On blogging, Buddhism and ducks

Blogging can be a bit like meditation or going to the gym- you get out of the routine and then it's really difficult to get back into it. I had a 'dip' after coming back from England (partly because I had a big - natural- high from going back to West Wales). And I do try to resist the temptation to make my blog a 'sounding-off box' (that's what my friends are for - that way I can choose what I share with whom). Thank you for being patient over the past weeks.

Then we had a really cold snap - which disrupted travel plans but didn't give enough snow to go cross country skiing (grrrr) - but at least my journeys to work are short enough not to be disrupted by re-routing or traffic jams. And I found that I am not so self preoccupied to forget buying some fat balls to make a contribution to keeping our local bird life from being starvation.

Anyway, for the rest of this month I have determined to chant at least one hours daimoku a day. That's the spring from which fortitude merges. The sowing of seeds. There may well be things in my life that are difficult to change - but chanting is something that I can do irrespective of my circumstances. The funny thing (Buddhists call it the mystic law - the link between cause -in this case chanting- and effect -in this case a 'conspicious' benefit) is that as soon as I made that decision - I mean like five minutes after I started chanting with that determination - someone called me to invite me to a meeting to discuss an interesting project that has been on the back boiler for more than a year - so long that I had thought it was definitely a dead duck.

Dead duck - now there's a prospect. I can't remember seeing duck in the shops here - I get the feeling it's like trying to buy Beef Vindaloo in Southern India. The ducks here are so fearless, crossing as insouciant as holy cows - oblivious to humans. My first memory of Wageningen was seeing a gang of ducks strutting up the High Street on a Sunday morning - knowing it was theirs ("wanna make sumfink of it, Jan?"). A few years later I saw a mallard climb the steps of a cafe entrance - looking intent on going in and ordering a skinny latte. I had the camera shot all set-up and just at that moment someone walked out the cafe and scared him away. Damn. It would have been an iconic Dutch image.

So if I want duck for Christmas dinner I might well have to cross the border (or make the acquaintance of a poacher). Seriously, Lidl stores in Germany sell frozen duck, but their Dutch cousins don't. Maybe I could arrange a clandestine meeting in a forest clearing - five grams of sensimilla for a brace of Campbells (given what's going on in the Netherlands with legislation about foreigners' access to coffee shops this is definitely not a fantasy scenario). And, I wonder what would happen if I got caught at a random border control? I'd probably have my Dutch residency immediately evoked. ***k it I'll take a chance.