To compare the London or Madrid bombings to New York’s 9/11 attacks is not realistic the ratio of 1:100 of deaths in these attacks belies the audacity of method. New York will probably never happen again. Airline security and Airforce shoot to kill policy will ensure that.

But these bombings failed to instill much fear in London. We’re used to it. The IRA bombed us ragged for most of my life. Life here has always been punctuated with the sporadic deathcount of the bomb. We know how to win that war. And you don’t win it by being scared.

It really was just another day in a lot of ways. That may sound strange but I know it is a reaction perhaps most Londoners share on some level. I heard so many big bombs in my life, in places I was often, that this was not new.

If I, my family and my friends escaped unscathed, which is true for the vast majority, then it did not really affect me. I could have been in it. But I wasn’t.

I decided yesterday to go and see a podiatrist and find out if putting
orthotics in my shoes could help to correct the imbalance in my hips. He
said my hips were so fucked up it was amazing my feet were in such good
condition but that it would need to be the other way round: correct the hips
and the relatively small problems with my feet will resolve. After that I
found myself in Central London with nothing to do and so I telephoned a
cranial osteopath called Andy Cotton that my friend Ben has been
recommending I see.

He had a slot free at 4.15 when he could see me so I set off to walk the
eight miles to his practice. I can’t walk fast or far without stopping but
have come to the conclusion that walking is one of the best things I can do
for my body to heal. It took me four hours to walk, not counting the hour I stopped
for lunch in Hyde Park and the frequent coffee stops.

He is, it turns out both Buddhist (nichiren) and something of a magician.
Ben had warned me not to be put off by the state of the guy’s body which was
shocking. Back bent over like a man of one hundred, his spine having been
fused that way many years ago. He had to look through his eyebrows to make
eye contact he can lift his head so little.

After taking some history he was initially skeptical but perhaps because of the
personal connection prepared to believe me. He set to work on my body, first
slowly fiddling with my feet a little bit, before resting his hands on my
thighs for about ten minutes. then he started feeling my neck. There is
something very strange going on here he said, but I’m not going to push into
it today. “Don’t be shy”, I said. “I’m not”, he replied, “but I have another
client in a few minutes and this needs more than that”.

At the end of the session he said, “you have a very unstable core”.
“physically or psychologically?”, I asked. “Both”, he replied, “but it won’t
take long to sort out. You’ve done most of the work already. Although you
look a total mess, there is not any resistance left to what needs to be
done. I would like to see you every two weeks. You’ll need the time between
to adjust. I can set you free from this so you ca go on to do what you need
to do in the world.”

So much more refreshing and hopeful than two weeks being poked, prodded and
poked fun at by western medicine. He picked up on the psychology, the
physiology and the purpose of the whole thing in one hour. And added to my
growing recognition that all the hard work is heading to some kind of
fruition. I just hope I can dance again before Nina gets in touch!

About a year ago I met a girl from Finland at a party. We spent
the evening talking and dancing and when I said I was going to leave to get
the bus home, she left with me. We took buses in different directions, me
having completely failed to take the hint and ask for her phone number. I
always was incredibly shy, though many who know me have failed to believe
this. My arse was sore from the kicking I gave myself all the way home.

Soon after this I decided I was going to do my best to trace her. I only knew she was called Nina, was a buddhist, worked as a waitress and was Finnish. Quite
quickly I connected with a girl called Karin who had made a video of Dechen Choling, a dharma centre I lived at in France. Nina had told me that a friend, Karin, she had lost touch with had stayed in a dharma centre near limoges. Karin was that friend and was able to tell me Nina’s family name. Strangely I had seen the video she made as a friend at the time, Lex, who is somewhat obsessive due to short term memory problems had insisted I watch it several times.

Yesterday I searched for people with her name on Skype and found three. I messaged them all explaining my predicament. This morning when I turned on the computer one of the three had accepted my connection and was online so I phoned. It was Nina’s uncle Markku on a business trip in China. Sure enough he has given me her fathers email address and my contact details, and those of Karin who would love to be back in touch, are now awaiting Nina’s next connection home.

I love this teeny weeny itsy bitsy planet we live on and I love the internet for all it can do to change the world in small ways and big.