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Here I am in the Kaf, really McDonald's with burger and coffee prior to my stint on the tills at Oxfam. Enjoying a holiday from "heavy" books and reading a biography of Samuel Beckett, "Damned to Fame". So good. In fact it seems to do all that any "heavy" book tries to do, but by way of no-calculation, which is in fact very Becketish the more I think about it (which I try not to do......😀) Well, I waffle.

Some light moments in the book, a story told of an order for a pair of trousers from a Paris tailor:-

The reference to the world and the pair of trousers alludes to the story of a tailor, who takes many weeks to make a pair of trousers for a customer. The client objects that it took God only seven days to make the entire world. But, replies the tailor, ‘look at the world and look at my trousers’!

Well, it made me laugh, which doesn't come cheap.

The book is by no means hagiographic, but for me Beckett comes shining through as a fine human being. Compassionate without self-consciousness of being so, and actually reaching deep into others even when lost in his own solitude. "Nothing to be done" - yet he does it! All providing a counterpoint, perhaps more an illumination, of much of Dogen. Having immersed myself in Dogen for a while, the life and thought of Beckett is a feast of "east/west" perceptions and inter-relationships. Much insight into:-

......flowers fall even though we love them; weeds grow even though we dislike them. Conveying oneself toward all things to carry out practice-enlightenment is delusion. All things coming and carrying out practice-enlightenment through the self is realization. (Words from "Genjokoan", the "actualisation of reality)

Beckett was all against the creation of "order", of "answers", of any "system" that will inevitably stifle our spontaneous on-going life. His prose and plays are in many ways a sheer chaos. Yet:-

There's a way out there, there's a way out somewhere, the rest would come, the other words, sooner or later, and the power to get there, and the way to get there, and pass out, and see the beauties of the skies, and see the stars again. (Samuel Beckett, ninth monologue, "Texts for Nothing", as spoken by a tramp-like waif as he contemplates death)

"There's a way out", but keep quiet about it! Don't even think of it. Thomas Merton's "there is no key, no door" - don't ever think that you have the key!

Beckett could have remained safe as a neutral Irish citizen in Paris during WW2 and the German occupation. But he joined the French Resistance and narrowly avoided capture by the Gestapo. I've now reached the post-war years, when his literary creativity exploded. "Waiting for Godot" is soon to come!

 "Nothing to be done"! Creative nihilism.

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