My father was one of those people you could set your watch by. Every morning, following a deeply guttural clearing of his throat, he would spit into the sink at exactly seventeen minutes past seven. My mother on the other hand would be woken by one of the housemaids, around ten thirty. The curtains would be drawn, and a breakfast tray with folding legs placed over her waking body.
In spirit I must have taken after my mother as in my former years I was never a “morning” person. It was better not to engage with me until I had had my coffee and preferably not before midday. How I ever managed to navigate school is a complete mystery to me, and as I got older my mornings only seemed to get worse. Perhaps this was one of the reasons I enjoyed travelling, with its absence of routine and continuously changing scenery.
While visiting India I came across a method of dealing with my morning pre-disposition, which to my astonishment, really worked. It was a bit extreme, but strong habits are hard to break, and therefore drastic measures are sometimes called for.
I was staying in an Ashram in Rishikesh, a Hindu holy city located in North Eastern India at the foothills of the Himalayas. Rishikesh is a pilgrimage gateway to holy sites higher up and where the sacred river Ganges (Ganga in local dialects) leaves the Himalayas, to flow across the plains of Northern India. Rishikesh had many yoga centres that attracted pilgrims from within India, and tourists from abroad. The Beatles came there during their 1960’s affiliation with Maharishi Mahesh Yogi.
It has been said that meditation in Rishikesh brings one closer to the attainment of Nirvana, as does a dip in the sacred river Ganges that flows through it. This was standard practise in all the centres that overlooked the Ganges. Around 4am in the morning, devotees would go down to the river bank, stride into the water, and submerge themselves three times, as purification before morning meditation. The fact the Ganges leaves the mountains at this point means the water is extremely cold, making this practise quite an ordeal, even in the hot Indian climate. The only way to of doing it is to "not-think", an appropriate lesson, in a place where thinking is predominantly discouraged.
The result for me was that, completely out of character, by 4.15am I was buzzing as a result of the steep temperature gradient, which was short enough to bring me to my senses, but not long enough to freeze off my private parts.
In spirit I must have taken after my mother as in my former years I was never a “morning” person. It was better not to engage with me until I had had my coffee and preferably not before midday. How I ever managed to navigate school is a complete mystery to me, and as I got older my mornings only seemed to get worse. Perhaps this was one of the reasons I enjoyed travelling, with its absence of routine and continuously changing scenery.
While visiting India I came across a method of dealing with my morning pre-disposition, which to my astonishment, really worked. It was a bit extreme, but strong habits are hard to break, and therefore drastic measures are sometimes called for.
I was staying in an Ashram in Rishikesh, a Hindu holy city located in North Eastern India at the foothills of the Himalayas. Rishikesh is a pilgrimage gateway to holy sites higher up and where the sacred river Ganges (Ganga in local dialects) leaves the Himalayas, to flow across the plains of Northern India. Rishikesh had many yoga centres that attracted pilgrims from within India, and tourists from abroad. The Beatles came there during their 1960’s affiliation with Maharishi Mahesh Yogi.
It has been said that meditation in Rishikesh brings one closer to the attainment of Nirvana, as does a dip in the sacred river Ganges that flows through it. This was standard practise in all the centres that overlooked the Ganges. Around 4am in the morning, devotees would go down to the river bank, stride into the water, and submerge themselves three times, as purification before morning meditation. The fact the Ganges leaves the mountains at this point means the water is extremely cold, making this practise quite an ordeal, even in the hot Indian climate. The only way to of doing it is to "not-think", an appropriate lesson, in a place where thinking is predominantly discouraged.
The result for me was that, completely out of character, by 4.15am I was buzzing as a result of the steep temperature gradient, which was short enough to bring me to my senses, but not long enough to freeze off my private parts.
The Story
This story actually takes place during the cold, wet London winter of 1978-79, in a basement flat close to Harley Street. I was looking after a building where psychiatrists gave group therapy in fashionable consulting rooms. Our cleaner thought some of the psychiatrists were in need of therapy themselves. On the mantels and sills of the rooms, were carefully placed ornaments. He noticed that if he replaced the ornaments in their exact positions while dusting, it would be presumed the room had not been cleaned. So he made a point of slightly dislodging each ornament whether he had actually cleaned the room or not, just to placate the doctors.
The weather was miserable and I was struggling with the compilation of a film about my recent exploits in India. Determined to lift my energy levels at the outset of each day I decided to try the Rishikesh river routine. The only problem was that there were no nearby rivers to stride into, without requiring a massive dose of tetanus that is. Undaunted I decided to use the bath, which I began filling first thing every morning with about six inches of cold water. This was just about enough water to cover my whole body while lying down flat in the bath. I started to submerge myself three times to make sure every centimetre of my body was stimulated by cold water, before starting each day. This required a lot of courage in the middle of a London winter especially before the central heating was switched on.
And so it went on, the moment I woke up I would snap into action. I would go through my ritual without thinking, and then start my day with zest. But things are never simple, and I started waking up earlier each day. If I ever looked at my alarm clock to see what time it was, I would begin questioning why I should get up so early to have a cold bath, and invariably I would again lose the will to go through with it.
One day I woke up before the alarm went off, “Don’t think - don’t think”, I said to myself. I got out of bed quickly, “don’t think - don’t think”. I went to the bathroom and put the plug in the bath, “don’t think - don’t think”. I leant over the bath and turned on the cold water “don’t think - don’t think”. I waited for the water to fill up, “don’t think - don’t think”. I checked to see if the water was full enough, “not yet, not yet”, checked again, “nearly, nearly, almost there, almost there”. I checked again, “at last, at last”, turn the water off, “get in, get in, lie down lie down, submerge myself with water, once, twice, three times.” Zinging and full of energy, I dried myself, emptied the bath, shaved and brushed my teeth. I got dressed, made an extra special breakfast of bacon, eggs, toast, juice, cereal. That was it I was ready for the day, I finally looked at my watch only to discover it was 1.30am in the morning.
I do not remember what I did for the remainder of that night. Zinging away I doubt I could have got back to sleep.
This story actually takes place during the cold, wet London winter of 1978-79, in a basement flat close to Harley Street. I was looking after a building where psychiatrists gave group therapy in fashionable consulting rooms. Our cleaner thought some of the psychiatrists were in need of therapy themselves. On the mantels and sills of the rooms, were carefully placed ornaments. He noticed that if he replaced the ornaments in their exact positions while dusting, it would be presumed the room had not been cleaned. So he made a point of slightly dislodging each ornament whether he had actually cleaned the room or not, just to placate the doctors.
The weather was miserable and I was struggling with the compilation of a film about my recent exploits in India. Determined to lift my energy levels at the outset of each day I decided to try the Rishikesh river routine. The only problem was that there were no nearby rivers to stride into, without requiring a massive dose of tetanus that is. Undaunted I decided to use the bath, which I began filling first thing every morning with about six inches of cold water. This was just about enough water to cover my whole body while lying down flat in the bath. I started to submerge myself three times to make sure every centimetre of my body was stimulated by cold water, before starting each day. This required a lot of courage in the middle of a London winter especially before the central heating was switched on.
For a while my days began with zest, which quickly translated into progress on my documentary. Eventually I started waking up before the alarm. On these occasions I would ponder on what I was about to do. Unfortunately these thoughts made me lose the will to go through the ordeal later when the alarm rang. I realised that on such occasions I would have to snap into action before the planned wake up time. So as soon as I woke up I would get up immediately without thinking. I would go to the bathroom, without thinking. I would put the plug in the bath, and turn on the cold water tap, without thinking. I would wait without thinking, till the bath was full enough. Without thinking I would step in and lie down, and without thinking I would submerge myself fully three times. After that I was ready to get on with my day.
One day I woke up before the alarm went off, “Don’t think - don’t think”, I said to myself. I got out of bed quickly, “don’t think - don’t think”. I went to the bathroom and put the plug in the bath, “don’t think - don’t think”. I leant over the bath and turned on the cold water “don’t think - don’t think”. I waited for the water to fill up, “don’t think - don’t think”. I checked to see if the water was full enough, “not yet, not yet”, checked again, “nearly, nearly, almost there, almost there”. I checked again, “at last, at last”, turn the water off, “get in, get in, lie down lie down, submerge myself with water, once, twice, three times.” Zinging and full of energy, I dried myself, emptied the bath, shaved and brushed my teeth. I got dressed, made an extra special breakfast of bacon, eggs, toast, juice, cereal. That was it I was ready for the day, I finally looked at my watch only to discover it was 1.30am in the morning.
I do not remember what I did for the remainder of that night. Zinging away I doubt I could have got back to sleep.