I actually posted this link a few years ago. I had forgotten about it, and rediscovered it last night. It's so good I'm posting it again.
viewonbuddhism.org: attachment
Monday, November 30, 2009
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Blacking out
I posted an item November 10 about blacking out in my backyard. I want to revisit that for a moment.
As I wrote then, I heard this loud thump, which was actually me falling and hitting the wall of the garage. But I didn't have any sense of falling, nor did I realize I'd hit anything. The thump sounded as if it were coming from somewhere nearby, but not as if I was the cause of it.
Then I had this brief sense of warmth, calm, security and serenity. I remember having the vague thought, "everything's OK." That must have been happening as I was sort of sliding down the wall of the garage to the ground. I keep wondering what that sensation was about. It was probably just a natural physical sensation, but it felt like more.
As I wrote then, I heard this loud thump, which was actually me falling and hitting the wall of the garage. But I didn't have any sense of falling, nor did I realize I'd hit anything. The thump sounded as if it were coming from somewhere nearby, but not as if I was the cause of it.
Then I had this brief sense of warmth, calm, security and serenity. I remember having the vague thought, "everything's OK." That must have been happening as I was sort of sliding down the wall of the garage to the ground. I keep wondering what that sensation was about. It was probably just a natural physical sensation, but it felt like more.
Pointlessness
I've been reading this week about the Buddhist principle of 'emptiness of phenomena,' or śūnyatā. I've had some difficulty getting my mind around this concept, mostly because it has nothing to do with anything I would personally call 'emptiness.'
I tend to equate emptiness with 'pointlessness,' which is not what śūnyatā is about.
But in addition to thinking about the emptiness of phenomena, I find myself thinking about the pointlessness of, well, almost everything. At this very moment, for example, I'm thinking in the back of my mind about the pointlessness of posting this. Will it change anything? Will it inform or enlighten someone? Will it help inform or enlighten me? Probably not. It just gives me something to do at 4 in the morning.
People talk about what's happening in their lives, and I think, 'what's the point?' I look at what's happening in my own life, and think, 'what's the point?'
I guess I've become an existential nihilist.
I tend to equate emptiness with 'pointlessness,' which is not what śūnyatā is about.
But in addition to thinking about the emptiness of phenomena, I find myself thinking about the pointlessness of, well, almost everything. At this very moment, for example, I'm thinking in the back of my mind about the pointlessness of posting this. Will it change anything? Will it inform or enlighten someone? Will it help inform or enlighten me? Probably not. It just gives me something to do at 4 in the morning.
People talk about what's happening in their lives, and I think, 'what's the point?' I look at what's happening in my own life, and think, 'what's the point?'
I guess I've become an existential nihilist.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Gadget news
I don't write much about gadget stuff. I'm too much of a gadget head, and I'm trying to unplug myself from all the doodah crap I've accumulated in favor of a slightly more austere lifestyle.
But I bought something this evening that I have to write about. It's a software app called Airfoil. It's from a company called RogueAmoeba. They are pretty much the experts on intercepting and redirecting Macintosh audio in ways OS X doesn't allow on its own.
I think I have written before about my AirTunes network. I have a batch of the Apple Airport Express units spread out around the house. Three of them have stereo receivers or amplifiers attached, with fairly decent speakers.
iTunes has a feature which allows me to select any or all of the speakers and transmit audio to them. But that only works with iTunes, and it won't let me send audio to another computer on the network.
Airfoil gets around these limitations. It can send audio to any of the Airport Express units with the receivers attached. It also allows me to set individual audio levels for each unit, rather than the one universal level offered by iTunes.
It also allows me to send sound to my work Mac in the den so I can play the same music through its Monsoon computer speakers. It even allows to me send audio to my iPhone.
This program only costs $25, and I'd say it's a heck of a bargain.
But I bought something this evening that I have to write about. It's a software app called Airfoil. It's from a company called RogueAmoeba. They are pretty much the experts on intercepting and redirecting Macintosh audio in ways OS X doesn't allow on its own.
I think I have written before about my AirTunes network. I have a batch of the Apple Airport Express units spread out around the house. Three of them have stereo receivers or amplifiers attached, with fairly decent speakers.
iTunes has a feature which allows me to select any or all of the speakers and transmit audio to them. But that only works with iTunes, and it won't let me send audio to another computer on the network.
Airfoil gets around these limitations. It can send audio to any of the Airport Express units with the receivers attached. It also allows me to set individual audio levels for each unit, rather than the one universal level offered by iTunes.
It also allows me to send sound to my work Mac in the den so I can play the same music through its Monsoon computer speakers. It even allows to me send audio to my iPhone.
This program only costs $25, and I'd say it's a heck of a bargain.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Friday, November 20, 2009
Addendum II
These dreams make me feel like I am chained to my past. I wish today I had never set foot in a goddamn TV newsroom 30-odd years ago. It's like some virus that got into my system and can never be completely purged.
Dream addendum
One of the things I find interesting about my dreams is that they often include people I have never known in real life, with names my subconscious seems to make up on the fly. In this case, it was a news photographer named 'Bob Kosovar.'
Another nightmare
Just awakened by another creepy TV news dream. I had not had one of these in quite awhile — I thought maybe I was done with them.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
That damn book
I'm going to maintain Internet silence until this Sarah Palin book has passed out of range. I don't want to see another word about it.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Fireplace
I'm sitting outside this evening enjoying my outdoor fireplace, and wondering what it would take to build one in my living room.
My house, built in 1930, has a false drywall mantle that once housed a gas stove. But there's no chimney at all. I'd have to cut a hole in the wall to make a place for one. It's probably more expensive than I would want to spend.
32 more years?! I'd rather not.
I see where Edward Woodward, star of 'Breaker Morant' and the TV series 'The Equalizer' has died. He was 89.
89! That would be 32 more years for me, and I can not imagine spending 32 more years on this world. 89 years on planet earth — good lord.
And god knows what this world will be like in 32 years. I'm not optimistic. 50 bank executives will be trillionaires and the rest of us will be living in tarpaper shacks. And it will be 120 in the shade in August.
When I had my blackout in the back yard the other day, my nurse friend Kathryn came over to check on me and lecture me about seeing a doctor and taking better care of myself. "You could have died," she admonished me. "You may have had a heart attack."
I guess she expected more of a response from me to the words 'heart attack,' because she narrowed her eyes, pushed her face a little closer to mine, and asked, "Do you care?"
"No," I replied frankly. The thought of being crippled by a stroke and warehoused in a nursing home for 20 years scares the shit out of me, but if I had hit the ground dead the other day rather than merely unconscious, well, what would have been the harm in that?
There are people who have lived rougher lives than mine and persevered. Stephen Hawking is ten times the man I'll ever be, and I salute him for his achievements.
But I'm an ordinary guy living an ordinary life, with some ups and some downs, and there's nothing so special about it that I feel like I need to have it drag on another thirty years.
89! That would be 32 more years for me, and I can not imagine spending 32 more years on this world. 89 years on planet earth — good lord.
And god knows what this world will be like in 32 years. I'm not optimistic. 50 bank executives will be trillionaires and the rest of us will be living in tarpaper shacks. And it will be 120 in the shade in August.
When I had my blackout in the back yard the other day, my nurse friend Kathryn came over to check on me and lecture me about seeing a doctor and taking better care of myself. "You could have died," she admonished me. "You may have had a heart attack."
I guess she expected more of a response from me to the words 'heart attack,' because she narrowed her eyes, pushed her face a little closer to mine, and asked, "Do you care?"
"No," I replied frankly. The thought of being crippled by a stroke and warehoused in a nursing home for 20 years scares the shit out of me, but if I had hit the ground dead the other day rather than merely unconscious, well, what would have been the harm in that?
There are people who have lived rougher lives than mine and persevered. Stephen Hawking is ten times the man I'll ever be, and I salute him for his achievements.
But I'm an ordinary guy living an ordinary life, with some ups and some downs, and there's nothing so special about it that I feel like I need to have it drag on another thirty years.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Food
One of the things that surprised and disappointed me on my trip was the difficulty I had in finding local restaurants. In many of the towns through which I passed, franchise restaurants appeared to have completely supplanted local dining places. I would consult the UrbanSpoon app on my iPhone and get nothing back but franchises like Shoney's, IHOP and O'Casey's. In White Pine, the only restaurant I found was a Sonic.
We're fortunate here in the bubble to have so many good family-owned restaurants.
We're fortunate here in the bubble to have so many good family-owned restaurants.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Year Five
This blog begins its fifth year in a couple of weeks. I will have forgotten about the anniversary by then, so I'll say something about it now.
I obviously am not as 'productive' at blogging as I once was. I have to less to say than I used to, and I suppose if I ever reach a state of ultimate enlightenment I'll quit blogging altogether. I feel as though the further along I go, the less important it seems to for me to say anything. And the things I see around me are less important.
I posted some drawings here a few years back, and the art of the barfing cats was by far the most popular thing I ever did. That was the year I won an OkieBlog award. But I don't draw much anymore. That's another thing that doesn't seem especially interesting or important now.
My passion for politics has waned. My concern about the issues facing my community has all but vanished. The stuff just doesn't affect me, except to the extent I have to pay taxes for some of it. Developments on the national level disturb me, but I don't know what I can do about it. I vote and I give money to candidates who I think will support my positions, but my current thinking is that Wall Street runs the show, and I'm wasting my energy trying to change that.
I have a Facebook account, and it turned into a huge time sink for awhile. If you saw my wall, you'd see lots of pictures of me with my feet propped up, a fire going in the fireplace, and maybe the dog or a cat hanging around nearby. That is how I spend most of my days now, and I'd be out there right this minute except that it's been raining.
I obviously am not as 'productive' at blogging as I once was. I have to less to say than I used to, and I suppose if I ever reach a state of ultimate enlightenment I'll quit blogging altogether. I feel as though the further along I go, the less important it seems to for me to say anything. And the things I see around me are less important.
I posted some drawings here a few years back, and the art of the barfing cats was by far the most popular thing I ever did. That was the year I won an OkieBlog award. But I don't draw much anymore. That's another thing that doesn't seem especially interesting or important now.
My passion for politics has waned. My concern about the issues facing my community has all but vanished. The stuff just doesn't affect me, except to the extent I have to pay taxes for some of it. Developments on the national level disturb me, but I don't know what I can do about it. I vote and I give money to candidates who I think will support my positions, but my current thinking is that Wall Street runs the show, and I'm wasting my energy trying to change that.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Garage update
It was about this time a year ago that they were demolishing my old garage to build a new one. The new one is almost, but not quite, finished.
Electricians installed the carriage lights on the front and side this week. These are more decorative than utilitarian, but getting them put in was sort of a milestone for me.
There is still no electricity to the garage. According to my general contractor, we're waiting on the power company to make the next move.
I hope this garage is going to be done before the first of the year, but I'm not sure it will be.
Electricians installed the carriage lights on the front and side this week. These are more decorative than utilitarian, but getting them put in was sort of a milestone for me.
There is still no electricity to the garage. According to my general contractor, we're waiting on the power company to make the next move.
I hope this garage is going to be done before the first of the year, but I'm not sure it will be.
More on the trip
I was surprised at how homogenized cities and towns have become. I guess it's been this way for decades, but I never really noticed it until I took this trip. Drive from town to town on the interstate highway system, and you see the same malls, the same big box retailers and the same franchise restaurants. The city you're arriving in looks just like the one you just departed.
Fortunately, I spent some time off I40 and drove through a few small towns where there was more individuality. I'm grateful for the interstate system, but sometimes it's more pleasant and interesting to fall back on the old US highway system. In Tennessee, at least, these roads are in excellent condition, although they lack the wide shoulders and other safety features of the interstates.
Fortunately, I spent some time off I40 and drove through a few small towns where there was more individuality. I'm grateful for the interstate system, but sometimes it's more pleasant and interesting to fall back on the old US highway system. In Tennessee, at least, these roads are in excellent condition, although they lack the wide shoulders and other safety features of the interstates.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Back from the trip
I'm back from my trip. I made the first leg of it successfully, then cut it short and came back.
I drove from here to White Pine in eastern Tennessee. That was my grandfather's birthplace. There is no family presence there at all now – I didn't even find relatives in the two town cemeteries. But at least I can say I saw the place, and I have some vague idea of the environment in which my grandfather grew up more than a hundred years ago.
I got sick while I was there. I decided that rather than try to drive up into Illinois and take Route 66 back home, I'd just come back the way I went, straight through on I-40. By the time I checked into a hotel in Jackson, TN, Wednesday evening, I had a severe sinus headache, fever, chills and a wracking cough. I coughed so hard that all the coughing reflex muscles in my chest and diaphragm ached, and it hurt to cough and even to just roll over in bed. I coughed so hard that sometime during the night I gave myself a nosebleed. When I awoke the next morning, the bed looked like Sweeney Todd had been sleeping in it. I still felt bad and wasn't sure I should try to drive home, but decided to risk it.
As it turned out, I felt much better once I got out of the hotel and under way, which made me wonder if some sort of carpet shampoo or other chemical had made my illness even worse after I checked in. I got home about 6 pm Thursday. I had forgotten to take my blood pressure medicine with me, so I took it as soon as I got home, went straight to bed, and slept through until morning.
I got up Friday, took more bp medication, and then went back to bed for most of the day in bed, still coughing a little and feeling generally listless. Later in the afternoon, I went out in the back yard and did a little cleaning up. I suddenly became immensely tired, and almost collapsed into my favorite chaise lounge. Then I began to feel nauseated. 'Surely I'm not going to barf,' I thought. 'I've eaten almost nothing in the past three days – what am I going throw up?'
But my stomach kept churning, so I pulled myself out of the chaise lounge and headed for the bathroom in the garage. As soon as I was up on my feet, I remember, I thought, 'Wow. I'm feeling really detached from reality right now.' I took a couple of steps toward the garage. I remember thinking, 'I'm still here. I'm still here.' Then I was looking down at the ground and thinking, 'How long I have been standing here?' Then there was a loud THU-WHOMP, and I remember having a brief but definite feeling of calm and peacefulness.
And then I was on my back, looking up at the sky. There was a breeze blowing across my face, scattering fallen elm and crape myrtle leaves around me. Although I had not felt a thing, not even a sensation of falling, I knew the sound I'd heard must have been me hitting the garage, then sliding down the wall to the ground. I had a couple of scrapes on my right arm, but other than that, no bruises or bumps.
I rolled over on my stomach and laid there in the grass awhile. I felt grateful to have had the opportunity to have been brought down face-to-face with the grass and the earth and the fallen leaves, with a warm autumn breeze still blowing. Bailey looked at me from across the yard, and slowly wandered over to see what I was doing. Gaston the cat appeared on my other side, stuck his nose in my face, then went back up on the deck.
I'll need to be more careful about overdoing the blood pressure meds.
I've got more to write about this, but not right now.
I drove from here to White Pine in eastern Tennessee. That was my grandfather's birthplace. There is no family presence there at all now – I didn't even find relatives in the two town cemeteries. But at least I can say I saw the place, and I have some vague idea of the environment in which my grandfather grew up more than a hundred years ago.
I got sick while I was there. I decided that rather than try to drive up into Illinois and take Route 66 back home, I'd just come back the way I went, straight through on I-40. By the time I checked into a hotel in Jackson, TN, Wednesday evening, I had a severe sinus headache, fever, chills and a wracking cough. I coughed so hard that all the coughing reflex muscles in my chest and diaphragm ached, and it hurt to cough and even to just roll over in bed. I coughed so hard that sometime during the night I gave myself a nosebleed. When I awoke the next morning, the bed looked like Sweeney Todd had been sleeping in it. I still felt bad and wasn't sure I should try to drive home, but decided to risk it.
As it turned out, I felt much better once I got out of the hotel and under way, which made me wonder if some sort of carpet shampoo or other chemical had made my illness even worse after I checked in. I got home about 6 pm Thursday. I had forgotten to take my blood pressure medicine with me, so I took it as soon as I got home, went straight to bed, and slept through until morning.
I got up Friday, took more bp medication, and then went back to bed for most of the day in bed, still coughing a little and feeling generally listless. Later in the afternoon, I went out in the back yard and did a little cleaning up. I suddenly became immensely tired, and almost collapsed into my favorite chaise lounge. Then I began to feel nauseated. 'Surely I'm not going to barf,' I thought. 'I've eaten almost nothing in the past three days – what am I going throw up?'
But my stomach kept churning, so I pulled myself out of the chaise lounge and headed for the bathroom in the garage. As soon as I was up on my feet, I remember, I thought, 'Wow. I'm feeling really detached from reality right now.' I took a couple of steps toward the garage. I remember thinking, 'I'm still here. I'm still here.' Then I was looking down at the ground and thinking, 'How long I have been standing here?' Then there was a loud THU-WHOMP, and I remember having a brief but definite feeling of calm and peacefulness.
And then I was on my back, looking up at the sky. There was a breeze blowing across my face, scattering fallen elm and crape myrtle leaves around me. Although I had not felt a thing, not even a sensation of falling, I knew the sound I'd heard must have been me hitting the garage, then sliding down the wall to the ground. I had a couple of scrapes on my right arm, but other than that, no bruises or bumps.
I rolled over on my stomach and laid there in the grass awhile. I felt grateful to have had the opportunity to have been brought down face-to-face with the grass and the earth and the fallen leaves, with a warm autumn breeze still blowing. Bailey looked at me from across the yard, and slowly wandered over to see what I was doing. Gaston the cat appeared on my other side, stuck his nose in my face, then went back up on the deck.
I'll need to be more careful about overdoing the blood pressure meds.
I've got more to write about this, but not right now.
Sunday, November 01, 2009
A trip
I've decided to take a road trip now that I have the new car. My father's side of the family hails from a little town in eastern Tennessee which I have never seen (and neither did he). I'm going to drive out there and have a look at the place. I'm not sure what I'll do after that, but I'm sort of thinking I'll go north through Kentucky up into Illinois, connect with route 66 about halfway between Chicago and Springfield, then drive home from there.
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