Advice to my young self
This has turned into a bit of a TL:DR. You have been warned. It is 50 years since I first formally took refuge in the Three Jewels and so became a Buddhist, receiving the name Karma Yeshe Dorje from Lama Chime Rinpoche. If I had but known then what I know now! Or if I had been blessed with a mentor who knew what I know now! But no. My karma was to grope. And grope I did, starting from no more than an adolescent sense that there must be something more. I hunted through supposedly occult magazines in a corner of the newsagent’s kiosk in the subway by Birmingham New Street Station, spent hours requesting musty copies of works on Theosophy, Spiritualism, mysticism, works by Gurdjieff, Ouspensky and Brunton in the reading room of Birmingham City Library. I was familiar with those shelves in the back basement of Hudson’s University Bookshop that carried works on yoga, travelogues of central Asia and the pioneering translations of Evans-Wentz, though it was near Foyles in London that I first ...