More and more and more and more until you might think there could be no more, but like some nightmarish dream or reality, there IS more.
As usual at this time of the month, I am working on a newspaper column and running my neurotic schtick. Because there is little to nothing that really catches my fancy (the "indecency" of yoga pants knocked gently at the door), I have fallen back on recent email correspondence with Brian Victoria. The lead line seems to be, "My friend Brian Victoria, a Zen monk and author of "Zen at War," is a pain in the patoot."
The thesis allows for a little space in which to shoot my mouth off about my own ambivalence towards goodness and decency and kindness and so-called spiritual life. Good intentions and even good actions have so many unintended consequences -- some of them quite good -- but the willingness to rely on their goodness and the unwillingness to embrace their badness makes me skeptical and, I'm afraid, too crotchety by half.
If I have a hard time nourishing the patience that will allow my children to make mistakes I have already addressed, why should it be any different outside the immediate family?
Oh well ... one thing you can say for confusion: It keeps you busy.
The road to heaven is the road to hell ... get used to it.
Every breath you draw has a consequence.
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