First thoughts in Beirut

The sky is pink and blue ice, the temperature perfect and I am sitting on the balcony of the Hayete guesthouse chilling out after a productive and thought-provoking day at the Theta-healing course I am attending here in Beirut.

Hayete means “My life” and it is great to have a few days off from My Muscat Life to regroup in a different space. This morning I got into the taxi down to the Monroe hotel and the taxi driver handed me a gardenia, which I have worn in my hair, the scent pervading my space all day.  This is a city of dichotomy, all windswept purple flowers on the pavements, and delicate jasmine and heady gardenia. But there is also dogshit from the shi-shi dogs being walked by the Filipino housemaids, as well as the pockmarks of war everywhere.

There are shiny glass buildings and old style Beiruti houses, like the one I am staying in. There are buildings that have been half- destroyed and have been left as is; and a lot of construction work everywhere too. On the busy corniche, there are ladies strolling in tailored cream shorts with stockings and pumps, and girls in tight skimpy dresses and women covered in black from head to foot. There are Porsches and ancient BMWs and also completely clapped out vehicles, seemingly missing essential parts, that look as though they should not be going anywhere.

There is a bustling vibrant energy and and I have found myself looking closely into the people’s faces. They tell completely different stories to those in the land where I live. As I rode down winding streets in that taxi this morning, we passed a large hand-pushed cart of gigantic fresh strawberries, the biggest I have ever seen. Yesterday, at sunset on the cornice, surrounded by the sweet smell of shisha, the people were buying sweet corn with lemon juice from vendors; those lemons also being the largest I have seen.

I am constantly surprised by the greenery everywhere, coming from Muscat this feeling is naturally pronounced.  I am also really happy about how grounded I feel here and how things have flowed since touchdown.

I had the perfect meal last night at Frida’s, the restaurant just below the guesthouse. It consisted of avocado salad with pomegranate, cucumber and teeny green leaves with lemony dressing. There were 5 types of crispy flatbread, my favourite was baked with sultanas and anise and served with slightly spicy olives and grated mature cheddar. I drank a litchi lemonade, freshly made there; the taste of which will stay with me for a long time.

My huge bed and pillow are super-comfy, and even though the resident bird woke me up at 5.30 this morning, I felt at peace with the world.

Now to read through my notes of the day to get up to speed for tomorrow and then I have a strong feeling I’ll be frequenting Frida’s again tonight.

The hundredth monkey

Dear friends, I remember a teacher telling uss this story in school in the 1980s, and I have discussed it with many people over the years. I thought you might like to hear it again. It is always thought-provoking. Wishing you interesting and stimulating thoughts and good sleep tonight.

“The Japanese monkey, Macaca Fuscata, had been observed in the wild for a period of over 30 years.
In 1952, on the island of Koshima, scientists were providing monkeys with sweet potatoes dropped in the sand. The monkey liked the taste of the raw sweet potatoes, but they found the dirt unpleasant.
An 18-month-old female named Imo found she could solve the problem by washing the potatoes in a nearby stream. She taught this trick to her mother. Her playmates also learned this new way and they taught their mothers too.

This cultural innovation was gradually picked up by various monkeys before the eyes of the scientists. Between 1952 and 1958 all the young monkeys learned to wash the sandy sweet potatoes to make them more palatable. Only the adults who imitated their children learned this social improvement. Other adults kept eating the dirty sweet potatoes.
Then something startling took place. In the autumn of 1958, a certain number of Koshima monkeys were washing sweet potatoes – the exact number is not known. Let us suppose that when the sun rose one morning there were 99 monkeys on Koshima Island who had learned to wash their sweet potatoes. Let’s further suppose that later that morning, the hundredth monkey learned to wash potatoes.

THEN IT HAPPENED!

By that evening almost everyone in the tribe was washing sweet potatoes before eating them. The added energy of this hundredth monkey somehow created an ideological breakthrough!
But notice: A most surprising thing observed by these scientists was that the habit of washing sweet potatoes then jumped over the sea…Colonies of monkeys on other islands and the mainland troop of monkeys at Takasakiyama began washing their sweet potatoes.
Thus, when a certain critical number achieves awareness, this new awareness may be communicated from mind to mind.
Although the exact number may vary, this Hundredth Monkey Phenomenon means that when only a limited number of people know of a new way, it may remain the conscious property of these people.
But there is a point at which if only one more person tunes-in to a new awareness, a field is strengthened so that this awareness is picked up by almost everyone.”

Perhaps that one extra person is you?

The above is just a short excerpt form the book The Hundredth Monkey by Ken Keyes Jr. The book was not copyrighted and may freely be reproduced.