Reveries and Reminiscences By Sangharakshita ISBN n/a Read by Subhadra
Published on Sangharakshita.org
The following twelve pieces by Urgyen Sangharakshita were written between August 2015 and March 2016. They begin with a letter to Sangharakshita's friend and companion, Paramartha, who had been suddenly called away to the other side of the world, and continue over the following weeks and months, taking the forms of reveries and reminiscences, rather like those which are collected together in a Moseley Miscellany (some of which can also be found on the above website). The subjects to which he turns his mind include his parents, the sūtras, the supernormal, beauty and many others.
Contents:
1. A Reverie-cum-Reminiscence in the form of a Letter to Paramartha
2. Old Mr Boutell
3. The Young Philip Lingwood
4. Some Bombay Friends
5. Encounters on the Underground
6. Colin Wilson Revisited
7. Remembering Alaya
8. What Might Have Been
9. The Young Man in the Hut
10. Alternative Lives
11. On the Edge of the Etheric
12. The Young Florence Ketskemety
An extract from Adhisthana Writings
From 8. What Might Have Been
‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’ I used to be asked when I was thirteen or fourteen. Sometimes it would be ‘What do you want to do when you grow up?’ Although I remember being asked these questions I cannot remember who asked them. I never thought about what I would be or do when I left school and went out into the world. What I did think about was what I wanted to do at the time. I wanted to write, especially to write poetry, and I wanted to draw and paint, as well as to read as much as I could about literature and the arts. At the time of which I am speaking I spent more time painting than writing. I liked to paint pictures of historical figures such as Henry VIII and Queen Elizabeth, Catherine de' Medici and Marie Antoinette. I particularly liked painting pictures of women, for depicting their long, flowing draperies, with all their folds and creases, gave me a keen aesthetic pleasure. It also meant that I did not have to depict their bodies, especially their legs, which at this time was beyond my skill. The fact that I was spending much of my free time painting could hardly escape the notice of those around me, especially my parents and my sister and other members of the family. It was well known that Dennis painted and that he was, perhaps, going to be an artist when he grew up. There was even some talk about the possibility of my going to art school. But it was not my ambition to be an artist. I just wanted to paint and draw. But although it was well known that Dennis painted it was not so well known that he also wrote poetry. Indeed it was known only to the girl next door, a girl of my own age to whom I showed my first poems. ‘They are very good,’ she said.
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