Chapter
13
Man is a
machine, but a very peculiar machine. He
is a machine which under the right circumstances and with the right treatment
can know that he is a machine
P.D. Ouspensky
Sufism and Subud
Following the Talks at Brockwood Park, which I was to attend for
the next nine years, I drove with new-found friends to the south of France in a
Renault 4 belonging to Pauline to take part in the vendange, the
grape-picking harvest. We camped on the beach at Port Leucate and soon after we
had pitched the tent there was a tremendous thunderstorm which occurred right
above our heads and water cascaded upon the tent, completely soaking us.
Fortunately a German couple had parked their camper van nearby and helped us to
dry out.
We spent the next three weeks in the vineyards, labouring in the
fields and struggling to keep up with the Spanish workers who kept up a
back-breaking pace. Every day we were given a bottle each of the local
Corbieres wine and used it mostly in our cooking in our small canteen.,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
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