing aliens with, depending on the group, benign or malicious intent. For yet others, the fourth of September was simply viewed with fear for no clearly defined reason.

As a psychologist, Ben recognised that the viewpoints of most people were emotionally driven. An opinion would be formed very quickly about any occurrence, and then facts to support that impression would be sought. He nevertheless found it disturbing that the scientific method, which had landed men on the moon and put a mobile phone in the hands of eighty percent of the world’s population, had not produced a greater level of critical thinking. In recent years, the instinctive responses that had served our hunter-gatherer ancestors had even been given a new name. The term “Post-truth” encapsulated thinking in which reasoned analysis had been put aside and objective facts had become less influential than appeals to emotion and personal belief. It seemed very dangerous to Ben that, even for many highly educated individuals, anything that “felt right” was frequently considered to be the incontrovertible truth.

Ben tried to take a balanced view, and he reflected that not everybody placed emotionally driven belief before thoughtful reflection. His mother, for example, had been a lifelong evangelical Christian, and many in her church were joyously preparing to meet their Lord in just over six weeks. Nevertheless, Grace Clarke was more circumspect. She had decided to wait and see. She had told Ben that it was not right to second guess what God had in mind for His Creation. She was content for such plans to be revealed in His own good time.

Ben stood up and walked to the window. He briefly glanced up at the comet and then looked out at the Bodhiisha complex.

It would have seemed strange had a scientist and clinician such as John Henson thought Beth to have any broader significance than an astronomical phenomenon, but his reference to the fourth of September might nevertheless relate to the comet in some way. The issue of a stairgate was more obscure.

The unit and the Bodhiisha Temple had been built on a World War Two airfield. There had been plenty of space, and John had told Ben of environmental and other planning constraints that had determined the way the available space had been used.

The final site plan had contained only single-story buildings. There were no stairs.

Chapter 7 The introductory dharma talk

Friday 6th August

A young monk with a shaven head and wearing a light blue robe escorted Sam to her accommodation in the Bodhiisha complex.

She had been allocated a simply furnished, but very pleasant, ground floor room with ensuite facilities. It would be a nice place to stay for the weeklong retreat.

‘I’m very much looking forward to the introductory dharma address this evening,’ said the monk as he opened the window to permit a better airflow in the room.

‘Yes, I am too,’ said Sam. ‘Do you know who’ll be delivering it?’

‘I gather you’ll be talking about the path to spiritual enlightenment,’ the monk replied with a slightly puzzled expression on his face.

Sam smiled to herself. Sahadeva had obviously known that she would be expected to give the introductory keynote talk but had retained that fact as his little secret. This was funny to Sam and, in a way, reassuring because playing small jokes on each other had been a characteristic of their relationship in America all those years ago. Sahadeva had been married at that time and Sam had a partner in the UK. As a result, the possibility of them having a more intimate relationship had never arisen. It had sometimes crossed Sam’s mind, however, how things might have worked out if they had both been unattached.

‘There’s a full programme on the table over there.’ The monk pointed to a table next to the window on which there was a desk lamp, a telephone and a green folder.

‘How many people will be on the retreat?’ asked Sam.

‘Around fifty, I think.’

‘Experienced meditators?’

‘A mixture. Some will have been practising for many years. Others will be coming to their first retreat to find out more about it all.’ He walked back to the door, turning to face her as he reached the threshold. ‘If you have any questions or problems, dial zero.’ The monk pointed towards the telephone on the table. ‘That will take you through to the admin office. Can I help you any further at the moment?’

Sam smiled at him. ‘No, that’s fine. Thanks.’

The young monk left the room and closed the door behind him.

Sam walked to the table, picked up the folder and then sat down with it on the bed. She opened the folder and removed some A4 sheets of paper. The retreat programme was the top sheet. ‘Ms Samantha Martin from the Aashirya Temple will be talking about the path to spiritual enlightenment and then leading a meditation,’ she read aloud and then laughed.

Sam placed the documents on the bed and then stood and walked to the window. The window directly faced the rehabilitation unit, one hundred metres away. She easily identified the building because Sahadeva had given her a map of the complex.

Sam knew there had been no patients at the unit for about three months and also that the manager of the unit was in hospital with a condition that Sahadeva had not been able to ascertain. Nevertheless, she sensed that a walk around that part of the complex might be informative when a gap in the retreat programme allowed.

Chapter 8 Out for an Indian

Friday 6th August

Ben Clarke and Sue Melton sat in the New Saffron Indian Restaurant in Thetford, sipping Cobra and considering their menus.

‘I haven’t been out for dinner for months,’ said Sue. ‘I love Indian food, but I’ve been so busy at the hospital that I’m often too tired to do anything when I get home.’

‘I was really surprised that you were living on your own.’

‘Why?’

‘You’re lovely. You’re charming. You’re clever. You’re funny …’

‘Hold on there. Save a few compliments for later on.’

‘Can I take your orders?’ A waiter interrupted the conversation.

‘You can tell you’re a psychologist,’ said Sue when the waiter had written down their orders and gone into the kitchen.

‘Why?’

‘Your first words to me were a very nice way to start taking a social history.’

‘You can tell you’re a psychiatrist.’

‘How?’

‘I didn’t get a straight answer to my question.’

Sue laughed. ‘I was living with someone until about this time last year. It wasn’t working out. We wanted different things. He wanted to settle down and have children. That’s not on my agenda. I was very sorry to split, but I’m over it now. We’re still good friends. He’s with somebody new now, and I hope it works out for him. What about you?’

‘Strangely enough, I’m in a similar position. The girls I’ve met all seem to want to have a family – especially those with a Caribbean background. It’s not for me. You gain things if you have kids, but you also lose things. My mum says it’s selfish not to want children.’

‘My mum says that too, although I’m not sure what she means. The world doesn’t actually need more children. Mum worked really hard to bring up my sister and me after Dad died. I sometimes think she’s annoyed at the thought of others getting away without all the hassle she had.’

They both laughed again.

‘How long will you be here – doing the review at Bodhiisha?’

‘I don’t think there’s much point in me staying beyond the beginning of next week.’ Ben noted the subtle lowering of Sue’s shoulders. She was disappointed that he would be leaving so soon.

Ben smiled at her. ‘I live in Ashford in Kent. It’s two-and-a-half hours away. I could see you as often as you’d let me.’

Sue blushed and then looked into Ben’s eyes and returned his smile. ‘Bloody psychologist.’ They sat in silence for several seconds. ‘I must drive faster than you. I can usually get there in a couple of hours. I sometimes visit Romney Marsh. I like the atmospheric feeling of the coast from Dungeness to Hythe.’ She paused. ‘I thought you said at the hospital you might be staying for another fortnight.’

‘I originally guessed that, but I’ve pretty much run out of things to do. I can’t talk to John Henson while he’s still in his trance on your ward. There are no other staff left at the unit, and there doesn’t seem to be any way to contact those who worked there – that’s odd in itself now I think about it. Also, the monks at Bodhiisha aren’t a lot of use. They just taught mindfulness to anyone the unit referred – without asking other questions. Admittedly, I haven’t yet asked the abbot what he knows. Preparations for a week of retreat, starting today, have kept him occupied. Finally, as the unit seems to have run with an occupancy level of about fifteen percent, there aren’t that many records to review.

‘Frankly, I think the MOD’s just going through the motions because they have to review completed projects. They don’t really care what I come up with. I was half thinking of putting blank pages in my report – or even my holiday photographs. I’m sure they’ll just stamp the front cover without ever opening it.’

Sue laughed and then paused to think. ‘That’s odd though.’

‘What’s odd?’

‘What you said about occupancy. I’ve been to the unit maybe three or four times in the last year – routine issues about psychiatric medication when there wasn’t a psychiatrist on site. The unit always seemed about full to me. I think there were ten beds, weren’t there?’

Ben nodded.

‘Most seemed to be occupied when I was there, and my visits were separated by at least a couple of months.’ Sue was interrupted by a sound from her phone. ‘Sorry about this. I wouldn’t normally look at messages when I’m socialising, but that tone indicates an urgent message from Lakenheath.’ Sue looked at the screen on her phone and then took a sharp intake of breath. ‘John Henson’s disappeared.’

Chapter 9 Dharma Talk – The path to spiritual enlightenment

Friday 6th August

Shingetsu, the abbot of the Bodhiisha Temple, stood up to address the retreat participants. He was around sixty years of age, tall, thin and had short black hair. Despite his assumed Japanese name, he would have described his ethnicity as white and British.

‘We are very pleased,’ he began, to have Samantha Martin with us for our week of spiritual retreat.’ He looked around the meditation hall at the fifty or so retreat participants who were awaiting Sam’s introductory dharma address. ‘This evening, she will be giving our introductory dharma talk on the subject of the path to spiritual enlightenment. I’ve only met Sam for the first time today, but I understand she has spent many years studying various traditions and that she leads retreats for pilgrims on the island of Lindisfarne. But I will leave it to her to tell you more about herself.’

Shingetsu gestured towards Sam, smiled and then sat down on a chair.

Sam was sitting on a second chair, to the right of Shingetsu. Both were on a raised platform at the front of the meditation hall.

Sam smiled at Shingetsu and then turned her head to face the audience. ‘Many thanks to Shingetsu for his introduction, and hello, everyone,’ Sam began. ‘In fact, I’m not going to say any more about myself at the moment. Shingetsu has already said a little more than I would normally tend to reveal if I were introducing myself. That reticence is quite deliberate, and it’s designed to illustrate an important issue that you will encounter when navigating your own spiritual paths.

‘When you require the services of a plumber or a car mechanic, you are rightly interested in the plumbing or car maintenance those people have undertaken in the past. You might look into the training they have received and the testimonials they can show from satisfied customers.

‘It’s very easy, without thinking, to employ the same strategy when seeking a spiritual teacher.

‘The difficulty with such an approach in relation to spirituality can be readily seen if you look at the harm caused by some cults and you consider the spiritual stagnation that exists within certain branches of the mainstream faiths. These groups are often led by people who appear very highly qualified, and who may indeed be deeply sincere. In addition, they may have large numbers of followers. The quality of their own spiritual experience, however, will define how well they can guide those followers.

‘It’s not necessarily easy to differentiate those who are enlightened, those who are awake, from those who are just knowledgeable about certain aspects of their subject. It can be equally hard to distinguish these from people who are simply delusional.

‘The greatest wisdom in the Universe might not be possessed by the person who can fill a football stadium with devoted followers or who might have millions watching his or her TV channel. Instead, the greatest wisdom in the Universe might be possessed by the ordinary-looking person who is sitting beside you on the bus.

‘How can you ever tell? You can’t.

‘For that reason, although you can learn from many people, the only teacher you should devotedly follow is yourself.

‘I don’t want you to pay any attention to what I say this week because of who I am or what I might have done – or because of a famous guru or two who I can cite as my teachers. I want you to critically evaluate what I say and believe nothing. Belief is the enemy of spirituality.

‘I want you to decide what makes sense, and then try it out to see if it works for you.’

Sam paused for many moments and then looked around the room once again. The audience, many of whom were sitting on the floor in meditation postures, was silent and appeared highly attentive to what she was saying. She knew she had a gift for communicating these ideas and sincerely hoped that something of what she might say this week would help some of them on their way.

Sam began to speak once more. ‘If you wish to travel a path to spiritual enlightenment, perhaps it would be helpful if I gave you some idea about what spiritual enlightenment might look like. I’ll start, however, by saying something about what it isn’t.

‘It isn’t some ethereal, unworldly state where you rise above the world in a glow of supernatural radiance while feeling perpetually wonderful. Enlightenment is simply perceiving reality as it actually is – a reality that is already in front of you here this evening.

‘There’s nothing mystical about mysticism. Reality is all around you and within you. God is hiding in plain sight.

‘Seeing this reality doesn’t require you to learn anything. The fact that you can’t routinely perceive Ultimate Reality accurately is not because you know too little. It’s because you know too much. Growing on a spiritual path is not a matter of learning. It’s a matter of unlearning.

‘In some eastern traditions, there’s been a historical expectation for seekers to explore a spiritual path without too much consideration of where that path may be going. There’s good reason for this in that having an intellectual concept of what you are seeking can make it more difficult to experience the reality which that concept represents.

‘This can be a reason to not fully and permanently engage with any one spiritual tradition. There are approaches from all traditions that may help you. Without examining different perspectives, the mind can easily use limited doctrines, religious texts, myths and rituals to distance you from experiencing the very reality they attempt to illuminate – the very reality you’re seeking.

‘In the West, however, we don’t like to fly blind. We like to have something of a roadmap before we set off and, despite the risks, that is what I would like to layout for you this evening.

‘A sculptor might sometimes imagine a block of stone to already contain the sculpture she can visualise. She might imagine the creative task to be about using correct tools to remove material that isn’t part of the object her block is destined to become. That is a fair analogy for the seeker of truth.

‘Your assumptions about your own nature, the nature of the Universe and the connection between the two are the superfluous material that you need to cut away. But what tool should you employ to reveal the reality that’s beneath them?

‘The answer to that question is controlled and focussed attention on whatever you choose to examine in the here and now. It is to simply be present. In some schools, this is called mindfulness. There are various names and various related techniques. Nevertheless, they are all essentially pointing to the same thing.

‘When people begin to meditate, they’re often advised to concentrate on their breath. Very quickly they discover this is a very hard thing to do. Thoughts and feelings just arise on their own, all the time, and very easily spirit the mind away on virtual journeys into the past or the future. These journeys incorporate stories and imaginings that usually have no more substance or practical use than those you might read in a novel or dream during sleep.

‘The one place the mind doesn’t routinely try to take you is the present – which is interesting because the present is the only location at which we can be in direct contact with reality.

‘One of the nice things about any attempt to develop mindfulness is that benefits are noticeable at any level. An improved ability to focus on the breath in the here and now can increase mental focus and reduce anxiety. Indeed, it’s this effect that’s made mindfulness so popular in recent times in the promotion of wellbeing. People benefit from the practice at its most basic level, even if they have no current aspirations to experience the nature of Ultimate Reality.

‘This ability to focus upon and notice things in the here and now is the main tool you must carry with you on your journey along the path of spiritual enlightenment.

‘I talked about providing you with a road map, so let’s imagine you’re standing at the start of the path, holding your first attempt at making a crude mindfulness tool.’

Sam held up an imaginary mindfulness tool and looked quizzically at it. The audience laughed.

‘As you make a better job of refining this thing,’ she pointed at the invisible object, ‘you’ll find yourself moving along the path.

‘But what will you encounter?

‘Initially, as I’ve said, you’ll encounter greater concentration and less anxiety about life.

‘A little further along the road, as you focus more deeply on your internal world, you’ll notice something about all those thoughts, feelings and sense perceptions that arise in consciousness. You’ll notice that you are perceiving them. That means that they can’t be the same thing as you. This will lead you to wonder something. You’ll ask yourself, “If I’m not my thoughts, feelings and sense perceptions, who or what am I?”

‘You’ll then discover that the sole, steady, consistent element of yourself is a quiet awareness – something quite distinct from the inconsistent agglomeration of sense perceptions, thoughts and feelings that most people consider themselves to be.

‘The illusion that you are that inconsistent agglomeration, however, is very convincing and seductive. The mind even tries to corral all these disparate impressions into something that, if you look at it with your eyes half shut, can be taken in the gloom for a self with an overarching identity that we call an ego.

‘You may have heard of the concept of “no self”, which simply describes the recognition that the self and the ego, whilst they can be useful abstract concepts, are no more real than objects you might imagine when looking at the shapes of clouds. They are representationalist images that can help you navigate the world, but they must not be mistaken for reality itself.

‘Further down the road you’ll recognise that this quiet awareness within you is the same thing as the awareness within others – exactly the same thing – and that all the differentiation you experience which causes you to conceive the world as discrete objects, both animate and inanimate, is also an illusion. You’ll see that all the uncountable separate things you perceive in this Universe are really one seamless whole.

‘At the end of the path, the final simplicity of Ultimate Reality will become apparent.’

Sam smiled and changed her tone and pace to convey less gravity. ‘If we get the timing right, that revelation will probably happen for you all after breakfast next Friday morning – a few minutes before you leave to return to your homes.’

Sam noted how the laughter that followed from her joke developed gradually within her audience. She knew that those who laughed first had intellectually understood what she had said but had quickly been able to switch back to the everyday world. Those who had laughed less quickly may have moved deeper into a more profound understanding of her words. That might explain why they had taken longer to find their ways back to the water’s surface. She hoped that some might not have laughed at all or might even have cried because they had found a new level – perhaps might even have “got it” for the first time.

Sam could sense that the group had warmed to her, and she was pleased about this. After a short pause to allow the laughter to fade, she continued once again in a more serious manner. ‘Whilst that was a joke, it’s also not impossible. Don’t think you’re so ordinary or so unversed in one or other unknown esoteric skill that you’ll never reach Nirvana in this lifetime. Don’t let your minds talk you out of believing you can go there. Remember what I said at the beginning, there’s nothing mystical about mysticism. Reality is in front of you. God is hiding in plain sight.’ Sam paused again before concluding. ‘Thank you.’

Chapter 10 Lights underground

Friday 6th August

It was nine in the evening before the introductory session was over and Sam had finished dinner. Rather than return directly to her room, she decided to make the best of the remaining evening light to undertake a reconnaissance of the adjacent mental health unit.

The unit was located about one hundred metres from the buildings associated with the temple, and there was no fence to mark a boundary. Sam walked confidently towards the unit, secure in the knowledge that no one she might encounter could suspect anything other than that she was taking a stroll on a warm summer evening. Indeed, any attempt to be furtive could have conveyed quite a different message.

The whole mental health unit appeared to be in darkness as she approached. There was insufficient daylight for anyone inside to not have switched on a light, and, anyway, there was no evidence of anyone about. She walked along the front of the building and then turned right to continue along the end wall of the structure – the wall that was farthest from the temple complex. When Sam had reached a point about halfway along that wall, her attention was drawn to a light coming from a small clump of trees on her left. She turned and walked towards it.

She stood still for a moment, took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She had no sense of any person being in the vicinity. She discerned caution, stealth perhaps, from some tall grass just to her right. She glanced towards that grass as the fox broke cover and then ran quickly away towards the woods which lay beyond the perimeter of the camp.

Sam looked back towards the light and then followed it into the trees.

There was a brick structure in front of her. Its closed metal door faced her. The outbuilding was the size and shape of an old-fashioned privy. The colour of the door was difficult to discern in the fading light, but Sam thought its flaking paint might be green. In its centre, a yellow sign depicting a lightning flash made it clear that the structure was related to electricity and that it would be unwise to open the door. Light, however, was escaping from underneath the door.

Sam pulled a small torch from her pocket and closely inspected the door by torchlight. She then pulled on its D-shaped metal handle. There was no motion at all – as if the door had been welded shut or had not been opened for many years. She walked around the structure and then out from the clump of trees on its far side. She found herself on a concrete path that hadn’t been visible from the other side of the copse. It appeared to run to the boundary fence of the site.

By the side of the path, at around thirty-metre intervals, were circular structures that were about two metres in diameter. They protruded about a metre above the ground. Sam guessed these to be airshafts related to some underground complex. This had, after all, been a World War Two airfield, and it was entirely possible that there were rooms beneath the ground – although the map provided by Sahadeva had not shown them.

By the light of the torch, Sam walked to the first airshaft and peered down into it. Initially, it seemed totally dark. She then had a thought, turned off her torch and leaned on the side of the airshaft – looking down into the darkness. After a few minutes, as the pupils of her eyes increasingly dilated, a faint light was noticeable.

She switched on the torch and inspected the shaft more carefully. The top was open and there was an access ladder leading down into the blackness.

Sam once more took a deep breath, closed her eyes and focussed on her awareness of the moment. It was not as if there was any perception she could specifically describe. She simply knew that climbing down into the airshaft to check out that light would be her next move.