Milan Buddha Ghosh, nicknamed as ‘the Bodhisattva of holbyeckeeestan’ (Holbeck) by my good friend of 33 years, Terence Simpson, What keeps me well, what inspires me … is many things but in particular Salvaging ‘Waste’ stuff from bin-yards the street, bins, fly-tipping by my allotment cul-de-sac. I salvage many t’ings (‘scuse me my Jah-maican stepdaddie’s tongue coming out in me, there, my father is from Calcutta, and my mum is English – from Preston, by the way) recyclables go in the green bin ALU and steel cans, plastic bottles, paper cardboard, and in the next blog there’ll be: Litter Picking and the Dharma, and rescuing the Intestines of the Earth What I want to focus on now is one item that keeps being lost, dumped, dropped deliberately or not, on the pavement. Gloves. There’s so many gloves, motorbike thick leather or fake leather glove , black as for men macho-ness? These motorbike gloves are shaped like a knight of olds gauntlet, (medieval and modern continue into each other, interesting). Yes, it’s very male, and sporting and strong. There’s kids gloves, pink and blue, and oh so tiny. These are mostly woollen, or fake wool, acrylic, nylon etc., synthetics. Kids mitts are so cute and very colourful, multicoloured, and they remind me of a different world. I wash them 1 twice or thrice, so they are completely clean, and then I put them in Holbeck’s Old Eland Road’s Clothing bank which is for single parents motherstrust.org.uk Please donate to clothing banks – mothers trust give old clothes to single parents, mostly mothers, who are one of the poorest groups in society. I peruse, as I pick up gloves, sometimes this lost world of my childhood, but people say I’m so playful funny, humorous, delightful, so I do know there’s 2nd childhood here, in middle age – I’m 49- not only old age. Maybe I’ll have a 3rd childhood then? There’s furry gloves with thick padding for winter, black smooth material, some with black grey fake fur on the worst part of the glove only, some totally in fur in fingers, and others without any fingers, all 4 digits merged into one. There’s less gloves in the spring and even less dropped in summer. When I pick them up they can be completely clean, even smelling nice of soap or perfume, or a bit wet, completely drenched, or drenched and muddy; whatever they all are thoroughly laundered. Did you know that soap powder has about 1 percent bleach in it, and together with the other cleaning ingredients I reckon there’s no problem in my wearing such gloves, because of hygiene. I never buy gloves, and in this Recession, every penny counts does it not? There are workmen’s gloves, in thick leather, very rigid stiff, with seams everywhere where fingers adjoin the palm of the glove, in pink, purple and grey with some patches in blue white stripes. There are cotton gloves coated with primrose yellow rubber solution, or rusty brown rubber; these have a elastic, cosy wrist to keep the road grit out for these workmen. I find these gloves by road-holes where utility men, or Yorkshire Water men work. Or near the building site of new social housing in Holbeck’s Brown Lane East. Gloves, gloves, gloves .These are the bits of reality, another set of bits of Huge Reality; and all the elements or phenomena are streaming, coming into being, being worn, then lost, dropped swept up by road sweepers deposited into landfill, or salvaged by a few caring green environ-mental souls like me. Gloves like all phenomena are being continually created and destroyed Gloves, or any phenomena, are meditay-shun non-objects; ‘itation for liberation, Rastas say. So if you need any spare gloves of any type you know what to do, salvage them from the street forget embarrassment-pride or self-consciousness just pick em up, launder them and wear them. I even give them to my friends like Robert, who mentioned he was short of gloves, and ”munni” he’s oft skint like me, so I told him where I get them from ( by the way an ear-worm or brain-graze: just call me mad, with such free, and daft associations, but they make life worth living humour does whenever I think money, I think munni, I think Buddha Shakyamunni, I think of the oil minister of Saudi Arabia when I were a lad 30 odd years ago, called Sheik Yemani?!). He didn’t mind. Every little helps, that we don’t spend in this 5 year Recession, and I don’t quite believe this Con Dem – more like Con Us Govt. a cabinet of millionaires ruling over the poor, disgraceful. I give them to the clothing bank, or charity shops, some after darning. I never buy gardeners or other gloves. Give the gloves a helping hand and the environ – ment too-ooo-oo!# Save a little money, by investing in a little soap and water, give kids gloves to your daughter, men’s gloves to men friends, women’s gloves to women friends, or your girlfriend., Make, salvage wash ’em and mend, or deposit them in the clothing bank, for http://www.motherstrust.org, or any of charity, whilst doing all this have a sense of being like me, totally free.
Make do and mend, gladly, so you don’t have to spend more than you have to, be an charity, and, Enviro -Friend; don’t drive yourself round the bend; what the mind dwells on it becomes. Dwell on love joy the best in humans, I do every day. I have learnt to be in love with life
M. b. Gosh.