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Dec 19, 7:28 AM (ET)
VATICAN CITY (AP) - Pope Benedict XVI has moved Pope John Paul II one step closer to possible beatification, the milestone before sainthood.
Benedict on Saturday approved a decree attesting to John Paul's heroic virtues. Benedict still must sign off on a miracle attributed to John Paul's intercession before the late pope can be beatified.
Benedict put the Polish pontiff on the fast track for sainthood just weeks after his April 2, 2005 death, waiving the customary five-year waiting period and allowing the investigation into John Paul's virtues to begin immediately.
Benedict also approved a decree on the heroic virtues of Pope Pius XII, despite opposition from Jews who say the World War II-era pope didn't do enough to stop the Holocaust.
I just looked "saint" up on an Internet dictionary. It said:
▸ noun: person of exceptional holiness
▸ noun: a person who has died and has been declared a saint by canonization
▸ noun: model of excellence or perfection of a kind; one having no equal
Does anyone bother to think this stuff through, to examine it with all of the seriousness they might bring to their various saints? Who is a saint? What precise usefulness does s/he have? Who says so?
I'm not trying to tear down or demean anyone's affection for or adoration of saints. I just wonder if, within a person's own affections, there wouldn't be some willingness to investigate the importance and meaning.
Buddhists say "enlightenment" or "compassion" or "emptiness." Christians say "God" or "heaven" or "saint." Self-helpers encourage "self-esteem" or "love" or "peace." And there may be some deep affection for these things.
But without exercising some curiosity, how could anyone be sure of themselves? How could they overcome the whispering doubts and uncertainties? Belief may be a wonderful thing as an inspiration, but it is hell on earth without some effort.
Curiosity killed the cat.
But satisfaction brought him back.
Being satisfied with the lords of heaven is like reading food ads and calling it nourishment. A world full of saints and a couple of bucks is only good for a bus ride. But exercising curiosity about what is most cherished has the capacity to take people home.
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Saturday, December 19, 2009
finding joy
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If you can't find your own joy, what in heaven's name makes you think someone else can find or provide it for you?
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If you can't find your own joy, what in heaven's name makes you think someone else can find or provide it for you?
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see good or be good?
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When I sent Bob a satirical clip about Tiger Woods' extramarital activities, he wrote back wondering why a man who is arguably the best golfer in the world and has more money than anyone could possibly spend should also need to be Mr. Clean into the bargain.
The situation makes me wonder if it's not a common pastime -- wanting not just to be good-at something, but longing to be thought of as good in addition. And wondering if the longing for goodness -- however fabricated and however reliant on the views of others -- doesn't bespeak an honest longing to somehow BE good.
Honore de Balzac wrote, "Behind every great fortune lies a crime." Whatever exceptions there may be to this observation are far outweighed by evidence of its truth. Robber barons, Wall Street tycoons, kings and churches abound. But perhaps a shrink friend was closer still the truth when he said, "No one ever got rich by being nice."
But, as Bob suggests, why would anyone want to be thought of as "nice" in the first place? True, "nice" is a pretty good tool for blindsiding the next sucker, but that suggests that "nice" is an attractive and warming trait, something human beings admire and perhaps aspire to. The openness which may be seen as gullibility by various sorts of thieves is ... admired: I may be a thief, but I want to think well or have others think well of my thievery.
Outside of the hand-wringing and social outrage that various thieves and manipulators can inspire, I wonder about the need for spiritual endeavor to see itself as nice. It's something to watch out for, I think ... and not just in the finger-pointing way: Goodness and virtue and niceness within is even more dangerous than goodness without...more seductive than another of Tiger Woods' dalliances.
For lack of a better approach, spiritual endeavor presents itself as a more sensible way. It is more loving, more clear-headed, and less prone to the unhappiness that evolves from doing various kinds of harm. Since anyone might wish to be happy and at peace, spiritual endeavor can be a real draw. It may in fact be quite a "good" thing ... right up until the moment anyone imagines it is "good." And yet without imagining it is "good" or "nice" or "virtuous," why would anyone take the first step on a better course. The goodness and niceness are a honey pot which serious students must learn to set aside.
Somehow it reminds me of the old ditty:
I eats me peas with honey
I've done it all me life.
It makes them taste so funny
But...
It keeps them on me knife.
"Niceness" and "goodness" and "virtue" are sweet invitations. They are offered "faut de mieux," for lack of a viable alternative. But for anyone seriously inclined towards spiritual endeavor, it becomes increasingly clear: Goodness is good right up until a time when anyone might imagine it is good. Which is better? -- a good deed, a kind deed, a nice deed, or a raft of accolades, whether from within or without, for that goodness or kindness or niceness?
Anyone who longs for a bit of peace would do well to be peaceful. It is enough.
.
When I sent Bob a satirical clip about Tiger Woods' extramarital activities, he wrote back wondering why a man who is arguably the best golfer in the world and has more money than anyone could possibly spend should also need to be Mr. Clean into the bargain.
The situation makes me wonder if it's not a common pastime -- wanting not just to be good-at something, but longing to be thought of as good in addition. And wondering if the longing for goodness -- however fabricated and however reliant on the views of others -- doesn't bespeak an honest longing to somehow BE good.
Honore de Balzac wrote, "Behind every great fortune lies a crime." Whatever exceptions there may be to this observation are far outweighed by evidence of its truth. Robber barons, Wall Street tycoons, kings and churches abound. But perhaps a shrink friend was closer still the truth when he said, "No one ever got rich by being nice."
But, as Bob suggests, why would anyone want to be thought of as "nice" in the first place? True, "nice" is a pretty good tool for blindsiding the next sucker, but that suggests that "nice" is an attractive and warming trait, something human beings admire and perhaps aspire to. The openness which may be seen as gullibility by various sorts of thieves is ... admired: I may be a thief, but I want to think well or have others think well of my thievery.
Outside of the hand-wringing and social outrage that various thieves and manipulators can inspire, I wonder about the need for spiritual endeavor to see itself as nice. It's something to watch out for, I think ... and not just in the finger-pointing way: Goodness and virtue and niceness within is even more dangerous than goodness without...more seductive than another of Tiger Woods' dalliances.
For lack of a better approach, spiritual endeavor presents itself as a more sensible way. It is more loving, more clear-headed, and less prone to the unhappiness that evolves from doing various kinds of harm. Since anyone might wish to be happy and at peace, spiritual endeavor can be a real draw. It may in fact be quite a "good" thing ... right up until the moment anyone imagines it is "good." And yet without imagining it is "good" or "nice" or "virtuous," why would anyone take the first step on a better course. The goodness and niceness are a honey pot which serious students must learn to set aside.
Somehow it reminds me of the old ditty:
I eats me peas with honey
I've done it all me life.
It makes them taste so funny
But...
It keeps them on me knife.
"Niceness" and "goodness" and "virtue" are sweet invitations. They are offered "faut de mieux," for lack of a viable alternative. But for anyone seriously inclined towards spiritual endeavor, it becomes increasingly clear: Goodness is good right up until a time when anyone might imagine it is good. Which is better? -- a good deed, a kind deed, a nice deed, or a raft of accolades, whether from within or without, for that goodness or kindness or niceness?
Anyone who longs for a bit of peace would do well to be peaceful. It is enough.
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Friday, December 18, 2009
Sasha
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Yesterday, in memoir-writing class, Sasha, a plump throw-back to Greenwich Village in the 1960's, was telling some of her tale. Sasha wanted to write a memoir, but, in past classes, had insisted that she write it in some sort of poetic format as a means of giving the tale more class or art or heft or importance. But yesterday, she just talked about notes she had on hand and about being unsure about how to attack the material.
Sasha married a soldier at 19, got pregnant and lived in a pink trailer in Alaska ... where the temperature was routinely 60 below. Moose, caribou and reindeer carcasses were kept freezing on the roof of the pink trailer and cut up as needed. She was miles from the New-York Jewish mom who had bossed her around unmercifully. Instead, she was in the hands of a husband who, both when he was drinking and when he wasn't, did precisely the same thing. After the baby boy was born, Sasha suffered from post partum depression, but her husband wouldn't let her cry. Sasha would squeeze into the small closet in the pink trailer in order to cry.
This is the same Sasha who thought she ought to write her memoir in some kind of elevated poetic style ... and yet spell-bound the classroom with her tales of being young and depressed and in love with marijuana.
What is this human drive to outshine what is already shining? To ignore what is closest to home? It's common enough, but it seems like such a waste of energy: I'd way rather listen to Sasha (or anyone else) than read the Iliad.
Maybe I should listen to myself.
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Yesterday, in memoir-writing class, Sasha, a plump throw-back to Greenwich Village in the 1960's, was telling some of her tale. Sasha wanted to write a memoir, but, in past classes, had insisted that she write it in some sort of poetic format as a means of giving the tale more class or art or heft or importance. But yesterday, she just talked about notes she had on hand and about being unsure about how to attack the material.
Sasha married a soldier at 19, got pregnant and lived in a pink trailer in Alaska ... where the temperature was routinely 60 below. Moose, caribou and reindeer carcasses were kept freezing on the roof of the pink trailer and cut up as needed. She was miles from the New-York Jewish mom who had bossed her around unmercifully. Instead, she was in the hands of a husband who, both when he was drinking and when he wasn't, did precisely the same thing. After the baby boy was born, Sasha suffered from post partum depression, but her husband wouldn't let her cry. Sasha would squeeze into the small closet in the pink trailer in order to cry.
This is the same Sasha who thought she ought to write her memoir in some kind of elevated poetic style ... and yet spell-bound the classroom with her tales of being young and depressed and in love with marijuana.
What is this human drive to outshine what is already shining? To ignore what is closest to home? It's common enough, but it seems like such a waste of energy: I'd way rather listen to Sasha (or anyone else) than read the Iliad.
Maybe I should listen to myself.
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Thursday, December 17, 2009
instructors
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Sometimes I think that instructors in spiritual endeavor must take patience pills...or perhaps mainline it out of a syringe. Imagine, some of the most-favorably-educated people in the world land on their doorsteps, the kind of people who are really pretty smart and the instructor may say things like:
-- You realize, of course, that no one else can ride a bicycle for you, right?
-- You realize, of course, that no one else can play the piano for you, right?
-- You realize, of course, that no one can write a letter for you, right?
-- You realize, of course, that no one can sing a song for you, right?
-- You realize, of course, that no one can take a leak for you, right?
-- You realize, of course, that no one can eat your meal for you, right?
The list goes on and on.
And these most-favorably-educated people will nod in assent and agree with what makes sense. Yes it is true. Yes, the instructor is right.
But when the instructor suggests that there is not a hair's worth of difference when it comes to spiritual endeavor, that these most-favorably-educated people will have to do for themselves what no one else can do for them, these most-favorably-educated people scramble and demur: The instructor may be revered with flowers and ring-kissing prostrations, but his advice ... well, hold on a second! And the hold-on-a-second's are followed by other hold-on-a-second's. Reverence, sure. But get to work? Well, ummm....
I say that instructors must take patience pills because otherwise there would surely be more assault-and-battery lawsuits filed by these most-favorably-educated disciples. In the old days, there weren't so many lawyers. Perhaps there weren't quite so many favorably-educated adherents either, but I have a sense that there was a lot more ass-kicking going on.
Sometimes I marvel at the patience of instructors. Why don't they just say, "Look, if you don't want my advice, go find another instructor." Or, alternatively, "Get the fuck out of here!" when faced with favorably-educated nitwits like me.
I guess instructors are stuck taking their own advice ... but I can imagine they're not always happy about it.
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Sometimes I think that instructors in spiritual endeavor must take patience pills...or perhaps mainline it out of a syringe. Imagine, some of the most-favorably-educated people in the world land on their doorsteps, the kind of people who are really pretty smart and the instructor may say things like:
-- You realize, of course, that no one else can ride a bicycle for you, right?
-- You realize, of course, that no one else can play the piano for you, right?
-- You realize, of course, that no one can write a letter for you, right?
-- You realize, of course, that no one can sing a song for you, right?
-- You realize, of course, that no one can take a leak for you, right?
-- You realize, of course, that no one can eat your meal for you, right?
The list goes on and on.
And these most-favorably-educated people will nod in assent and agree with what makes sense. Yes it is true. Yes, the instructor is right.
But when the instructor suggests that there is not a hair's worth of difference when it comes to spiritual endeavor, that these most-favorably-educated people will have to do for themselves what no one else can do for them, these most-favorably-educated people scramble and demur: The instructor may be revered with flowers and ring-kissing prostrations, but his advice ... well, hold on a second! And the hold-on-a-second's are followed by other hold-on-a-second's. Reverence, sure. But get to work? Well, ummm....
I say that instructors must take patience pills because otherwise there would surely be more assault-and-battery lawsuits filed by these most-favorably-educated disciples. In the old days, there weren't so many lawyers. Perhaps there weren't quite so many favorably-educated adherents either, but I have a sense that there was a lot more ass-kicking going on.
Sometimes I marvel at the patience of instructors. Why don't they just say, "Look, if you don't want my advice, go find another instructor." Or, alternatively, "Get the fuck out of here!" when faced with favorably-educated nitwits like me.
I guess instructors are stuck taking their own advice ... but I can imagine they're not always happy about it.
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no relief, no release
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Given the uncertainties and sometimes downright anguish that people can feel in their lives, it is understandable and perhaps forgivable that spiritual endeavor should be couched or imagined as a relief and a joy. Christians go to a very pleasant heaven; Muslims get 77 virgins (or so I've heard); Buddhists get an enlightenment, which, even if it is not easy to nail down, at least has a quotient of imagined freedom, release, and relief.
And even if the spiritual endeavor does not exactly 'fit' into some recognized framework, still, why would anyone set out on a spiritual path if things were not somehow out of kilter ... and the path did not offer a more fruited plain? Yes, Virginia, there is a better mouse trap ... something like that.
And of course, the uncertainty and anguish anyone might feel is no philosophical Tinker Toy. It is real and confounding and painful and who in his right mind would not seek some better approach, some relief, some pleasure? Spiritual endeavor holds out a helping hand, a hand that spells assured relief and an outstanding joy.
But, however human and however sane and however inspiring and however forgivable all this may be, I wonder:
What if the point of spiritual endeavor had nothing to do with pleasant and unpleasant, with anguish and relief? Such a question may defy the imagination and arouse awful fears ... but still, seriously, what about it? The anguish-filled, relief-driven mind may sputter and choke and cry out, "What's the fucking point, then?" All the hand-holds of spiritual endeavor suggest a wiser, happier, more-certain outcome. But what if there were no hand-holds, no limits whatsoever?
What if pleasant and unpleasant simply did not apply?
What if, instead of relief and release, there were just a place where people might say, together with Ikkyu:
"I am not a Buddha. I'm just an ordinary fellow who understands things."
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Given the uncertainties and sometimes downright anguish that people can feel in their lives, it is understandable and perhaps forgivable that spiritual endeavor should be couched or imagined as a relief and a joy. Christians go to a very pleasant heaven; Muslims get 77 virgins (or so I've heard); Buddhists get an enlightenment, which, even if it is not easy to nail down, at least has a quotient of imagined freedom, release, and relief.
And even if the spiritual endeavor does not exactly 'fit' into some recognized framework, still, why would anyone set out on a spiritual path if things were not somehow out of kilter ... and the path did not offer a more fruited plain? Yes, Virginia, there is a better mouse trap ... something like that.
And of course, the uncertainty and anguish anyone might feel is no philosophical Tinker Toy. It is real and confounding and painful and who in his right mind would not seek some better approach, some relief, some pleasure? Spiritual endeavor holds out a helping hand, a hand that spells assured relief and an outstanding joy.
But, however human and however sane and however inspiring and however forgivable all this may be, I wonder:
What if the point of spiritual endeavor had nothing to do with pleasant and unpleasant, with anguish and relief? Such a question may defy the imagination and arouse awful fears ... but still, seriously, what about it? The anguish-filled, relief-driven mind may sputter and choke and cry out, "What's the fucking point, then?" All the hand-holds of spiritual endeavor suggest a wiser, happier, more-certain outcome. But what if there were no hand-holds, no limits whatsoever?
What if pleasant and unpleasant simply did not apply?
What if, instead of relief and release, there were just a place where people might say, together with Ikkyu:
"I am not a Buddha. I'm just an ordinary fellow who understands things."
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Wednesday, December 16, 2009
superficiality of groups
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Zazen is the only group pastime I can think of that does not display an increased superficiality according to the increased number of participants.
Interesting thought.
I wonder if it's true.
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Zazen is the only group pastime I can think of that does not display an increased superficiality according to the increased number of participants.
Interesting thought.
I wonder if it's true.
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