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.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Random notes
The heater in my car doesn't work.
I have the hiccups, in addition to my ongoing hacking cough.
Cats are still inside. Beasley went out for about 45 seconds. Someone ate the cat food on the porch while I was at work, but I see no prints in the snow.
Pinto beans and corn bread for lunch and again at dinner at the RC, which closed early this evening due to inclement weather.
I'm sitting here wrapped in a blanket thinking I'd like one of those hooded wool meditation cloaks they sell on some of the yuppie Buddhist web sites. I'm cold.
I have the hiccups, in addition to my ongoing hacking cough.
Cats are still inside. Beasley went out for about 45 seconds. Someone ate the cat food on the porch while I was at work, but I see no prints in the snow.
Pinto beans and corn bread for lunch and again at dinner at the RC, which closed early this evening due to inclement weather.
I'm sitting here wrapped in a blanket thinking I'd like one of those hooded wool meditation cloaks they sell on some of the yuppie Buddhist web sites. I'm cold.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Watching the weather
KOCO is reporting on its web site that there's a quarter-inch of ice on trees in Shawnee, and ice accumulations up to four inches may occur in some parts of the state by morning.
Where I am, just outside the bubble (or just inside, depending on how you feel about May Avenue) there is... nothing.
Looking at the radar, it seems we might get lucky and keep it that way.
Time for bed.
All cats are in, except for Gimp, who's been gone several days and is probably at the cat lady's house across the street, and Butthead, who must be holed up somewhere. I'd let 'em both in tonight if they were around, but they aren't.
Where I am, just outside the bubble (or just inside, depending on how you feel about May Avenue) there is... nothing.
Looking at the radar, it seems we might get lucky and keep it that way.
Time for bed.
All cats are in, except for Gimp, who's been gone several days and is probably at the cat lady's house across the street, and Butthead, who must be holed up somewhere. I'd let 'em both in tonight if they were around, but they aren't.
Buddhist podcasts
I have so many dharma talks and similar items on my computer now that I'll never be able to listen to them all. I've thought about getting an iPod just to have a way to play them all while at work or sitting around at the Red Cup. But I am resistant to spending money on yet another consumer gadget.
I started with the Alan Watts talks John X tipped me to a couple of weeks ago. I had read many of his books, of course, but hearing his voice was fascinating... just a very relaxing, yet engaging speaking style. People don't talk like that anymore - not in the Rush/Chris Matthews/Bill O'Reilly era. Which is too bad.
Although Watts was not a recognized Zen master, there are many people with proper 'Buddhist cred' whose work is available on the net. Several schools are represented. The podcast section of the iTunes Music Store has a wide selection (of course, you have to have Apple's iTunes to get them; it's free and there's a version for Windows)
Tricycle Magazine also has a free MP3 collection.
I started with the Alan Watts talks John X tipped me to a couple of weeks ago. I had read many of his books, of course, but hearing his voice was fascinating... just a very relaxing, yet engaging speaking style. People don't talk like that anymore - not in the Rush/Chris Matthews/Bill O'Reilly era. Which is too bad.
Although Watts was not a recognized Zen master, there are many people with proper 'Buddhist cred' whose work is available on the net. Several schools are represented. The podcast section of the iTunes Music Store has a wide selection (of course, you have to have Apple's iTunes to get them; it's free and there's a version for Windows)
Tricycle Magazine also has a free MP3 collection.
Flash animation
I lack both the time and the temperament to do much with Flash animation. Although the results are often impressive, Flash is very time-intensive compared to other forms of web design.
Here are a couple of Flash-based web pages I like.
In both cases, they attempt to explain fairly abstract ideas with animation.
The first one is www.perceivingreality.com, which is operated by a Kabbalah group, the Ashlag Research Institute. I make no claims or endorsement for Kabbalah, but I think the approach to the subject matter is interesting. Has a bit of a 'What the Bleep Do We Know?' feel to it.
The second one is www.tenthdimension.com, which attempts to explain string theory to us non-physicists. Creator Rob Bryanton is not a physicist himself – he runs a recording/audio postproduction studio in Regina, Saskatchewan. Again, I make no endorsement of the content, but I find the approach interesting.
Here are a couple of Flash-based web pages I like.
In both cases, they attempt to explain fairly abstract ideas with animation.
The first one is www.perceivingreality.com, which is operated by a Kabbalah group, the Ashlag Research Institute. I make no claims or endorsement for Kabbalah, but I think the approach to the subject matter is interesting. Has a bit of a 'What the Bleep Do We Know?' feel to it.
The second one is www.tenthdimension.com, which attempts to explain string theory to us non-physicists. Creator Rob Bryanton is not a physicist himself – he runs a recording/audio postproduction studio in Regina, Saskatchewan. Again, I make no endorsement of the content, but I find the approach interesting.
Monday, November 27, 2006
Well, I'm up
I've been awakened twice overnight by strange dreams, one of them obliquely previous-career-related. That whole part of my life, 25 years long, was like stumbling around in a basement with the lights out, and I wish I could just excise the whole thing from my past and jump straight from college to about 2002.
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Sunday random notes
I did very little that was productive this weekend. I feel no guilt or remorse about it. I have come to view relaxing as being at least equally productive as a lot of the more conventionally productive things I could have been doing.
I have been having another run of dreams pertaining to my former career. This has been going on for about two weeks. As is usually the case, these dreams are not set in any place where I actually worked, but rather in places that didn't exist in my waking life. I wonder what prompts these to occur when they do.
I didn't get out on so-called 'Black Friday' but couldn't help but notice how empty the streets seemed on Saturday and Sunday. At the intersection of NW Expwy and Penn, which is usually clogged with Penn Square Mall traffic this time of year, a police officer had been stationed this afternoon to make sure motorists didn't block the exit from the neighboring 50 Penn Place. But he had nothing to do but sit in his car: the street was almost devoid of traffic.
At Borders, dreary Christmas music (dreary to me, anyway) was playing. Dean Martin roasting chestnuts on an open fire. Christmas music in general depresses me.
Someone came in to the RC this evening and asked me for help with his WinXP laptop. He had installed Internet Explorer 7, and suddenly he couldn't connect to the Internet at all via wifi. I looked at it, and as best as I can tell, his computer is now unable to get DHCP information from routers. Only on Windows could installing a browser break DHCP. Well, at least I wasn't the one who broke it this time.
I have been having another run of dreams pertaining to my former career. This has been going on for about two weeks. As is usually the case, these dreams are not set in any place where I actually worked, but rather in places that didn't exist in my waking life. I wonder what prompts these to occur when they do.
I didn't get out on so-called 'Black Friday' but couldn't help but notice how empty the streets seemed on Saturday and Sunday. At the intersection of NW Expwy and Penn, which is usually clogged with Penn Square Mall traffic this time of year, a police officer had been stationed this afternoon to make sure motorists didn't block the exit from the neighboring 50 Penn Place. But he had nothing to do but sit in his car: the street was almost devoid of traffic.
At Borders, dreary Christmas music (dreary to me, anyway) was playing. Dean Martin roasting chestnuts on an open fire. Christmas music in general depresses me.
Someone came in to the RC this evening and asked me for help with his WinXP laptop. He had installed Internet Explorer 7, and suddenly he couldn't connect to the Internet at all via wifi. I looked at it, and as best as I can tell, his computer is now unable to get DHCP information from routers. Only on Windows could installing a browser break DHCP. Well, at least I wasn't the one who broke it this time.
Friday, November 24, 2006
The Friday roundtable
The regular session of the Friday roundtable convened at Galileo with BookemDanO, BobO, Tanner and myself present. Upon seeing that a quorum had not been reached, we adjourned and went our separate ways.
Where the hell was everyone?
Where the hell was everyone?
A flash from the past
Seven or so years ago, I read a book by a psychiatrist and self-help guru named David Viscott. (I had the impression from his bio that he was the person upon whom the Seattle incarnation of Frasier Crane was modeled.)
Viscott wrote in the particular book I read about how people sometimes see an object that sets in motion a line of thinking that suddenly leads to a new realization totally unrelated to the original stimulus. The incident he used as an example, as I recall, was a patient who was studying the storm shutters on a house and whose discursive thinking about those shutters led to a profound realization about the state of his own life and the origins thereof.
I am not a huge believer in the concept of 'recovered memories.'
But tonight, as I was reading this Charlotte Joko Beck book, I had a sudden flash basically unrelated to the book itself.
She was talking about how she had been mistreated by her parents. As I've mentioned before, at least in conversation, I had a pretty crappy childhood, but physical abuse was not part of the picture. But when I read that, I suddenly had this flash of my mother slapping me. Not hard -- she wasn't physically capable of that. But I had completely forgotten it, or blocked it from my mind, and certainly hadn't thought about it since I was a teenager.
It happened more than once, and I can't tell you what it was about. What I recall is that my mother's temper often flared for reasons completely incomprehensible to me.
I could say something completely innocuous (like "What's for dinner?") and get a slap in response. More frequently, she would scream, "Don't you talk to me in that totem voice!" I had no idea what "totem voice" meant, and if I asked her what she meant -- well, I guess that's when I got slapped.
(Years and years later, when I was in my late thirties, and my mother and I hadn't spoken in fifteen years or more, I saw Meredith Baxter in a TV movie shriek at her daughter, "Don't you talk to me in that tone of voice!!" and it suddenly dawned on me that's what my mother had been saying years before.
My mother also referred to Premium® brand saltine crackers as "Preermum" -- she had trouble enunciating, I guess.)
Over the course of my life, I would see people get slapped in movies or TV shows, and somewhere in the back of my mind I knew that I knew what it felt like to be slapped, but I had forgotten that I had ever actually been slapped, and that it was my mother who had slapped me.
(My stepmother, too, on one odd occasion which I well remember, but that's another story.)
Again, I know that other people have suffered far worse treatment at the hands of their parents. The point of my story is not that I was physically abused, but that I had blocked this repeated event from my mind completely for decades, even during therapy, and that this one passage from this book, which fell into my hands through a series of events odd in itself, suddenly jarred this memory loose from wherever it had been stored in my brain.
What else happened that I don't remember?
(For example: the Christmas Carol 'Silent Night' fills me with dread, so much so that if I hear it in a store or shopping mall during this time of year, I have to leave. Back in 1998 or thereabouts, I asked my dad if he knew why that might be. The color drained from his face. There was a long pause, and he said, 'Well, I guess something that happened during your childhood.')
Viscott wrote in the particular book I read about how people sometimes see an object that sets in motion a line of thinking that suddenly leads to a new realization totally unrelated to the original stimulus. The incident he used as an example, as I recall, was a patient who was studying the storm shutters on a house and whose discursive thinking about those shutters led to a profound realization about the state of his own life and the origins thereof.
I am not a huge believer in the concept of 'recovered memories.'
But tonight, as I was reading this Charlotte Joko Beck book, I had a sudden flash basically unrelated to the book itself.
She was talking about how she had been mistreated by her parents. As I've mentioned before, at least in conversation, I had a pretty crappy childhood, but physical abuse was not part of the picture. But when I read that, I suddenly had this flash of my mother slapping me. Not hard -- she wasn't physically capable of that. But I had completely forgotten it, or blocked it from my mind, and certainly hadn't thought about it since I was a teenager.
It happened more than once, and I can't tell you what it was about. What I recall is that my mother's temper often flared for reasons completely incomprehensible to me.
I could say something completely innocuous (like "What's for dinner?") and get a slap in response. More frequently, she would scream, "Don't you talk to me in that totem voice!" I had no idea what "totem voice" meant, and if I asked her what she meant -- well, I guess that's when I got slapped.
(Years and years later, when I was in my late thirties, and my mother and I hadn't spoken in fifteen years or more, I saw Meredith Baxter in a TV movie shriek at her daughter, "Don't you talk to me in that tone of voice!!" and it suddenly dawned on me that's what my mother had been saying years before.
My mother also referred to Premium® brand saltine crackers as "Preermum" -- she had trouble enunciating, I guess.)
Over the course of my life, I would see people get slapped in movies or TV shows, and somewhere in the back of my mind I knew that I knew what it felt like to be slapped, but I had forgotten that I had ever actually been slapped, and that it was my mother who had slapped me.
(My stepmother, too, on one odd occasion which I well remember, but that's another story.)
Again, I know that other people have suffered far worse treatment at the hands of their parents. The point of my story is not that I was physically abused, but that I had blocked this repeated event from my mind completely for decades, even during therapy, and that this one passage from this book, which fell into my hands through a series of events odd in itself, suddenly jarred this memory loose from wherever it had been stored in my brain.
What else happened that I don't remember?
(For example: the Christmas Carol 'Silent Night' fills me with dread, so much so that if I hear it in a store or shopping mall during this time of year, I have to leave. Back in 1998 or thereabouts, I asked my dad if he knew why that might be. The color drained from his face. There was a long pause, and he said, 'Well, I guess something that happened during your childhood.')
Just sayin'
If anything turns me into a libertarian, it will be my federally-mandated low-flush toilet.
Thursday, November 23, 2006
I don't know how to pronounce 'tathagata'...
or most of the other Sanskrit, Pali, Chinese and Japanese words I've encountered whilst studying Buddhism. I just guess at them.
I had been pronouncing 'tathagata' tah-tha-GAH-tah, like it was Spanish or Italian, when, according to my Buddhist friend Jen, it's actually tah-THA-gah-tah.
Anyone who knows where on the Internets to find pronunciations of these words, post a comment.
I had been pronouncing 'tathagata' tah-tha-GAH-tah, like it was Spanish or Italian, when, according to my Buddhist friend Jen, it's actually tah-THA-gah-tah.
Anyone who knows where on the Internets to find pronunciations of these words, post a comment.
I'm pleased to say...
...that I sat for awhile tonight. A very short while, but at least it's a start.
I drove around some, looking for a place to eat where I could, because of my cold, enjoy some extended quiet and privacy. I saw an Asian restaurant open, and the Deep Fork Grill, and passed on both. Came home and nuked macaroni and cheese.
Don't feel sorry for me because I didn't have a big T'giving dinner. I had a generously-offered opportunity and I passed because of the sniffles and hacking cough.
I'm off tomorrow, and the Red Cup is open, so my life will return somewhat to normal.
I drove around some, looking for a place to eat where I could, because of my cold, enjoy some extended quiet and privacy. I saw an Asian restaurant open, and the Deep Fork Grill, and passed on both. Came home and nuked macaroni and cheese.
Don't feel sorry for me because I didn't have a big T'giving dinner. I had a generously-offered opportunity and I passed because of the sniffles and hacking cough.
I'm off tomorrow, and the Red Cup is open, so my life will return somewhat to normal.
Thanksgiving Day addendum
I'm also thankful Americans woke the $%#* up this fall and threw the bastards out.
Thanksgiving Day, 2006
No self-pity today, okay? I do have things for which to be thankful.
I have a home with no mortgage, a functioning car with no payments, decent if not high-fashion clothes to wear, music in the house all the time and incense as often as I want it. Which is about all I crave at this point.
I seem to spend slightly less money than I earn, which is good.
My mutual fund savings and especially my IRA have done well this year, and barring economic cataclysm, old age looks safe for me.
I have peace of mind most of the time, which is the most important thing.
I have friends who came to visit me in the hospital and took care of me when I was sick, and other friends who would have if they had known I was ill.
I have my cats who keep me company even when I'm not a lot of fun to be with.
There's not much else I want or need.
I have a home with no mortgage, a functioning car with no payments, decent if not high-fashion clothes to wear, music in the house all the time and incense as often as I want it. Which is about all I crave at this point.
I seem to spend slightly less money than I earn, which is good.
My mutual fund savings and especially my IRA have done well this year, and barring economic cataclysm, old age looks safe for me.
I have peace of mind most of the time, which is the most important thing.
I have friends who came to visit me in the hospital and took care of me when I was sick, and other friends who would have if they had known I was ill.
I have my cats who keep me company even when I'm not a lot of fun to be with.
There's not much else I want or need.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Wednesday PM
Well, the sore throat is mostly gone, but my nose is still running and I have a dry hacking cough that would alarm Doc Holliday.
I also have that nasty aftertaste that throat lozenges always leave. I've brushed my teeth a half-dozen times today.
I had the idea it would be cool if the white and green Taras
would manifest themselves and sit by my bed whilst I suffered, just to keep me company. Guys always turn into whiny little boys when they're sick, or so I'm told. I need a mom, and I would nominate them. (My real mom... well, good lord. I'd rather just die alone on an outcropping of rock, thank you, and that would have been her preference for me as well.)
Blogblah's comment in the preceding post is spot on; however I have considerable emotional and intellectual equity invested in self-pity this week and I don't want to waste any of it.
Back to bed.
I also have that nasty aftertaste that throat lozenges always leave. I've brushed my teeth a half-dozen times today.
I had the idea it would be cool if the white and green Taras
would manifest themselves and sit by my bed whilst I suffered, just to keep me company. Guys always turn into whiny little boys when they're sick, or so I'm told. I need a mom, and I would nominate them. (My real mom... well, good lord. I'd rather just die alone on an outcropping of rock, thank you, and that would have been her preference for me as well.)
Blogblah's comment in the preceding post is spot on; however I have considerable emotional and intellectual equity invested in self-pity this week and I don't want to waste any of it.
Back to bed.
No Galileo for you tonight, young man
I could probably pick up an antihistamine at 7-Eleven and tough it out, but I don't want to risk infecting my friends with this.
Day Two
First thing: I'm still sick. Now there's muscle and joint aches, especially in my legs.
Second thing: I'm hooked, as they say in buddhist circles, meaning I'm craving something or a number of things I don't have, and that's the source of my unhappiness. I know what a couple of them are (genetically-engineered shitless cats, for example), but there are probably others I haven't even thought of.
Nina posted this proverb on her blog:
But I think in this context, even a lifetime of helping others can be a way to distract oneself from one's own suffering.
What is the state of your mind when you're doing nothing at all? What is the state of your mind when you're sitting absolutely still, with no music, no television, no books to hold your attention? Are you happy then?
I find that lately I plan my day around two events: lunch, and going back to bed after I get off work. Sometimes I'm under the blankets by 6:30.
Second thing: I'm hooked, as they say in buddhist circles, meaning I'm craving something or a number of things I don't have, and that's the source of my unhappiness. I know what a couple of them are (genetically-engineered shitless cats, for example), but there are probably others I haven't even thought of.
Nina posted this proverb on her blog:
If you want happiness for an hour, take a nap.
If you want happiness for a day, go fishing.
If you want happiness for a month, get married.
If you want happiness for a year, inherit a fortune.
If you want happiness for a lifetime, help others.
But I think in this context, even a lifetime of helping others can be a way to distract oneself from one's own suffering.
What is the state of your mind when you're doing nothing at all? What is the state of your mind when you're sitting absolutely still, with no music, no television, no books to hold your attention? Are you happy then?
I find that lately I plan my day around two events: lunch, and going back to bed after I get off work. Sometimes I'm under the blankets by 6:30.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Home today
Didn't make it to the doctor, or even call. Instead I spent most of the day in bed with a cold. I've been sucking on Hall's cherry lozenges all day.
The soothing menthol formula in Hall's lozenges provides temporary relief from the unhappiness of coughing and sore throat, but it does not provide true lasting happiness.
Don't look for me at Galileo Wednesday night if I still feel like this tomorrow.
The soothing menthol formula in Hall's lozenges provides temporary relief from the unhappiness of coughing and sore throat, but it does not provide true lasting happiness.
Don't look for me at Galileo Wednesday night if I still feel like this tomorrow.
Okay, I've thought about it some more
You either are happy or you aren't. If you aren't, nothing is going to 'make you happy.'
Anything that seems to 'make you happy' is actually only distracting you from unhappiness. Neither love nor wealth, to name two prime suspects, can 'make you happy.'
Making makor life changes to 'make yourself happy' is probably going to compound your misery and you're going to end up unhappier than you were before you did it.
If you are unhappy, the only way to become happy is to become happy. It doesn't involve acquiring anything or changing your circumstances.
Anything that seems to 'make you happy' is actually only distracting you from unhappiness. Neither love nor wealth, to name two prime suspects, can 'make you happy.'
Making makor life changes to 'make yourself happy' is probably going to compound your misery and you're going to end up unhappier than you were before you did it.
If you are unhappy, the only way to become happy is to become happy. It doesn't involve acquiring anything or changing your circumstances.
Tuesday a.m.
I'm going to make a doctor's appointment today. I didn't get seriously ill Monday, but I continued to have some problems.
I spent some time pondering what I wrote about happiness versus distraction from unhappiness. I think I had picked up on this notion before, only with different terminology.
The founding fathers wrote about 'life liberty and the pursuit of happiness' in the Declaration of Independence. But we don't pursue happiness -- I mean all of us as a nation and a culture -- we don't pursue happiness as much as we run from unhappiness.
A big story this past week has been the long lines of people lining up to buy Playstation 3 game consoles. Sony has done what Microsoft did with the Xbox 360, which is to let a relatively meager number of units trickle into the supply channel to generate 'heat' and demand for the Christmas shopping season. The media will do its part, of course, by reporting this totally fabricated shortage as if it were the real thing. (Did you know Sony CEO Howard Stringer was once the line producer for 'The CBS Evening News with Dan Rather'?) We've already seen video of the long lines and the ridiculous markups for the game on Ebay. Later comes the perennial Christmas list of 'must-have' gifts with the PS3 at or near the top.
What is the PS3 other than the current ultimate escape from unhappiness -- this season's most desired distraction from a reality which is never sexy enough, dramatic enough or exciting enough to live up to the expectations we've all had created for us by our media?
But it seems to me now that -- at least speaking for myself -- damn near everything is an escape from unhappiness rather than a move toward happiness.
Among other things, I eat to distract myself. Even my meditation is sometimes just a distraction to escape unhappiness. I went through a series of relationships in my life, some okay, some disastrous, which were driven by my need to distract myself from unhappiness. My cats are a distraction from unhappiness.
Blogging is a distraction from unhappiness. If my inner self were truly at peace and settled, you wouldn't be reading this. I wouldn't have written it, and you'd be asleep or meditating.
I need to think about this some more. (Well, I don't need to think about it, but I almost certainly will.)
I spent some time pondering what I wrote about happiness versus distraction from unhappiness. I think I had picked up on this notion before, only with different terminology.
The founding fathers wrote about 'life liberty and the pursuit of happiness' in the Declaration of Independence. But we don't pursue happiness -- I mean all of us as a nation and a culture -- we don't pursue happiness as much as we run from unhappiness.
A big story this past week has been the long lines of people lining up to buy Playstation 3 game consoles. Sony has done what Microsoft did with the Xbox 360, which is to let a relatively meager number of units trickle into the supply channel to generate 'heat' and demand for the Christmas shopping season. The media will do its part, of course, by reporting this totally fabricated shortage as if it were the real thing. (Did you know Sony CEO Howard Stringer was once the line producer for 'The CBS Evening News with Dan Rather'?) We've already seen video of the long lines and the ridiculous markups for the game on Ebay. Later comes the perennial Christmas list of 'must-have' gifts with the PS3 at or near the top.
What is the PS3 other than the current ultimate escape from unhappiness -- this season's most desired distraction from a reality which is never sexy enough, dramatic enough or exciting enough to live up to the expectations we've all had created for us by our media?
But it seems to me now that -- at least speaking for myself -- damn near everything is an escape from unhappiness rather than a move toward happiness.
Among other things, I eat to distract myself. Even my meditation is sometimes just a distraction to escape unhappiness. I went through a series of relationships in my life, some okay, some disastrous, which were driven by my need to distract myself from unhappiness. My cats are a distraction from unhappiness.
Blogging is a distraction from unhappiness. If my inner self were truly at peace and settled, you wouldn't be reading this. I wouldn't have written it, and you'd be asleep or meditating.
I need to think about this some more. (Well, I don't need to think about it, but I almost certainly will.)
Monday, November 20, 2006
More good news
My heartburn is back for the first time since leaving the hospital. I thought I sort of vaguely felt something starting about Thursday... now it's back for sure. I'm going to try to tough it out tonight because I don't feel like getting dressed and dragging my ass down to 7-Eleven for Pepcid or something.
But for those of you wondering if I'm fully back to normal yet, here's the proof that I'm not.
At least now I have something real to be depressed about.
But for those of you wondering if I'm fully back to normal yet, here's the proof that I'm not.
At least now I have something real to be depressed about.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Hello, darkness, my old friend
Depression is back this evening, having dropped in around 1 p.m.
I've been reading a book by Zen master Charlotte Joko Beck, which is frankly not helping. I may put it aside until I'm in a better frame of mind.
(Although Beck herself might tell me to sit with my suffering and be one with it. And Caterine Vauban would encourage me to frankly wallow in it.)
I asked myself what it would take this evening to make me happy, and realized nothing would. The most I could say is that there are some things that would at least distract for a while from my unhappiness... and realized that pretty much all my life, the thing I've been seeking that I called 'happiness' was actually just some undefined something to distract me from unhappiness.
I went to the Red Cup at about 4:30 for awhile, fully aware that I was going just to distract myself. The place was almost empty. Spaghetti with marinara was the special, which is a pretty darned good distraction. I think their marinara is as good as any in town.
Now I'm back home, with cats and the Internet to distract me.
I'm more comfortable, as always, when I'm unhappy than I am when I'm happy.
And it's been awhile since I've had any of those serene, blissful 'moments' when everything seems fine just as it is. More often, things seem like shit, and yet just as they're supposed to be.
(blogger's note: In case you didn't know, Caterine Vaubon is the nihilist existentialist author from the movie I Heart Huckabee's, portrayed by Isabelle Huppert. She is not a real person. Kudos to Fox Searchlight pictures for keeping her faux website alive all these years.)
I've been reading a book by Zen master Charlotte Joko Beck, which is frankly not helping. I may put it aside until I'm in a better frame of mind.
(Although Beck herself might tell me to sit with my suffering and be one with it. And Caterine Vauban would encourage me to frankly wallow in it.)
I asked myself what it would take this evening to make me happy, and realized nothing would. The most I could say is that there are some things that would at least distract for a while from my unhappiness... and realized that pretty much all my life, the thing I've been seeking that I called 'happiness' was actually just some undefined something to distract me from unhappiness.
I went to the Red Cup at about 4:30 for awhile, fully aware that I was going just to distract myself. The place was almost empty. Spaghetti with marinara was the special, which is a pretty darned good distraction. I think their marinara is as good as any in town.
Now I'm back home, with cats and the Internet to distract me.
I'm more comfortable, as always, when I'm unhappy than I am when I'm happy.
And it's been awhile since I've had any of those serene, blissful 'moments' when everything seems fine just as it is. More often, things seem like shit, and yet just as they're supposed to be.
(blogger's note: In case you didn't know, Caterine Vaubon is the nihilist existentialist author from the movie I Heart Huckabee's, portrayed by Isabelle Huppert. She is not a real person. Kudos to Fox Searchlight pictures for keeping her faux website alive all these years.)
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Doodle boy redux redux
I decided to draw the bag in which I tote around my laptop, then lost interest.
As I've said, I wish I had more self-discipline as an artist.
dzaster: Come by the RC when I'm here and I will.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Success!
JohnX commented:
And I agree.
My ambitions are, well, less ambitious.
I'd like to keep my laundry pile small enough I don't have to set up a base camp before climbing to the top of it. I'd like to make myself empty the litter boxes more often (good lord, the things are electric... I don't even have to do that much).
I'd like to hang on to more of my money, even though I'm relatively prudent with my cash at this stage in my life and live pretty much within my means.
I would like to be, frankly, less of a slob, and not have my car always look like a family of four has been living in it.
More than anything else, I'd like to have some self-discipline as an artist. Talent is useless if it's never applied, and mine, however great or small it is, has been seriously underapplied. No one to blame but myself. And maybe not even myself - I don't know.
Maybe I'd like to be able to interact with other people a little more comfortably than I do now. Maybe. Maybe not.
But really, it's all little stuff.
"Life is more fun when we allow ourselves to use our own definitions of words like 'success' and 'failure' and 'happiness.'
"I'd hate to think guys like Donald Trump or George Bush would be the arbiters of the value of my existence, or what joy I'm getting from it."
And I agree.
My ambitions are, well, less ambitious.
I'd like to keep my laundry pile small enough I don't have to set up a base camp before climbing to the top of it. I'd like to make myself empty the litter boxes more often (good lord, the things are electric... I don't even have to do that much).
I'd like to hang on to more of my money, even though I'm relatively prudent with my cash at this stage in my life and live pretty much within my means.
I would like to be, frankly, less of a slob, and not have my car always look like a family of four has been living in it.
More than anything else, I'd like to have some self-discipline as an artist. Talent is useless if it's never applied, and mine, however great or small it is, has been seriously underapplied. No one to blame but myself. And maybe not even myself - I don't know.
Maybe I'd like to be able to interact with other people a little more comfortably than I do now. Maybe. Maybe not.
But really, it's all little stuff.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
I think JohnX is on to something
He posted a question here several days ago: 'Are you attached to non-attachment?' and I quickly replied that I wasn't.
But I had a flash overnight: the concept of non-attachment is sort of like a sanctuary or shelter for me. Since it has an attraction for me, maybe I really am attached to it.
I realized that part of the reason I had become so interested in the subject is that it seems to offer an escape from a lot of the disappointments and shortcomings in my life. Or, to look at it less charitably, it offers a rationalization for why I am where I am in my life.
Or to put it yet another way, it may be just a more abstract and philosophical version of the fox and the sour grapes –– my life is a bust, but it doesn't matter because I'm practicing non-attachment, anyway. I'm not a fuck-up... I'm profoundly spiritual.
I'm not sure I'm on the right track here –– maybe I had it right before, and now I'm overthinking it.
But if I really am seeing non-attachment as a sort of sanctuary or protection, then I'm seeing it as a thing or concept, in which case, yeah, I'm attached to it.
But I had a flash overnight: the concept of non-attachment is sort of like a sanctuary or shelter for me. Since it has an attraction for me, maybe I really am attached to it.
I realized that part of the reason I had become so interested in the subject is that it seems to offer an escape from a lot of the disappointments and shortcomings in my life. Or, to look at it less charitably, it offers a rationalization for why I am where I am in my life.
Or to put it yet another way, it may be just a more abstract and philosophical version of the fox and the sour grapes –– my life is a bust, but it doesn't matter because I'm practicing non-attachment, anyway. I'm not a fuck-up... I'm profoundly spiritual.
I'm not sure I'm on the right track here –– maybe I had it right before, and now I'm overthinking it.
But if I really am seeing non-attachment as a sort of sanctuary or protection, then I'm seeing it as a thing or concept, in which case, yeah, I'm attached to it.
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
9:31 pm
Holy cow. I should have been in bed under the blanket feeling sorry for myself two hours ago.
G'night, everyone.
G'night, everyone.
Epiphany on the rocks
Well, shit.
Just found out some news that kind of derails my epiphany.
Cold Mountain time. I need to go live under a cliff.
Seriously: I was talking to someone this evening about the number of people I know who live -- very simply, but live nonetheless -- without working or at least with working very little. I'm not talking about freeloaders or panhandlers. I'm talking about people you have arranged their personal lives so that they've been able to escape the rat race.
Some have retirement income, others have other forms of income. Still, I wonder how they all do it and if I could pull it off myself.
Just found out some news that kind of derails my epiphany.
Cold Mountain time. I need to go live under a cliff.
Seriously: I was talking to someone this evening about the number of people I know who live -- very simply, but live nonetheless -- without working or at least with working very little. I'm not talking about freeloaders or panhandlers. I'm talking about people you have arranged their personal lives so that they've been able to escape the rat race.
Some have retirement income, others have other forms of income. Still, I wonder how they all do it and if I could pull it off myself.
The spiritual side of the branding experience
About the new Windows Vista startup sound:
"Earlier in the summer, blogger Robert Scoble interviewed Steve Ball, the group program manager for the Windows Audio/Video Excellence team, the guy in charge of this auditory experience. Ball dubbed this startup sound 'a spiritual side of the branding experience.'
"He said the sound is a 'brief, positive confirmation that your machine is now conscious and ready to react.' When your machine is done cold booting, 'this gentle sound will come out telling you that you can log in,' Ball said."
More here.
"He said the sound is a 'brief, positive confirmation that your machine is now conscious and ready to react.' When your machine is done cold booting, 'this gentle sound will come out telling you that you can log in,' Ball said."
More here.
Epiphany
I finally realized I could let go.
This stuff is not about me, and this stuff is not my stuff.
So someone else can worry about it. I don't own it, and I'm not going to take ownership of it.
This stuff is not about me, and this stuff is not my stuff.
So someone else can worry about it. I don't own it, and I'm not going to take ownership of it.
Everything's a concept
or mind object, or whatever you want to call it. Remember: only don't know.
Went to dinner at Iron Starr, then hit the sack about 7:15.
I'm not very happy or at peace these days. There are some things going on in my life I can't talk about here, although some of you know at least some of the details. I wish I was at a point that I could resolve this in a way that was at least partly to my own benefit, but I'm not.
Went to dinner at Iron Starr, then hit the sack about 7:15.
I'm not very happy or at peace these days. There are some things going on in my life I can't talk about here, although some of you know at least some of the details. I wish I was at a point that I could resolve this in a way that was at least partly to my own benefit, but I'm not.
Monday, November 13, 2006
The end of conservatism?
"Pat Buchanan and I rarely agree, but he rightly points out that the election marked the exhaustion of the movement that Barry Goldwater launched with his 1964 campaign."
The rest here.
- Jonathan Alter,
Newsweek columnist
Newsweek columnist
The rest here.
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Useful stuff
blogblah!'s comment about my laptop reminds me there are some gadgets in my house which I find useful.
The microwave oven is definitely one. The laptop is another.
And while I've avoided the iPod for a long time, the abundance of Buddhist and Zen dharma talk podcasts available for free via iTunes makes me think I may have to have one.
The electric litter box is another.
The microwave oven is definitely one. The laptop is another.
And while I've avoided the iPod for a long time, the abundance of Buddhist and Zen dharma talk podcasts available for free via iTunes makes me think I may have to have one.
The electric litter box is another.
Sunday PM
I decided to distract myself for awhile by making a trip to the bookstore this evening.
Bought a design magazine and something else -- I don't even remember what. It's still in the bag.
But while I was standing around the cash register, I got to pondering all the knickknacks displayed up in the point-of-purchase zone. What would I do with all this stuff? Why would I want it? Do I not have enough of this stuff already?
No, not enough –– too much.
Nothing is real. We're buying illusions. Stockpiling illusions. Collecting the whole series of illusions. We could all be sitting around in dashikis and kimonos wearing sandals or old sneakers, owning no Skechers, no Tommy Hilfiger, no Magnetic Poetry and no Subzero refrigerators on which to stick it, and we'd be the same people. Or illusions of people.
I am tired of material stuff.
Bought a design magazine and something else -- I don't even remember what. It's still in the bag.
But while I was standing around the cash register, I got to pondering all the knickknacks displayed up in the point-of-purchase zone. What would I do with all this stuff? Why would I want it? Do I not have enough of this stuff already?
No, not enough –– too much.
Nothing is real. We're buying illusions. Stockpiling illusions. Collecting the whole series of illusions. We could all be sitting around in dashikis and kimonos wearing sandals or old sneakers, owning no Skechers, no Tommy Hilfiger, no Magnetic Poetry and no Subzero refrigerators on which to stick it, and we'd be the same people. Or illusions of people.
I am tired of material stuff.
Nothing is real, and nothing to get hung about
So the Buddha is talking to his disciple Subhuti in The Diamond Sutra and he says something like, 'A boddhisvatta takes a vow to liberate all beings, but anyone who even has a concept of such a thing as a being is not a boddhisvatta.'
This assertion that the very existence of beings is an illusion or delusion comes as something of a relief to those of us who always had issues with beings - although I did okay with dogs, cats and such. It's good to know this world is actually a virtual world –– just like 'Second Life,' only with better graphics.
The illness I had recently would have eventually killed me had it gone untreated. But Mahayana texts tell us even the concepts of birth and death are mistakes/misunderstandings/misapprehensions/miswhatever. If I had 'died', so what? I was never really here, and I'm not really here right now. (And neither are you, but keep reading, anyway.)
For those of us practicing the seven habits of highly don't-give-a-shit people, this is a very advantageous point of view.
What if the earth decided to shrug off all our crap? Just shake it off like a dog shakes off water?
All the running shoe factories, all the NFL stadia, all the cable shopping channels, all the defense contractors, all the fast food chains. All the big important enterprises, all the revenue streams, all the strategic business plans.
Just leave the broadband Internet, okay?
This assertion that the very existence of beings is an illusion or delusion comes as something of a relief to those of us who always had issues with beings - although I did okay with dogs, cats and such. It's good to know this world is actually a virtual world –– just like 'Second Life,' only with better graphics.
The illness I had recently would have eventually killed me had it gone untreated. But Mahayana texts tell us even the concepts of birth and death are mistakes/misunderstandings/misapprehensions/miswhatever. If I had 'died', so what? I was never really here, and I'm not really here right now. (And neither are you, but keep reading, anyway.)
For those of us practicing the seven habits of highly don't-give-a-shit people, this is a very advantageous point of view.
What if the earth decided to shrug off all our crap? Just shake it off like a dog shakes off water?
All the running shoe factories, all the NFL stadia, all the cable shopping channels, all the defense contractors, all the fast food chains. All the big important enterprises, all the revenue streams, all the strategic business plans.
Just leave the broadband Internet, okay?
Saturday, November 11, 2006
If there's a buddha here, I don't see him
I can reread my own stuff and see that I'm not where I want or need to be.
Too much anger at the Republicans (although I still stand by my position that the GOP is an organized crime cartel and needs to be dealt with accordingly).
Too much anger at the Sloth (who was a Republican, incidentally).
Too much anger. I guess, about a lot of other things about which I haven't written and will probably never write.
Too much anger at the Republicans (although I still stand by my position that the GOP is an organized crime cartel and needs to be dealt with accordingly).
Too much anger at the Sloth (who was a Republican, incidentally).
Too much anger. I guess, about a lot of other things about which I haven't written and will probably never write.
Friday, November 10, 2006
Bipartisanship, my ass
I support the two-party system, but not when one of the two parties is actually an organized crime cartel.
Democrats should scrupulously abstain from the kind of hysterical, overwrought public bashing the Republicans have done since the mid-nineties, but behind the scenes, using statutory and parliamentary means, Congressional Democrats should do everything possible to permanently eliminate the Republican Party as a force in American government and politics.
I'd like to see a system in which there are three viable parties -- the Libertarians on the right, perhaps, with the Greens on the left and the Democrats in the middle.
Democratic Representative William Jefferson of Louisiana is under investigation for accepting bribes ($90,000 in cash found stuffed in his freezer), and the new Democratic majority in the House should make an example of him first. After that's taken care of, they should go after Hastert and Co. like the sword of God. Again, keep the public comments positive and circumspect –– but behind the scenes, leave not one stone standing atop another.
And the same rule must apply, of course, to the Democrats themselves.
Democrats should scrupulously abstain from the kind of hysterical, overwrought public bashing the Republicans have done since the mid-nineties, but behind the scenes, using statutory and parliamentary means, Congressional Democrats should do everything possible to permanently eliminate the Republican Party as a force in American government and politics.
I'd like to see a system in which there are three viable parties -- the Libertarians on the right, perhaps, with the Greens on the left and the Democrats in the middle.
Democratic Representative William Jefferson of Louisiana is under investigation for accepting bribes ($90,000 in cash found stuffed in his freezer), and the new Democratic majority in the House should make an example of him first. After that's taken care of, they should go after Hastert and Co. like the sword of God. Again, keep the public comments positive and circumspect –– but behind the scenes, leave not one stone standing atop another.
And the same rule must apply, of course, to the Democrats themselves.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Just in from MSNBC...
We have the Senate.
Much thanks to George, Dick, Don, Tom, Denny and Jack A. for making it all possible.
Much thanks to George, Dick, Don, Tom, Denny and Jack A. for making it all possible.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Time for bed
We're 24 up in the House and even in the Senate as I write this.
Think I'll snooze a while and then check back in.
At least we've gotten part of our country back.
Think I'll snooze a while and then check back in.
At least we've gotten part of our country back.
Do I have to feel compassion for the Sloth?
I walked into a restaurant this evening, and there in front of me was the Sloth and his wife. I was in no mood to make small talk with him; I turned around and walked out and went somewhere else.
The Sloth and I both received paychecks from the same employer for about a year and a half. That is a somewhat awkward but certainly more technically correct statement than to write that he and I worked together, since the Sloth didn't work much at all. Instead he divided most of his work day among sleeping on a sofa in the break room, wandering aimlessly around the building, looking up worshipfully at the middle manager who served as his patron and protector and complaining that he shouldn't be working at all but instead should 'have an office where people bring me stuff and I sign off on it.'
The Sloth left behind a pile of half-finished projects – some of them overdue by more than a year – which I then had to finish up.
So now I ask myself, how do I feel a buddha's compassion for the Sloth?
I guess if they called me and said he needed a kidney and I was the only match on earth I might feel enough compassion for him to give one. Of course, if he survived it would mean that a whole lifetime of coworkers would have to run around behind him cleaning up his messes while he conspired to just 'sign off on stuff.'
Can I feel compassion for him without having to actually like him? Can I feel compassion for him and still think he's an annoying twerp? 'Cause that would sure make it a lot easier.
The Sloth and I both received paychecks from the same employer for about a year and a half. That is a somewhat awkward but certainly more technically correct statement than to write that he and I worked together, since the Sloth didn't work much at all. Instead he divided most of his work day among sleeping on a sofa in the break room, wandering aimlessly around the building, looking up worshipfully at the middle manager who served as his patron and protector and complaining that he shouldn't be working at all but instead should 'have an office where people bring me stuff and I sign off on it.'
The Sloth left behind a pile of half-finished projects – some of them overdue by more than a year – which I then had to finish up.
So now I ask myself, how do I feel a buddha's compassion for the Sloth?
I guess if they called me and said he needed a kidney and I was the only match on earth I might feel enough compassion for him to give one. Of course, if he survived it would mean that a whole lifetime of coworkers would have to run around behind him cleaning up his messes while he conspired to just 'sign off on stuff.'
Can I feel compassion for him without having to actually like him? Can I feel compassion for him and still think he's an annoying twerp? 'Cause that would sure make it a lot easier.
Monday, November 06, 2006
Note:
I already posted that quote about getting rid of the mind before getting rid of the world.
I guess my memory's shot.
I guess my memory's shot.
Ya know what?
I already posted that thing about getting rid of the mind before getting rid of the world.
My memory isn't as good as it used to be.
My memory isn't as good as it used to be.
What's the meaning of it all?
There's a rose bush in my front yard. What's the meaning of it? It doesn't have a meaning. It's a rose bush; that's it - no meaning. A cat is sleeping on the settee. No meaning - it's just sleeping.
We're surrounded by stuff which has no meaning. And no not-meaning, either. The stuff is just there.
But when events and phenomena reach a certain level of complexity, we think it has to mean something.
Meaning is something we humans think we have to have because life is boring without it. Then we stir shit up to create drama, which we then call meaning.
Things doesn't have to mean anything. Sit outside at the Red Cup or on your own front porch or wander around the Paseo and just be. No meaning. That's it.
We're surrounded by stuff which has no meaning. And no not-meaning, either. The stuff is just there.
But when events and phenomena reach a certain level of complexity, we think it has to mean something.
Meaning is something we humans think we have to have because life is boring without it. Then we stir shit up to create drama, which we then call meaning.
Things doesn't have to mean anything. Sit outside at the Red Cup or on your own front porch or wander around the Paseo and just be. No meaning. That's it.
Random stuff
Although I haven't finished the Red Pine commentary on the Diamond Sutra, I picked up Thich Nhat Hanh's commentary on the same writing.
His version was published in 1992, originally written in Vietnamese and intended for an expatriate Vietnamese audience. It includes his own translation of the Diamond Sutra, retranslated from Vietnamese into English. For me, it's more readable than Red Pine's translation.
So here I am, the book-taught Buddhist, gleaning more wisdom from the Barnes & Noble Sangha.
As I read the sutra and commentaries – no concepts and no no-concepts – I find myself more and more struck by the general silliness of our everyday life. I find myself again drawn to the idea of a simpler, almost Spartan lifestyle, just to rid myself of baggage.
I wish I could not work. My work environment is still a source of drama and distraction, and one from which I can not easily distance myself.
There is a quote in the Red Pine commentary from a Zen monk who, writing his own Diamond Sutra commentary centuries ago, said something like, 'You must get rid of the mind first, then the world will follow. People who try to get rid of the world without first getting rid of the mind end up deeper in confusion.'
That's sort of where I am. If I were more successful at 'getting rid of the mind,' I wouldn't be so caught up in the drama and stress of my job. But at the same time, it would be easier to 'get rid of the mind' if I didn't have the sometimes ridiculous demands of my job and the demands of coworkers who seem to be checking in from a different planet than the one on which I live.
(Did you see the article in TIME magazine about the 'personal branding consultant'? This is some guy who does research on your 'personal brand,' then gives you advice on how you should live your life, the kind of clothes you should wear and the kind of car you should drive, all with an eye to strengthening your 'brand,' ie, giving you a higher profile in the 24-hour consumer suck-up-a-thon that we all want our lives to be.
It's not an option; it's a necessity, just like food, clothing and shelter. You're no different than an iPod, Mini Cooper or upmarket vodka: you simply must develop a comprehensive, proactive, strategic personal brand initiative to have a decent life.
I'm getting started on that immediately. My own brand will be based on the 7 Habits, which see.)
Tomorrow is election day. It won't be straight-party vote for me, because of a single race.
This is something else for which I have not much enthusiasm.
I won't be voting for the best candidate, in most cases; I'll be voting for the one I think is least likely to make things measurably worse. I would prefer to skip the whole thing and simply live – physically, intellectually and emotionally – beyond the reach of government and our society. Let the beings/not-beings who want that kind of world have it for themselves (and don't forget to work on that personal brand!), and let those of us looking for something else have the world we want.
His version was published in 1992, originally written in Vietnamese and intended for an expatriate Vietnamese audience. It includes his own translation of the Diamond Sutra, retranslated from Vietnamese into English. For me, it's more readable than Red Pine's translation.
So here I am, the book-taught Buddhist, gleaning more wisdom from the Barnes & Noble Sangha.
As I read the sutra and commentaries – no concepts and no no-concepts – I find myself more and more struck by the general silliness of our everyday life. I find myself again drawn to the idea of a simpler, almost Spartan lifestyle, just to rid myself of baggage.
I wish I could not work. My work environment is still a source of drama and distraction, and one from which I can not easily distance myself.
There is a quote in the Red Pine commentary from a Zen monk who, writing his own Diamond Sutra commentary centuries ago, said something like, 'You must get rid of the mind first, then the world will follow. People who try to get rid of the world without first getting rid of the mind end up deeper in confusion.'
That's sort of where I am. If I were more successful at 'getting rid of the mind,' I wouldn't be so caught up in the drama and stress of my job. But at the same time, it would be easier to 'get rid of the mind' if I didn't have the sometimes ridiculous demands of my job and the demands of coworkers who seem to be checking in from a different planet than the one on which I live.
(Did you see the article in TIME magazine about the 'personal branding consultant'? This is some guy who does research on your 'personal brand,' then gives you advice on how you should live your life, the kind of clothes you should wear and the kind of car you should drive, all with an eye to strengthening your 'brand,' ie, giving you a higher profile in the 24-hour consumer suck-up-a-thon that we all want our lives to be.
It's not an option; it's a necessity, just like food, clothing and shelter. You're no different than an iPod, Mini Cooper or upmarket vodka: you simply must develop a comprehensive, proactive, strategic personal brand initiative to have a decent life.
I'm getting started on that immediately. My own brand will be based on the 7 Habits, which see.)
Tomorrow is election day. It won't be straight-party vote for me, because of a single race.
This is something else for which I have not much enthusiasm.
I won't be voting for the best candidate, in most cases; I'll be voting for the one I think is least likely to make things measurably worse. I would prefer to skip the whole thing and simply live – physically, intellectually and emotionally – beyond the reach of government and our society. Let the beings/not-beings who want that kind of world have it for themselves (and don't forget to work on that personal brand!), and let those of us looking for something else have the world we want.
Saturday, November 04, 2006
Pastor Ted Haggard
I have little to say about this other than, 'Well, duh. What else is new?'
I've been working for several years now on the assumption that anyone who wants to tell me how to behave, and especially someone who wants the government to tell me how to behave, probably has bigger issues than I do.
I've never hired a prostitute, never cheated on my wife, never used forged prescriptions to get drugs, never committed rape or statutory rape, and yet somehow I'm the bad guy and this wack assortment of perverts, pederasts, lechers, addicts and con men are the good guys.
Harper's Magazine profiled Haggard and his church in May 2005. That article is available online at the Harper's web site.
I see where Pastor Ted's church has begun the search for his replacement. Good luck finding another Ken Doll for Jesus.
'Superchurch pastor' is a job that requires roughly the same skill set as 'multilevel marketing representative' or 'door-to-door magazine salesman.' Pastors of small churches -- where they actually know their congregants' names and visit them in the hospital and such -- work a lot harder than the celebrity preachers with the perfect hair and Janet Jackson headsets.
Looks like I had more say about this than I thought I did.
If Abraham had just gone ahead and killed Isaac, a lot of this nonsense would have been avoided.
I've been working for several years now on the assumption that anyone who wants to tell me how to behave, and especially someone who wants the government to tell me how to behave, probably has bigger issues than I do.
I've never hired a prostitute, never cheated on my wife, never used forged prescriptions to get drugs, never committed rape or statutory rape, and yet somehow I'm the bad guy and this wack assortment of perverts, pederasts, lechers, addicts and con men are the good guys.
Harper's Magazine profiled Haggard and his church in May 2005. That article is available online at the Harper's web site.
I see where Pastor Ted's church has begun the search for his replacement. Good luck finding another Ken Doll for Jesus.
'Superchurch pastor' is a job that requires roughly the same skill set as 'multilevel marketing representative' or 'door-to-door magazine salesman.' Pastors of small churches -- where they actually know their congregants' names and visit them in the hospital and such -- work a lot harder than the celebrity preachers with the perfect hair and Janet Jackson headsets.
Looks like I had more say about this than I thought I did.
If Abraham had just gone ahead and killed Isaac, a lot of this nonsense would have been avoided.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
A lot of stuff...
...I'd like to rant about, but I shouldn't and I won't.
Maybe later.
I was at work today from 5:30 a.m. to 8:30 p.m.
Maybe later.
I was at work today from 5:30 a.m. to 8:30 p.m.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
My subconscious keeps trying to drag me back into hell
I had another TV news dream last night. Unlike most of my other TV news dreams, this one was set in a specific station for which I once worked.
I won't mention the call letters, but it was the one with crazy general manager, the drug-addicted news director and all the cutey honey anchors who didn't know the difference between a U.S. Senator and a state representative, but did know the MAC Cosmetics toll-free hotline and superagent Ken Lindner's cell phone number.
(Yes, I know that description doesn't narrow it down any. That was the idea.)
All I remember about this dream was that I was back in the station after an absence of many many years, yet no one seemed surprised to see me there. There was a point where, for some reason, I needed to go from one room to another. I opened the door, and there was another door behind it. It wasn't locked, but it was kind of stuck in the door frame, and I had to yank on it a couple of times to get it open. And when I did, there was yet another door behind the second one. That was when I woke up.
I won't mention the call letters, but it was the one with crazy general manager, the drug-addicted news director and all the cutey honey anchors who didn't know the difference between a U.S. Senator and a state representative, but did know the MAC Cosmetics toll-free hotline and superagent Ken Lindner's cell phone number.
(Yes, I know that description doesn't narrow it down any. That was the idea.)
All I remember about this dream was that I was back in the station after an absence of many many years, yet no one seemed surprised to see me there. There was a point where, for some reason, I needed to go from one room to another. I opened the door, and there was another door behind it. It wasn't locked, but it was kind of stuck in the door frame, and I had to yank on it a couple of times to get it open. And when I did, there was yet another door behind the second one. That was when I woke up.
Monday, October 30, 2006
Cast & Credits
By way of addendum to my depression post, I have to thank two people and another sentient being who helped me through that 1998 crisis: Beasley the cat, Beasley the human (my therapist) and Michele the psych nurse.
I've lost track of Michele and haven't seen Beasley the human in five years. Beasley the cat, who hooked up with me when he was only a few weeks old, is now eight and still with me, the senior pet in the household.
I've lost track of Michele and haven't seen Beasley the human in five years. Beasley the cat, who hooked up with me when he was only a few weeks old, is now eight and still with me, the senior pet in the household.
Skip's State of the Union
I am not a strong adherent to the Triune Brain concept. It may very well be true, but in my own 'only don't know' world, it doesn't seem to have a lot of relevance.
Nonetheless I offer the link to Skip Largent's Triune Brain State of the Union at www.skipsilver.com:
Skip's complete State of the Union here.
Nonetheless I offer the link to Skip Largent's Triune Brain State of the Union at www.skipsilver.com:
"Your human field balances and attunes itself by way of your synchronization with lovingness. Unbalance derives from fear. The field emerges from a complex neural network, the Reticular Activating System, in the top of your spine, forming a double torus over the head and over the lower body. ( a torus field resembles a doughnut shape )
"No part of the human triune brain WORKS until the electromagnetic field emanating from your Reticular Activating System tells it to work (including your exalted neocortex). Lacking spark from the Reticular Activating System, the three brains in your head sit there like a stack of jello."
Skip's complete State of the Union here.
First, do no harm
I'm batting .000 on router repair. I've tried to fix two in the past week. One still doesn't work as it should, and the other is in worse shape than it was before I tinkered with it.
I am again confronted with the reminder that I don't know as much as I like to think I know. People ask me to fix something, and my ego and my codependency-related inability to say 'no' to requests lead me to make my friends' lives marginally less pleasant than they were before I 'helped.'
I'm still working on "'don't know' mind," but I've pretty much mastered "'don't know jack shit' mind."
I spent most of Sunday alone, running errands and doing housework. Trips to Target and Homeland and PetSmart and Borders. Plus a half-hour on the phone trying to talk someone through undoing what I'd done to a router. A lot of this busyness is just to keep the depression at bay. Some meditation teachers suggest that we should sit with our depression and work with it. But others say -- I think this is really important to note -- that depression can actually be amplified by meditation.
Back around 1998-99, when my life went pretty much completely to hell, I reached a point where I could not be alone for more than 48 hours. I had no friends at all at that time, and when my days off from work rolled around each week (on Monday and Tuesday, as I recall), I would be sitting in my apartment with a white-knuckled grip on the arms of my chair, literally trying to avoid killing myself while I was completely alone with my thoughts for two days.
I have gotten so used to being busy socially over the past few months -- and having constant distraction from my depression -- that I had almost forgotten it was there.
But in the final analysis, the depression owns me, or at least a large part of me. I could go back on some drug to alter the chemistry of my brain, but that wouldn't address the larger cosmic question of whether I ought to be depressed. My track record as a useful individual isn't very good and my track record as a wise or knowledgeable person is even worse. Who wouldn't be depressed if they had been as big a flop as a human being as I've been.
(And yet, here's the rub: I don't think I would have it any other way. I can't imagine myself being a cheerful, successful, heartbreakingly handsome overachieving American. I would be even more miserable than I am now.)
I have at least one friend who has taken the Buddhist bodhisattva vow: to delay nirvana and keep coming back, life after life, until all beings have been enlightened.
That, at least, I could recognize as beyond my ken. Yeah, I'm going to enlighten all beings. Jesus. I might as well take a vow to be an NFL quarterback.
My vow is to keep coming back until every wi-fi router on earth is fucked up. That's something I have some reasonable expectation of accomplishing.
I am again confronted with the reminder that I don't know as much as I like to think I know. People ask me to fix something, and my ego and my codependency-related inability to say 'no' to requests lead me to make my friends' lives marginally less pleasant than they were before I 'helped.'
I'm still working on "'don't know' mind," but I've pretty much mastered "'don't know jack shit' mind."
I spent most of Sunday alone, running errands and doing housework. Trips to Target and Homeland and PetSmart and Borders. Plus a half-hour on the phone trying to talk someone through undoing what I'd done to a router. A lot of this busyness is just to keep the depression at bay. Some meditation teachers suggest that we should sit with our depression and work with it. But others say -- I think this is really important to note -- that depression can actually be amplified by meditation.
Back around 1998-99, when my life went pretty much completely to hell, I reached a point where I could not be alone for more than 48 hours. I had no friends at all at that time, and when my days off from work rolled around each week (on Monday and Tuesday, as I recall), I would be sitting in my apartment with a white-knuckled grip on the arms of my chair, literally trying to avoid killing myself while I was completely alone with my thoughts for two days.
I have gotten so used to being busy socially over the past few months -- and having constant distraction from my depression -- that I had almost forgotten it was there.
But in the final analysis, the depression owns me, or at least a large part of me. I could go back on some drug to alter the chemistry of my brain, but that wouldn't address the larger cosmic question of whether I ought to be depressed. My track record as a useful individual isn't very good and my track record as a wise or knowledgeable person is even worse. Who wouldn't be depressed if they had been as big a flop as a human being as I've been.
(And yet, here's the rub: I don't think I would have it any other way. I can't imagine myself being a cheerful, successful, heartbreakingly handsome overachieving American. I would be even more miserable than I am now.)
I have at least one friend who has taken the Buddhist bodhisattva vow: to delay nirvana and keep coming back, life after life, until all beings have been enlightened.
That, at least, I could recognize as beyond my ken. Yeah, I'm going to enlighten all beings. Jesus. I might as well take a vow to be an NFL quarterback.
My vow is to keep coming back until every wi-fi router on earth is fucked up. That's something I have some reasonable expectation of accomplishing.
Sunday, October 29, 2006
A dream
I fell asleep for awhile this afternoon and had another nightmare about TV news. Been awhile.
I'm up again
I spent most of the day on my own Saturday. Did the usual breakfast thing at the RC, then tried to fix RJ's wifi router. Don't know yet if I succeeded. After that, bought cat food. After that, did overdue household chores. After that, read. After that, bought a hundred-dollar pair of speakers for my dining room. After that, an hour at the mostly empty RC. After that, more of the Diamond Sutra, then bed by 8:30. Now I'm up.
John X asks in a comment on the previous post,
I think the answer is, 'Well I'm a lot more attached to the idea than I am to the actual practice.'
Some rich dude told Jesus he wanted to follow him, and Jesus said, 'Give away all your stuff and come with me.'
But the rich dude –– well, you know how it is. Lease payments on the SUV, credit card bills to pay, that check to the Republican National Committee you've been meaning to write, there's already another new iPod out, the collagen injections are wearing off –– hey, I'd like to help, but I think you'll just have to go get crucified without me.
So the rich dude and Jesus went their separate ways. And Jesus turned to his disciples and said, "It's easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than it is for a rich man to get into the kingdom of heaven."
Now, I am not a rich man. For me, getting into the kingdom of heaven would be like maybe a German Shepherd trying to fit through the eye of a needle.
But the deal, as Jesus and Thoreau and Master Gotama all said, is that having a lot of material stuff weighs you down –– spiritually, morally and intellectually. (Said the guy who just set up wireless iTunes speakers in his dining room.)
Now, on the other hand: before Master Gotama achieved enlightenment, he spent several years wandering around India as an itinerant holy man. This included some time as one of those 'one grain of rice a day' ascetics –– major major major non-attachment.
After a year or two of that, he weighed about 60 pounds, was near death, and still didn't see himself as enlightened. So he started eating again, and came to what he later called the Middle Path, somewhere between stuffing yourself on KFC every day and wandering around in the woods half-naked and starving.
(You notice I'm writing about all this like I actually know something about it. Here's a caveat: I don't know shit. Double check my facts on wikipedia, so you'll know they're at least truthy, if not true.)
Synchronistically enough, I happened to read a story this past week about a monk who was asked this same question a few centuries back: are you attached to non-attachment? There was an exegesis of the story afterward, explaining all the details of his paragraph-long answer, but the short version was, "No, I'm not."
You know, I just stepped on the Buddha boat like ten minutes ago in cosmic time, and I'm still asking directions to the promenade deck.
blogblah!, meanwhile, asks if I know too much about don't-know mind.
I don't know.
iTunes (from the dining room!): Rupak Tal, Ravi Shankar
John X asks in a comment on the previous post,
How attached are you to the idea of non-attachment?
I think the answer is, 'Well I'm a lot more attached to the idea than I am to the actual practice.'
Some rich dude told Jesus he wanted to follow him, and Jesus said, 'Give away all your stuff and come with me.'
But the rich dude –– well, you know how it is. Lease payments on the SUV, credit card bills to pay, that check to the Republican National Committee you've been meaning to write, there's already another new iPod out, the collagen injections are wearing off –– hey, I'd like to help, but I think you'll just have to go get crucified without me.
So the rich dude and Jesus went their separate ways. And Jesus turned to his disciples and said, "It's easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than it is for a rich man to get into the kingdom of heaven."
Now, I am not a rich man. For me, getting into the kingdom of heaven would be like maybe a German Shepherd trying to fit through the eye of a needle.
But the deal, as Jesus and Thoreau and Master Gotama all said, is that having a lot of material stuff weighs you down –– spiritually, morally and intellectually. (Said the guy who just set up wireless iTunes speakers in his dining room.)
Now, on the other hand: before Master Gotama achieved enlightenment, he spent several years wandering around India as an itinerant holy man. This included some time as one of those 'one grain of rice a day' ascetics –– major major major non-attachment.
After a year or two of that, he weighed about 60 pounds, was near death, and still didn't see himself as enlightened. So he started eating again, and came to what he later called the Middle Path, somewhere between stuffing yourself on KFC every day and wandering around in the woods half-naked and starving.
(You notice I'm writing about all this like I actually know something about it. Here's a caveat: I don't know shit. Double check my facts on wikipedia, so you'll know they're at least truthy, if not true.)
Synchronistically enough, I happened to read a story this past week about a monk who was asked this same question a few centuries back: are you attached to non-attachment? There was an exegesis of the story afterward, explaining all the details of his paragraph-long answer, but the short version was, "No, I'm not."
You know, I just stepped on the Buddha boat like ten minutes ago in cosmic time, and I'm still asking directions to the promenade deck.
blogblah!, meanwhile, asks if I know too much about don't-know mind.
I don't know.
iTunes (from the dining room!): Rupak Tal, Ravi Shankar
Saturday, October 28, 2006
I'm up
...and I don't know why.
I didn't go to bed all that early. But something woke me up - probably a cat thumping around.
Still working my way through the Diamond Sutra commentary.
Non-attachment. Don't-know mind. Those are my two goals. Not having a lot of luck with them this week.
I didn't go to bed all that early. But something woke me up - probably a cat thumping around.
Still working my way through the Diamond Sutra commentary.
Non-attachment. Don't-know mind. Those are my two goals. Not having a lot of luck with them this week.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
A couple of kids
There are a couple of kids who are occasionally seen around the Red Cup. The Cup is not a very kid-friendly place; there's no rule against children, but I think it must mostly be a boring place for small fry.
The two kids I'm thinking of, though, seem to handle it pretty well. They are neither running rampant across the landscape, nor are they sullen but perfectly-behaved little Stepford kids. They make some noise, but not a lot of noise, they wander around some; but they don't grab stuff off tables or otherwise make themselves nuisances. And they seem like pretty happy, well-adjusted youngsters. If I'd had kids, I hope that I would have done that good a job raising them. In truth, if I'd had kids in my twenties, they'd probably be in federal prison now.
I was reading an article the other day about teaching children Buddhism in a commune somewhere. It sounded like a very strict, almost puritanical upbringing.
Personally, I don't think kids need to be taught Buddhism. Kids need to know kidism, which they already come by naturally. Parents need to guide that and help it mature into healthy adulthood. Giving kids a belief system can come later, as they're about become adults and take on the responsibilities of adulthood.
The two kids I'm thinking of, though, seem to handle it pretty well. They are neither running rampant across the landscape, nor are they sullen but perfectly-behaved little Stepford kids. They make some noise, but not a lot of noise, they wander around some; but they don't grab stuff off tables or otherwise make themselves nuisances. And they seem like pretty happy, well-adjusted youngsters. If I'd had kids, I hope that I would have done that good a job raising them. In truth, if I'd had kids in my twenties, they'd probably be in federal prison now.
I was reading an article the other day about teaching children Buddhism in a commune somewhere. It sounded like a very strict, almost puritanical upbringing.
Personally, I don't think kids need to be taught Buddhism. Kids need to know kidism, which they already come by naturally. Parents need to guide that and help it mature into healthy adulthood. Giving kids a belief system can come later, as they're about become adults and take on the responsibilities of adulthood.
John X says
"Cats = Zen masters"
John may have meant that a little tongue-in-cheek, but I think there's truth in it, and so did Alan Watts, who also likened cats to accomplished Zen practitioners.
Cats, especially domesticated cats, live in the moment. They make no plans. While there may be a pecking order among a group of cats, they don't classify things, measure things, categorize things, obsess about their standing among other cats, lie awake because their week-old iPod has just been discontinued for a newer model, or do any of the other things we as Americans are supposed to do.
And as Watts pointed out, they achieve this enlightened state without zazen, without retreat, without monasticism.
Yeah - we can learn a lot from cats. I know I have. I'd be sleeping on the sofa all the time if someone else would take care of feeding me.
Huang Po says
"Most people allow their mind to be obstructed by the world and then try to escape from the world. They don't realize that their mind obstructs the world. If they could only let their minds be empty, the world would be empty. Don't misuse the mind. If you want to be free of the world, you should forget the mind. Once you forget the mind, the world becomes empty. And when the world becomes empty, the mind disappears. If you don't forget the mind and only get rid of the world, you only succeed in becoming more confused."
– Huang Po, tenth century Ch'an master
This comes from Red Pine's translation of the Diamond Sutra, with commentary.
The Diamond Sutra itself is brief, about the length of a longer New Testament epsitle; the commentary, which includes quotations from Huang Po and other Ch'an and Zen masters, runs about 350 pages.
The quote above really caught my attention. A person can retreat to a cave, shut himself or herself off from the world, and sit there in utter isolation, still not at all getting it.
Does this contradict the behavior of all the masters who went into permanent retreat? I don't think so.
A lot of people who grow up in wackjob families end up being isolated. They reach adulthood with a huge set of rules for living that make no sense outside the confines of their own crazy families. They take these twisted rules out into the 'sane' world, suddenly realize everyone thinks their behavior is bizarre or unacceptable, and retreat back into their homes because they have no idea what else they can do. They get rid of the world, but they still don't get it.
The master or sage who has already gotten it, on the other hand, begins to see the so-called 'real world' as, at best, irrelevant, and at worst a hindrance to further understanding.
Again, it's the difference between self-denial and renunciation.
I really doubt that I am ever going to do the Cold Mountain thing. I'm too hooked on things like broadband Internet and health care to walk away from my job and try to live off wild plants in the mountains. But the rest of the stuff in this world seems less and less important as time goes by.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Depression?
I was in bed last night at 7:30 p.m. and tonight at 7:45 p.m.
I love my bed. I like that feeling when I first lie down and I feel the muscles and joints in my knees and lower thighs stretch. I like knowing I don't have to be anywhere or think about anything –– even about no-thinking –– for awhile. I like that it's dark.
And then I'm asleep.
I know I had some kind of vaguely unpleasant dream this evening. I don't remember a thing about it.
I love my bed. I like that feeling when I first lie down and I feel the muscles and joints in my knees and lower thighs stretch. I like knowing I don't have to be anywhere or think about anything –– even about no-thinking –– for awhile. I like that it's dark.
And then I'm asleep.
I know I had some kind of vaguely unpleasant dream this evening. I don't remember a thing about it.
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Gimp the Cat update
I should mention that Gimp feels like he weighs almost as much as a normal cat now. Back when he was lying sprawled out on my porch in the hundred-plus weather, he had the heft of a sheet of typing paper.
He still can't jump like the other cats and I doubt he'll ever be able to, having lost so much muscle mass, but at least he's starting to look like a normal, if dirty, cat, rather than a walking skeleton.
He still can't jump like the other cats and I doubt he'll ever be able to, having lost so much muscle mass, but at least he's starting to look like a normal, if dirty, cat, rather than a walking skeleton.
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