Jake; my silent master

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

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

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

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

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?

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

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.