A daily dose of Zen

Worry and Fear

2011-03-01T07:44:00.001-08:00

Today I woke to my son telling me something was wrong with his face. Sure enough as I looked at him one side of his face was swollen dramatically. It looked like he inflated his lips and cheek on the right side of his face. I had no idea what to make of it and I began to automatically go through the type of questions that would narrow the course of action and allow me to help as best as I was able. It turned out to be the beginning of an allergic reaction. This is something new for him and he will have to have tests and so forth.

This occurrence caused me to reflect on the evolution of fear and it’s more harmful brother – worry. I was thinking about why I cannot always prevent their growth in me. For many of us fear relates to the relationship between the unknown and wellbeing of ourselves or someone we care for. Fear may arise quickly and subside as quickly. Like when Dr. says “Oh , it’s nothing, this is very common, you’ll be fine.” What that statement says to us is “If this happens again don’t be afraid you’re not in danger.”

If you get a nose bleed as a kid –you are sure you’re gonna bleed to death. Or the first time you stub your little toe –OUCH –you’re sure it’s broken. As we get more informed and begin to understand our bodies more fears about ourselves and others begin to subside and become more infrequent. It starts all over again when you have your first child. By the third you’re a pro and it seems as though little fazes you.

Worry on the other hand isn’t so easy to fix. Worriers focus on the unknown and unknowable and manifest the worst possible scenario as predesigned occurrences. “I know these migraines are killing me!” is a fairly dramatic worry, but the slim chance that this is possible makes it very real at that time.

After 28 years of dealing with PTSD, and other issues (that I had no idea I was dealing with) without the care of a physician. I was happy to hear from my psychologist that I had great coping skills. What that meant to me was that I had done well diagnosing and treating myself. Buddhism taught me how to do that. Even those new to Buddhism learn that pain and suffering arise from within. We learn that we have the power to understand and eliminate the seeds of suffering inside our mind and we have the power to understand our bodies, in many instances, better than a physician. It is OUR body after all.

I used to have mental discussions like this often to calm myself and alleviate worry. My mental coping ladder goes something like this: I think I need to get to a Dr. (Why?) Something is wrong? (Why do I think that?) I feel dizzy and clammy. (Does my head hurt?)No. but I think my heart is racing (your nervous) So why am I feeling like this? (I’ve been drinking enough water.) Ya, so (When did I eat last?) About three hours ago. (a salad and fruit juice?) No, not fruit juice- water. (Get some fruit juice –your sugar is low.) But what if it isn’t that? (just get some juice and give it 10 minutes) After that I’m gonna get worried again (sure we can do this all over again in 10 minutes.)

This might seem silly, even childish. But after the medical history of my childhood, these little scenarios became common when I got into adulthood. The unfocused mind would settle on something trivial, the lack of reason for that focus would cause a physical auto-response and then I would have several minutes of 20 questions to get my mind to focus on the known and not the unknown. I learned the hard way how to live in the moment and be present in the known world. But for me this lesson saved my life. I had multiple open heart surgeries before I was 10 and have a history of heart issues. So I am very aware when my heart is doing something it shouldn’t. I had been to the ER 4 times in a 4 month period. So, when yet another ER Dr.’s said that my blood work and EKG were normal (for me), on the fourth trip to the ER,. I said No. I explained what I was feeling once again and asked for my Cardiologist. They put me in a room for the night and the following morning my Dr. and I had a discussion about what had been happening over the last several months. I had been following up with her after each ER visit and she had come to the same conclusions as the Er Docs, I was fine. SO I asked if there were any issues that the EKG and blood work could miss. Not really, she said. But we could do an Echocardiogram.

After that I was immediately scheduled for open heart surgery to repair one valve and a hole in my arterial wall. Apparently one of the leads from my pacemaker had gotten a little loose and every time my heart beat the lead rubbed on the arterial wall, eventually making a hole and then damaging a valve.

I have a lot of experience with fear and worry. Much of it was easily explained and calmed. But I believe the main reward for the practice of eliminating suffering by self reflection is that in training our minds to understand what is real and what is imagined we learn to know and trust our inner awareness, and that can save your life. And it also teaches us that Fear and worry also have a purpose, which is to help us learn what causes pain and why.

And understanding that is a very necessary part of being Buddhist.

2011-03-01T07:35:00.000-08:00

A short story to live your life by. By: Scott McLeod

The pond was immense. Ten thousand generations of frogs had lived there. It was green and lush. The food was plentiful, the dangers were few and the climate changed little in an ever turning wheel of night and day. The Frog lived on his Lilly pad. His neighbors had similar pads some larger some smaller, as old frogs died new frogs moved in and as lily pads curled and sank a new one was there to take its place. As far as any frog alive knew, back into history the world had been like this.

The Frog had seen many seasons come and go. He had seen storms tear at the pond. He had seen flocks of birds sift through his neighbors. But his pond was always the same. Every year he saw the emergence of lotus flowers. They rose slowly from beneath the dark water green, like raindrops by the thousands, lifting to the sun. Overnight they would open pale yellow with reddish glowing gems in each center. Insects swarmed the flowers and the frogs gorged themselves. Tiny little frogs emerged from the water at this same time every year to join their family and grow and thrive. And as the flowers faded the birds came to sift through the pond taking away the slow, infirmed and aged.
It was at this time that this frog found himself staring into the eye of a large stork. The frog closed his eyes tight and began to mutter. This stork turned his head and listened. He had never paused in his hunt to listen but today he was very curious. “What’s that you are saying frog?” said the stork. “I am asking to be returned to the world, I am glad to have been here and wish to return after you eat me.”

“Who are you asking?” said the stork. “Oh –I ask myself. I want my last thoughts to filled with pure gratitude and longing for life in this place and in this time. I ask myself to return”

“Humph –that’s silly.” scoffed the stork. “Return from my stomach, ya in a gooey mess!” he tittered.

The frog returned to his inward thoughts.

“Well let’s say you do come back.” said the stork.

“What will you come back as? another frog? “Oh maybe,” said the frog “maybe.”

“But the image I keep seeing in my mind just now was that of a beautiful lotus flower.” said the frog.

“A flower?” said the stork. “Why a lotus flower?”

“IS this not the most beautiful place in the world?” said the frog.

The stork shrugged

Is this pond not the most luxurious and accommodating pond.”

The stork shrugged again.

Well –If I were to be a part of this world I would choose to be a part of the beginning of the world, to look back in history and know that I reflect the light of the sun like a star filled gem on the water. I want to know that it was me that was the beauty that attracted and fed the flying insects and so the frogs and so the storks.

I would know that it was me who greeted the little ones as they emerged from the darkness and it was me that the elderly and infirmed saw as they passed into it. My roots would be joined to the entire world and my seeds would spread my likeness and my spark into eternity.”

“I admire your position.” said the stork. But I am hungry and I must eat.

“So you must.” said the frog and he bowed low.

The next day the stork was looking into the eye of a crocodile.

And as he stood frozen in terror, thoughts of fear and pain clouded his mind and soon nothing remained of the stork but a gooey mess.

Work to make this life a beautiful place that you would love to return to and your every moment will be heavenly and you will find it easier to be understanding of whatever comes along.

A good argument

2011-01-05T04:43:00.000-08:00

I don’t think there is anything like a good old fashioned argument. I’m not talking about a debate; all formal and prepared where we point and counter point our way to two plausible solutions. And I am certainly not including the new age “disagreement” where people are verbally sparring ; “ I’m right and your right” but we are both grinning and the mood is still copacetic AND neither of us is really admitting to having a closed mind on the subject. I am talking about a quarrel , A butting of heads, a honest to goodness yelling match where neither of us gives up an inch that isn’t won where both of us have our experiences and education to use as exhibits and arguments. I’m talking about when we are both getting winded and our minds are flung wide open searching for evidence to prove our point .
I love a good argument because it allows two people to passionately express their inner most belief, or their sharp edged view and even their ignorance or intellect. To me there is something exhilarating and primal about a good argument. To me having a heated discourse allows us to absorb new ideas and really inspect our point of view, it allows us to pour out our perception into the air like a cloud so that everyone around us can breathe it, taste it and ruminate on it. I have always learned something valuable from an argument. I have had very memorable arguments and far more unmemorable ones. Sometimes in my close relationships I have had arguments about nothing –just because what was really bothering me had nowhere else to vent.
I am mentioning all this because I have met several people lately who insist that raising my voice in protest and argument is wrong, they have said- as Buddhists we should be reserve and acquiescent. We should be silent observers. Well I’ve read quite a lot of the Buddha’s teachings and the various Buddhist texts and they are filled with arguments, profound points of view that are debated in a lively, aggressive and challenging manner. But I will agree that there is reason to believe we Buddhists should be calm and collected. There is very little emotion expressed in the Buddhist texts, Pali cannon’s, and Sutra’s , they are written as lectures, discussions and educational some even as fables. But I know arguments were there –there had to be energetic, lively, and passionate arguments, otherwise who would have really paid attention. Sometimes –for me –right speech gets a little loud.

Whole mind -Mindlessly mindful

2010-10-28T09:49:00.000-07:00

I often talk with meditation practitioners about their experiences during meditation. Quite often I hear about the places that they meditate. This is because many of us put quite a good bit of stock in where the meditation takes place. Most of us also speak of meditation in terms of “awareness” or “mindfulness” when we describe meditation. But for me there are several directions that meditation can take that are within my control as I begin meditation. These directions quite often get lumped into a single meditative amalgam. So I would like to discuss Mindful meditation and how simple it is and what it is not. Mindful to many people is what we are at the beginning of a meditation when we are following the breath, the heart beat or performing a task. Mindful meditation follows a distinct pattern and takes account of a focused action –our whole mind is “on point”. Mindfulness requires no more effort than making tea as with the tea ceremony, or breathing as with the breath meditation but I find that that is where some, myself included have fallen short. Once we begin to be mindful there is that subtle distraction that very subtly invites some small part of our mind to sneakily slink off in another direction. Like the wonderful lark singing in the background while I raked the Zen garden. No sorry –for that moment I raked and listened AND was in that instant no longer mindful. So over the years I have found simple things to do that seem to hold my mind fixed –I think we all do. One of these things for me is balancing stones another is drawing. When I can get the time, when schedules allow I like to sit especially if I can sit with my kids and do one-liners. This method of drawing is very raw -and is viewed as so elementary that it is very hard to find in galleries or professional presentations, but it is so very fun and meditative. It is a simple as writing calligraphy, or kanji. This is very similar to the ideals behind Zen gardens, where raking / lining the pebbles or sand takes your full attention.
A one-liner requires the artist to use a single line to define the outline and some detail of the subject in one continuous line. this is a great way to get budding artists to see their subject in layers with definable profiles and linear definition. And it's downright fun. At first try to draw an apple or cup with a single line -DO NOT lift the pencil until the drawing is completed. When you lift your pencil -your done. For a tougher and more conscious drawing, try to do this WITHOUT crossing over the lines you have drawn. I like to put a tiny "A" at my starting point and a "B" at the end, so I can follow my line when I look at the drawing in the future, And so that the viewer can have a few moments of mindfulness as well.This drawing method is very meditative from the stand point that it involves both sides of the brain to the exclusion of all else. You cannot help but become completely mindful.

Addicted to... anything

2010-10-25T09:44:00.000-07:00

I recently had an interesting conversation with a close friend about addiction. She has had a lifelong bout with alcohol but has been free of that addiction for several years. She is now addicted to exercise. I know that sounds silly, but it can be just as dangerous. We all have tendencies and compulsions that we cater to unconsciously and most of them are harmless. But for some people the compulsion to “ease the pain” or “forget the present” or “drown their sorrows” becomes habitual. With exercise as with drugs there is a high. This is caused by endorphins which bind to opioid receptors in neurons, blocking the release of neurotransmitters and thus interfering with the transmission of pain impulses to the brain. *This reaction mimics the effects of addictive drugs like morphine. People can literally run themselves silly. But in the case of people with addictive tendencies over exercising can lead to injury and death. For these people exercise is just another outlet for their addiction. These people might gravitate towards marathons, body building, or in the case of my friend martial arts. She initially enjoyed the ideals and structure behind the martial art she was learning. Within a few months she had a regular schedule and had converted her garage into a mini dojo. She also began sparring with the people in her class. With most addicts there is a feeling of depression and the acceptance of some amount of pain associated with the activity of choice. Hitting and getting hit became her addiction. She began fighting at a mixed martial arts dojo six nights a week. Then found a group that met on Sundays to round out her week. Exercise and fighting became her primary focus. She lost weight, got injured and knocked out many times and still kept pushing herself until her sponsor recognized that she was addicted again. This time the drug was adrenaline.
I find it very interesting that almost everyone knows someone or is someone who has an obsession with something. For some its drugs or porn , and for those main stream addicts video games, marathons and even religion. This is where this subject really hit home for me. This is because I have a family member who is zealous about religion. The particular religion isn’t important but his total and detrimental obsession is. He eats and sleeps and drinks “The word “. To hear him speak you would think the world is on the brink of implosion and her people were preparing for annihilation. He recommends bomb shelters and hoarding non perishable goods. He has become obsessed with convincing anyone who he knows that our current way of life here in the U.S. is about to vanish. He left his job to become more involved and travel with his religious group. He left his family to be closer to his deity and the people who needed his help. So when I began thinking of addiction in terms of a compulsion or genetic disposition that can manifest itself in almost any action I realized that there are far more addicts in the world. And I am convinced that there are folks who are addicted to Meditation and Buddhism to their detriment. I pray for these people who are so deeply involved in positive action that it has become harmful. I hope that they find understanding and can learn the middle way.*(for an interesting study of these effects please see : MK McGovern’s “The effects of exercise on the brain”)

So what do we feel about the past?-Today when a person begins to take action to his or her own detriment -to the bewilderment of others, we call them crazy -when this action is a repetitive and self destructive we are in the realm of clinical dysfunction -In this modern day we would be dealing with a certifiable psyche -but this is what Siddhartha, Yasodhara and Rahula did and many others before and since, What is fasting, penance, "fervor"? When someone trains their whole life for the Olympics, having been injured time and time again, would we consider these folks “Addicted” –I might.Buddhism teaches us to be mindful of ourselves and of our life but in most instances those men and women who we revere as gurus have themselves turned their back on the middle way. I am still educating myself and dissecting my thoughts on the idea of addiction.

Freestyle Buddhist

2010-10-15T13:53:00.000-07:00

When I was a kid my family went to Disney World once a year. I was not allowed on many of the rides because of my size and my heart condition. I wanted to get on the roller coasters --- I don’t know what other people think about their direction or focus or even their current state in life. I don’t think I’ve ever asked. I have of course said “How ya doin?” that’s almost automatic and doesn’t get much response. Then there’s “What are your goals in life?” Which is way too formal and is more fitting for a job interview or at high-school graduation. But I know that I am just cruising through this life. Easy come easy go. Don’t get me wrong there are up’s and down’s, Life throws those around a lot –I like the ride. Like a rollercoaster in the dark -Space Mountain- click click click –then swoosh there is a hard left at 2 g’s –LOVE THAT! Yep, I am cruising. Three weeks ago –Pneumonia, now I am running up stairs. Two months ago my car was fine –now I need a new one. I could get all freaked out and say –Where’s the money gonna come from? But it’ll come –it always does. My wife and I take things as they come. Sometimes we need to sit across the dinner table and think things through but those times are becoming far less often –maybe once a year. The Big things from 20 years ago are really tiny now –we have raised two kids, had numerous life threatening emergencies, at least 10 surgeries, scary test results. We’ve been through close to 30 hurricanes, 4 floods, Grandparents failing health, parents failing health and 5 layoffs. It’s a rollercoaster. I love it –I am just here riding along thinking of what happened on that last turn, and I know there’s gonna be some more. But I didn’t design this ride and even though I might think I can guess what’s gonna happen, even though I have heard all the stories from the old timers and I’ve read the history, the odds, and the guide books. There is no way I can predict what this ride is gonna do next –so I just cruise. Relax –take a slow breath –(spit out your gum before you choke on it.) and enjoy the ride.

Haiku

2010-10-15T13:50:00.000-07:00

Charged with character
Bent, worn and withered by life
Subtle in beauty

The farm gate

Melted by water
Rock torn, battered, bumped and bruised
Smoothly polished bright

Round stone

Bugs and their place

2010-10-15T13:44:00.000-07:00

This weekend I had company over. The weather was gorgeous, and so we ateoutside. By sundown the mosquitoes were on the hunt. I try not to killmosquitoes, so when I caught one on my arm, I tried my best to brush itoff. I started this habit a couple years ago, about the same time Ibecame serious about Buddhism. Sometimes, accidentally, the mosquitodies in the process.If I spot a spider in the house, I try to catch it and release it outside. The same goes for flies, wasps beetles, ants, or other creepy crawlies. You get the picture.I have to admit, sometimes I feel silly. It is, after all, only a bug, right? What's the big deal?As a parent raising kids in the woods in a very rural small town I have watched my kids and their friends reactions to almost every outdoor encounter imaginable. If there's one thing that I've learned from watching it's that kids and adults are not that different. The same attitude that upsets me in kids especially as they hit the teen years is prevalent in most adults I know--namely that they think the world exists for them.Literally, that the world was created for them: animals exist so we canmake Big Macs out of them, and trees grow so we can cut them down tomake notebooks out of them.They think that the world was created for humans to do with as they please. To them, Earth is a giantplayground for people to have fun in. Or worse still, a giant diaper...(you imagine the rest)That's why Buddhism is so radical. Buddhists understand that, not only does every action have a consequence (karma), but that the world is a vast interconnected network, so thatwhat I do affects you, and vice versa. In that way, Buddhists are committed to living mindfully to insure that they cause as little harm as possible (which is not to say that you won't find so-called"Buddhists" doing unsavory or unethical things--far from it!).To come back to our little blood-sucking insect, the reason I don't kill them is not because I think I'll generate bad karma or that squishing the bug will have disastrous environmental consequences in theunforeseen future, but because I know that the way I treat a bug translates to how I treat other people, to how I interact with the world as a whole. If I think that a bug is annoying and squash it forentertainment or because its mere existence is "inconvenient" to me, then how tolerant and compassionate can I really be? (Alan Watts has a great spiel about this, where he criticizes humans for being selfish: we feed off of the world, consuming countless plants and animalsthroughout the course of our lives, but can't even spare a single drop of blood for another creature. How true it is!) The way we treat an insect, as small and insignificant as it may appear to us, reflects ourrelationship to the entire world.That being said, what would I do if my house was infested with termites? I'd hire an exterminator. The Buddhist precept against killing is just that--a precept. It's not a commandmentpassed down from "on high," something to be clung to at all costs; it's ageneral rule for living. And like all rules, life will force us intosituations where we must make exceptions. My house is built out of wood,the byproduct of dead trees. That's a fact, one that no amount ofidealism will change. We live in a world where we must kill other beingsin order to survive. As unfortunate as that is, it's a biologicalfact--right up there with the truth of impermanence itself.But I find that being aware of killing even the smallest thing needlessly is far better than no awareness at all.And still...I'm still far from seeing myself and "others" as the same, but I try mybest not kill mosquitoes, or spiders, or ants. They are part of thisworld too, and have every right to live. (Until they threaten theintegrity of my home, that is!) If my body or circumstances demanded itI will kill an animal. But only if I had to. For how I treat all life them reflects how Iview this world.None of this makes me better or superior than anyone else. And yet, I do think it makes a difference--admittedly a small one, but a difference nonetheless. I try to make the world a better place, or at the very least, not a worse one.I think that, more than anything else, is what makes me proud to be a Buddhist.
- The honey bee may have a sting, but to all that flowers he is king.Without his kind the fauna dies, so have a care for things that flies.The mosquito may whine and bite, as some flies and yellow jackets might.These little things bring out the show as bats and swallows swoop at night.The spider’s legs and web will scare, but she controls the biting bugs with care.She keeps their swarms to smaller mass so do not harm her as you pass.As for viruses and diseases being spread -this is true but killing the insect after it bites you -that’s just a reaction. Respect is the term I choose to use when we are out doors at my home in the woods in Fl. We have all sorts of biting insects that we repel with camphor and citronella and geranium, and we have special screens designed to block these little creatures. We Respect these insects and when it's time for them to hunt -we do our best to create a no fly zone. After all If your living on a river in Australia-you have a respectful awareness of crocks and snakes -if you live in Mississippi in the swamp you respect gators, and snakes, skeeters and black flies. If you live in NY -you are respectfully aware of muggers and pickpockets. For me it is as simple as knowing we all live here with creatures programmed to eat other things -So rather that kill them for it -we simply make ourselves less appetizing.Besides -there are far too many ways that we humans could make this world uninhabitable because we think we would be better off if we killed off some tiny thing.

Grabbing hands

2010-09-17T10:48:00.000-07:00

I found this great picture on a friend’s blog and it spoke to me. This isn’t how I normally find inspiration but in this case I am glad it did. We all have wants; we want a house, car, husband/wife, job, independence, and body, whatever it is we all have wants. We grasp for something. How simple life would be if we didn’t. What if we weren’t hardwired to hunt for more? In Buddhism desire is one of the five hindrances. It is often unintentionally related to greed because in the old Pali language these two meanings come from the same word. Buddhism does not truly speak of freeing ourselves from want or desire because these things are part of the human spirit. Buddhism does however prescribe that we learn to inspect and analyze what we want in order to control these feelings before they control us. And therein lays the crux of the issue. As humans we want. These wants spring from how easy it is for us to get what we need. Opposable thumbs and big brains allowed our early ancestors to find shelter, food, and water rather easily. We have an ability to make tools and to change our environment. So after those basic needs are met we have some free time on our hands. And idle time makes us think “I can fix that.” And just like that humans created desire. And we began to look for faster and easier ways to do everything from make fire and tools thousands of years ago to storing and retrieving information today. We will unfortunately never rid ourselves of want. And just as unfortunately we also seem to be hardwired to keep all that crap that we’ve collected in the pursuit of making life easier. Few of us can easily get rid of those rewards of our desire, those trophies of conquest, and the spoils of achievement. Just like the flute that was an incredible find on E-Bay. Though I may never be able to play it, I will not be parted from it. –nobody wants to get rid of cool stuff.
Economists see desire as a closely linked motivator to loss, they call this need to hold onto what we acquire as the “Loss aversion” theory. This prescribes that all animals including humans are instinctively possessive. Try to take away a fat dogs bone and you may get bitten. He dreamed of it, he found it, he has it and though he isn’t hungry and he doesn’t need it because he’s fat –he wants it because, well – it’s his. Take for instance the antique car that my neighbor has. He searched for it, found it, and will someday restore it, “someday” –even though it has sat there for years rusting and getting worse off by the day, if you ask him if he would consider selling it - “Never!” . That’s because it’s his, it has made a home in his dream and filled one of the wants that he previously had. He has “loss aversion”. The value he believes he has outweighs the value presented by the sale.
Like my wife’s “fantastic shoes” they hurt her feet, they cause blisters and can only be worn for a few hours at a time –but will she take them back or resell them –“NEVER! Because they look awesome with …” I don’t know who’s giving her those compliments because to me they look like just another pair of sandals with a heel.
So this brings me to Buddha’s point; Desire and Want are perceptions. They are ingrained in us to help us improve our chance of survival by reducing risk, danger and labor so that we can spend more time providing and caring for our children. After that emotion steps in and brainwashes us into thinking about fixing ourselves. “I will be better with or without or if…” Inspect and analyze and then look around yourself and try and remember what thoughts you had before you bought those things on the top shelf or in the back of your closet or in the shed in the back yard. Then you will begin to control Want. But be warned the more you have the more you have to give up –like the young prince who renounced his world to live as a beggar with nothing to call his own.
Unfortunately this is not a battle you will win. Having it once may change your viewpoint for a time but it will take far more battles for you to claim even a small victory.
I know –I was there, living without.
And now 25 years later I am strategizing my next battle.
A new car.
I just realized that I should start writing down why I want to buy a new car so I can analyze it –but before I can do that I need to get a journal so that I can write down and analyze everything that I want. I think the journal should be leather bound –humm maybe it’s time for a new pen. Time to go shopping…

Who's Driving

2010-09-16T14:02:00.000-07:00

I realized yesterday that there is a specific time period that I do a poor job of following the Way. I have a tough time seeing everything joyfully and ignoring other peoples actions or idiosyncrasies. You see I drive about 2 hours a day to and from work. So for those two hours I find that I see everything that people do in, with and to their cars. Frankly some of it is disturbing. Now before you scoff at this statement let me say that for the most part my drive is typical interstate driving. There is little traffic and we are all a healthy distance from one another. There are those who read the paper, there’s a guy who practices the trumpet. There are too many women to recall who put on their makeup and there are several folks who I believe are actors or actresses, all rehearsing for the same part. This is because I don’t believe these people could have any other reason to scream and rant on the phone every morning of their lives. At least I hope not.
I am including those points after I get off of the interstate when I am driving through town in morning or evening traffic. I find that I have a fairly short fuse when it comes to people merging into a line or slowing down for a turn. You see I think that these skills must be executed in a specific manner. And when you fail to get into the correct lane early enough then that’s just poor planning and for that error in judgment those folks must take their medicine and drive on past, turn around and try again.
If you need to turn, I prefer to see a blinker and maybe even have a reasonable distance between the blinker coming on and the turn occurring. Pedestrians, cyclists and motorcycles I watch with scrutiny because those folks can move very sporadically. I assure you I am not the same person in a car as I am outside the car. Even as a passenger anyone outside the car is a jerk, fool or just plain crazy. I mumble and curse and talk to myself as though I am testing all the other drivers around me and some unseen person is taking notes and issuing fines to anyone who attracts my wrath.
My kids and wife think I’m “funny” because I mumble and glare and occasionally ask them if they agree with my assessment. They often giggle and shake their heads.
But the worst part is that moment I step from my car –if you were to bump me I would say “pardon me, sorry” , I would let you in front of me in a long line and even start a conversation with you just to be friendly. I would smile at you if you ran by me in a huff. I would stop and help if you fell and I would fully understand if you were lost and needed to slow your pace or stop in front of me while I walked. I might even ask If I could help.
But put me behind the wheel and who knows who’s driving. So If Jesus is my copilot or Buddha’s in the back seat they must be giggling right along with my kids because they sure aren’t commenting on my driving.

IT’S FOOD for goodness sake

2010-09-01T14:02:00.000-07:00

This issue has been on my mind this afternoon. I was at the closest grocery store to my office picking up some fruit and I was surprised. This big chain store had very little fruit from Florida. So -Once again I am in a dilemma about food. We are not vegan, though we appreciate the fruits of the earth that we grow. And we go to some effort to support local farmers and those markets that support our local first ideals. In it is such a joy to walk through the cramped and crowded isles our local and family owned food store. From the moment you approach the story you are presented with colors and odors that entice the senses. Fresh herb, and vegetable plants, flowering shrubs and edible plants cover the patio. As you enter you move from orchids and bromeliads to mangos, bananas and tomatoes and apples. The Locally grown section makes up almost half of the produce area and the rest is organic, fresh and well stocked. My kids like finding just the right fruit and veggies; not too ripe and not too hard - peaches or plums or bunch of Swiss chard. I am happy that we have these choices and I am aware that many do not. In the family owned market I am reminded of the bounty and variety of outdoor markets in other countries. I find it kind of sad that in the big box store I am looking for apples in today, with it’s perfect looking produce the ideals of fresh and nutritious foods have been corrupted. The American public has bought into a distorted view of fresh food. Big food companies have marketed happy cows, green giants, grove fresh and heart healthy foods like cell phones or erection medications. We are bombarded with the freshest looking fruits regardless of the taste and nutrition. These Marketing companies know that very few people have pulled an orange from a tree and eaten it, still warm and filled with juice. They know that you don’t want to wash your broccoli or leaf vegetables because of the grit and small insects that are very common in these foods from home grown plots. They know that If you saw how eggs are farmed or how Thanksgiving turkeys are fattened that you , sure as heck would think twice about why you are compromising your health for the low price.
To compete with the healthier community sustained farming movement the food corporations have coined phrases like “green”, farm raised, cage free and hormone free. These names do not live up to what they imply. Even” grass raised” cattle can be labeled grass fed because for the first year or so of their lives the cows do in fact roam a field. But because of the weight differential that occurs between them and their concrete pen raised brethren –the grass fed fellows are fed a high protein diet that includes proteins that are easily absorbed and enough carbs to ensure fast weight gain. Meanwhile as they stand in a community produces watery nastiness the Grass fed beginnings of their lives fade from memory as they are “finished” on the feed lot. The Marketing divisions of Gigantic corporations have patented and sold people on these catch words and phrases but have failed to improve the common growing practices. Worse yet these same patented phrases have been defined by these same companies and the FDA has accepted these definitions. Cage free? Do you really believe that? It’s just a bigger cage. Organic –well many of the pesticides are organic, so is the wax and the genetic modifications.
Food should be a ritual of awareness. Know how it grows, be aware of where it grows, be thankful for the growers, be mindful of its preparation and when preparing it have fun and taste often. I love to cook and if it takes a little longer to make a salad because I am cleaning veggies or cutting away bruised or damages parts or because i'm cutting radish florets or making curly accents out of the green onions or because I am in the yard gathering edible flowers –That’s OK because that little touch makes it more enjoyable to eat. It feeds body and soul. Next time you are at the grocery store identify one meal where you will think of where and how your produce was grown. For that one meal think of how it looks and question if it is grown for looks and resistance to shipping damage or if it’s grown for taste and nutrition – and for that one meal TRY something new –try something local. And involve the family in these choices –I think that you will be surprised when you explain how things are grown, where they come from, and what feelings your family has about food. Ask them what defines “goodness”, “freshness”, and “healthy”.
Once you define these things as a family or for yourself then “For goodness sake” should be at the top of your shopping list – , Because that my friends is what food is.
And you are worth it!

Jake; my silent master

2010-08-24T14:01:00.000-07:00

As I wake he is there having already awoken with each other family member. Having already greeted and provided smiles to them as they began their day. Jake greets me with smiling eyes and encouragement. He insists they day is glorious. He knows because he woke before the sunrise so that he could perform his morning rites; simple yoga routine, a brisk walk, deep breathing and calmly sitting listening to the morning. He judges today as glorious. He watches me with gentle eyes as I emerge from the bathroom, showered and shaved and in his eyes there is no question that I have the potential to rule the world, to champion a cause to vanquish any opposition. He fails to see what I see in the mirror or maybe I lack his perception of the truth. Jake joins me for breakfast reminding me that preparing food is exciting and joyful. He cares for me in every action; assisting me in my food choice from the fridge, ensuring I make the tea dark enough with his wise and insightful stare. Jake eats thoughtfully no conversation, no distraction, never eating more than is needed and only drinking after his meal. He is mindful.
He returns to his bed as I put my wallet in my pocket. His head is down before I pick up my keys. And his eyebrows rise in a simple roll as I cross the room to the door. He never says goodbye.
Jake is there after work, he is ecstatic to see me. He is overwhelmed with joy. He wiggles like a thousand mice under a rug as he sits on the end of the walkway watching me approach. His touch is so subtle, reassuring, comfortable, kind, and congratulatory. He doesn’t know what battles I had or care if I feel that I won or lost. He greets my like a hero of the day. That I am there is all that matters. Where I was or what I did may have left traces of evidence on my clothes, on my hands and face. But he never judges me by that evidence or even acknowledges it if he finds such traces. He and I pick up where we left off comfortable and understanding. We are companions in each other’s care. And I am home again.
That he is able to care for me again is all he strives to do.
I have seen how Jake greets each of us in turn; conquering heroes all. We are all unique and important to him and he treats us each a bit differently. He has an uncanny ability to change himself to be what each of us needs, at that moment. And I believe he knows how important that role is.
Sometimes he is aloof, others times he is overwhelming and smotheringly loving. Sometimes he is reserve and rigidly obedient. But these roles he adopts to become what the moment requires, what we need him to be.
Jake leads by example.
Jake speaks without words.
His silence is educational, his caring is saintly, his attitude is admirable and something we aspire to emulate.
Jake helps us prepare dinner. Jake oversees home work and board games and evening reading and Jake puts us all to bed. And after he walks through the dark house having spent time in every bedroom listening to the gentle changes in our breathing as we fall off to sleep. Jake sighs and wishes that he could be just like us. He dreams that he could be the champion of his day, bringing home food to share after defeating his foes and winning the battles of the hunt. Jake dreams that he could come with us on te days journey and that he might be better at protecting us.
I wish I could convince him that he has it backwards. I hope and dream of how I can be more like him.

My Darkest hours

2010-08-18T14:00:00.000-07:00

My darkest moments arise in fits and starts. They begin to swell silently like a gently growing cloud on the horizon. My darkest moments begin to grey in the evening gloom and root themselves in my soul with fitful sleep if sleep it is. My darkest thoughts bloom from the decaying roots of long dead battles, overcome threats, and poorly lit fears. The storm breaks with a gust of anger, unattached to an event and unconnected to a solution. Loathing flashes like a strobe light. My semblance is that of a frightened cur, with gnashed teeth and reddened glares, quite undeserved and misunderstood by those who approach with loving hands. My mental vantage jumps from one point to another sliding from each grimy wall dirtier and more exhausted for the effort. Looking at a window at the end of this long dank hall, it is a bright spot in a sea of darkness and shadow. The bright light is painful repulsive. And that I don’t desire it hurts as well.
I close my eyes for the sweet flashes. Glimpses of times when I stood pressed to that opening. Forward staring, warm. There was no hallway. The window shows a far clearer and brighter world, and if had the strength I might drag myself to the sill. I might jump through. Back to where I so often reside. Back from this moldering and dank excursion.
My darkest moments feed and grow on fear of the light. They swell and bulge with the worry that there will be more pain. The fear that I will not be strong enough to keep swimming. I worry that they will feel more than pain, I fear that I cannot take that pain into myself that I cannot relieve what is theirs to bear. These darkest of moments grow and swell swallowing me for a time. This time. And even though I might entertain the thought that when I choose to I will close my eyes, and breathe slowly. I will step forward toward the window. I will feel the warmth; I will cast off this fear and live outside in the world of love and comfort. I must also admit this does not fit into the cycle of life. This notion of control does not fit the truth that all matter waxes and wanes in balance. In Bright days contain shadows and darkest nights have stars.
But for now I must continue on deeper into the darkness. And I must experience that which is only mine, I must feel and learn how to understand My darkest moments, though my understanding will mean nothing in the end. It is what it is. I will ride the current without struggling.
OM Mane Padme Hum

Retracting opposites

2010-08-16T14:00:00.000-07:00

I find that there are people in the world that are my antagonist by nature. These people are destructively pessimistic. They find themselves in loathsome situations constantly and spread this fact to anyone around them verbally and physically like a virus. These are the people who murmur pleasantries as you greet them , like discarded cigarettes damp and reeking of foulness that robotically rolls out of their mouth as a scripted –“Fine” or “uh-huh”. These are the unique individuals who continue to insert themselves into teams or groups as an authority or out of some unaddressed need for companionship. I always admire the spouses of these people and wonder what or when they saw something different than I what we all see now.
I love these folks! They force me to look at myself and my actions with a bit more scrutiny, just to make sure I don’t sound that way when I am having a rough day. They remind me that things truly are what you make of them and that bad moods and attitudes spread like the flu. I love them because sometimes they are right, sometimes We all would like to rant and rave about how long a line is or how poor the service is at the DMV. I love them because they have such apparent lack of concert for those around them or those who they are raving at. These folks are exactly who I practice metta on –these people need someone to understand their frustrations and someone to absorb their abuse with a smile. They need someone who can listen and agree and then act as a mediator. I love these people who seem to be so much the opposite of myself because they make me a better person. And I have found that they also make very good friends.

The Dream state has a great academic program

2010-07-30T13:59:00.000-07:00

I had the most vivid dream last night. It opened with me in a conversation with my wife and progressed to illuminate fears that I didn’t know I had. The most alarming part for me was that I repeatedly and very pointedly made efforts to convince myself that this couldn’t be happening –in my dream I was very sure I was dreaming. After I woke I sat in bed very lucidly replaying those fears that had just manifested themselves in my dream. The over whelming theme was loss of companionship. I didn’t dream my wife left me or had an accident, I dreamt that she had simply lost the desire and passion and joy she had felt for me. She made it evident that she had duties that she didn’t enjoy or find fulfilling. There was a dramatically degrading presence in her lack of partnership, friendship and connectedness to me. Secondly in this dream my children were indifferent and suspicious of my love, as though it was faked and acted out because of duty on my part. There was no antagonist or evil villain. There was no flying unicorns or surreal environment –I never dream that way. My dream felt and looked like any other day other than the situations and conversations.
I have had many realistic dreams in my lifetime. And I pay attention to these more than most because I feel that they are presented from some inner awareness. I have convinced myself that these dreams are the result of a subconscious analysis, kind of like an early warning system. In the past I have acted on the information I am presented in vivid dreams. I have not questioned what if I don’t, I have just presumed that I was supposed to do as I dreamed I did. So in this dream I realized that I have a fear of becoming disconnected from my family. I dreamt about my fear of being taken for granted. And I realize that being taken for granted in a relationship occurs because both parties become complacent and fail to feed and encourage the connectedness that brought them together.
I learn a lot from my dreams. I know that this may seem silly or sound absurd, but I think that we all tend to ignore our inner voice at times. I think that we all fail to allow our weaknesses to have a voice. This dream made me realize that I have more to give to my wife and kids. This dream made me see that I must keep nurturing the blooms of my everyday actions and reevaluate assumptive attitudes about companionship and duty. I now realize the danger of presumptive love. And perceive the erosion that can be caused by the smallest movements towards unrequited companionship and joy and passion for the people in my life. Buddhism has caused me to become less responsive and emotional yet Buddhism has made me see and feel the truth and deeper ties I have to those I love and other beings and life forms in general. The middle way impacts us all similarly and differently, it is a balanced tide ebbing and flowing over time. Zen mind , beginners mind rings true in my daily life and in my dreams. Life lessons are in everything. Life is an illusion.

What's my Name

2010-07-21T13:58:00.000-07:00

I was taught that as Buddhist I must move towards unity with all things. I must resign myself to being inconsequential and not seeing myself as anything. I should not work to not become a non being of nothingness; I should merely be and allow all to consume what I am. But that’s pretty hard for me. I believe my name represents who and what I am.
In the US as in many modernized countries today people are inundated with numbers. We have an address, we have a phone number, we have a tax number, birth date, medical number, extension, locker code, gate code and on, and on. Why? Really ?–Why all the numbers? There was a time when people were known by their name alone. Think about that. You would have had all the information you needed about a person with just their name. And the interesting part was that most everyone was proud to give out their name. My great grandfather put his name on everything, his business, his home, his clothes, and even his sons. Everything he touched seemed to have his initials or full name associated with it. He believed that by placing his name on what he did or what he made, it showed that the item was reliable and trustworthy. “Like Sears” he would say, “we are as trusted as Sears”. But now we have numbers. If you call Sears you get connected to a number, an extension at Sears’s home office or in a branch store. You will actually get connected and reconnected to many numbers depending on the reason you called. Trust has nothing to do with it anymore. These days most company’s seem to see names as a liability. Most large companies are actually held or owned by someone you’ve never heard of. Smaller companies are mostly –“Doing business as…” or DBA. That means that Fred’s Fast Foods is actually Rinchopali Patel’s food delivery service. But Mr. Patel is just a subcontractor for a much larger food service that never deals with the person who’s found a toenail in their Chinese spring roll.
This doesn’t help me much when I am trying to instill a sense of pride and honor in my kids. When my daughter told a lie –I asked her if she minded if I called her Feebe the Liar. She said very emphatically “No!”. When I asked why not, she said she wasn’t a liar. I replied that when she lies or is dishonest those behaviors are forever attached to her name. So since she lied I was sure that some people may already be referring to her as Feebe the liar. I let her know that over time they will forget that she lied so long as she doesn’t do it again. Thankfully, the issue hasn’t come up again. But the idea still resounds with me every time I go out to dinner, read a news article, see a piece of art. I judge the person I am served by, reading, or viewing by my interaction with them.
Steve behind the counter at the pharmacy might have a degree and be an awesome individual but when he gets my order wrong three times in a row he is “Steve the idiot”. When he lies to me and tells me that the Dr. ordered it wrong (I know this to be a lie) he becomes “Steve the liar”. Maybe I’m old fashioned or maybe I’m just too demanding but I believe that truth and responsibility are chained to a person’s character. So as a Buddhist I give everyone one hundred chances. I could never call Steve an idiot or think badly of him for more than a second. But I admit, I will be mentally hoping that he doesn’t lie to me when we speak again. I will think-“Come on Steve, be honest, be sincere take responsibility.” I know he means well.
But others are vocal and unforgiving about such issues and I see this is Steve’s fault –he knows he doesn’t need to lie.
Beverly who serves my family’s breakfast once a week at the local café never covers for the cooks –“If it isn’t right- she says- it won’t come to the table”. And she’s right. Food has been late to arrive, foods’ been a little salty, or whatever –but what Bev controls is true and respectable. Bev goes out of her way to make us feel like customers who are paying her salary. To us her name means good, fast honest service, and her actions let us know that is important to her.
What’s important to many folks may not necessarily be the same as me, but My name carries humanity, compassion, reliability and responsibility with it and hopefully I am not the only one who cares.

flocking sumo phobic ax pole –what power in a word?

2010-07-21T13:31:00.000-07:00

In opening I will tell you a short sad story about my son and his teacher and bad words.
At the age of 3 my son had already developed quite a reputation for self reliance at the day care. He was not unsocial but preferred to play alone or with one or maybe two other children only. He was reading and sounding words out and was also a very good listener even when you weren’t aware he was paying attention. So it was no surprise to my wife and I when we received a note that my son had said bad words to another child. It was however a surprise to us when the elderly woman who directed the day care told us what he had said, “He called the little girl a stupid head.” said the kindly mothering director. “Stupid head” –that’s what this is about?” I said. With a stern look the director leaned in and began to speak to us as thought we were children. And when it comes to speech as a multifunctional tool I think that we are all children. As I listened I relived many of the hateful things I had said over the years, especially as a teen, with painful clarity.
This was when I received my best transmission on what correct speech is all about. She explained to my wife and I the concept that words are merely the expression we vocalize. And I must say it opened our eyes. TO think that my little boy would explode with anger and lash out verbally with a hurtful and demeaning intention was very surprising and alarming. He was a little boy. Where had that come from? OH – his friends and relatives and TV and a hundred other overheard public scenes.
I must admit “Stupid” was not on my list of curse words but as we listened, it soon became one, as did butt head, retard, and pansy. So we had a conversation with my son. And then after another incident we asked him how he would like to be punished the next time –he chose hot sauce over soap. Sure enough there was a third time. Meanwhile my wife and I were teaching him words that were more fitting. Words and sentences that he agreed were much more meaningful than “You’re a stupid head!” In the end I think my wife and I learned far more than my son. We learned that right speech has far greater connotations than nice words and intelligent compassionate statements. As time went on I made sure than my children and nieces and nephews were raised with the understanding that words only have power that we imbue them with. Well at least that’s what I tried to teach them about “bad” words. To illustrate this I would make up some gibberish words and yell them in an angry tone. I would tell the kids that I was using curse words in another language. At which point they would look at me wide eyed. I would repeat the words in a soothing and silly voice. “See - I would say - those same words have little power to scare you if I say them nicely, so it isn’t the word that is bad but how you use it.”At which point the child I was giving this lesson to, would look at me like I was crazy. As do many of my friends when I bring up this topic.
There are no bad words only bad intentions. I repeat –There are no bad words only bad intentions. If I were to make a list of words that should be bad it surely would not include bodily functions, body parts –or acts that most of us cherish as the best way to share love. My bad words would be; war, hate, bigotry, torture, slavery and maybe a few more that thankfully don’t come to mind. I have worked on this issue with my kids (and myself) for years. Words carry information, intention, and emotion and color the world with our own self interest, that’s all. So when someone curses at you, the words they say are not the right words to present information; but rather, an intention of some emotion that they need to express. OR in most cases they are used to accentuate a statement which for some reason can’t be better accented with a more applicable word. Usually this is because of a poor vocabulary but sometimes because it fits the mood or social vernacular. I won’t get into the words or their origin although that is an interesting journey. I will just say that the connotations and connections that the use of these words have, is ingrained in our understanding from early childhood. Unfortunately most of us were never challenged to get creative. If we had been I am sure we could think up several more applicable and expressive colloquialisms and explicative words so that we could retire these overused and frankly outdated expressions.
And my son, well he is now in his late teens and has a real distaste for cursing –in movies and on TV –he is far more aware than my wife and I of the lack of creativeness and the regression of vocabulary in our country. In our society the power of words and their use is constantly challenged and I find that amazing, as well as the power of a little hot sauce.
Right speech begins with expressing intentions and emotions and truth. And honestly that’s really friggin hard sometimes.Speak well my friends and your intentions will require few words.

Anti-Buddha

2010-07-12T07:20:00.001-07:00

Sitting here today I have once again latched onto a thought that I have caught and released many times in the last year. In our world there is a very indefinable connection to the opposite of goodness, the epitome of badness, the Anti-Christ. This person would be very similar in many ways to Christ but with a contrary focus. Holding onto and developing this idea I realized that the Anti-Buddha, would follow a contrary path. It would work to increase suffering in the world and would condone a closed mind and a huge ego in all of us. An Anti-Buddha would blindly consume, despise compassionate interactions and attempt to build a single world view. This being would be thoughtless, aggressive, reactionary and selfish. As I imagine my version of the anti-Buddha I must first imagine the Buddha and all that the path to awakening represents. I must first see the noble truths and the eight spokes of the dharma. I must see the image of the Buddha in the light of compassion and understanding. And I found that when I did this I realized the true anti-Buddha is me. We all have Buddha nature within us, and we all have the contrary within us. We choose our path and our ability to control our interaction in the world makes the world in our image every moment of every day. So I realize that in my world there is no anti-Buddha, there is only me to take the right path and to follow the Way that has been laid out before me or not. And when I make mistakes they are my fault, though I will admit it is always easier to blame an angry ghost.

Finding life, Loosing worry and fear

2010-07-10T07:24:00.000-07:00

Several years ago I had a scare. I was hiking on the remote Cumberland Island and I didn’t feel quite right. What could I do but trek on. When I returned home I called my cardiologist, see I have a history of cardiac issues stemming from a congenital defect. But I never let me, slow me down. So, two weeks after my hiking trip I had a routine cardiac check up. All looks good they said. And then the next day the cardiologist said something very different. A week later I was relieved from my worry and stress by the stark realization that life is what it is. Life is unpredictable and surprising and that is what makes it so awesome. At that moment I was laying there, about to go into open heart surgery. I was helpless, hooked up to machines and dripping bags, and “things that go ping”. And at that precarious position in my life I realized what worry and fear really are. They are doubt, they are uncontrolled reactions, and they are surprises and expressed unknowns that all feed worry and anxiety. But like most wonderful and frightening things in life they come unbidden and suddenly. Life is a chain of these ups and downs that make each day awesome, and for good or bad or better or worse we are tied to it. My Christian friends say I have faith and should praise Jesus for all my good fortunes. My Buddhist nature fully agrees but I prefer to spread compassion, giving or helping with little random acts of kindness and compassion as my personal responsibility. I know that worry and fear are very natural, passion and love, compassion and empathy are also natural. I see remorse for what was lost one moment is balanced in the next with happiness many times every day. But most of us take those happiness’s for granted and seek only to beg forgiveness for our sins in hopes that the awesome gift that is our daily lives will be somehow made richer, more shining and bright, better. I have gown into a different understanding. Life is movement and change. This is what I have faith in. I know that if I merely look and listen to the lives of others I will see the ebbs and flows of the tide of being alive. The same life of being that provides each of us the opportunity for understanding to evade poverty and addiction, to help others and dig within ourselves for strength. We are beings that auto-magically have the intellect and ability to be compassionate and control emotion, but not the will to make a habit of it. I know that I have the power to see the good in every moment or at least my lack of control of it. I believe that if everyone was to take life as it comes, living in the moment, that fear and worry would be reduced to passing thoughts. These two emotions would loose the power to erode our lives and perhaps prosperity of spirit and physical health would be improved.
Look around you at the people you presume are better off. Why do most of us see only the shell as a sign of health and fortune? I know a man paralyzed since his teens who’s biggest regret is that he can’t reassure strangers that he is fine. He can’t change their piteous glances into understanding because they automatically associate their form and function to his lack. I assure you he lacks very little. I know of people who exalt and praise the physically handicapped for dealing with daily life. They say “Look at them, how hard life must be?” “If they can do it, I can too!.” But People with cancer, lung or heart problems or psychological or neurological differences are more prevalent that those with an outward deformity. Why then do we not show similar pity and comparison for them? Because we don’t presume to know of their life as they don’t know of ours. So why then don’t we allow ourselves a moment of pity for ourselves? Why don’t we use our own accomplishments as reminders of how strong we are? I believe we should. We should each see the good and the bad as one thing – LIFE. This view makes fear and worry become just more feelings akin to nervousness, anticipation, and excitement which we all know come on too fast and leave us none the worse for wear. If we are able to allow these two hungry demons to pass unfed then the nourishment for Anxiety and Depression are in short supply.
If you don’t want a monkey on your back, quit feeding it.

The seasons of life.

2010-07-02T08:22:00.000-07:00

Life is a collection of changes, impermanent changes. In a single life we can actually have many "lives". We have a life as a child, a teen, an adult. We have lives as single, married or divorced. We have no control of the changes that transition us from one life to another but we must make the best of every day.
I look back at my marriage and see how many different relationships that represents. I see clearly how many husbands I have been and how many wives I have had in our single and only marriage. Looking back, the first person I was in the beginning of the marriage was a lust filled and enamored young man, head over heels in adoration and fully committed to our friendship and partnership. For me at that time spontaneity, career aspirations, travel and freedom were the bonding agents of our relationship. Everything was exciting and new and it seemed that I was energized through the simple friction of a full schedule and physical contact.
When my wife became pregnant my life changed again- I became NEW-daddy, refocused in heart and mind and duty. I was a reassigned and dedicated version of my previous self. And I quickly found that my late night restless and playful hours could be spent on more quiet and rewarding demands. I learned what it meant to be tired and in love. I learned what the miracle of birth looks like and what it feels like (views which are in my opinion, apposed). I learned what it means to be responsible and unquestionably in love. And I learned that that all my creativity and mastery, and passion of art will only be like a match to the sun when compared to the beauty and emotion created by my wife. I learned what it meant to adore, to cherish, to share and both my wife and new son opened a well within me that lay beyond comprehension until it began to pour meaning into my life. We were blessed with this same occurrence when my daughter joined us several years later. Before my second child I became devout in the religion of my family’s wellbeing. This happened gradually over several years until it just was. Thoughts of me, mine and self faded to us, and ours.
At some point about three years later I changed again. I found myself content to just sit silently holding hands with my wife at dinner. I realized the pleasure of a quiet house or a day alone. I began to touch the deeper meanings of meditation and consciousness and awareness of “the moment”. I saw very clearly the importance of teaching my children about the world, nature and what respect and awareness are. I realized painfully that I can not protect their bodies and minds from the world. And more importantly I remembered all those things I enjoyed learning the hard way so in some situations I found I didn’t want to protect them. I realized what it is to share space and time with that which you created. I learned to feed and nurture, to communicate and conform and I began to learn to comfort, them, myself and others by sitting silently and being close.
I found the importance of my parents every stance and made some of my own. I watched the world grow in gasps and fits like weeds that appear overnight –and I began to hate shaving and mowing –these seem to waste so much time for so little a reward. Now, both get done every month or so. But most importantly in that phase I learned that Change comes unbidden and regardless. Change consumes and builds anew in an instant or a lifetime. I learned to celebrate change.
As my children are now sprouting into a teen ager and an adult, and fledgling wings are shedding pin feathers and flapping at the edge of the nest. I am learning to let go, to find a cool deep drink in a hug, a smile, a cuddle –but this comes to me too late. I am learning to enjoy myself and some of my own freedoms though they seem kind of boring without the family. And I wonder If I will some day soon begin to see the tail end of my circle. I wonder if I will become lust filled and playful, wanting travel and a care free existence filled with spontaneity and unscheduled days. But I guess that’s what every day really is; we lust for things, we are passionate and playful, we travel either in books and fairy tales, movies and family trips, and we are spontaneous with colds, and spills, and school projects and sleepovers. I think maybe I have always had hold of the tail end of my circle –it’s just the point I was looking at it from that changed.
We all work changes in the world, for good or bad we create change. So, Go! Work changes and enjoy the impermanence of your life.

She's so artsy...

2010-06-21T12:58:00.000-07:00

I was recently at an art show where the artist had painted some very interesting and vibrant images. She painted busy images of cows wearing hats, and dogs in dresses and such. It was all colorful and visually appealing but not my taste of art. I found the images a little disturbing. I found myself grinning despite myself, not because the art gave me a silly or whimsical feeling, but because the artist looked very much like one of her subjects. She had on a huge Silly hat and what appeared to be her entire collection of jewelry, though I doubt it. Through the evening she repeatedly blurted out unrelated statements, lost her train of thought in the middle of conversations, and made a general mess of each area she landed in.
My encounter with this artist’s personification of what an artist is, or what she represents got me thinking of how untrue that eclectic, messy, unorganized, and generally discombobulated image of a professional artist is. In my experience it is quite the opposite of the perception.
It offended me that many people might see her and affirm their pigeon hole view of the typical artist. I could almost hear folks making the excuse “she’s so artsy…” when trying to bring some rationality to her appearance. Her stage show seemed to represent all that is rare in the qualities of an artist.
Art is no less a process of detailed dedication and standard method than any engineer must employ. I know this because I make my living as a Quality engineer, I get paid to design and develop mechanical and automated processes. And I am an Artist, I was born that way and like artists everywhere I must understand the basic requirements of my medium, physics and chemistry and composition. I must also understand how to design and develop an idea. These are all traits that are required in any other technical field of study. So why is the quintessential artist seen as a flake?
An artist must be more than just creative, to be successful he or she must also be able to develop mentally and emotionally to the point where they can “feel” the world. Like the mechanic who listens to a car to diagnose it or an machinist who can put his hand on a machine and tell if it is working properly an artist must understand his tools well enough to use them only when needed. An artist must be able to methodically mix paint, prepare a surface, mold or carve a material and envision the next step or an end result. An artist must learn to act on this internal feeling. An artist must be organized so that they have the right tool when they need it. They must be systematic so that they can automatically perform tasks that might draw their attention from the moment of creation.
I have been fortunate enough to have two very artistic parents. At an early age I was steeped in the arts. Museums, art shows, performances and art classes were more common than baseball to me as I grew up. We camped our way up the east coast visiting outdoor arts festivals and craft shows and always found our way into some of the greatest museums and galleries of the US. I rarely met or read about a professional artist or craftsman that was a babbling, disorganized person in a ramshackle wardrobe, though I am sure that Picasso may have been close to this at times.
Writing this I can call to mind many friends and acquaintances who meet my description.
I think my friend David Greenbaum expresses this well. He is a potter of some renown and has been a professional potter for 37 years. David has his silly side, he is a joker. He often has clay residue on many of his daily wear clothes and under his nails but away from his studio you would not know he was such a successful artist if you were to meet him at a party. His studio is well organized, straight and tidy and maintained for folks to drop by. My friend Linda is a professional painter who’s studio and style are equally businesslike and structured. She keeps detailed notes on each painting and her colors and materials so that her students can benefit from those hurdles or experiments that she takes on. I have many artist friends who for one reason or another are not full time artists; these folks too are structured and methodical in their job. I work with a Quality analyst who is also our technical writer but as a musician he comes alive, he teaches and judges competitions all over the US and has been collecting and cataloging early American music for 30 years. He is meticulous and scrutinizes every action with the precision of a surgeon. He wears the casual business clothes of a corporate employee, but he is an artist.
I know and respect Perry Yung as a musician, actor, and craftsman. He plays and makes the Shakuhachi flute and in learning to do so he had to learn to recognize the bamboo that will make a good flute. He had to learn to see and feel the possibility in a living stalk. And he had to develop his awareness of the mechanics and a method of a shakuhachi’s construction so that he could understand how it will work before it is completed. Like a machinist Perry must build a flute in a methodic and precise way. He must have the ability to overcome the unexpected with the awareness of a master machinist. When he plays in the process of making or repairing a flute, he must be able to “feel” the music and in doing so he must have his tools and work space clean and organized. His abilities are articulate and his manner must be that of a perfectionist. And in playing a flute that Perry has made or repaired, his patrons know him to be a master craftsman.
The artists of the 60’s and 70’s are stereotypes that need to be changed. In our hearts all artists are free spirits but in reality we are creatures of habit and organized existence.
So I did some research into what the term artist refers to exactly. What I found is that artists are classified very differently depending on who is performing the research. A “population” of artists is classified most commonly in the following ways.
Here’s what I found. Princeton University has done some interesting studies of artists, The percentages here are from one such study. All can be found here: http://www.princeton.edu/~artspol
Identifying artists by population in percentage of most common to least common (This might truly surprise you.)
Membership in a Professional Artist Group or Association (32 percent)
The Amount of Paid Time Devoted to Artistic Work (24 percent)
Professional Qualifications (14 percent)
Reputation and Recognition (10.5 percent)
Self-identification (10.5 percent)
Directories (9 percent)
Donnell Butler, Working Paper #12, summer 2000
So when identifying who is an artist we have way to many points of reference. Is it based on time producing art? Is it based on education? Or is it based on the groups you belong to or the awards you’ve won? Personally –I was born this way.

So here I am thinking about the woman I met. She was unusual, that’s true- but I have rarely met or read about a professional artist or craftsman that was a babbling, disorganized person in a ramshackle wardrobe.
My encounter with this artist’s personification of what an artist is, or what she represents got me thinking of how untrue that eclectic, messy, unorganized, and generally discombobulated image of a professional artist is. This understanding has been rising in me for some time and a funky smelling lady in a huge hat wearing a patchwork dress clinched the perception for me.
So as I sat down to start writing about how inaccurate the image of an “artist” is in our society.
I began to realize that the image and personification is kept well fed by some very talented folks. The entertainment industry occupies the other side of the arts, the performing arts. The likes of which include the band Kiss, Marilyn Manson, Lady Ga Ga, and many of my favorites The Red Hot Chili Peppers, Ministry, various Jamaican bands, the list goes on and on. Mainstream media helps feed these freakish personifications by exploiting every action and incident and I am sure that the PR manager for most performers orchestrates a good deal of the publicity negative or otherwise. Then there is the culinary arts, martial arts, and even architecture and mechanical arts. In the end I think I will just give up. We are all artists in some degree. Those who make it as a professional artist are organized and well planned –but not always. And who is classified or pegged as an artist could be anyone. We are all artists in many ways. Some write, some build, some design, some act, joke, teach… the list goes on and on. To me an artist is a person who creates, and we all create something. We are all passionate about something. But in my eyes a professional artist combines passion with perseverance and skill, and structure and mastery. So the sky’s the limit when it comes to artists. We are what we are, weird to some, artsy to others. But whatever the stereotype I am sure that most of us will never fit into that mold, but in time maybe some of us will become it.

Depths of my reason

2010-06-16T13:55:00.000-07:00

The depths of my reason.I believe that I am a physical being. I believe this because my senses tell me that I am interacting with physical things. I touch the ground, the chair, a tree, my family. I am also eating, breathing, smelling, seeing, hearing. I smell my clothes warmed by the sun and feel the sun on my skin. The sun is real right? This is just one of many types of deep chains of thought that I will only wade into. I say wade because diving into them seems to be so dangerous. I recently had a conversation with someone who assured me that the consciousness resides within our brain. After I cited numerous articles on cellular memory and small muscle memory and organ implants that carried memories and emotions to the recipient, my friend proceeded to draw a line in the sand with a statement of “It can’t be because it’s just silly to think that way”. Well my friends it is something that has been observed in the medical community and by yours truly. I have also had similarly shallow discussions about dreams, the phenomenon of precognition and telepathy. The brain controls all our basis for reality and if it controls these things than does it also have some influence in what is real? One of my early masters stated that deep thought is wasted thought because it takes us away from the present moment and focuses us on God. “What does any of that have to do with God?” I said. “Everything and nothing –God is by definition unknowable, beyond contemplation and imagination and so are these deep thoughts.” He said. So was instructed to develop a foundation on that which I know and have experienced. That foundation is built in a spiral, up and up I have built over the years and when I have built my tower of knowledge Anyone will be able to enter at the bottom and climb on stable footing. I have to wonder if this is different from many of the deep contemplative teachings that we examine today. Aren’t we merely looking down into the tower of knowledge that was build over the last several thousand years? So I have been taught and I believe that when we dive off into deep layers of thought and begin to build a chain that carries us link by link further into the dark unknown the more dangerous it is.

Arming yourself for the future

2010-06-15T13:01:00.001-07:00

Being laid off will have lingering effects on your life. One of which is the decision you make next. “What now?” is assuredly most common reaction. What now in deed.
For many of us the scenario is fraught with feelings akin to the loss of a loved one, grief, anger, blame, denial and acceptance. But during that cycle you are forced to address the question “What now?”.
For me it happened like this. I was a successful manager of a department that was well under control. I had been managing the department for several years and wanted a challenge. I was offered another Management position with far more employees and far more challenges. Challenges that I was sure I could handle despite the fact that this position was in a different division and a field entirely. But I believed that managing people and processes would be basically the same, and I had managed large groups in the past in a previous line of work.
Within the year, I had the employees trust, I had provided training and career paths where they were needed and in doing so the department had lost some of those folks who were better suited for different work. The illustrious numbers were great and all was well except we (the company) had been implicated in a recall and some related litigation. Stock prices fell –and middle management got cut. 5 out of 11 managers found ourselves holding a box. And as I was walking out like an escorted guest I remember thinking how pleasant the trial and conviction had been; all positive and professional with apologies and handshakes and wishes of good luck. Like at a funeral. And then I wondered “What did I sign?”. Sitting in my car after shaking the Security guards hand I thought with a tear in my eye “What now?”.
After sulking for a few days with the gears of my mind spinning like they were lubed with molasses I began to paint, garden, read cook, clean and pick the kids up from school. I thought that if we cut back on groceries and gas and we ate out less and a hundred other things happened that I could stay home do some freelance work and supplement my income with the sales of my paintings. Well, in reality what I thought we could do was misaligned with what we needed to do to cover my medical bills, insurance, food, utilities and so forth. After crunching the numbers it wasn’t gonna save us much if I stayed home. SO There I was again “what now?”
Looking back I realized that this next decision was very counter culture. What I choose to do goes against the US dream and the primary edict of our government. What I choose to do was downsize myself. I chose to find a job that was not management; I wanted less money and less responsibility, less damn prosperity. I decided that I would look for less stress, for less demands, less hours, just less of those things that had driven me for the past 25 years. I was ready to begin focusing on what drove me instead of the economy.
Well that’s easier said than done. Overqualified people are often distrusted like that free horse whose teeth no one is supposed to look at.
“So Mr. McLeod, tell us again why you left your last company?”
“You do realize this is not a salaried position.”
One man even said “So are you sure you won’t mind if we perform a background check?”
Seriously why is it so hard to understand why someone would want to look at their life from a position of living rather than earning?
Every day we are bombarded with get rich quick schemes, ways to work less and get paid more and even ways to get paid for doing things that don’t seem like work. But the fact of the matter is these jobs are marketed to people who want more. Our whole society is built on desire and ambition and the prize at the end. “Mo-money, Mo-money, Mo-money –Yah!” Not this man. I don’t like the view that that type of lens provides. That road seems endless. And frankly when I began to look at what I had and what I wanted to have when I first began working as a kid, I was there. That realization made me content. I began to see how comfortable I was and I began to realize the stability I had by working less and living more.
So now I have time to grow a small garden that provides more memories with my family than food. I have time to meditate and play the flute. I have time to take professional courses and get training in areas I never thought would interest me, like programming and bookbinding. And when I look over my finances the funny thing is we are able to save more because those things that drove me to make more money also drove me to spend more money, needlessly.
I believe that at least once in everyone’s life they are given a chance to arm themselves for their future. We are given a chance to pause on our journey and look at what we think we need to do next. Most of us seem to go for the gold. But for some of us paper plates are just fine.

Wild flowers and kudzus

2010-06-08T10:45:00.000-07:00

As human beings we have been given the power of choice. We can choose our surroundings, we can choose our interactions, we can choose how we look and in so doing we can choose how we are perceived.
But I have found that in most cases people in general fail to choose the way they grow in the world. As humans it seems ingrained in us to struggle for control of things we can’t possibly get control of and to ignore those things that we could. I recently spent about 20 hours in a car driving through the south east. As I drove along my wonderful and scenic route I noticed that there were dramatic similarities to how people and nature coexist. There are of course stark lines demarking corn fields and pastures and wooded tracts. These are tended by men sitting alone in a tractor, constantly vigilant of the borders of their control. There are those segments of land that were once clear-cut and decimated, that lie feral. These lush places are littered with dead wood, dense undergrowth, and many animals all balled together in a chaotic biomass waiting for time to dictate their place in the scenery. There are fields and prairies, lakes and swamps each melding into one another with splattered edges and fingers of encroachment. These places are well established and their boundaries’ have been shared for hundreds of years as the weather permitted.
But as I look beyond what man or evolution has placed upon the land I see two stridently apposed attitudes.
There are huge tracts of land engulfed in the invasive kudzu. These areas are much worse in my opinion than those fence tracts reined by the tiller. Kudzu sees only its desire and its dominance. It slowly moves to cover its neighbors with its needs and its will. Its fruit and roots expand it without check heedless of its destruction as it chokes its neighbors.
This virulent plant spreads its attitude in all directions like a gale on a calm lake. It is senseless, reckless and unchallenged. We all know a kudzu.
In stark contrast are the wild flowers they are everywhere; in dump sites, on dilapidated roof tops, reclaiming abandoned strip malls, and especially intertwined with those other areas. They even stand stately and revered alongside and within those stark boundaries of farms and fence lines. They happily poke their smiling faces from under the Kudzu that fights the fenceline, rock ledge or roadside.
I see these two types of people growing along the route of my life. I make a choice many times a day which one I will be at home, at work, and in my surroundings. I hope that the bright colors and shiny attitude that I feel in my mind is expressed in the way people see me. And I hope that we can all keep the kudzus at bay.

Cool water, life giver, life taker - Respect for life's blood.

2010-06-04T06:29:00.000-07:00

I love old movies. I especially like old movies about treasure hunters and gangsters. And I have always been a little intrigued with the fascination of bathing in gold or cash. This has always seemed weird to me. I understand that it must fulfill some people’s desire to have enough money to bathe in but I never understood it. Never that is until recently. I am looking at things much differently since my neighbors well ran dry. I think I understand the desire to bathe in something rare and precious.
Have you ever realized that water is a very crucial and well mixed ingredient in the cake of our lives? I mean besides the fact that we can’t live without it and we are mostly comprised of it.
We are surrounded by it. We are literally baptized in it. Water is not the root of life; it is the stuff that that root feeds on and yet most modernized people don’t seem to have any respect for it. Well that’s sad. I believe the saying that: “Water unused returns in rain, water shared returns in grain, water wasted causes pain, and when waters poisoned we all are slain”.
This seems to be a silly saying from the old west, but we are all involved in this interesting yet simple prophesy. The best action to take is the simplest - be mindful. If we live in the moment then conservation becomes mandatory and waste becomes illogical. If I am brushing my teeth –Then the water doesn’t need to be turned on –when I rinse the toothbrush –I turn on the water. Logical
When we bottle it, it’s poisoned by plastics, when we defecate in it it’s poisoned by bacteria, when we mix it with chemicals like the common things we use to preserve food –it’s poisoned. When we mix it with chemical fertilizers -it’s poisoned. And now even rain is poisoned. I don’t like to think of my children’s future when I see some dumbass washing down the parking lot of the local Gas station. I can’t stand that water restrictions are only placed on residences –not on golf courses or huge factories that dump pollution as steam or drainage.
Water and air, we are mostly water and air and yet we continue to have such little respect for these things. My antagonists in this argument claim that I am just as much to blame as they are. In some ways I agree. But we live on a shallow well –that has forced us to look at everything we use water for as a drain on a quickly depleted resource. I collect rainwater, a lot of it, that we use for anything that doesn’t require it to be clean. I don’t fertilize with anything but compost. Quick showers, no washing the cars, Water efficient clothes and dish washing and when I can afford the expense we will have a grey water collection and filtration system.
There are many people who say I’m weird to go to this extreme. To them I say one day maybe they’ll change their mind. I can only hope that in the future kids won’t watch old movies about treasure hunters and gangsters, and wonder why the heck those people would want to bathe in that dirty stuff. After three days without it, clean water becomes the most valuable thing we could ever want. Where will you hide your treasure?

Super Buddha -up, up and away

2010-06-04T06:06:00.000-07:00

In several conversations, written down in Sutras The Buddha speaks of a superman. Buddha himself makes the statement that he is a superman and says that such a man can be recognized by “32 marks” or traits. He says that such a man has only two paths in life. These supermen can either live a life of a world liberator ie; Buddha, or that of a Leader of men in politics and worldly power. I have read these 32 marks or traits and found them to be so bizarre as to suggest that in fact the Buddha was suggesting that anyone can be a king of men or a Buddha. These 32 traits seem so fanciful that they are almost sarcastic. But yet I’m not sure. In the Diamond Sutras these traits are said to be –“…thirty two are really… no-marks” when Buddha is speaking to Subhuti: “The Lord asked: What do you think, Subhuti, can the Tathagata be seen by means of the thirty-two marks of the superman? Subhuti replied: No indeed, O Lord. And why? Because those thirty-two marks of the superman which were taught by the Tathagata, they are really no-marks. Therefore are they called 'the thirty-two marks of the superman.”.
I think that each of us may be born with the potential to become so destined. I think that it is akin to winning the Spiritual lottery. If you have enough Karma in one life you can get many more tickets and improve your chance of winning, but just like a lottery, many drawings might be held until someone gets just the right combination of numbers. So perhaps the Spiritual Lottery has thirty two distinct number slots or factors. This means that if we presume that there are only say 200 distinct marks or traits of the human body and psyche (e-harmony only uses 29). Then we must calculate 1X as 32/200. 2X as 31/199, 3X as 30/198 and so forth down to 1/169 Then we must represent these as decimals and multiply them together. 1X * 2X * 3X * 4X and so forth. This presents us with a probability that any of us might be able to be a Buddha or a King of men. But we must also factor in all those who were born and died since the last Buddha, unless we would like to expand our chances and include folks like Gandhi, and Hitler, Churchill, and Jesus –then perhaps our chances are improved. But what if we also except that some beings will evolve and others will regress. Wow the number I reached before putting all these constraints into the equation was already 32 decimal points below zero. Well my point is that I think The Buddha was making a point. He was essentially saying we are all Buddhas and there are no Buddhas, We are all kings and there are no kings. Life is based on a point of view and we all have one.
Personally I like to think of Leaders of men as Superman –it makes them more human. And I love the idea that when Buddha put on his working robes and some glasses, No one know who he was.
What do you think Superman or sarcasm?

What's normal

2010-05-27T07:46:00.000-07:00

Today I was chatting with someone who has MS and someone who has Fibromyalgia. They were telling me about good days and bad days. I said a don't have bad days I just have days that frustrate and challenge me, but thats not a bad day. I mentioned that there are little reversals of focus that have really helped me over the years. The first and foremost is my definition of health. Many people in our position envy other folks, "healthy" folks. We see vitality as something akin to the energizer bunny. We judge the book by its cover –even when we are the book. I have learned to see health and define healthy as something very different than most. Just as we should not measure intelligence based on what you can be taught. But instead by your capability to see and envision and use your mind uniquely and beyond convention, so then health should not be based on a state of normalcy or ability but on how we manage the states of stress and live without disability. I have seen disabled people who live happily in conditions that would cause most “normal” people to breakdown, give up, or become frozen with despair. As a primary example are many artists, academics and athletes with disabilities. Some were congenital some were contracted but these folks are not defined by their lack of… but rather by their achievements and by their "normalcy".
Redefining healthy is the first step. The second step is redefining what makes up a good day.
For me, I like to say that any day above ground is a good day. Waking up is my cake and everything else is icing. I know that sounds fluffy and cliché but I live that statement.
- In this moment I am writing to new friends, people who have a voice and honesty and are paying attention to what I have to say and are responding. That is awesome. I can speak, I can see, my list of I can’s goes on and on.
I meditate with an inner focus so that when pain arises I understand it, I don’t fear it, and (although sometimes this is tough) I don’t let it engulf me. When I am meditating If there is pain I look at it –I address it and then I mentally turn my back on it and change my attention. IF it keeps calling to me I treat my pain like a crying child, soothing thought, soothing words, listen to it, understand what is causing it and if it’s in my power to fix by adjusting my leg or adjusting my back, I do that. But when its deeper, and or is related to the unique situations that my illness causes –then I make a decision to keep meditating or not –IF I choose to keep meditating then the pain comes along with me on the journey –it is after all part of me and sometimes ignoring it or pretending it isn’t there is just another way of seeing myself as less than whole. I used to teach art to children. The first thing I would do is explain to the parents that art is meerly a physical embodyment of the emotions and visions of the creator. I worked for about an hour with the parents and only the parents of my new students to help them redefine art in their minds. Then I would help the kids overcome their doubts and to eliminate tha need to compare themselves to others. You see we are all artists in our own way. A stick figure is art, a blue tree and purple mountain with a smily face sun is art. We are all in our own unique way a wonderful and powerful work of art, but most of us have never had someone teach us how not to compare.

Most of us have never seen ourself and all we do as normal. Normal is a unique definition, are you using someone elses or do you have your own?

Listen to the mustn'ts, child.Listen to the don'ts.

Listen to the shouldn'ts, the impossibles, the won'ts.

Listen to the never haves, then listen close to me...

Anything can happen, child. Anything can be.

2010-05-25T13:55:00.000-07:00

I have been working hard to eliminate the stereotypes I have. This is a very difficult practice when it comes to robes. I think we all have issues with robes.
When we see a person wearing a robe we instantly presume we are acquainted with the intent or profession of that person. And we often have a stereotypical lifestyle of the wearer comes to mind as well. Why? What is it about the robe that has appealed to the learned, the wise, the scholarly, and more pointedly those persons dedicated to religious pursuits for so many years that every continent in the world has its well known robed figures?
Over the years the robe has come to mean very different things to various people. Many social, religious and educational systems around the world use robes to denote achievement and status such as the Catholic Church, The Ku Klux Klan, and the legal and collegiate systems. But what is it about the robe that becomes ingrained in the psyche more than any other uniforms? A Catholic or Jesuit priest stands out in his robes as does a Klansman, a professor and a Judge and of course the Buddhist or Christian Orthodox monks. The idea of a portly “Friar” presents an image of peaceful reserve and kindness. The Image of a Klan’s man presents quite the opposite image. Lately eastern clerics have begun to mold a stereotypical image with a robe and turban. But I couldn’t even begin to describe the Iraqi or Iranian military uniforms. Historically this raiment has represented the poor and humble, but that’s been changed over the centuries. The lack of tailoring and accoutrements is what ancient peoples associated with the poor and lower class; wanderers, beggars, unclean and untouchable. As time progressed these garments began to represent the scholarly, wise and religious and pious persons in many countries and cultures. So why in this modern world are these garments so dramatically ingrained in our minds in association with the stereotypical wearer? I believe that has to do with history, the vast and almost unchanged history. A robe is a robe is a robe. This simple garment in its many forms is the oldest article of clothing still in use today. After centuries of seeing certain groups and sects, factions and fraternities wearing the same colored robes, stereotypes have become well rooted in all cultures of the world. Whether woven, tied, tanned, or sewn together robes signify the wearer’s position and station and what they stand for. Whether they do or not is another issue entirely.

Inner voices

2010-05-21T13:23:00.000-07:00

Today is a good day to look back at those things that I once did and miss doing and those things that I don’t do anymore and don’t miss at all. Today I had a compressed collage of introspections. These spanned between loss and approval of where I am today. I say compressed collage because in a very creative way my mind bounced from positive to negative as my inner narrator argued with my inner guru. It all began when I got to work and it went something like this-

N: I hope its Friday this week has been slow., G: Wow –this week went by so fast I forgot what day it was –I got a lot done this week, I feel very productive.
N: Man I can’t believe that I am still eating Bacon –it makes me feel horrible, that’s no way to treat my heart. , G: I have really enjoyed the fruits and veggies I have had this week, I am glad that I am making quick progress back towards a vegetarian diet.
N: Did you feel that? Is my heart beating funny, maybe some things wrong! Oh No –I don’t want something to be wrong! –G: Why do you think something is wrong? Your heart is beating fine. And what if it is beating fast? What do you think will happen? You are going to make something happen if you remain stressed, relax.
N: I can’t go to Yoga today –I feel like I might be getting sick. , G: Yoga is healthy; it improves your body and mind and strengthens your HEART. Go to Yoga. You have no evidence that you are getting sick.
N: This yoga pose is too stressful, I am feeling weak, I am feeling dizzy! What’s wrong?, G: BREATHE –get a drink of water –you just need more water, you’re supposed to feel like this its healthy to feel this way.
N: I can’t believe that I was asked to work on that, I have so much on my plate already, this sucks, I’m gonna fail. G: Tell them No, if they need you to do it, then they will ask your boss and he will assign it to take priority over everything else, you can tell them NO.
N: Man I wish I could go out with those guys tonight, they probably think I’m just making excuses, they probably think I am acting like old fart. I can’t believe that I have become so old I can’t go out to clubs and hang out like I used to. , G: Priorities change and health and relaxation and family come first enjoy this part of your life.
N: I feel so drained of energy; I can’t believe I have this extra weight. G: You’ve done great. Keep it up. Don’t order bacon next time.

I am proud that I am eating better and exercising rather than just being health conscious. I don’t miss clubs with loud noise, rude people, and expensive everything. I am proud that I put myself first nurturing my kids, my home life and my relationship with my wife. I don’t miss overworking; rushing to fit it all in, making great efforts to please everyone I work with instead of just my boss. I am proud that rather than hearing my Narrator’s criticisms and doubts and fears I challenge them and bring them back to a positive direction. I miss camping and traveling on a shoe string and having time to spend on my art and myself. I am proud that I have taken the time to teach my kids to paint, draw, write creatively, canoeing, hiking, to enjoy reading and to understand why I love the out of doors.
Today is a great day to remember fondly what we had, what we did, where we were and why we aren’t there anymore. Today is a great day to see our lives positively.

Mother tree

2010-05-19T13:44:00.000-07:00

From the beginning of recorded time man has held Nature in reverence. Especially trees, big ones. As I progressed in my studies of religion I was amazed at the similarities presented when the aspect of a tree was stated. Ancient religions have “The celestial tree” Who’s branches hold up the heavens and roots support the world. Trees represent life, fertility, strength, health, refuge and even spirit beings. The garden of Life has both the tree of life and the tree of knowledge, Siddhartha gained enlightenment from or under a revered fig-tree who’s heart shaped leaves are also a symbol of good fortune. The oak leaves and acorns are symbols of rebirth and life and there are hundreds more references to the importance of the tree. So I think that if I am aware of my ascent to Deva-Gati, or Tendo then I would like to live an incarnation as a tree. I would like to grow old as a tree seeing the world around me grow and change. I would like to feel the changes in the earth and to share and absorb the energy of all around me living and dead. I would like to feel all the aspects of the weather and read the chemicals on the wind. I think that trees especially old trees should all be protected like whales and tortoises. These old beings that we call trees have far more to tell us about this world we live on if we just take the time to watch and listen and learn.

In my grove there is a tree.
She is an awesome tree who speaks to me.
Her roots share the powers in the earth with those who live beneath.
Her trunk is set upon her nest, supporting all her children in a homely vibrant wreath.
Above me are her boughs, shielding hurt and woe,
and comforting all who call her home from heat and rain and snow.
And in my mind she speaks to me of the world that she has been, she speaks in breaths of cool fresh air of all that has and will be seen.
She is connected to the world, root and trunk and bough.
And she sees all that I could ever do and be and precisely when and how.
But as she calms my racing mind
She brings me back to now.

Inconsistent Incarnations

2010-05-18T07:44:00.001-07:00

You’ll more than likely come back as animal, bug or plankton. Good try better luck next time.
Reincarnation is an awesome cycle. All living things die and thus all living things are reborn, right? Well that gets a bit sketchy depending on who you talk to. Some folks seem to have the opinion that Humans always come back as humans, other folks like me believe that there are many possibilities. I think that trees, and animals, fish and reptiles all have their redeeming and appealing natures when considering that next time around some part or all of me might be in one of them. And that’s where I get the disagreement. Many would argue that once the soul has risen to the human level it is impossible for it or any part of it to return as something less than human. I say “give me a break!” Less than human is an ego driven concept, life is life. The beliefs and connections made by indigenous peoples all over the world do not differentiate between human and animal. In contrast to common modern thinking on the subject, the indigenous peoples and ancient civilizations mixed the races of animal and man and spirit.
I think that there are other aspects of rebirth as well. The many planes of existence are populated with spirits and demons, ghosts and all manner of beings. Jigokudō is the last place we want to end up but is fitting for some. Gakidō seems to be a common point of return for many in this century that aspire to greed and lust, always hungry for more. And then there’s Tendō, a heavenly place where you get the choice to return whenever and however you like to teach and provide aid for those trapped in the cycle.
So why do some folks cling to the idea that past lives are always human and future lives must be advancements in the cycle. But what is advancement to someone who didn’t get it.
Shambhala says this “Between the various forms of existence there is no essential difference, only a karmic difference of degree. In none of them is life without limits. However, it is only as a human that one can attain enlightenment. For this reason Buddhism esteems the human mode of existence more highly than that of the gods and speaks in this context of the “precious human body.” Incarnation as a human being is regarded as a rare opportunity in the cycle of samsara to escape the cycle and it is a challenge and obligation of humans to perceive this opportunity and strive toward liberation (enlightenment)........Although the gods are allotted a very long, happy life as a reward for previous good deeds, it is precisely this happiness that constitutes the primary hindrance on their path to liberation, since because of it they cannot recognize the truth of suffering.”
So if we can only attain enlightenment when we are human then it only makes sense that if we don’t, we have a greater chance of exiting the stream as an animal or insect or plant next time.
I think that many Buddhists shun this idea because it means that they have a narrow window to get it right.

Zeal for life

2010-05-17T13:31:00.000-07:00

I am constantly reminded of how awesome life is. I am also regularly awestruck with surprising and magical experiences. I find it sad when I get into a conversation with someone who is zealous about anything other than living. Life doesn’t require me to understand how you perceive the Heart sutra –so I don’t care. Life doesn’t need me to give up my weekend to attend a rally. Life has never argued my need to believe in a savior in order to enter a heavenly place. I like life; it’s what I worship.
I loved to read outside when I was a kid, in a tree, in the grass, in a canoe or while I walked. I read the Bible- several versions, and the Torah outside when I was a kid, I read the life of Siddhartha, and many other religious tomes. These were great for preserving feathers or flowers, clover, and cool leaves. But what happened to me while I was outside; those lessons are awe inspiring and educational.
Many times I heard a Rabi read from the Torah, and then we all had the most wonderful food and wine and dancing. I went to Mass more times than I can count, but it was architecture, stained glass and pageantry that I remember. I have read the sutras and Holy Scripture only to find that sitting silently for hours in contemplation can only help if I practice the lessons in the world of life because the lessons are about experiencing life and living.
So I get out there and I live. I preach life. Experience is my teacher and practicing and refining how well I live is rewarding and fun. So when someone starts quoting scripture to me about what I should do and how I should live, I just smile and listen. Because Life is a collection of experiences, and dreams that allow us to understand our surroundings and hopefully control who we are and where we are. I am zealous about life. I tell people to put down the book about someone else’s life and go live your own. How long does it take to read the basic rules? 8,10,12 whatever the number of rules you prescribe to –read-em, know-em, live em! The book of life has unlimited pages –hopefully your chapter will not keep referencing other books that you thought would tell you how to live.

Bodhi-Kombi

2010-05-11T12:56:00.000-07:00

I went to visit my first Guru the other day.
He was still doing well. As usual he said very little, but spoke volumes in his silence. He always had a way of making me find the answers to my lofty questions on my own. I remember wanting to take a long trip. I packed and saved my money, and planned my route and imagined all that I would experience. My Guru had other plans. Just far enough from home that I couldn’t easily get back, he stopped my trip, made me give away all my money, taught me how to enjoy making friends, the value of getting lost, the wonder of sleeping in the middle of nowhere. And most of all he taught me that when I think I need to explore the world the best place to start is close to home.
Within that same year I learned what home is. I had a roof, I had a stove, and I had a place to sleep that was out of the weather. Home was where I was comfortable, and comfort too became very different when he challenged what I knew about it. I loved the lessons my Guru taught on me about love. I remember him just sitting there, the sun baking down beside the busy interstate. His heart had given out, he was leaking. And though I had very little money, I begged and borrowed to get him somewhere safe where he and I could live together until I learned to heal his damaged body. Love, he taught me, IS a state of being. Many of us choose to live with love as though it is a passing feeling like fright and joy. No. I learned that living in love means that you love everything; the good, the bad, the healthy and the harmful because it is all interwoven in how we measure this life.
SO I love that I was homeless, because I found friends. I love that I was crippled and in pain because I found I was strong. I love that I was broke, because I learned a to be self sufficient. And I love that my old friend was so unreliable, because it taught me to enjoy life’s surprises.
My Guru lives with a young family now. He is well cared for in his old age, they have rewarded his service to his past students with a refurbished body and interior. He looks great.
When I mentioned how glad I was to see him so well cared for. My young friends said, “Ya, we fixed him up so that we could take a trip.”
“It’ll be awesome” I said.

All praise Bodi-kombi, svaha Bodi-kambi svaha

Vertigo and other circular thought

2010-05-05T13:37:00.001-07:00

I recently read the book titled “Zen and the Brain” by James Austin, M.D. and it confirmed some very thought provoking and heated arguments that I commonly run into when speaking in the context of “the power of meditation”.
This concept seems to always creep up in the meditating world. Claims that meditating in specific ways will enable you to (you fill in the blank), seem to me to cloud the water quite a bit. I would say pollute it. When I get periodicals, or got to web sites where Buddhists, or even just “new age or alternative” folks would be the audience I always feel like I am bombarded with information. These ads remind me of the carnies that yell and taunt you from their booths at the county fair.”It’s easy, Just $2.00, Look at these prizes…” It all becomes rather nauseating or maybe that’s the cotton candy. SO rather than be assaulted by claims of nirvana in with the correct mudra. I like to explore my mind in my own way, and that exploration sometimes needs some reinforcement. After reading this book I have come to understand the connections between mind and body with far more detail. This book is written with some level of medical lingo and a presumption that the reader is versed in neurology, psychology and medical research lingo. That said I am very please to find that physical health, awareness, consciousness, and mental capacity are all aspects that can be enhanced with meditation. Some of these enhancements can come naturally, or without direct thought. This book sites many instances and studies but the one that was very obvious was a study that involved folks who for one reason or another had lost both eyes, but were able to point to an exact position in the room where movement occurred. This might seem like a simple feat, but try it. This is an example of the mind rewiring itself to use the senses differently than they were designed. This and many more mental expansions are presented as a result of meditation. I believe that consciousness as most people understand it is a very limited “awareness”, when in fact consciousness involves the very fibers of our body. Synaesthesia presents proof that out heart and mind and other organs of our body actually carry some level of trained response to stimuli that occurs outside the body. A clear example of this is when someone else yawns it triggers a yawn in most of us. If someone else ducks we might also duck, before looking at what triggered that action. These are very simple actions that are programmed into our bodies. But we can program them to do more. Like the martial artist whose hands and feet are already moving to block a blow that isn’t even within their line of sight or like the juggler who “feels” where something is going to be, we can train our minds to react to external stimuli. But my interest lies deeper.
There are many recorded and documented instances where someone who received a heart, liver, lung transplant begin to experience cravings, reactions, even dreams that do not relate to them but are very clearly related to the donor of the organs. This type of connection to the donor through the donated organ speaks volumes to me. This is proof for me that our minds are merely where we think but our consciousness is stored in every fiber of our being. And with this proof we can meditate on improving respiration, and improve it, We can meditate on expanding our memory or our emotional relationships and change them physically. This spiral of action and reaction in a focused circle makes me wonder if enlightenment isn’t a state of knowing all as much as it is a state of being all, feeling all, seeing all clearly and with purpose. And these deep, spiraling lines of thought give me vertigo. And sometimes make me a little queasy.

The foot feels the foot when it feels the ground. ~Buddha
Only that in you which is me can hear what I'm saying. ~Baba Ram Dass
I am a part of all that I have met. ~Alfred Lord Tennyson

What's to loose?

2010-05-03T11:40:00.001-07:00

Today I am trying to deal with loss, the loss of a beautiful sole.
It all started when I met someone at a local store. I was walking past a crowd and there he was. He looked really familiar so I said “Hi”. He greeted me in kind and we began to have a conversation. We walked away from the large group so we could become more acquainted. I introduced him to my wife and daughter. He greeted them cordially and proceeded to include them in our conversation. We all agreed that we enjoyed the meeting and the conversation. As we rejoined the crowd our new friend began talking with someone else so we quietly took our cue and walked on. While we were shopping my daughter commented how nice our new friend was and mentioned that he was homeless. “Really? –I guess that could be, but with all those people around I was sure he must have somewhere to stay.”
My wife and I chatted casually about friends we have had that crashed at our place and about how important it is to have a place to call home. My daughter chimed in that we had room to spare and that we could surely help this guy out with a few meals and a bed. I explained how it wasn’t safe to invite a total stranger to stay with you. I explained that it’s one thing to bring home some young friends, folks that you know from the neighborhood, or whose parents you have met and been around. But a total stranger is different. Who knows what he’s done or might do? “Daddy, we all agreed we like him, he’s nice and polite, and it’s the right thing to do.” My daughter replied. So after shopping we went to find our new friend. Sure enough there he was sitting against the wall outside. He looked tiered and stressed. He looked like he had been putting on a smile for too long and now his eyes and his demeanor didn’t fit his pretend happiness when people spoke to him. So I invited him to come home with us. He wasn’t really sure, and he seemed as though he was a little frightened. As we were talking this woman comes over and explains that she has been keeping an eye on him for the last month or so and out of the blue- she starts giving us some background about this guy. She makes him out to be a saint and a scholar and assures us that we were very kind hearted and that we would rewarded with his friendship forever.
So here I am today, dealing with the loss of a shoe. This new dog is challenging and needs to be trained to follow our rules. So I have been patient and loving in my orientation. I understand that in his old home he was allowed on the furniture, maybe even the bed. I understand that in his old home he surely had a different schedule and that he may have had different demands placed on him. I am sure that in his old home he was fed scraps of food in the kitchen and at the table. As I teach my new friend how to be part of my family he is teaching me how to be his friend. To really understand what my family and I must do to make this transition comfortable for all of us we have to put ourselves in this guys place. For him it’s all very confusing and frightening and I’m sure at times he feels like everything is spinning out of control. So as I look for the shoe that I’m pretty sure has gone out in the yard via the doggie door, I keep in mind that every time we meet someone new we have an opportunity to develop a friendship. And a friendship takes time and work. A friendship is one of the most rewarding relationships we can have so long as we realize that it takes the two of us to reach a mutual understanding. We must understand that we will fight –without words, we will do the wrong thing, we will act the wrong way and even embarrass each other. But every time we make a new friend we find a new part of our soul. A part of our soul we never knew we had lost. A beautiful soul.

Have you lost a shoe recently? Are you sure… maybe you should look for one anyway.

That’s gotta be worth something!

2010-04-30T11:56:00.000-07:00

I was a practicing conservator for many years. Both of my galleries sold local and regional artists works, rare books and manuscripts and we specialized in restoring old frames, and works of art on paper. SO I have many stories to tell not all of them nice and happy. But one that sticks out as a good reference for everyone to learn from, involved an excited young couple. They had found a piece of art at an antique auction. The auctioneer had presented it as an original, signed Gustave Dore engraving. The frame was stated to be the original frame from the same period as the engraving. This is a very nice engraving, well framed for the period in a gold leafed ornate frame. The young couple fell in love with the detail and spirit of the engraving. Dore after all was a master of masters in his art. They paid $200.00 at the auction and were very happy to have paid this. They brought the piece to us and asked what we could do. My sales man told them we could clean and repair the frame and glass, but he could not speak of more until we opened the framed art and inspected all that was now hidden behind the dustcover.
I also love Paul Gustave Dore. I own a first printed edition of several of the books he illustrated. My favorite is Dante’s Inferno. So when I saw the piece they had brought in I understood their pleasure and attachment to it.
I called them later that evening to discuss further restorations, if they might want them.
Here’s the life lesson.
When dealing with things in life that you hold dear –there is no dollar value. I am speaking of those things are and should remain valueless. We should never even consider the monetary worth of a painting, a plate, a car, a vase, or anything if we are emotionally attached to it. NEVER.
When the young man put me on speaker as I presented him with the various things that I could do for the engraving they had brought to me, I realized I needed to trod softly. The cost for my work and the restoration that I could perform was about$350.00. That included restoration to the frame and new UV coated glass and cleaning of the engraving. I cringed as the wife excitedly told me about the research that they had done so far on Dore. They had found out how well known and prolific an artist he was and how collectable his engravings were considered to be.
I asked what references they were using and explained that sometimes the values presented were estimated or perceived. Then the question that I was dreading came. The question that we have all asked at one time or another when we consider the broader value of something we deem unusual, unique, antique or “surely valuable”.
“We’ll, said the man, I consider the price of the restoration to be an investment, after all this is a very valuable piece of art, ISN’T IT?”
I do not like to deceive or in any other way exaggerate art. Art collection is speculative and one should only collect art that you love emotionally unless you are willing to treat it like a share of stock.
So I replied. “Gustave Dore and his apprentices were first and foremost illustrators. The piece that you have is a page from a book published in about 1865. These books are fairly large folio’s and the engraving quality is very good for a mass publication. This piece however is glued to a composite compressed paper board. In my opinion it wouldn’t be something that you would be able to resell for more than what you are considering investing in it.”
The phone went silent. “Hold on", I said. Why would you want to sell it? Isn’t this one of the first pieces of art that you have purchased? “Yes “Replied the young wife. We are in our first home and we just loved the angels in that picture.” “It has so much detail that it just draws you into what’s happening, said the husband.”
“So how much are those feelings worth?” I asked. “I know”, they said together and then laughed.
There’s the lesson, shared emotion, excitement, enjoyment, whatever you are feeling when you look at that Thing makes it valuable- not what someone else is willing to pay.
The credit card company tells us that the memories that we make on an expensive vacation are “Priceless”. I say the emotions that are stirred whenever we look at that old photo of grandma, or hold that little clay pot we made in 3rd grade, are very valuable. Just like buying food, clothes and shelter because these things are required we must find and hold onto those things that we recognize the emotional value of. So when you still have that antique engraving that you bought for your first home –because it spoke to you and you loved it; it should be treated like the treasure it is. When it stirs no more emotion and cannot speak. Well then you can only get what someone else will pay for those same feelings. And then, just like I am when I get my annual 401 statement, you might be surprised.

Note to self

2010-04-30T07:41:00.000-07:00

Have you ever received a letter -not an e-mail, a letter handwritten and personal? Doesn’t that feel good. Someone took the time to tell you something they thought you would like to know.
I have taken that one step further. Every so often I will write myself a note. I don't waste the stamp, I just put it in with bills to be paid or attach it to the Sierra Club calendar in the kitchen a few months from now. I like it to be kind of surprising when I find it. Like when you put on a winter jacket for the first time this year and find money in the pocket -that’s nice, right?
So here is my -Note to self:
Today you will smile more. Make it a point to smile as often as possible –There are a million reasons to smile. Today you will laugh more often, if for no other reason than to be healthy, happiness is healthy.
Today you will eat less, eat healthy, and eat mindfully. Mindful of the amount. Mindful of the quality. Mindful of the origin. Today you will calmly enjoy every bite and eat no more than is filling.
Today you will be creative. You are an artist and should strive to be artistic in every aspect of your life. Today you will look at something new and artistically express it - draw, paint, design, write, and create –you are an artist.
Today you will focus inward on how healthy and fit you are. You are a vital, living, powerful person. You are much healthier than most people, focus on your how healthy you are.
Today you will allow yourself to feel worthy, and capable. You have permission to do what you have told yourself to do. You have permission and a responsibility to do these things because you are expected to do the best job that you can as Husband, Father, and Friend. You are worth making yourself better –take time to do so now.

De ja-vu - just another turtle

2010-04-29T15:33:00.000-07:00

Ever feel like you’re just another turtle in a long line of turtles. When someone yells we all duck, when something bigger than us glides over we tuck our heads in our shells. When the sun moves and our place on the log is no longer warm and cozy, we have no choice but stay and wait or Jump into the water and find another log.
I’m there this morning. I had a sunny and warm spot out on the end of the log. All my turtle buddies stacked up like evening traffic behind me. Things were cozy. Then out of nowhere a loud noise, then we all see the hawk’s shadow, and the sun finally moves below the tree line and this section of the log is in the shade. So now the dilemma hits all of us at once. “Well turtles -I choose to stay”.
A couple of my buddies have dropped off in search of bright warm logs. But I’ve been here a while I am comfortable and I have the sense to realize that I don’t have any control of the sun. It’ll be out here on this log again tomorrow almost definitely.
I have seen days of rain and wind when it was more comfortable in the water. I’ve even been around when the river flooded and we all had to get out of the water and let a whole new group of logs roll by until things settled down and we had our pick of new logs to climb into the sun on. –Some turned out not so comfortable. But in the end there have always been logs, there has always been water, and there are always comfortable places in the sun where I can find myself surrounded by other turtles –lined up like afternoon traffic trying to get comfortable and stay dry as long as possible.

Metaphor for what metta is for!

Religious Composting

2010-04-27T14:07:00.000-07:00

I believe that I am like many folks here in the US and I’m sure abroad as well when we are speaking about religion. My grandparents on one side were of two different faiths, Agnostic and Episcopalian. My grandmother on the other side was Catholic. My parents were of two different beliefs Catholic and Atheist. My wife has similar religious mixes in her family. We are, when it comes to religious upbringing, compost.
Over thousands of years people have been marrying outside of their religious beliefs and practices. This marriage can be harmonious or not, but either way it produces offspring that believe and practice things differently than their parents. The cycle of change is never ending. But surprisingly the seeds that grow in the compost of many of the world’s great religions are not always healthy and fertile. Some of these can be called weeds. Pesky things that creep up almost overnight until they have begun to show up everywhere. Some of these weeds fail to get established and others find a place to live where they are appreciated and nurtured and then they are no longer considered a pest. They become accepted into the broader understanding. But the old stock religions, those that have evolved to outlast the weeds and perhaps even been grafted to far older beliefs. These are the great products of the religious compost heap. This cycle has actually changed and created some religious beliefs that we hold dear today. Buddhism is a product of religious compost. Just look at the various sects and regions of Buddhism. The root stock is solid. In many regions Buddhism was grafted to older more established religious practice and adopted by practitioners and scholars alike. Looking at the spread of Buddhism in the US, we can see the religious compost process in action. It has been adapted and incorporated into many different views within the last 50 years. And yet the fruits are still as appealing and nourishing as I imagine they were when the first seeds and pruned branches hit the bin. Feeding the masses requires vast and endless varieties of fruit. Cultivation and hybridization has served that need since the dawn of belief. So in my home we celebrate every view and every ideal. Because having a full and bountiful basket to choose from is far better than eating what you are handed.

Celebrate diversity

I loved that van ...

2010-04-25T19:21:00.000-07:00

At a party recently I made a mental note of a change in conversation that I got caught in. I made a mental note because it had the theme of nostalgia. I hadn’t found this line of conversation appealing in the past. I am younger than most of my friends, they are all retired or close to it, their kids are grown, they are old. So when I found myself in a conversation where I used the phrase “I can remember when…”I turned on the mental pocket recorder. I have never been one to wax quixotic about things before. I love technology, I adore modern innovations. But when someone picked up this little toy and asked me about my VW van, well a warm flush came over me. As I took the little toy from them I told them how my wife got it for me several years ago and as I spoke I was transported to the vinyl seat overlooking a bus style steering wheel and nothing between me and the headlights but poly-foam and thin sheet metal.
Wow; what is that –it just happened again.
Ok I admit I really had fun in my van. That was 20 years ago. So this conversation that I remember had a sickeningly sweet smell of “Man, I remember when …”
I can’t stand that. I can’t stand it because when people begin to measure their happiness, success and appearance with what they think they’ve lost or think they need; well then they have already fallen from the tree house of self worth. I agree that we are all envious, and even resentful of things we don’t have. I think civilization has been built on people getting something that they want. Land, gold, oil, grain these are the things that wars are fought over. This is the bad side of desire. So when people say “I’ll be much happier if…” or “When I (blank) everything will be great.” I tune them out. I also tune out old people when they start reminiscing about what they had, should have done, or wish they could do again. I have trained myself to value where I am. I have spent long hours focusing on where I am in life and how lucky I am to have friends, wife, kids, and all that I have. I have worked really hard to prevent myself from having destructive thoughts that diminish my value as a person.
So when I realized that I missed how I felt driving my VW van, with those vinyl seats, and the huge steering wheel, I made a mental note. I noted how much I missed the little corner window that could instantly blast me with wind when I opened it. It was awesome when I drove for hours, immersed in music and scenery and the ever present RRRRRRRRRRRRRRR of the engine.
I could fit 10 friends in that van. At one point I had two recliners as middle seats. I found them when I was dumpster diving behind married-housing on campus right after graduation. I loved that van.
It didn’t have airbags, seatbelts, air conditioning or a heater. But 4 of us could sleep in it –not comfortably but there were many times that we did. I really loved that van.
The conversation came to an abrupt end when my buddy said “Why don’t you get another one, the kids would love it.” I was horrified. I said, “”An old one? No Way man! Those things are dangerous and very unreliable. And a new one –they’re just not the same.”
Since that party I have been thinking more and more about the past, and how I would really enjoyed having this or that. Hiking the AT again, Surfing, traveling on a shoestring. And I think of how these things made me feel. What I realized is that all of us have that something that takes us back or propels us forward in our life and makes us see our self in a different way, a more appealing and desirable way. A new car, a face lift, more money, a larger house, these are things that many of us think will improve our life. I realized that if I got myself an old VW van I wouldn’t see it the same way I saw it then. It wouldn’t make me feel the same way it does in my memory. Remembering isn’t dangerous. It’s acting on the desire to be someone else that’s harmful. I realized that quite often people go to great lengths to get what they think they need to be happy or appealing or successful only to realize that they may have gotten what they wanted but they are the same person. I decided I don’t want to be an old guy in the old VW van. I decided that it’s ok to just flashback and enjoy the ride. And I listen closely when the old guys I hang out with say, “Hey man, remember when…” Yah –I remember, and wasn’t it awesome.
Have I told you about how I got this little hula girl…

Fish cakes and other happy foods

2010-04-23T18:28:00.000-07:00

In my home food is art, nutritious and yummy art. My wife and I are pretty focused on nutritious and healthy but we cook very differently. She approaches food like a pharmacist. She uses precise amounts of select ingredients to make tasteful meal. I dive into the culinary arts like Jackson Pollock. I throw color and taste and smell into a bowl of emotion and display it like a collage. My grandmother used to say food is food, but a good meal takes creativity, daring and love. I like to make my family sit up with wonder when the kitchen smells start to migrate and smile when they get to the table.
I have recently introduced my family to mindful eating. It’s not our cup-o- green tea. We like to savor our meals yes, but we love talking and laughing (we never do this with a full mouth) and gaining the full spectrum of nourishment from the meal together. We do take time to enjoy each bite and we always discuss the ingredients and quite often discuss who and where they came from My wife and son have the uncanny ability to end each meal with the perfect bite. That last forkful is a combination of just the right combination of items. My daughter doesn’t like foods to touch so she sets up her plate in shifts. I am the opposite; I make faces on my plate any chance I get. Smiley faces of Ketchup are common.
We all have different likes and dislikes. We all taste, smell, and see food in a unique way. My glass of water may taste different to me than it would to you. But human nature demands that we all feel connected. Because of this food has been a casualty of conformity. And for many this need to conform makes it far less appealing to have fun cooking. My wife is a victim of this but her rehab is almost complete. Don’t stay stuck in a “white bread” rut. Use a cookie cutter before you make your toast. Save the scraps and fry them with a little oil and spices – croutons are yummy anytime. Put blue food coloring in your poached or scrambled eggs and serve them with sweet pickles and melon slices. Eat cake for breakfast, put berries in your water, and add edible flowers to your oatmeal. Make an effort to laugh and talk about what you eat. Try foods you’re scared of like eel, raw oysters, beets, and hot sauce.
Have fun creating, keep it simple and colorful, and above all if you make pancakes NEVER make them round.
I find that nourishment for the soul comes in many ways and some of them are served hot.

2010-04-22T17:32:00.000-07:00

As a Buddhist I have a hard time imagining heaven. When friends and family members speak of it they present many of the same aspects. Heaven to them is a place of no illness, no want, no need and no hate. To them heaven is unbelievably beautiful, filled with mansions and palaces and all the worldly things that are denied here. In heaven they will be surrounded by all their loved ones friends and relatives who have died. When I have been asked, I tell them that I have a hard time understanding the concept because I am pretty darned impressed with right here. Sunsets in the desert, sun rises over the Caribbean, and the redwood forests and birth are all pretty hard to beat.
Illness makes life interesting and challenging and teaches us humility, compassion, and makes me appreciate every moment. When my mother was diagnosed with a brain tumor –wow life and mom suddenly got much more valuable.
Desire? We all enjoy our desires, but it can be overcome –just ask a monk, nun, priest or better yet ask yourself what you have that you don’t need to live out the week. I would venture to say that these things that come to mind are yours because of want, not need. . But the other side of desire drives technology, psychology, ecology, and all the studies of something to make life better for the next generation. Desire drives us to be better and do better. Don’t get rid of all desire only the aspects that don’t benefit our fellow man.

And need? All those things we need make life so much more incredible, why would anyone ever want to be without them. Air, water, sun, plants, animals, and other people –I need these things and what they can provide.
No hate. The lack of hate is an interesting part of heaven to me, mainly because so many people seem quite attached to it. Why would you want to be somewhere for an eternity where you weren’t yourself?

Do you hate something?

Maybe someone, a food maybe, or perhaps you hate a thing like cancer or death. Have you ever thought of letting that hate go –just try? Give it up like a bad habit. I bet you have a hard time letting go.
I tell my friends that I do believe in an afterlife. I just don’t see it the way they do. To them Heaven is somewhere you go. To me heaven is somewhere you live.

Gate Gate Paragate

Paddling to oneness

2010-04-21T13:45:00.000-07:00

I am an avid paddler. I paddle a canoe, and a kayak –the needs of the day dictate the boat I use. Both my children were in a canoe before they could walk and they were both paddling with little homemade paddles as soon as they could reach over the gunwale (side) of the canoe. When I learned to paddle I gained confidence and awareness of the beauty around me. The awareness was quite eye opening. In a canoe or kayak you can glide along a river and glance at the things passing by with little concern or great concentration. You can stop and inspect it or just pass it by without a second glance. This understanding became very useful when I began to learn meditation. “Follow the rhythm of your breathing” I was told in the beginning of several instructions. So I did. I followed it deep into unknown territory where I feared that something I was doing was incorrect and my back began to hurt and I cracked open one eye to see if I was sitting right. I was a mess. My ego got the best of me, and my internal narrator told me I wasn’t getting it.
And then one day as I was paddling I realized that I was following a rhythm, the cadence of my paddling was steady and purposeful and mindless. My mind was free to grab onto anything that caught its interest. My interest would guide me to inspection and review and memorization. But mostly my mind was just there in the body, in the boat, in the river, moving through life, lots and lots of life. The paddling cadence changed as the river changed. Muscles moved to correct my place in the current and when required my mind would momentarily focus on the actions needed to continue on my easy trip. And as easily as it changed focus into my body it would revert back into the world around me falling away from awareness of the action of paddling to once again merge with everything and with nothing at one time.
Occasionally I will find that I am intently watching a dragonfly on my canoe or a bird wading in the grass. Far more often while I am paddling my mind is wandering in the present moment, taking in everything that I am seeing and feeling, every action and every emotion. These things float through my mind like thistle seeds on the wind. They are present in my awareness, but I hold onto little of it as it floats by.
This is meditation. I have done some walking meditation, and after much work my breath meditation works to get me relaxed and into a deeper consciousness. I’m not quite sure that anyone could paddle to enlightenment. But I am sure that here is a rhythm to life and everything has its place in the never-ending tune.

Come on, find your rhythm so you can play along.

Life requires balance

2010-04-20T08:03:00.000-07:00

Have you ever seen a balanced stack of stones while walking along the beach or a trail or in a riverbank? I think these simple structures are very interesting art forms. They are non invasive, all natural, esthetically pleasing, and best of all impermanent. And I make them everywhere. My favorite place to balance stones is in riverbeds. When visiting the forests of the east coast it is a family custom to walk barefoot for hours along side or in any inviting stream, creek or river we find. Preferably one that isn’t commonly overrun with people –these are more likely to have broken glass.
Balancing stones takes a singular focus of mind and muscle. When balancing each stone you have to feel how it connects to the supporting stone. I enjoy this connection. Focusing on how the stone is shaped and where it‘s weight is distributed and positioning it for the best support can be time consuming and frustrating. Failure is common and usually comes with bruised fingers and toes. But I really love the result.
I try to look at my relationships with friends and family in a similar manner. Each person has their shape, their center, and certainly they all have a connection to their support. Some people are well supported and some aren’t. Some people are perfectly capable of balancing the weight of others and some can barely manage to stay upright. Then there are those rare people who are well balanced in every position. These folks are good foundations for whoever relies on them for support.
Most people can balance for a good long time. This balancing act is referred to as “juggling” in my circle of friends. Many of them are juggling an aging parent, college aged children, and their own issues. But one thing is for sure balance is impermanent. The stones we stand will fall.
Life requires us to realize at an early age that we have to be able to focus on the stones that are still balanced after a collapse. We need to focus on learning how to let the stones fall where they may as we juggle our lives or balance ourselves with others.
So I have taught my kids to balance stones. They are good at it as long as those stones are not too heavy or oddly shaped. My wife on the other hand does not worry about balancing stones. She prefers to just sit on a large foundation stone and be there to comfort bruised fingers, when the stones were balancing come falling down.

Balanced stones will fall.

2010-04-19T07:43:00.000-07:00

What is the deal with “dog years”? I have been puzzled by this since the first time someone told me; “Dogs have seven birthdays for every human year.” That’s just weird. Dogs don’t celebrate birthdays. If they did they would have one every 52 days or so. You know; that would be awesome. If you think about it, birthday parties are so much fun. Cake, party hats, presents. All our friends would come with their dogs as if our dogs were friends. I think I will start sending out invitations to my dog’s birthdays this week. But if I do should I have a belated birthday party for the one I missed two weeks ago? I’ll need to plan these things out.
Do people with cats have cat birthdays?
Hold on.
OK, I just checked the web and found that there is a lot of contention about this whole animal year’s thing. Dog years to human years are progressively reducing in number as the dog gets older. Like the dog turns 15 in his first human year, and 24 in the next human year. But they only age 4 dog years to every human year after their 24th dog birthday. Cats are about the same.
Horses have some weird declining conversion that basically suggests that a horses age will freeze when its 16 human years.
All of this is pretty bizarre to me. I grew up on a horse farm –we never worried about animals birthdays after they were born. I think that we should just celebrate life every day. We should all have random parties throughout the year after age 16. We should have premade cakes and cards that say “Happy Life!”
We could sing “Happy life to you, were very glad you’re here, it’s been great having you around so far this year.” or something like that. I find that celebrating any birthday is really just that, a celebration of life. We celebrate the fact that everyone is here to enjoy the cake, to provide cards and well wishes. The presents are just an added benefit.
For me my birthday has had little impact on the many lives I have lived so far. I had an awesome but rough life as a small child. With multiple surgeries, several cases of pneumonia, chicken pocks, ear aches and so forth –very little of which I can remember. Mom says I was a very happy child. I had a great life as a school aged kid –I won lots of art contests, learned to swim, paddle a canoe, and developed a love for the outdoors and a pension for reading and learning that still benefits me today. I was very blessed in my life as a teen ager in that I lived through these years to become a stronger, more independent, wiser and more cautious person. College life was, well let’s just say all my experiments, experiences, expansions of thought and relationships made me who I am today and put me in contact with my wife and best friend. Then there’s my life as a husband, father, artist, professional and so forth…
People have just about as many birthdays as dogs we just fail to celebrate these pivotal times of our year. We really should just celebrate life. Apparently dogs do.

Trail rules

2010-04-18T14:24:00.000-07:00

I love to explore a new trail. I really enjoy going somewhere I haven’t gone before and see new sights. I have learned over the years that each new place has its own set of trail rules. I think this enjoyment for exploration is deeply rooted in our human nature. We are all on our own path. We came into this world surrounded by people who love us, people who will learn to love us and people who will never know us. Unfortunately for almost all of us there will be far more of the latter than the former. As we walk the path of our life we are taught the trail rules. These are the subtle little nuances of life that keep us safe. These are the social graces, moral codes, public behaviors and rules of engagement that will shape us into who we will be as an adult and into the next life.
In the last 20 years or more I find that I run into folks who seem to be quite inept at learning and understanding the trail rules of a new region or a new culture. I have actually encountered a couple who were very upset at the waiter and manager of a restaurant that nothing on the menu was “American”. It was rather funny to me because I was in Mexico. And I have been even more amused at the beach when people who moments ago were feeding the sea gulls, were actually cursing at a life guard for allowing all the “damn-birds” at the beach. (Yep, if it eats, it craps.)
Trail rules make life much easier. Being comfortable is far easier when you understand your place in your immediate surroundings. When I am about to hike or paddle somewhere I haven’t been before I take a little time to acclimate myself to the possible dangers of the area, especially those that might cause me a false sense of confidence. Like when a river turns back on itself and has many branches that might cause me to get turned around, or when an area has snakes or plants that look very similar to the ones around my home but are in fact a very dangerous look alike. And I also take a moment to understand the beauty and uniqueness of my surroundings so I don’t miss that rare encounter with some creature that is very scared of people or that butterfly or flower that is found only in certain areas. Makes sense right.
Dinner parties, new jobs, large social gatherings are no less dangerous and have similar opportunities for discovery. They share many of the same pit falls. Look around yourself and take a mental poll. On an average day, how many people do you encounter that are just plowing their way through life? These poor souls miss out on so many awesome and rewarding experiences. They miss out on making friends; they miss out on expanding their understanding of the world. And they miss out on being truly comfortable with people, places and cultures. Mostly they fail to realize that in many ways most of the trails we travel through life are very similar. The more you experience the broader your awareness of these similarities becomes. And you are less likely to be eaten by alligators.

Make every path extraordinary.

2010-04-17T07:14:00.000-07:00

This is my latest painting. I am stuck, and I can't get motivated to finish it. I am stuck at a point on this one where I usually begin to deeply enjoy painting. At this point, usually time begins to be meaningless, my surroundings fall away from my awareness and I am “in the Zone”. I know that everyone has something they do that allows them to feel invigorated and wide awake. For my father that’s running, he runs marathons and gets in his “Zone” within a few miles. A friend and colleague is a programmer, he gets in the zone when the program begins to show promise, when his confidence in what he is working on goes from maybe to certainly. He says time stands still and clarity hits him and his coding fingers fly. Another friend is a writer, he has the same experience as I am sure you do when you are into something you enjoy or that challenges you.
After working on this painting several evenings in a row I just couldn’t continue my motivation to do more. I know why. It’s simple. I don’t like pine trees. I never have. They provide little shade unless they are densely packed and then they are almost uninviting because very little underbrush will grow beneath the canopy of a pine forest. I realize that this seems silly, but it’s the only excuse I could come up with.
The zone is the point at which we are singularly focused on the task at hand. We are “in the moment” and mindful. But I find that I can’t just turn it on, it has to happen, I believe that the Zone is a mix of emotions. It’s a cocktail of feelings that your served when you are just enjoying life. You get it when you are doing something that feeds your soul. I know many artists who go through the motions every day sculpting, painting, turning bowls. Each piece they complete is good but when you ask them to show you their best, those pieces are usually associated with how they felt at the time. My point here is that sometimes when we do something we really enjoy it begins to become stale. That thing you loved for whatever reason doesn’t do it for you today. Running, diving, canoeing, basketball, painting, and playing the (shakuhachi) flute can all get stale and tasteless. But that’s ok, keep at it! This is something that you love to do afterall. Change your activity a little. Do something you haven’t done before while doing whatever it is you get pleasure from. For me I am painting a few oaks with my pine trees, I hate pine trees but the challenge of painting them may turn in to that elusive joy I can only get when I’m “in the zone”. Maybe it will happen soon, if I only just keep going.

Zoning out.

A little enlightenment

2010-04-16T07:59:00.001-07:00

I have this little Buddha netsuke. It was carved out of ivory in about 1860. At that time in Japan things were under a lot of turmoil. The ruling Shogun was overthrown and an age of “richness and strength” became the goal of the country as they focused on modernization partnering in trade with the US and other strong countries. The culture of Japan was changing.
This little Buddha sits silently in meditation, expressing enlightened mindfulness. He reminds me simply of the life and philosophy of the Buddha nothing more.
But as I took this photo intending to write about what it represents to me, I realized the dynamic time that this little statue's maker lived in. During its transformation from whale tooth to this statue the artist was perhaps dealing with a life that would be changed with electricity, western suits, and perhaps more competition. The violent clash of cultures destined to mesh as all cultures must. Perhaps the artist had had to begin to carve more statues rather than utilitarian ornaments. Maybe of Christ as well to satisfy Religious changes that were now in full swing. Maybe the artist even thought about the interesting irony that he was sculpting the Buddha, the embodiment of compassion and respect for all living things out of the tooth from a whale that was brutally killed. All this is speculation on my part. As an artist I rarely think of things outside of my intended creation. I focus myopically on the tree I paint at that moment –bark, branch, leaf. As each stroke is applied I think of that stroke. My mind does not wander. This artist who carved such a wonderful representation of the immense statue at Pure Land Temple in Japan was probably well versed in the Way. It is far more probable that this statue was carved with thought of every stroke, every curve, and every cut.
Tuning out the turmoil of the world is difficult. Focusing on the moment at hand is not the way of the west, we multi-task, “faster, cheaper, easier” is the common motto.
But not for me, my world is in a state of turmoil. Our old shogun was recently removed. There is a new president urging the US to “embrace change, invest, lend a hand and hope”. Jobs are changing; our economy is in turmoil we are all looking at our world and our lives differently.
Artists work to represent the world around them, to help others see the world as they do.
So my thoughts come back to this little statue. I look at it to remind me of the focus and mindfulness of the Buddha. I try to keep my mind focused on the moment but often find that when I let my mind roam across possibility unhindered, I see the connection to all things. I am connected to this artist. We are all connected to all things, all beings through life, past present and future.
Rebirth does not ensure a new existence with new experiences, it only ensures that it life will continue to keep the circle turning.

Contemplate your circle.

Changing seasons of me

2010-04-15T10:47:00.000-07:00

Spring is here. As I walk through the woods around my home I see the signs of a glorious spring emerging rapidly. Maple and elm branches are bulging with buds. Wood violets, jack-in-the-pulpit and ferns are unfurling and stretching like they have woken from a restful nap. And of course the spiders and flying insects have appeared overnight, which changes the volume of the songbirds dramatically. When the cool light winds of spring blow, the oaks push off their old leaves to create a light shower of bronze, which whispers of the rains to come. Of course signs of our furry neighbors are everywhere as well –especially in my newly planted flower beds.
The flower beds I plant contain some commercially grown plants and vegetables. I do this because I can’t stand to see living things discarded as if they have no value. I buy or retrieve the damaged or neglected plants and return them to vigor. These are the casualties of the retail designated spring-time that we are all bombarded with. Of course, flowering plants are one of the main products the commercialized change of seasons. Garden festivals are another. These established events herald the time for folks to become bright and cheerful and get outdoors. "It's spring time damn it -get with the program!" I presume that these indicators evolved as nature became pushed into pockets and niches of large cities. Many people see the manicured and professionally planned & planted parks as natural spaces. Lilies, tulips, daffodils, azaleas, and blooming trees blaze like prom dresses in the spring in almost every park and garden. But to me these are false signs of spring. We humans have a lust to design our surroundings to meet our desire. Hot houses and green houses can make plants bloom at any time of the year. And in the “spring” every garden department in the US is flooded with vegetables, hybridized fruit trees, forced bulbs, blooming annuals, and manicured shrubs. This is a false spring.
I prefer to let nature take its course. I don’t give in to the desire; I try to curb my lust for control in my garden and in my life. Many times I have to stop myself from acting on those commercially designed needs. I try to allow the seasons of My life, My body to progress naturally. I’m getting older. I am slowing down. I am learning the joys of wisdom and deep thought and packing up the pleasures of ability and quick action. I ask for help lifting things, I know my limitations. Sure I could be like the Retail spring events and employ every bright and shiny gadget to convince others that I am in the spring of my life –but this would be a false spring.
So I walk in the woods rather than run through them. And I see the value of the natural cycle.

Springing to life.

The circular motion of change, shakuhachi

2010-04-14T05:41:00.000-07:00

At the moment I am obsessed with the shakuhachi. This unique instrument of distinctly Japanese fame and renown has the ability to create three octaves and emit undertones that make a most haunting and emotional sound. And I simply hate it!
I have been playing for over 20 years and a bit over a year ago I decided that I needed to change what I was doing. I decided that instead of a roaming and wandering tune (which is a method of meditation for me) I would like to sound like one of the guys on the meditation CD’s I have. I never had a desire to make a CD of my own or even play in front of people. I just wanted to play in a more contemporary way. So I began by signing up for a Flute camp.

Change is good.
The camp made me realize that I had A LOT to learn. Firstly, before the camp even began I was informed that I was not prepared to be a “real” shakuhachi player. I was told that I had the wrong sized flute. And that my flute was not tuned properly. In other words cheap. A decent student flute can run anywhere from a few hundred to just under 2 thousand Dollars –not yen. So I found an awesome flute on C’s list. It had all the upgrades, which are surprisingly technical for a bamboo flute.
When I arrived at the flute camp I was immersed in history, music, a varied group of students –and I was exposed to Japanese Kanji; shakuhachi notation. It looks like scribbling with a brush. But all went well and I learned to read the notation and began to make some interesting sounds. I feel as though I have improved greatly in the last several months since that camp. Improved, in that when I listen to the meditation CD’s I like, I can play along somewhat. But I can’t meditate, I have to think too much.

Back around.
So my desire to change made me act. My actions toward change changed me and the way I enjoyed my flute playing.
Since I was making all these “improvements” to my playing I felt like I needed to make a move to become much more connected to the art of the shakuhachi. So I have purchased a true Japanese antique, a 200+ year old shakuhachi. I had the flute cleaned and had some restoration done and when I played it … I realized it sounded just like my cheap flute. So the Komūso monks of Japan that wandered around in musical meditation, playing the shakuhachi for hours and days at a time used simple, unrefined, and loosely tuned flutes. All the contemporary shakuhachi music I hear on the meditation CD’s was first played hundreds of years ago on roughly made, cheap flutes by Komūso monks, guys who just wanted to play for meditation.
So I am, more educated, more diverse, poorer –and surely- impermanently changed.

Fading Footprints

2010-04-13T10:09:00.000-07:00

I would like to open this blog with a description of things to come. "----------------". There you go. Since I am not prophetic or omnicient I have no idea of whats coming. I do however have tales to tell. Here are some.

When I was little I liked to imagine that I was a giant. My foot print in the sand would be like a canyon to the tiny people I imagined. AS I got older I learned to track animals by their tracks and likewise I learned to track other people by there’s.
So when we were playing in a rocky creek last year and my daughter asked me why I made such a big deal about footprints, I was surprised. I took a deep breath and rambled on for a few minutes. I propelled text from trackers manuals, and anecdotes from my past and tidbits about survival until her wandering eyes and tight grin made me pause. I just wanted to know why you like them, she said.
SO I thought about it for a minute and then said “Footprints show us where things were and what happened just a few minutes ago. That is pretty cool to me.”
So as we looked at the wet footprints on the rocks around us. We saw some wet and dripping, some partial, some overlapping, we sat silently for a few minutes. Then she said the most awesome thing. “When the footprints dry up, what we did will be hidden and no one will know what just happened but us.”
As we pass through life collecting stuff, selling stuff, tossing stuff out, It’s nice to think that in some way it’s Ok. That part of our life is over. Sure we can retrace our steps. But gone is gone. All we can hope to do is make more footprints and hope that when they fade we are better off than when we made them.

Impermanence.