I think I almost discovered the Higgs boson subatomic particles which the Smiley One is busy searching for in Switzerland with the Large Hadron Collider.  
   Almost. Like him. A single peak. Not enough evidence however.
   It wasn't during my 21st birthday celebrations in Aberystwyth, when I hitched a ride on a stolen tipper truck after falling in a ditch and sped dow Bronglais Hill.
   No, it was the Zen experience described in the poem following this, because there is something strangely akin to Zen Buddhism about the search for the so-called 'god particle'.
   At Aber Uni, in my third year and whilst still a trainee anarchist, reading 'Black Flag' and dreaming of fighting Franco (still in power in Spain), I immersed myself in Zen. Much of my poetry dealt with it, only to the extent that any mind-matter can approach something outside all reasoning.
   At one stage, I was so involved that I seriously considered not doing my final exams at all! Even my mother, famously indifferent to the plight of her offspring, advised me against this.
   It was undoubtedly a reaction to too much analysis and not enough creativity. The more I delved into literature, the less I knew and like Steinbeck in the 'Sea of Cortez', I wanted to find a vital link between everything in the universe. I was nothing if not ambitious!
   It appeared that whilst outwardly demonstrating the world as 'a grain of sand' and pointing to an existentialist absurdity of all human struggle in the face of mortality, ultimately it didn't depend on emptiness, but an energy which filled the void.
   The quest for the Higgs boson and that energy field which could have formed the universe - running through all matter - is remarkably similar to the aims of Zen.
   The one major difference is that through Zen you can plug into this energy, a spiritual force : by meditation you can reach outside the confines of the human mind and all its theories.
   It is an important difference, of course, but one which excites me ( giving me a smile like Prof. Cox ). Could our knowledge ever actually pinpoint this invisible energy field in the way that Zen can, in a single moment of enlightenment (the 'Mu' of the poem below)?
    As an atheist intrigued by spiritual journeys, I would still veer towards the sheer thrill of scientific discovery, but that we must never believe we can capture the Ultimate Truth.
   Religions believe they possess this Truth and Zen is no different, though it defies any book to do so. I think it's more humble to accept that we are in a constant state of doubt (does that make me an agnostic?).
   Christmas brings to the fore this tension between spiritual significance and materialism. Like Gruff Rhys of the Super Furries, who has just released an 'Atheist Xmas' ep, I would say that Christmas has long ceased to have much spiritual significance.
   While I do enjoy it as a time of family and of food and drink, even that is tempered by my vegetarian reaction to all those turkeys slaughtered needlessly.
   I have definitely been a pain this year, saying things like - 'If I were a Christian, I'd have nothing to do with it! The commercialism has destroyed the message.' It's nothing new, but every year the shopping frenzy seems to get more fraught.
   And on a wider scale, I can't help but thinking of those who are poor and who will get into terrible debt trying to buy what they have always bought, at a time of such deep recession.
   If I were to pursue a spiritual life then Zen would be the way. My friend Alwyn, the subject of my poem in 'Moor Music' called 'Peacetime Yossarian'
always claimed to be a Zen Buddhist, but then would get pissed on Belgian beer and go to sleep up a tree!
   I'm not sure I could deny myself those pleasures which would be necessary to live that religion properly, because surely the meaning of Buddhism is that the inner and outer lives must tally.
   The LHC may never prove the existence of an energy field which has filled a vacuum, the very source of our being, and the Higgs boson may only be a signpost towards it.
   We will never know everything and praise be for that!


                                  SEARCHING  FOR  ZEN

I read 'Zen Flesh, Zen Bones'.
I liked those stories, like the one
about the thief caught stealing from the monk,
when the monk declared - 'You forgot to take the moon!'

At least, that's how I remember it.
I didn't own a lot,
but would've fought anyone
to keep my record collection.

I didn't like the way those monks
beat their pupils into enlightenment:
the opposite of meditation defying all logic.

Those puzzles turned themselves inside out ,
ended up insisting - 'We are only words
after all, part of the illusion.'
But there I was, reading about Zen
to find out its meaning!

The moment of truth came
when I decided to consult Al Green
who was resident Zen guru
in the Old Union Lounge,
smoked what he called 'herbal tobacco',
drew cartoons of Diogenes
for our underground magazine.

'Al?' I asked ( at his feet, like a disciple,
thinking about Bodhidharma and his long trek),
'Al.........what is the essence of Zen?'
Long pause. Stroking of moustache and beard.
Puffing out of perfumed smoke.

'Mu!' he went, like a soft-lowing cow.
Only that. No-thing. Beyond............