Wednesday, December 12, 2012


 I had rather naively conceived of Cambridge as being essentially like school, a prison still, but with more spacious courts and a measure of greater freedom.   Instead I found a place of unimagined delights.  The friendship and esteem of my fellows no longer depended upon proficiency at games; and, if preoccupation with the works of Asian mystics were eccentricity bordering on madness – the Haileybury view – at least there were other lunatics with whom I could enjoy myself.  Yet even this happy discovery did not convince me that my Cambridge life could be more than a pleasant interlude, a more easily endured prolongation of what, over-romantically, I termed my 'exile’.   

John Blofeld, The Wheel Of Life.  Berkeley, Shambala, 1959. 


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