Here I am, the ‘Karen’ of your story, four marriages and three widowhoods later - I never became a Buddhist and don't recall ever wearing robes, orange or any other colour, but memory and creativity are wonderful things.
Funnily enough, I just got the Köln concert again a couple of days ago - it's so gorgeous to listen to. Serendipity.
Yes, conversations with you and your dad were brilliant and no doubt played a key role in shifting me to the left, and to much more critical thinking and reading. I was so lucky to be welcomed into your home.
Didn't realise you felt you lost me as a friend. I felt the same about you when you went to Lancaster.
I have at last - in later years - been able to do the writing I always wanted to, and am now a regular performer of my poetry. I also have a daughter and recently became a grandmother.
Good to read your pieces and to learn of your courage and progress.
You are of course quite right that I married a Buddhist and hosted many of his pupils and teachers in the four years we were together. He is still going and has had a long career as a Buddhist teacher and writer, and married again, more successfully the second time!
Ah, Mr Hanif! To read this piece is a great pleasure. Though one can be aware of the utter isolation of being a separate human being on this planet, this place the purpose of which is sometimes in doubt, how wonderful to be able to convey so much in mere words! I first heard the Köln Concert in the early 1980s or thereabout, in the kitchen we shared with other Gurdjieffians in Massachusetts. It was the end of a Work Weekend- and those who remained or lived in the group house were relaxing, drinking some Jack Daniels or something, and a dear man named Herb brought the record out and played it. It had such power! it was in that same kitchen that we first heard of the death of John Lennon- the world shatters in a variety of ways. Living in a group house was a lot of work. All the battles of civilization were fought symbolically through the stealthy unauthorized the use of someone else's refrigerator and leaving as I did the sink full of cold water, dead suds, and a flotilla of cheerios. Thank you as always. I look forward to your writing as often as you offer it.
“I had never seen an actor achieve anything through improvisation that wouldn’t have been better coming from a writer who had thought about what he was doing.” This made me laugh so much. Great essay.
What a pleasure to read this Hanif. You remind me of the pleasure of writing. Hope that you’re continuing your slow and steady improvement in function x
Here I am, the ‘Karen’ of your story, four marriages and three widowhoods later - I never became a Buddhist and don't recall ever wearing robes, orange or any other colour, but memory and creativity are wonderful things.
Funnily enough, I just got the Köln concert again a couple of days ago - it's so gorgeous to listen to. Serendipity.
Yes, conversations with you and your dad were brilliant and no doubt played a key role in shifting me to the left, and to much more critical thinking and reading. I was so lucky to be welcomed into your home.
Didn't realise you felt you lost me as a friend. I felt the same about you when you went to Lancaster.
I have at last - in later years - been able to do the writing I always wanted to, and am now a regular performer of my poetry. I also have a daughter and recently became a grandmother.
Good to read your pieces and to learn of your courage and progress.
Julia/’Karen’/now Rhoda
You are of course quite right that I married a Buddhist and hosted many of his pupils and teachers in the four years we were together. He is still going and has had a long career as a Buddhist teacher and writer, and married again, more successfully the second time!
Ah, Mr Hanif! To read this piece is a great pleasure. Though one can be aware of the utter isolation of being a separate human being on this planet, this place the purpose of which is sometimes in doubt, how wonderful to be able to convey so much in mere words! I first heard the Köln Concert in the early 1980s or thereabout, in the kitchen we shared with other Gurdjieffians in Massachusetts. It was the end of a Work Weekend- and those who remained or lived in the group house were relaxing, drinking some Jack Daniels or something, and a dear man named Herb brought the record out and played it. It had such power! it was in that same kitchen that we first heard of the death of John Lennon- the world shatters in a variety of ways. Living in a group house was a lot of work. All the battles of civilization were fought symbolically through the stealthy unauthorized the use of someone else's refrigerator and leaving as I did the sink full of cold water, dead suds, and a flotilla of cheerios. Thank you as always. I look forward to your writing as often as you offer it.
Thankyou for this dearest. Too much to take in but so wonderful to read. Albeit at 4:40 am. I’m in Sheffield at the documentary festival. Big hug. MM
Lots of love Miriam!
xx
Wow! This piece is a symphony of amazing thoughts. Thank you.
“I had never seen an actor achieve anything through improvisation that wouldn’t have been better coming from a writer who had thought about what he was doing.” This made me laugh so much. Great essay.
I recommend Köln 75, the 2025 movie about the young woman who produced the concert.
What a pleasure to read this Hanif. You remind me of the pleasure of writing. Hope that you’re continuing your slow and steady improvement in function x
As a lover of Keith Jarrett’s live concerts can I recommend these two more recent live recordings -
Paris/London (Testament) - the London concert is the best of the two, 2009
A Multitude of Angels (Live) - live in Italy 2016
(it’s all good, but the second track is staggering esp how he manages to resolve the whole thing after 30+ minutes of pure improvisation)