Bardo Travel: Writings on Experience and Place
“A bardo is a transition or gap — a space where transformation can occur.”
Articles
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Shaoshan: The Birthplace of Chairman Mao
The strangeness of visiting Shaoshan had appealed to me. Since his death in 1976 the idea of Mao Zedong has been in flux. All over China he is visible: his face on every bank note, his portrait on the wall of Tiananmen Square near where his embalmed corpse lies, often with a line of weeping…
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To the Mountains
Did they build this tower block to withstand such a storm? Brilliant flashes lit up the night sky and thunder shook the room’s windows.
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Eric Ravilious: Drawn to War
At first glance the paintings of Eric Ravilious are cheerful. Bright and airy landscapes, soft hills, the still life of an afternoon tea, chalk figures seen through the window of a railway carriage; all with a straight-edged exactness which brought order to the world he was depicting.
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New Deaths
I did have some food in but had thought to get in more – in fact I’d decided to learn how to bake bread and had none of the ingredients. But I did not say this. I told him I had run out of cigarettes and peanuts. I said this to appease him; I imagined…
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On My Birthday
My birthday started as I wanted: up early with coffee, reading something new.
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The Lang Projector
Donald Lang only visited his wife on Tuesdays and Fridays. And like every Tuesday and Friday he was done up for it – a wax cotton jacket over a check shirt; tie a neat Windsor knot. His corduroy trousers ended where his stout shoes started. He wore a flat cap.
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The Invigilators
‘There’s a lizard behind you,’ the boy said motioning with his head, but not allowing his eyes to leave those of Leopold.
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Clan Wallace
‘When they caught Sir William, you’ll remember, they lashed his ankle to a cart, dragged him off, bumping him through Berwick and the like, to howls and jeers, all the way doon tae London!’
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The Race Delusion
I was part of a pack of five, hurtling past purple heather on the slick wet road, smoky cloud clinging to the hillsides, when the epiphany came.
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The Surfing Archives
When my dad moved to one of the Scottish islands my first response was: are there waves?
Bardo travel: Writings on experience and place 