I've decided to spend New Year's Eve at home with a collection of writings by D.T. Suzuki.
Hope you have a safe and happy New Year's Eve!
Sunday, December 31, 2006
More thoughts on being older than dirt
I would like to say that at this stage in my life I have at least a smattering of transcendental wisdom. But I'm still basically a dumbass. I'm not sure I know anything.
I would like to tell you that I'm a trove of wisdom – a sort of zen Mary Worth who can unravel life's knotty problems. But that's just ego whispering in my ear. I actually don't know jack. But then again, I'm not sure there's any jack to know.
When I bought my space age miracle foam Tibetan meditation cushion, they sent me a complementary coffee cup which says on the side: 'Wake Up!'
'Wake Up!' as in fill up with caffeine, and 'Wake Up!' as in satori experience.
Am I awake, or merely aware in my sleep that there is such a thing as being awake?
If I was awake, I suspect, I wouldn't posting questions to myself here. I wouldn't even be blogging. I'd be sitting under a tree on my weekends, wearing a beatific smile and watching birds fly. Or I would be chopping wood and carrying water. Instead, I sort of spin my wheels right here – in part, frankly, as an alternative doing all the mundane stuff I should be doing, like cleaning out my car and doing laundry.
I would like to tell you that I'm a trove of wisdom – a sort of zen Mary Worth who can unravel life's knotty problems. But that's just ego whispering in my ear. I actually don't know jack. But then again, I'm not sure there's any jack to know.
When I bought my space age miracle foam Tibetan meditation cushion, they sent me a complementary coffee cup which says on the side: 'Wake Up!'
'Wake Up!' as in fill up with caffeine, and 'Wake Up!' as in satori experience.
Am I awake, or merely aware in my sleep that there is such a thing as being awake?
If I was awake, I suspect, I wouldn't posting questions to myself here. I wouldn't even be blogging. I'd be sitting under a tree on my weekends, wearing a beatific smile and watching birds fly. Or I would be chopping wood and carrying water. Instead, I sort of spin my wheels right here – in part, frankly, as an alternative doing all the mundane stuff I should be doing, like cleaning out my car and doing laundry.
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Old old old old old old old old
I am 54 today.
I did nothing to celebrate or observe. I received some cards and one gift.
In medieval China, I've read, a man was expected to 'retire' from daily life when he reached a certain age and devote his intellectual energies to grokking the Tao.
('Grok,' by the way, is in the dictionary that came with my Mac.)
I don't know what that 'certain age' is, but I feel like I must be getting close to it. But I can't afford to retire from daily life unless we win the lottery tonight.
I see that many things once important to me are not so important now – I've mentioned that before. Some of this is because of my own efforts to break the wheel of samsara in my life. But it's also because, as I've gotten older, I've added experience and perspective in deciding what is important and what isn't.
Always looking my best in case I bump into Ms. Perfection? Not so important.
Naps? Important.
Personal branding? So not important.
Making sure the cats get fed? Important.
Thick full hair and blindingly white teeth? No so important.
Regularity? Important. Or at least desirable. Pleasant. 'Fun' would be too strong a word – especially with my feeble low-flush toilet.
Went to the RC tonight, and the place was packed. Mostly with people I didn't know. A family reunion, maybe. I came back home and turned 54 with the Internet.
I did nothing to celebrate or observe. I received some cards and one gift.
In medieval China, I've read, a man was expected to 'retire' from daily life when he reached a certain age and devote his intellectual energies to grokking the Tao.
('Grok,' by the way, is in the dictionary that came with my Mac.)
I don't know what that 'certain age' is, but I feel like I must be getting close to it. But I can't afford to retire from daily life unless we win the lottery tonight.
I see that many things once important to me are not so important now – I've mentioned that before. Some of this is because of my own efforts to break the wheel of samsara in my life. But it's also because, as I've gotten older, I've added experience and perspective in deciding what is important and what isn't.
Always looking my best in case I bump into Ms. Perfection? Not so important.
Naps? Important.
Personal branding? So not important.
Making sure the cats get fed? Important.
Thick full hair and blindingly white teeth? No so important.
Regularity? Important. Or at least desirable. Pleasant. 'Fun' would be too strong a word – especially with my feeble low-flush toilet.
Went to the RC tonight, and the place was packed. Mostly with people I didn't know. A family reunion, maybe. I came back home and turned 54 with the Internet.
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Overheard Christmas Day
... three customers talking at the EE Starbuck's.
Person 1: "The thing about Rome is it's so... historic!"
Person 2: "Yes."
Person 1: "Every time you turn a corner, there's history."
Person 2: "Yes."
Person 1: "It's everywhere. I love that city."
Person 2: "I've been to every major city except Florence, and I love Rome."
Person 1: "I've been there ten times in the past ten years."
Person 3: "I've been there thirty times in the past twenty years."
Person 1: "The thing about Rome is it's so... historic!"
Person 2: "Yes."
Person 1: "Every time you turn a corner, there's history."
Person 2: "Yes."
Person 1: "It's everywhere. I love that city."
Person 2: "I've been to every major city except Florence, and I love Rome."
Person 1: "I've been there ten times in the past ten years."
Person 3: "I've been there thirty times in the past twenty years."
Monday, December 25, 2006
I just had a dream...
...that I was driving my old 1973 red Ford Pinto, a car I haven't had since 1979.
In the dream, there is something wrong with the transmission, and I'm trying to limp it home. It's not clear where I am, but I have to drive up a long but gradual grade, turn left, then drive up another long, even more gradual grade. I'm trying to do this without stopping because I'm afraid if I stop I won't be able to start again.
I make the right turn successfully, grinding along in first gear, and am headed up the second hill, when suddenly, up ahead of me, a big car comes barreling through from a side street on the left. It's a big 70s model station wagon, like an Oldsmobile or Buick. The driver makes a wide left turn and badly sideswipes another big 70s model car parked on the side of the street. He hits the parked car hard... almost hard enough that it's more like a collision than a sideswipe.
The station wagon pulls away then stops. The driver leans out the window to see how bad the damage is. (My dreams even have continuity errors: from that angle, there's no way he could see the car he'd just hit. He would've had to have looked out the passenger side window.)
The guy is in his late thirties or early forties, has black tousled hair, a kind of a wild-eyed goofy grin, and his face is covered with green greasepaint except around his eyes and mouth.
He pulls his head back into his car and drives off. I follow him and try to write down his tag number. I got the first three letters down - it was H something something - but then I woke up.
In the dream, there is something wrong with the transmission, and I'm trying to limp it home. It's not clear where I am, but I have to drive up a long but gradual grade, turn left, then drive up another long, even more gradual grade. I'm trying to do this without stopping because I'm afraid if I stop I won't be able to start again.
I make the right turn successfully, grinding along in first gear, and am headed up the second hill, when suddenly, up ahead of me, a big car comes barreling through from a side street on the left. It's a big 70s model station wagon, like an Oldsmobile or Buick. The driver makes a wide left turn and badly sideswipes another big 70s model car parked on the side of the street. He hits the parked car hard... almost hard enough that it's more like a collision than a sideswipe.
The station wagon pulls away then stops. The driver leans out the window to see how bad the damage is. (My dreams even have continuity errors: from that angle, there's no way he could see the car he'd just hit. He would've had to have looked out the passenger side window.)
The guy is in his late thirties or early forties, has black tousled hair, a kind of a wild-eyed goofy grin, and his face is covered with green greasepaint except around his eyes and mouth.
He pulls his head back into his car and drives off. I follow him and try to write down his tag number. I got the first three letters down - it was H something something - but then I woke up.
Christmas Day 2006
Had dinner tonight at the Grand Village Chinese Restaurant on NW 23.
I've had far more Christmas dinners alone in my life than with other people, and being with big crowds of people at Christmas sort of overwhelms me.
But at the same time, this is the time of year where I find myself wondering why I could never have and enjoy a normal life. By 'normal' I mean, of course, that probably mythical life of married-to-a-loving-wife-two-kids-SUV-in-the-driveway bliss.
---
Earlier today, I cleaned out my fridge. Well, I started the task, anyway. I need to get an ice chest for temporary storage then really get in and clean the thing. In any event, I dropped an almost-full quart of chicken pho that had been there since, oh, October. It sprayed clear across the kitchen, giving me even more to clean up. Fortunately, the noodles were more like rice vermicelli, so they stayed in a couple of big pungent clumps.
---
Roger Lienke sings a fairly subversive version of the 'The First Noel' which includes lyrics he wrote himself about Jesus coming for the meek and the insecure.
When I was a born-again Christian in the early seventies (which I still am, I guess, if you subscribe to the once saved, always saved theory), I learned from sermons that God loves everyone.
But what I saw in practice was that God loved beautiful people more than ordinary-looking people, and rich people more than poor people.
And he loved OU and Dallas Cowboys football players more than anyone -- even more than football players from OSU or Houston or Kansas City. They used to bring OU players to our church to give us their testimony. I wondered why I should be more impressed with a football player than, say, a scientist or a historian.
Christianity as practiced there was simply Jesus slapped on a box of prefab biases, prejudices and preferences, like Colonel Sanders on a bucket of chicken. Every so often some preacher or evangelist would start off a sermon by warning us he wasn't there to preach a 'soft, easy' gospel, but rather a 'strong, challenging, Bible-based' gospel. This inevitably meant the same assortment of biases, prejudices and preferences, but with the Republican Party platform tacked on as well.
I don't miss any of it. Fundamentalists should be ashamed of the stuff they promulgate, but 'shame' is not found in their dictionary.
So, happy birthday, baby Jesus. I hope you come back soon and kick these people's asses.
I've had far more Christmas dinners alone in my life than with other people, and being with big crowds of people at Christmas sort of overwhelms me.
But at the same time, this is the time of year where I find myself wondering why I could never have and enjoy a normal life. By 'normal' I mean, of course, that probably mythical life of married-to-a-loving-wife-two-kids-SUV-in-the-driveway bliss.
---
Earlier today, I cleaned out my fridge. Well, I started the task, anyway. I need to get an ice chest for temporary storage then really get in and clean the thing. In any event, I dropped an almost-full quart of chicken pho that had been there since, oh, October. It sprayed clear across the kitchen, giving me even more to clean up. Fortunately, the noodles were more like rice vermicelli, so they stayed in a couple of big pungent clumps.
---
Roger Lienke sings a fairly subversive version of the 'The First Noel' which includes lyrics he wrote himself about Jesus coming for the meek and the insecure.
When I was a born-again Christian in the early seventies (which I still am, I guess, if you subscribe to the once saved, always saved theory), I learned from sermons that God loves everyone.
But what I saw in practice was that God loved beautiful people more than ordinary-looking people, and rich people more than poor people.
And he loved OU and Dallas Cowboys football players more than anyone -- even more than football players from OSU or Houston or Kansas City. They used to bring OU players to our church to give us their testimony. I wondered why I should be more impressed with a football player than, say, a scientist or a historian.
Christianity as practiced there was simply Jesus slapped on a box of prefab biases, prejudices and preferences, like Colonel Sanders on a bucket of chicken. Every so often some preacher or evangelist would start off a sermon by warning us he wasn't there to preach a 'soft, easy' gospel, but rather a 'strong, challenging, Bible-based' gospel. This inevitably meant the same assortment of biases, prejudices and preferences, but with the Republican Party platform tacked on as well.
I don't miss any of it. Fundamentalists should be ashamed of the stuff they promulgate, but 'shame' is not found in their dictionary.
So, happy birthday, baby Jesus. I hope you come back soon and kick these people's asses.
Breakfast
Breakfast this morning at the Evil Empire Starbuck's. Two slices of banana nut bread, a cup of hot chocolate and a cup of green tea.
Saw dzaster briefly, and also chatted with Misanthrope Tom (aka Evil Tom), whom I had not seen, by his reckoning, in five months.
No other RC expatriates showed up.
Tried the 'that's me' meditation briefly, and was unable to persuade myself that there was any bond whatsoever between me and the regular EE Starbuck's habitués.
Saw dzaster briefly, and also chatted with Misanthrope Tom (aka Evil Tom), whom I had not seen, by his reckoning, in five months.
No other RC expatriates showed up.
Tried the 'that's me' meditation briefly, and was unable to persuade myself that there was any bond whatsoever between me and the regular EE Starbuck's habitués.
Sunday, December 24, 2006
If you meet the Buddha on the road, kill him.
So says a Zen aphorism.
I had a statue of the Buddha in my den. It was about ten inches tall, hollow, made of some sort of thick plastic. I found it in the great repository of Buddhist culture and art, Target.
A couple of weeks ago, one of the cats knocked the Buddha off on the floor. The impact broke its head off and the pieces have been lying there ever since.
I've been pondering it, as if the cat left me some sort of koan to figure out. I still don't have anything to say about it, except that it happened.
But one thing did occur to me, and of course I may be all wrong about this: almost everything that happens can be taken as some sort of koan.
On an otherwise perfectly clear day, a single small cloud drifts through the sky, temporarily darkening the sun. What is it?
You're in line at 7-Eleven, and the guy ahead of you buys a liter of Mountain Dew and a tin of chewing tobacco, and heads out the door. What is it?
A stray dog wanders up on your porch and sniffs around before moving on. What is it?
Life is inexplicable. Any system that tries to explain it or make sense of it will always be at best imperfect and at worst a total failure.
I've had a lot of strange dreams over the past week. I mean to post the contents, but I usually drift back to sleep and forget them.
This afternoon, I took a nap and had this dream:
A chicken and a duck are walking across a street. A pickup truck appears, bearing down on them. 'Surely he'll slow down or go around them,' I think, but he doesn't. He runs right over them without slowing down, killing them both, and drives on.
Then little chicks and ducklings start to pop out of the dead birds' feathers and run off to the curb. I wonder how long they can survive without their mothers.
Then I woke up.
I've been trying to decide whether to glue the Buddha back together again or keep it just the way it is. What do you think?
I have this sense that it's time for something to happen for me. Some sort of next step. I don't know what it is. I'm sure it will be evident when the time is right.
I had a statue of the Buddha in my den. It was about ten inches tall, hollow, made of some sort of thick plastic. I found it in the great repository of Buddhist culture and art, Target.
A couple of weeks ago, one of the cats knocked the Buddha off on the floor. The impact broke its head off and the pieces have been lying there ever since.
I've been pondering it, as if the cat left me some sort of koan to figure out. I still don't have anything to say about it, except that it happened.
But one thing did occur to me, and of course I may be all wrong about this: almost everything that happens can be taken as some sort of koan.
On an otherwise perfectly clear day, a single small cloud drifts through the sky, temporarily darkening the sun. What is it?
You're in line at 7-Eleven, and the guy ahead of you buys a liter of Mountain Dew and a tin of chewing tobacco, and heads out the door. What is it?
A stray dog wanders up on your porch and sniffs around before moving on. What is it?
Life is inexplicable. Any system that tries to explain it or make sense of it will always be at best imperfect and at worst a total failure.
I've had a lot of strange dreams over the past week. I mean to post the contents, but I usually drift back to sleep and forget them.
This afternoon, I took a nap and had this dream:
A chicken and a duck are walking across a street. A pickup truck appears, bearing down on them. 'Surely he'll slow down or go around them,' I think, but he doesn't. He runs right over them without slowing down, killing them both, and drives on.
Then little chicks and ducklings start to pop out of the dead birds' feathers and run off to the curb. I wonder how long they can survive without their mothers.
Then I woke up.
I've been trying to decide whether to glue the Buddha back together again or keep it just the way it is. What do you think?
I have this sense that it's time for something to happen for me. Some sort of next step. I don't know what it is. I'm sure it will be evident when the time is right.
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Something to try
In his book "The Miracle of Mindfulness," zen monk Thich Nhat Hanh
recommends some meditation exercises. In one of them, the meditator
sits in a public or semiprivate location. He watches other people, but
as he does so, he makes the effort to see each person, man or woman,
every race, as himself: "That's me."
The point of this meditation is to instill or reinforce the notion of
non-duality... ie, that we are not separate beings but a single unified
entity.
"That's me."
"That's me."
"That's me."
You are that person, whoever it is, just as that person is you. In fact, you can do this with any living thing: your dog, your cat, the mice hiding in your cabinets. All one thing.
I've tried this, and I can tell you it gave me a very strong sensation that was both positive and yet mildly discomforting.
Try it with a stranger, with someone you like, and with someone you dislike. They're all you, and you're all of them.
I hope I don't decide to invade Iran.
recommends some meditation exercises. In one of them, the meditator
sits in a public or semiprivate location. He watches other people, but
as he does so, he makes the effort to see each person, man or woman,
every race, as himself: "That's me."
The point of this meditation is to instill or reinforce the notion of
non-duality... ie, that we are not separate beings but a single unified
entity.
"That's me."
"That's me."
"That's me."
You are that person, whoever it is, just as that person is you. In fact, you can do this with any living thing: your dog, your cat, the mice hiding in your cabinets. All one thing.
I've tried this, and I can tell you it gave me a very strong sensation that was both positive and yet mildly discomforting.
Try it with a stranger, with someone you like, and with someone you dislike. They're all you, and you're all of them.
I hope I don't decide to invade Iran.
Cute animals; great-looking web site
I'm posting a link here to a cute animals page on the Buzzfeed web site.
But while you're looking at the animals, notice what a clean, great-looking site this is. There's lots of white space, really effective use of different fonts and type sizes. I wish I could say I designed this. I may steal some of these ideas for my own work.
But while you're looking at the animals, notice what a clean, great-looking site this is. There's lots of white space, really effective use of different fonts and type sizes. I wish I could say I designed this. I may steal some of these ideas for my own work.
Toyota vs Detroit
"We had the foresight to start hybrid development earlier than other companies. This year we will sell more hybrids than Cadillac will sell cars."- Jim Press, CEO President of Toyota USA North America
The WaPo story here.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
The House of Jen
I have written briefly in the past about Jen, who first got me interested in Buddhism a few years ago.
I went by her house tonight to drop off a book.
There is a certain sense I get when I'm at Jen's house, one which I wasn't able to identify until tonight. It's a sense of serenity and tranquility. There's not much overtly spiritual about her decor, but it's almost as if I were in some sort of sanctuary or chapel.
In fact, Jen's decor is bohemian. Her living room contains a low table placed against a wall, a metal-frame futon that folds up into a double-size chaise lounge, two massive Adirondack porch chairs and an antique buffet. The main illumination comes from a string of miniature Christmas lights that hang around the sills of the two windows year-round. Pieces of art – some her own and some by others – hang everywhere.
I know Jen has read a little about feng shui, but I think it's more her natural instincts that have prompted her to arrange this eclectic mix of furnishings into a room that just absorbs me into a sense of peace.
I think that one of the impediments I face in meditation is that my house is such a rat's nest that it's difficult to feel at peace. Just as Jen's house conveys calm and stillness, my house conveys chaos and confusion.
I went by her house tonight to drop off a book.
There is a certain sense I get when I'm at Jen's house, one which I wasn't able to identify until tonight. It's a sense of serenity and tranquility. There's not much overtly spiritual about her decor, but it's almost as if I were in some sort of sanctuary or chapel.
In fact, Jen's decor is bohemian. Her living room contains a low table placed against a wall, a metal-frame futon that folds up into a double-size chaise lounge, two massive Adirondack porch chairs and an antique buffet. The main illumination comes from a string of miniature Christmas lights that hang around the sills of the two windows year-round. Pieces of art – some her own and some by others – hang everywhere.
I know Jen has read a little about feng shui, but I think it's more her natural instincts that have prompted her to arrange this eclectic mix of furnishings into a room that just absorbs me into a sense of peace.
I think that one of the impediments I face in meditation is that my house is such a rat's nest that it's difficult to feel at peace. Just as Jen's house conveys calm and stillness, my house conveys chaos and confusion.
Monday, December 18, 2006
To which he replied:
No, mindfulness is not thought control, and I didn't mean to leave that impression (if I did.)
But thought control – or let's call it something less Orwellian, like thought habits - help me find a state of mindfulness when I've let the wheels start spinning off in unfocused directions.
Mindfulness is not often fun for me. There are times, especially in the spring, when it is very pleasant – but not fun.
To tell the truth, I'm not much into fun. I'm not comfortable with it.
I haven't been on a long cross-country drive in years (since 2001, to be specific) but one of the things I like about them is that once I've gotten about 40 miles out of town and hit my cruising speed on the interstate, I tend to quit worrying about stuff happening back at home. There's nothing I can do about it, so I can just let it go.
(I know some people are unable to do this, but I can.)
The state of mind I have while on the road must be, I think, somewhat like that state of being comfortable with uncertainty that Pema Chödrön writes about so frequently, and that Alan Watts described in my favorite Watts book, The Wisdom of Uncertainty.
Ideally, I'd have that 'road trip' sense of comfort all the time. I spend too much emotional energy worrying about things I can't control or influence.
But thought control – or let's call it something less Orwellian, like thought habits - help me find a state of mindfulness when I've let the wheels start spinning off in unfocused directions.
Mindfulness is not often fun for me. There are times, especially in the spring, when it is very pleasant – but not fun.
To tell the truth, I'm not much into fun. I'm not comfortable with it.
I haven't been on a long cross-country drive in years (since 2001, to be specific) but one of the things I like about them is that once I've gotten about 40 miles out of town and hit my cruising speed on the interstate, I tend to quit worrying about stuff happening back at home. There's nothing I can do about it, so I can just let it go.
(I know some people are unable to do this, but I can.)
The state of mind I have while on the road must be, I think, somewhat like that state of being comfortable with uncertainty that Pema Chödrön writes about so frequently, and that Alan Watts described in my favorite Watts book, The Wisdom of Uncertainty.
Ideally, I'd have that 'road trip' sense of comfort all the time. I spend too much emotional energy worrying about things I can't control or influence.
Saturday, December 16, 2006
Saturday evening
"Because of forgetfulness and prejudices, we generally cloak reality with a veil of false views and opinions. This is seeing reality through imagination. Imagination is an illusion of reality which conceives of reality as an assembly of small pieces of separate entities and selves."– Thich Nhat Hanh, The Miracle of Mindfulness
So, first of all, never mind that hologram analogy from a couple of weeks ago. It's not that we're just semi-real. We're real; we're just not what we appear to be to the unenlightened eye.
Second of all, I was taken by the use in this paragraph of the words 'forgetfulness' and 'prejudices.'
I've been working on mindfulness - which I understand to mean being aware of what's happening in the present moment and seeing it for what it actually is - for awhile, and one of the biggest obstacles I've encountered is simply remembering to do it.
If you're like me, you often find yourself mentally 'lost in space' while driving. Ever had the experience of finding yourself at your destination, sitting at the wheel of your car, but having absolutely no memory of having driven there? When I was a news anchor, I used to have what I called 'out of body newscasts' where I couldn't even remember what stories I'd read in the previous half hour.
During those times, my mind was 'somewhere else.' Most of the time, in my particular case, I was revisiting some past trauma or unpleasant experience. Not only could I not remember how I'd gotten to my destination, I arrived in a seething rage over something that had happened to me in 1978.
But I've actually had some success in training myself so that when my mind wanders onto certain subjects, it snaps back into the present moment and I can stop and think, 'Okay, where am I right now? What is happening around me right now?'
Thirty-plus years ago, when I was a devout fundamentalist Christian and attending all kinds of 'training sessions' and 'seminars' and 'institutes,' one of the concepts that they tried to drive home with us all the time was 'thought control.' I bristled at the notion; it sounded too much like 'The Manchurian Candidate,' or maybe 'Invasion of the Body Snatchers.'
But the Buddha also advocated a certain kind of 'thought control.' I don't have the quotes here in front of me, but if you've had any exposure to meditation instruction at all, you've probably heard the phrase 'monkey mind'... the part of your mind that wants to run off and climb trees and grab at bananas when you're trying to sit quietly. The reason they teach beginning meditators to count their breaths is so the 'monkey mind' will have something to keep it occupied while the students are trying to break through that first level of meditation.
Teaching oneself to remain mindful is also a form of thought control. It's a patterning of thinking habits. There's still a part of me that's a little offput by that notion, but after fifty-odd years of thrashing about and, as they say, repeating the same actions while expecting different results, I'm willing to try a little thought control. (But no, I'm not going back to Navigators sessions, thank you very much.)
Now, onto the word 'prejudices.' Because of prejudices, Thich Nhat Hanh wrote, we cloak reality with a veil of false views and opinions. In our cultural context, we tend to use 'prejudice' as a shorthand for 'racial prejudice' or 'ethnic prejudice,' but of course there are other kinds.
'Why is that person staring at me?' Well, is that person really staring at you, or did you just make eye contact for a second and something about his or her clothes, body language or even race struck you as a little odd or a little threatening? Think that one all the way through: maybe you based the incorrect assumption he was staring at you on the incorrect assumption he was weird or dangerous based on an incorrect assumption about why he was dressed the way he was.
If you see things as they actually are, what you'd see in this case might be that a guy in a biker jacket made eye contact with you for a second. All the rest is your imagination and assumptions.
And then, of course, there's the 'illusion of reality' versus the Buddhist view of reality which sees all things as part of a single whole, rather than as separate entities.
"This is you and this is me and this is the Eiffel Tower... it's Paris!"Bernard Jaffe, Existential Detective,
in I Heart Huckabee's
The ability to see reality in a non-dualisitic way is the main goal of meditation practice. What I'm saying, though, is that through mindfulness, we can rid ourselves of a lot of misunderstandings, misapprehensions and inaccurate assumptions that inhibit our ability to live.
(this posted was edited Sunday morning)
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
The New Deal
Here's the new deal: I'm going to make the effort to post less. It will require effort, because I'm drawn to doing this.
But I need to learn more and expound less. This is all ego-driven, and I'm doing it because at some level I just enjoy hearing the sound of my own voice.
Every culture has a variation of the saying, 'Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to open one's mouth and remove all doubt.'
I have mentioned the poet Cold Mountain more than once. What I write isn't poetry, but in the past year I've exceeded his entire lifetime output, and haven't come close to matching his insight or wisdom.
Let's see if I can get this blog down to posting four days a week, for starters: let's say Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday. Today is Wednesday, so I won't be adding anything until Friday.
At least that's the plan.
See you Friday.
But I need to learn more and expound less. This is all ego-driven, and I'm doing it because at some level I just enjoy hearing the sound of my own voice.
Every culture has a variation of the saying, 'Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to open one's mouth and remove all doubt.'
I have mentioned the poet Cold Mountain more than once. What I write isn't poetry, but in the past year I've exceeded his entire lifetime output, and haven't come close to matching his insight or wisdom.
Let's see if I can get this blog down to posting four days a week, for starters: let's say Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday. Today is Wednesday, so I won't be adding anything until Friday.
At least that's the plan.
See you Friday.
Yin and yang, etc. and etc.
Shakyamuni, as I have mentioned before, was pretty big on celibacy... maybe moreso than St. Paul.
Although the Buddha himself had been married and had a son, he described romantic love as a destructive emotion, akin to hate, jealousy and the like. My own life experience tends to confirm this, although I realize your mileage may vary.
We are also told that the Tao, the Way, is made up, in a sense, of the tension created by opposing, or at least contrasting, forces: yin and yang, good and evil, light and darkness, masculine and feminine.
Some of the Taoist masters also believed in celibacy (as illustrated in the Chinese folk novel Seven Taoist Masters), but it seems to me that something is lost when a person chooses to live a life completely apart from the opposite sex.
I don't think it's a matter of sexual relationships, necessarily, but rather a matter of having some degree of, for a man at least, 'female energy' in your life... some degree of input from the contrasting, or opposing or complementing force.
I don't know what I'm talking about.
I'm just blathering, driven by boredom and the need to say something to simply verify to the rest of the world that I exist. Sometimes when I sit here alone I feel as if I don't exist, or might as well not exist (which may be true).
A person with my name and who is about my age died here last week. I didn't know him, or even know of him, but it turns out we had some mutual friends.
It's an odd feeling.
Although the Buddha himself had been married and had a son, he described romantic love as a destructive emotion, akin to hate, jealousy and the like. My own life experience tends to confirm this, although I realize your mileage may vary.
We are also told that the Tao, the Way, is made up, in a sense, of the tension created by opposing, or at least contrasting, forces: yin and yang, good and evil, light and darkness, masculine and feminine.
Some of the Taoist masters also believed in celibacy (as illustrated in the Chinese folk novel Seven Taoist Masters), but it seems to me that something is lost when a person chooses to live a life completely apart from the opposite sex.
I don't think it's a matter of sexual relationships, necessarily, but rather a matter of having some degree of, for a man at least, 'female energy' in your life... some degree of input from the contrasting, or opposing or complementing force.
I don't know what I'm talking about.
I'm just blathering, driven by boredom and the need to say something to simply verify to the rest of the world that I exist. Sometimes when I sit here alone I feel as if I don't exist, or might as well not exist (which may be true).
A person with my name and who is about my age died here last week. I didn't know him, or even know of him, but it turns out we had some mutual friends.
It's an odd feeling.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
9 p.m. or thereabouts
Fell asleep and had a dream about being chased by a wild bull. That's a first.
I fell asleep at about this time last night and dreamt about trying to escape a tornado, which is a regular dream event for me.
Does any one dream about green meadows, gentle breezes and sunny days? Does any one dream about love or peace or rest or happiness?
I fell asleep at about this time last night and dreamt about trying to escape a tornado, which is a regular dream event for me.
Does any one dream about green meadows, gentle breezes and sunny days? Does any one dream about love or peace or rest or happiness?
Not a joke
At least not an intentional joke. It's from WorldNet Daily...
A devil food is turning our kids into homosexuals
Wow. Hope it's not cheese sandwiches.
(And I should credit The Huffington Post, from whence I obtained that link.)
A devil food is turning our kids into homosexuals
Wow. Hope it's not cheese sandwiches.
(And I should credit The Huffington Post, from whence I obtained that link.)
Monday, December 11, 2006
Monday evening
and I'm sitting here swathed in the Bathrobe of Perfect Wisdom with a bag of chips and Dean's French Onion dip. I should be eating something healthy, and eventually I will.
Christmas music on the PA at Homeland tonight... Harry Connick, Jr., I think. It wasn't very appealing. I'll skip the 'Silent Night' story since I've already told it a dozen times, but I just don't get any warm fuzzy feeling from Christmas music. It depresses the hell out of me.
I read somewhere that Jesus was actually born in August. They moved his birthday celebration to December because that's when the pagans were already crowding into the shopping malls. Back in those days, an iPod was the size of a refrigerator and you had to have oxen pull it along while you listened to it.
I would like to know why, by federal law, I'm required to have a low-flush toilet that moves less water than an aquarium pump while Iron Starr Bar-B-Q is allowed to have toilets that could suck down a bowling ball.
"Damn! That's the third time since Friday I've had a customer walk on a tab! How come I never see them leave?"
Christmas music on the PA at Homeland tonight... Harry Connick, Jr., I think. It wasn't very appealing. I'll skip the 'Silent Night' story since I've already told it a dozen times, but I just don't get any warm fuzzy feeling from Christmas music. It depresses the hell out of me.
I read somewhere that Jesus was actually born in August. They moved his birthday celebration to December because that's when the pagans were already crowding into the shopping malls. Back in those days, an iPod was the size of a refrigerator and you had to have oxen pull it along while you listened to it.
I would like to know why, by federal law, I'm required to have a low-flush toilet that moves less water than an aquarium pump while Iron Starr Bar-B-Q is allowed to have toilets that could suck down a bowling ball.
"Damn! That's the third time since Friday I've had a customer walk on a tab! How come I never see them leave?"
Just woke up...
...from another TV news nightmare. I've already forgotten the specifics, but it was TV news.
Sunday, December 10, 2006
Obviously, I went to YouTube instead of Barnes & Noble
These are all straight cut edits... not matched to a separate audio track.
Maybe John X can translate
I am led to understand that although the music is Black Sabbath's 'Paranoid,' the lyrics, sung in German by Cindy und Bert, are about the Hound of the Baskervilles.
And what's up with Bert, here, anyway? 'Cause he's lookin' like he'd just as soon be someplace else.
On the moor near Devonshire,
A bigass dog ate Sherlock Holmes.
Doo doo doot doot doo doot doo,
Da doo doot doo doot doo doot doo.
And what's up with Bert, here, anyway? 'Cause he's lookin' like he'd just as soon be someplace else.
On the moor near Devonshire,
A bigass dog ate Sherlock Holmes.
Doo doo doot doot doo doot doo,
Da doo doot doo doot doo doot doo.
Now I have the urge to go to Barnes & Noble
Just to escape the house.
I've already got my pajamas on, so I won't. Don't feel like getting dressed again.
The dead zone. I need to spend time alone, but I want to be with someone else. I want some distraction.
I'm having some trouble discerning the point of existence –– I don't mean why I exist... I mean why anything exists. It's all rather pointless, isn't it? Or is that just sour grapes on my part because I'm so far out near the orbit of Pluto that I might as well not be in the solar system at all?
I've already got my pajamas on, so I won't. Don't feel like getting dressed again.
The dead zone. I need to spend time alone, but I want to be with someone else. I want some distraction.
I'm having some trouble discerning the point of existence –– I don't mean why I exist... I mean why anything exists. It's all rather pointless, isn't it? Or is that just sour grapes on my part because I'm so far out near the orbit of Pluto that I might as well not be in the solar system at all?
The Dead Zone
Sunday evening is sort of like the dead zone for me: one would hope I had learned to be comfortable with myself, yet at this point in the week I feel the need to get out of the house and go do something. I know (or at least I believe) I am running from some unpleasantness or discomfort that prevents me from enjoying time alone, but I can't seem to shake that. (If I can't be alone for even 12 consecutive hours, how am I ever going to do the Cold Mountain thing?)
So, after being at the Red Cup for three hours or so this morning, I found myself back there again this evening for awhile. It's much quieter there on Sunday evening, with a different crowd of people around.
Anyway, back at home now, thinking about finishing up the Dhammapada.
So, after being at the Red Cup for three hours or so this morning, I found myself back there again this evening for awhile. It's much quieter there on Sunday evening, with a different crowd of people around.
Anyway, back at home now, thinking about finishing up the Dhammapada.
On love and attachment
It was difficult for me to accept at first that there's no place in most Buddhist teaching for what we think of as romantic love. Given my own record of 90-day relationships, giving it up shouldn't have made much difference.
Even as cynical as I am about the promises our culture and media hold out in front of us, I had kept hanging on to hope.
But Buddhism is, in some ways, about giving up hope. We give up hope for getting the shiny, pretty, glittery things in exchange for the seeking of things which are less shiny and glittery but more reliable, less maddening and disruptive and, we hope, more satisfying.
Here's a pretty decent web page on Buddhist teaching on different kinds of attachment, including romantic love. (Check the section called 'Notes on "Ordinary" Love.')
Even as cynical as I am about the promises our culture and media hold out in front of us, I had kept hanging on to hope.
But Buddhism is, in some ways, about giving up hope. We give up hope for getting the shiny, pretty, glittery things in exchange for the seeking of things which are less shiny and glittery but more reliable, less maddening and disruptive and, we hope, more satisfying.
Here's a pretty decent web page on Buddhist teaching on different kinds of attachment, including romantic love. (Check the section called 'Notes on "Ordinary" Love.')
Saturday, December 09, 2006
When the student is ready, the bathrobe will appear
I had this idea that I wanted to buy a meditation cloak to wear when I sit.
Two reasons for this: one, it helps it create a sense of being protected or isolated; and two, I get chilly when I sit absolutely still for more than a few minutes.
I found a few on the web:
But these are, I dunno, kinda... pricey, maybe? The Buddha got his iconic saffron robe from a corpse –– literally a steal. And these meditation cloaks are structurally just big hooded bathrobes, are they not?
So, I'm in SteinMart tonight, and what do I find but... big hooded bathrobes. Not as big as the meditation cloaks, maybe, but big enough. If I wasn't six feet tall and 235 lbs., they'd be even roomier. So I bought two of them: $40 apiece.
They look almost medieval. I feel very cloistered in them.
Two reasons for this: one, it helps it create a sense of being protected or isolated; and two, I get chilly when I sit absolutely still for more than a few minutes.
I found a few on the web:
But these are, I dunno, kinda... pricey, maybe? The Buddha got his iconic saffron robe from a corpse –– literally a steal. And these meditation cloaks are structurally just big hooded bathrobes, are they not?
So, I'm in SteinMart tonight, and what do I find but... big hooded bathrobes. Not as big as the meditation cloaks, maybe, but big enough. If I wasn't six feet tall and 235 lbs., they'd be even roomier. So I bought two of them: $40 apiece.
They look almost medieval. I feel very cloistered in them.
Friday, December 08, 2006
Narcissism redux redux
Erika West recently commented:
In Greek mythology, Narcissus was so infatuated with his own looks that he just stayed in the makeup room adoring himself, missing the preshow tease and not arriving on the set until 20 seconds into the news open.
Okay, that's not really what the Greeks believed. I added the TV news angle because during my 25 years in that business I got see what I called narcissism up close and personal. (In the myth, Narcissus sat by a pond or pool adoring his own looks until he starved to death. With my face and my appetite, this is not something I personally worry about overmuch.)
I didn't know this until I started Googling the subject a little while ago, but narcissism and narcissistic personality disorder are not considered the same thing – at least on Wikipedia.
Narcissism
Narcissistic Personality Disorder
"At least five of the following are necessary for a diagnosis [of NPD]:
1. has a grandiose sense of self-importance
2. is preoccupied with fantasies of unlimited
success, power, brilliance, beauty, or ideal love
3. believes that he or she is "special" and unique and can
only be understood by other special people
4. requires excessive admiration
5. strong sense of entitlement
6. takes advantage of others to achieve his or her own ends
7. lacks empathy
8. is often envious or believes others are envious of him or her
9. arrogant affect."
(Doesn't sound like anyone I ever knew. Nope. Not at all. Just my two cents.)
When Erika West commented about narcissism, I think she was using the term more accurately than I did, because I always thought narcissism was more like narcissistic personality disorder, and when I wrote 'narcissism,' I was thinking about something more like NPD.
But do I have NPD? More like the opposite, actually.
As I mentioned previously, my own background and upbringing emphasized self-sufficiency and self-reliance.
But this wasn't a rugged individualist's sense of self and independence. It was the result of having two parents who weren't very parentally-inclined, thereby prompting me to find ways of doing things that didn't require their input or aid, and which preferably escaped their notice altogether. It was more of a Radar O'Reilly sense of self-reliance than a John Wayne sense of it.
I didn't learn to take care of myself well, but I did learn to take care of myself.
I was (and am) self-centered, but not arrogantly or megalomaniacally so. I don't like asking others for help and I don't expect others to help me. Although, thank god, other people have been willing to come to my aid when I was physically unable to take care of myself.
I think this is something I'll encounter more often as I get older –– the need to rely on other people. So I have to work on being more community-minded, and less of a loner.
For my own part, I find I am more willing to offer help than in the past - something which I attribute in large part to my conversion to Kindasorta Buddhism.
That's all I have for now. Which was more interesting... this, or the talking dinosaur?
"There's nothing wrong with being narcissistic. It's an adjective applied to anyone who knows what to effectively rely on. It's a transcendence, actually, and being able to admit and embrace it is a step toward survival without regrets."
In Greek mythology, Narcissus was so infatuated with his own looks that he just stayed in the makeup room adoring himself, missing the preshow tease and not arriving on the set until 20 seconds into the news open.
Okay, that's not really what the Greeks believed. I added the TV news angle because during my 25 years in that business I got see what I called narcissism up close and personal. (In the myth, Narcissus sat by a pond or pool adoring his own looks until he starved to death. With my face and my appetite, this is not something I personally worry about overmuch.)
I didn't know this until I started Googling the subject a little while ago, but narcissism and narcissistic personality disorder are not considered the same thing – at least on Wikipedia.
Narcissism
Narcissistic Personality Disorder
"At least five of the following are necessary for a diagnosis [of NPD]:
1. has a grandiose sense of self-importance
2. is preoccupied with fantasies of unlimited
success, power, brilliance, beauty, or ideal love
3. believes that he or she is "special" and unique and can
only be understood by other special people
4. requires excessive admiration
5. strong sense of entitlement
6. takes advantage of others to achieve his or her own ends
7. lacks empathy
8. is often envious or believes others are envious of him or her
9. arrogant affect."
(Doesn't sound like anyone I ever knew. Nope. Not at all. Just my two cents.)
When Erika West commented about narcissism, I think she was using the term more accurately than I did, because I always thought narcissism was more like narcissistic personality disorder, and when I wrote 'narcissism,' I was thinking about something more like NPD.
But do I have NPD? More like the opposite, actually.
As I mentioned previously, my own background and upbringing emphasized self-sufficiency and self-reliance.
But this wasn't a rugged individualist's sense of self and independence. It was the result of having two parents who weren't very parentally-inclined, thereby prompting me to find ways of doing things that didn't require their input or aid, and which preferably escaped their notice altogether. It was more of a Radar O'Reilly sense of self-reliance than a John Wayne sense of it.
I didn't learn to take care of myself well, but I did learn to take care of myself.
I was (and am) self-centered, but not arrogantly or megalomaniacally so. I don't like asking others for help and I don't expect others to help me. Although, thank god, other people have been willing to come to my aid when I was physically unable to take care of myself.
I think this is something I'll encounter more often as I get older –– the need to rely on other people. So I have to work on being more community-minded, and less of a loner.
For my own part, I find I am more willing to offer help than in the past - something which I attribute in large part to my conversion to Kindasorta Buddhism.
That's all I have for now. Which was more interesting... this, or the talking dinosaur?
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Mmm-mmm easy
Some of you already know this, but my diet has changed some since leaving the hospital. I've had no fast food of any kind (as opposed to my old habit of KFC twice or three times a week, punctuated by Taco Bueno on non-chicken nights), and practically no fried food. The amount of meat and poultry I consume has diminished, and I intend to eliminate it from my diet. Pigs and cows should not die for my sins.
(When Master Gotama outlined the principle of 'right livelihood,' one of the few vocations he identified as 'wrong livelihood' was that of butcher.)
I've had no coffee since leaving the hospital, and no soft drinks, either. I drink immense amounts of plain water –– probably a gallon a day.
(Oddly enough, I'm gaining weight with all this.)
My post-hospital recovery reintroduced me to a forgotten pleasure of my childhood: Campbell's canned soups. I know there are more 'premium' soups on the market these days, but there's something about popping the top on a can of Campbell's, pouring the contents in a big mug followed by a can of water, then nuking it for 2:30 and having a bowl of soup that can't be beat. I don't even need a can opener!
When I was a kid, we had a lot of Campbell's Soup, especially the Cream of Mushroom, which I recall I liked more than any other. Today the idea of soup made from fungus strikes me as repellent. I can eat mushrooms, but I'm not crazy about them.
But never mind the mushroom; there's vegetable, minestrone, and a dozen or so other kinds.
(When Master Gotama outlined the principle of 'right livelihood,' one of the few vocations he identified as 'wrong livelihood' was that of butcher.)
I've had no coffee since leaving the hospital, and no soft drinks, either. I drink immense amounts of plain water –– probably a gallon a day.
(Oddly enough, I'm gaining weight with all this.)
My post-hospital recovery reintroduced me to a forgotten pleasure of my childhood: Campbell's canned soups. I know there are more 'premium' soups on the market these days, but there's something about popping the top on a can of Campbell's, pouring the contents in a big mug followed by a can of water, then nuking it for 2:30 and having a bowl of soup that can't be beat. I don't even need a can opener!
When I was a kid, we had a lot of Campbell's Soup, especially the Cream of Mushroom, which I recall I liked more than any other. Today the idea of soup made from fungus strikes me as repellent. I can eat mushrooms, but I'm not crazy about them.
But never mind the mushroom; there's vegetable, minestrone, and a dozen or so other kinds.
Narcissism redux
I've been mulling over Erika West's comment from the other day. As I often do, I posted a quick response that could perhaps have been better thought out.
In any event, the mulling process continues at this hour, and maybe tomorrow I'll post something else.
In any event, the mulling process continues at this hour, and maybe tomorrow I'll post something else.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
I thought about it all day...
and finally I was able to come back home to the futon.
You know, I have a bed. A very nice bed, in fact. But it's not the same. I need the futon.
I know this is a phase I'm going through. I've had periods of futon-centricity before.
I don't have anything to think about, and no place I need to be, and not a lot I need to do. Might as well be one with the futon.
You know, I have a bed. A very nice bed, in fact. But it's not the same. I need the futon.
I know this is a phase I'm going through. I've had periods of futon-centricity before.
I don't have anything to think about, and no place I need to be, and not a lot I need to do. Might as well be one with the futon.
Fu-TON! Fu-TON! Fu-TON! Fu-TON!
Stopped at Lido on the way home for work for a quick bite, then came home, slid under the blankets with the Dhammapada, and stayed there from 7 p.m. until now.
Maybe it's the early darkness. But I am happy as a clam on the futon.
Maybe it's the early darkness. But I am happy as a clam on the futon.
Monday, December 04, 2006
12:50 am
It's 20 degrees outside, I have the thermostat set on about 68, and I woke up sweating. This has been going on for a couple of months now: I wake up with my head and neck covered with perspiration and my legs and feet wrapped in two blankets and either a little cold or just right.
I will cool off as I sit here blogging, and when I go back to bed, I'll have no more problem with it tonight. I don't know what's going on.
I'm thinking too much again. I'm going back to the futon and assuming a not-thinking horizontal position.
I will cool off as I sit here blogging, and when I go back to bed, I'll have no more problem with it tonight. I don't know what's going on.
I'm thinking too much again. I'm going back to the futon and assuming a not-thinking horizontal position.
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Meet me on the holodeck
I'm still struggling with some of the concepts I encountered in The Diamond Sutra.
'A bodhisattva seeks the liberation of all beings from delusion,' the Buddha told Subhuti, 'but anyone who has a concept of 'beings' cannot be a bodhisattva.'
So here we all are, not really beings but more like illusions (or delusions) who neither exist nor non-exist. We're like holograms: sort of there, but not there.
Me? Hologram.
Lulu the Cat-Hater? Hologram.
Beasley and Smudge? Holograms.
John X and Nina? Holograms.
But if there's no such thing as 'I', who is having this delusion that I exist? Is the delusion just free-floating around like a cloud of swamp gas? I don't understand it.
In fact, I've come to the conclusion that I can have no confidence at all in anything I believe or learn. I could be wrong about everything, and draw a new set of beliefs and conclusions that are just as wrong as the ones I just abandoned.
But there is no 'I' to have the beliefs or conclusions, so what difference does it make?
Went to the RC this morning as usual, and suddenly became very sleepy around 10 a.m.
I went home and crawled under the blankets on the futon, still wearing my overalls, sweater, scarf and cap. I slept for a couple of hours, then arose and puttered around the house. I went back to RC for some tomato soup in the early afternoon.
But the futon is the center of my universe now. I want to stay there all the time, surrounded by pillows and wrapped in blankets. I could take my laptop there and never leave. That's sort of like my 'safe place.' It's warm, it's comfortable, and no one can get to me there.
I'm going there to hide, frankly.
'A bodhisattva seeks the liberation of all beings from delusion,' the Buddha told Subhuti, 'but anyone who has a concept of 'beings' cannot be a bodhisattva.'
So here we all are, not really beings but more like illusions (or delusions) who neither exist nor non-exist. We're like holograms: sort of there, but not there.
Me? Hologram.
Lulu the Cat-Hater? Hologram.
Beasley and Smudge? Holograms.
John X and Nina? Holograms.
But if there's no such thing as 'I', who is having this delusion that I exist? Is the delusion just free-floating around like a cloud of swamp gas? I don't understand it.
In fact, I've come to the conclusion that I can have no confidence at all in anything I believe or learn. I could be wrong about everything, and draw a new set of beliefs and conclusions that are just as wrong as the ones I just abandoned.
But there is no 'I' to have the beliefs or conclusions, so what difference does it make?
Went to the RC this morning as usual, and suddenly became very sleepy around 10 a.m.
I went home and crawled under the blankets on the futon, still wearing my overalls, sweater, scarf and cap. I slept for a couple of hours, then arose and puttered around the house. I went back to RC for some tomato soup in the early afternoon.
But the futon is the center of my universe now. I want to stay there all the time, surrounded by pillows and wrapped in blankets. I could take my laptop there and never leave. That's sort of like my 'safe place.' It's warm, it's comfortable, and no one can get to me there.
I'm going there to hide, frankly.
Saturday, December 02, 2006
More random notes
I don't even have a lot of random notes this evening.
Gallery Walk was kind of a bust Friday because of the weather. Most of the galleries didn't open and I don't blame the owners.
I dropped my car keys in the snow Thursday and didn't find them until it melted off the driveway today. I'm glad I didn't back the minivan over them. Fortunately, I had spares for most of my keys.
Nina wrote last night about wishing she could get back the seven months she spent dating Hercules, from whom she has since been unchained. It occurs to me that most of the women I've dated would say the same thing about the time they spent with me. My wife got the worst deal, investing ten years of her life in a relationship that I'll be the first to admit didn't give much back to her. I've said before she deserved better, and she did.
An anonymous poster claimed a few months back that I was narcissistic. That's not true, but it is true that I'm extraordinarily self-involved. I used to be a very good listener, but I've lost some of that ability over the years. I'm too focused on myself to be empathetic.
I've had a couple of ex-SO's suggest I need to get rid of my cats. The cats are still here.
I doggedly pursued (no pun intended) Lulu the Cat-Hater for months before she went out with me. On our first date I mentioned Beasley and Smudge and she blurted out, "I don't like cats." I never saw her again after that.
(Adele, on the other hand, adored Beasley. In fact, it was Beasley who sort of introduced us. Adele couldn't decide what she thought about me until after I had finalized plans to leave Texas -- so by that time it was too late. Or maybe she planned it that way.)
When my dog, the immortal Buddy Lee, was in rapidly deteriorating health, the woman whom I was seeing at the time said, "Honestly, I think sometimes you care more about that dog than you do about me."
To which I thought in response, 'Hmmmm... actually, I think she's right. Now what do I say?
'Oh, shit... I still haven't said anything and now she's looking at me.
'Oh, shit... has she figured out what I'm thinking?
'Okay, it's been, like ten seconds now and I still haven't said anything. I better come up with a response right now, or I'm hosed.
'Oh, screw it. It's too late.'
And indeed it was.
I am a pretty damn boring date and an even worse boyfriend, and I'll freely admit it. I chose the life I have now and I can't imagine any way I would significantly change it. Less rogue cat shit would be nice, but that's about all I can think of.
But I also realize, although it took me years to reach this point, that most people don't want the kind of life I have. We all have our goals, and we shouldn't demand that other people buy into our ambitions, and I don't ask others to buy into mine anymore.
Gallery Walk was kind of a bust Friday because of the weather. Most of the galleries didn't open and I don't blame the owners.
I dropped my car keys in the snow Thursday and didn't find them until it melted off the driveway today. I'm glad I didn't back the minivan over them. Fortunately, I had spares for most of my keys.
Nina wrote last night about wishing she could get back the seven months she spent dating Hercules, from whom she has since been unchained. It occurs to me that most of the women I've dated would say the same thing about the time they spent with me. My wife got the worst deal, investing ten years of her life in a relationship that I'll be the first to admit didn't give much back to her. I've said before she deserved better, and she did.
An anonymous poster claimed a few months back that I was narcissistic. That's not true, but it is true that I'm extraordinarily self-involved. I used to be a very good listener, but I've lost some of that ability over the years. I'm too focused on myself to be empathetic.
I've had a couple of ex-SO's suggest I need to get rid of my cats. The cats are still here.
I doggedly pursued (no pun intended) Lulu the Cat-Hater for months before she went out with me. On our first date I mentioned Beasley and Smudge and she blurted out, "I don't like cats." I never saw her again after that.
(Adele, on the other hand, adored Beasley. In fact, it was Beasley who sort of introduced us. Adele couldn't decide what she thought about me until after I had finalized plans to leave Texas -- so by that time it was too late. Or maybe she planned it that way.)
When my dog, the immortal Buddy Lee, was in rapidly deteriorating health, the woman whom I was seeing at the time said, "Honestly, I think sometimes you care more about that dog than you do about me."
To which I thought in response, 'Hmmmm... actually, I think she's right. Now what do I say?
'Oh, shit... I still haven't said anything and now she's looking at me.
'Oh, shit... has she figured out what I'm thinking?
'Okay, it's been, like ten seconds now and I still haven't said anything. I better come up with a response right now, or I'm hosed.
'Oh, screw it. It's too late.'
And indeed it was.
I am a pretty damn boring date and an even worse boyfriend, and I'll freely admit it. I chose the life I have now and I can't imagine any way I would significantly change it. Less rogue cat shit would be nice, but that's about all I can think of.
But I also realize, although it took me years to reach this point, that most people don't want the kind of life I have. We all have our goals, and we shouldn't demand that other people buy into our ambitions, and I don't ask others to buy into mine anymore.
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