ME-aning

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It's a little too cutsey-wootsy for my taste, but if it is true, as I think it is, that "meaning" just means "ME-aning" -- just means me -- then the Zen teacher Dogen's words take on some force:

To study the way is to study the self.
To study the self is to forget the self.
To forget the self is to be enlightened by all things.
To be enlightened by all things is to cast off the body and mind.... Even the traces of enlightenment are wiped out, and life with traceless enlightenment goes on forever and ever.

I wonder if Dogen ever wondered if his words could possibly have some meaning.
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progress

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Reading a couple of postings by newcomers to Buddhism who were champing at the bit to make progress in their efforts reminded me today of the droll observation that was once part of life in the army: "Hurry up and wait!" Every place we went, we seemed to go at a trot, or double-time, and when we finally got there, there was always another line to wait in.

I guess there is no talking people out of the idea of progress. Progress seems to be woven into the DNA and if you try to disabuse anyone, it's offensive to their sense of life and how to live it. Spiritual life, professional life, marital life, psychological life ... everything seems to have a success-failure, forward-backward quotient and if you're not progressing, you're probably back-sliding. To imagine otherwise is just too lazy or too insulting or too insane to be considered. If things weren't like this in your life, you'd probably turn into a lump of lifeless pizza dough, right?

So, since no one can talk anyone else out of it, go ahead. Try to progress. Strive and struggle. Look back with satisfaction or despair. Look forward with hope and determination. Take two gold stars out of the petty cash box or sit in the corner wringing your hands. Go ahead, give it a whirl. Don't try to short-circuit what cannot, for the moment, be short-circuited.

Don't get me wrong -- I've done it all and more like it.

And yet when, for example, I look back on 40 years of Zen practice, I am honestly stymied when it comes to assessing what progress I might have made. Oh, I can do the intellectual and emotional schtick, but when I am honest -- when it's the middle of the night with less need for defense or preening -- I am stymied and pinned to the wall by the drum-beat saying, "Wherever you go, there you are" ... or I hear the whispered biblical observation, "Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin...." The words are easy to say and who knows how many pulpiteers have used such words as a foundation for hours of lyrical or 'profound' exposition?

But really?

Really-really?

Is there really a laundry list of explanations and descriptions long enough and credible enough to sum up this life, this effort? Is there really success and failure? Seriously ... no spiritual bullshit. Is there anything that can be named that brings a grounded peace to the heart?

The only query I can think of that might be worth considering when it comes to making progress or failing to do so is this:

Am I here yet?
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atheists don't have no songs

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A-a-a-a-m-e-n!
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"Agora"

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Just finished watching this wonderful, if a bit bewildering, movie about 4th century Alexandria, a woman mathematician/philosopher, and the frictions among Christians, Pagans and Jews. Luckily the movie was made abroad -- in Spain -- so there was a willingness to concede that intellect is a part of man's capacity ... just like stupidity. Few of the actors were recognizable, which gave the movie a greater seriousness and less diversion in my mind.

I am a sucker for movies from another time -- the clothes, the tools, the statuary, the music. But I did have a hard time getting the factions sorted out. But that was over-ridden by the fact that there are actual characters with character in the movie.

I am not describing this as well as I might, but, for movie mavens, I imagine you can look it up on Wikipedia and consider whether it would be worth a $3-rental risk. I would say a definite "yes." When was the last time you saw something intelligent?
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victory and defeat

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How would you go about defeating someone who does not seek victory?
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there and back

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The wise (wo)man returns from many adventures and informs the throng that gathers and blinks in the light.

But for every wise (wo)man who galvanizes and mesmerizes the throng, thousands, if not millions, of others return from their wise journeys and are not heard.

It is the wise (wo)man who listens to these silent tales.
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gold star activities

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Snow showers re-dusted the cars and trees and street last night, but it doesn't seem to require a shoveling agenda. It's clean and white and quiet, not at all like the email box, which I just finished shoveling out. It snowed there too -- a dusting of ... well Charles Fort once collected reports of frogs falling from the sky and that's a bit what the inbox feels like lately ... full of slippery, slimy, limping, hopping stuff. What ever happened to the exchanging of dirty jokes that my friend Bill McKechnie once assured me was the internet's sole contribution to human connection?

Well, this morning there is a fellow coming by to practice zazen and refresh the scenery a bit.

Yesterday, my neighbor, Joe, who had just finished shoveling his driveway and walks, walked across the street to chat. I asked him how his project in Kenya was going -- a volunteer program he had been on and came back from elated at the simplicity of simply being alive. He said he planned another trip in a couple of years but that in the meantime, the team he had worked with had raised the money for a roof on the school and now the kids didn't have to scurry into corners every time it rained. The water system they had installed had been extended. There was some success in getting chickens to each family. And someone had ponied up for 12 foot-operated sewing machines so that the women whose only recourse had been prostitution could sew various goods ... including uniforms for the school kids.

It's always nice to think that someone is doing something serious. The look of pleasure on Joe's face was the only gold star anyone might need.
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excuses

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What is the excuse for excuses? What is the difference between making and excuse and having a reason? One of the things about getting older is that there seems to be less necessity for excuses -- which is nice -- but there seems to be a growing concomitant irritation with other people's excuses.

Excuses are those explanations that seek to evade responsibility. Eg. I hate his/her guts because s/he is so malicious or idiotic. Or, I love him/her because s/he is so wise.

Reasons are those things for which anyone might take responsibility. Eg. I hate his/her guts... period. Of I love him/her ... period.

This is probably too broad a brush, but I was thinking about it and will chalk it up here to 'just noodling.'

The worst part is believing your own excuses, I imagine.
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big brother

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Jan 8, 10:36 AM (ET)

By RAPHAEL G. SATTER

LONDON (AP) - U.S. officials have issued a subpoena to demand details about WikiLeaks' Twitter account, according to court documents obtained Saturday. WikiLeaks says other American Internet companies may also have been ordered to hand over information about its activities.

-- Complete story

Every time I think I could not be more ashamed of my country, something new seems to come along.
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smoke screen

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It snowed last night -- not much, maybe three or four inches, but enough to require shoveling. I will have to shovel if I want to get out a car and drive to the peace-picket site. I am really not in the mood, though shoveling a path to the zendo seems sensible and carries no similar weight in my mind.

I start by writing about the snow and consider writing about the only time I ever made money when betting at the horse track, but that is pretty much a smoke-screen for what is churning around in my mind this morning ... a despicable turn taken on the Eido Tai Shimano blog thread. I don't want to write/think about it at length here because I don't want to start some secondary discussion, some diversion, from the thread itself. I got at least one email suggesting I shut the thread down, and lord knows I have thought of that more than once. No one suggested deleting the offending post, but I am sure it is in the back of some minds.

Yes, it was a despicable post, and yet the responses of outrage and kindness were as much a part of the entire situation as the despicable post itself. Human, human stuff ... which is part of the reason I started the thread at all -- to get the humanity of the situation on the record. Not just the high-hat ethical considerations, but the raw humanity...the stuff of honest sangha.

Well, it would probably clear my mind to have some breakfast and shovel some snow ... which I will do now.
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background check

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Last night, for perhaps a half an hour, I began reading the introduction to "Dialogues in a Dream: Muchu Mondo," a book containing the words of a 14th century Zen teacher, Muso Soseki. The book was a gift from a Zen monk internet friend in Japan. Tom Yuho Kirchner was the translator and the gift was lovely.

The introduction tells of the life of Muso Soseki -- his training and adventures. As Kirchner explains in the introduction, knowing something of the master's life is perhaps a good place to begin, a good way to place his words in context. The introduction is written in clear English and I could not fault Kirchner's reasoning.

But after a half an hour and perhaps half of the introduction, I realized I wasn't learning anything I wanted to know. Yes, it was nice to have a framework within which to appreciate what would follow, but what really interested me lay in what people have to say or do. I simply don't care much if someone is a gas station attendant, a stock broker, a shrink or a holy person (past or present) -- what does this person say and how much sense does it make?

So tonight I'll probably take another half an hour and begin reading the text from the beginning. I have already skipped around in the book and know that Muso Soseki has the capacity to light my lamps. And that's what interests me ... not when or where or how he lived. I don't need a background check. Does what he says make any sense to me? I plan to find out.
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the merchant

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Bill, my stepmother's live-with of perhaps 50 years, stopped by the other day to say hello. He and my stepmother live in the eastern part of Massachusetts while I live in the west. But Bill has a house up in the hills near here, so occasionally he drops in.

Bill was once an antiques dealer. He dealt in the kind of antiques you see behind the ropes in museums, not just oak. Americana is/was his thing.

But times have changed in the antiques business. True, it's still a rich man's dalliance, but the rich these days do not love antiques so much as they covet them. They have the money and they can see the investment potential, but they do not love. They are merchants. And Bill, who has done his share of playing the merchant, still maintains the eye and heart that can see and feel the story -- the beauty -- of what was so lovingly built in another time.

So Bill stays pretty much out of it now, doing some consulting with the merchant-minded who want to know that they are making a good investment, but otherwise being "bored" as my stepmother puts it.

It takes effort and hands-on knowledge to see beauty. And it takes courage not to surrender and become a mere merchant.
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hope

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 An Associated Press article today details the rising number of young people stuck in old-age homes.

It's no longer unusual to find a nursing home resident who is decades younger than his neighbor: About one in seven people now living in such facilities in the U.S. is under 65. But the growing phenomenon presents a host of challenges for nursing homes, while patients like Martin face staggering isolation.

"It's just a depressing place to live," Martin says. "I'm stuck here. You don't have no privacy at all. People die around you all the time. It starts to really get depressing because all you're seeing is negative, negative, negative."

  What a peculiar and two-edged sword hope is. In good times, hope inspires action and a will to move forward. It can overcome or at least mitigate the bad times that visit. But when times are unremittingly bad, hope becomes a hangman's noose because its unrealistic qualities are hammered home again and again: Death is no longer an option that is shaped in the starry-eyed lingo of self-helpers or well-wishers. When someone parrots "hope springs eternal," the response that is based on in-your-face evidence can be "stick it up your ass!"

Hope is based on what is not-yet-true and what is not-yet-true is fabricated. In one sense, it is peculiar and sometimes painful to live a life based on fabrications. And yet hope does seem to spring eternal, probably because some wishes come true even if some don't.

In this world of sometimes-successful and sometimes-unsuccessful fabrications, I think we are lucky to find a practice that encourages us to find satisfaction and peace in what-is, in the circumstances that actually arise in each moment. The old Hindu invocation, "contentment under all circumstances," may be elusive in fact, but still it strikes me as something worth hoping for and then practicing to attain.

Zen practice is pretty good that way, encouraging as it does an attention and responsibility that stand some chance of success when it comes to living a life that does not depend on fabrications.

Or anyway, I hope so.
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a couple of sillies

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Received in email:

The teacher gave her fifth grade class an assignment:
Get their parents to tell them a story with a moral at the end of it.  The next day, the kids came back and, one by one, began to tell their stories.
There were all the regular types of stuff: spilled milk and pennies saved.  But then the teacher realized, much to her dismay, that only Janie was left.
"Janie, do you have a story to share?"

''Yes ma'am.
My daddy told me a story about my Mommy.
She was a Marine pilot in Desert Storm, and her plane got hit.  She had to bail out over enemy territory, and all she had was a flask of whiskey, a pistol, and a survival knife.
She drank the whiskey on the way down so the bottle wouldn't break, and then her parachute landed her right in the middle of 20 Iraqi troops.
She shot 15 of them with the pistol, until she ran out of bullets, killed four more with the knife, till the blade broke, and then she killed the last Iraqi with her bare hands.
''Good Heavens,' said the horrified teacher.  'What did your Daddy tell you was the moral to this horrible story?
"Stay away from Mommy when she's been drinking."

******************

 A man and his wife are waiting at the bus stop with their nine children. A blind man joins them after a few minutes. When the bus finally arrives, they find it overloaded and only the wife and the nine kids are able to fit onto the bus.

So the husband and the blind man decide to walk. After a while the husband gets irritated by the ticking of the stick of the blind man as he taps it on the sidewalk, and says to him, "Why don't you put a piece of rubber at the end of your stick? That ticking sound is driving me crazy."

The blind man replies, "If you had put a rubber at the end of YOUR stick, we'd  be riding the bus, so shut the hell up."

shame, for those who care

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The word "shame" is a real bell-ringer in the society I live in. On hearing the word, people can squirm and fidget and explain until they are blue in the face in an attempt to elude the lash. But I think it is a good word for anyone who is attempting a spiritual adventure. An old Zen teacher (whose words but not name I recall) said: "In order to do this practice, you must feel shame."

Here is a dictionary definition of "shame:"

1

a : a painful emotion caused by consciousness of guilt, shortcoming, or impropriety b : the susceptibility to such emotion shame?>

2

: a condition of humiliating disgrace or disrepute : ignominy shame of being arrested>

3

a : something that brings censure or reproach; also : something to be regretted : pity shame you can't go> b : a cause of feeling shame

As a guess, I would say that there are two extremes when addressing a sense of shame: 1. to find and express as much exculpatory evidence as possible and BURY that sucker; 2. to wallow and bask in the sense of wrong-doing without ever seeking a way out. Neither is very useful ... not to mention the fact that they don't work.

I think that what inspired the old-timer to suggest that "in order to do this practice, you must feel shame" is the useful openings that shame can provide.  First, there is the need to address the sense of shame with open arms. Look at it ... and then investigate it. Second, correct what can be corrected and vow not to repeat the behavior that inspired the pain in the first place. Third, go forward with a keen and aware recollection of the potential to exercise shameful behavior.

In Zen, a practice that encourages a bold silence, silence is not really enough. A lot of zennies may comfort themselves with the mantram of "noble silence," or "skillful means," but this is just an exercise in burying the sucker. It is shameful without acknowledging the shame and without expending the effort at reform. Zen isn't about being comfortable ... or uncomfortable either, come to that. If nothing else, Zen is about being honest.

Are we perfect in our efforts? Probably not. That's why Zen is a practice.

But we can make the effort.

End of rant.
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"Dialogues in a Dream"

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An internet Zen monk friend, Thomas Yuho Kirchner, sent me a review copy of his latest translation efforts -- an absolutely gorgeous volume, which, on a quick skim, is absolutely up my alley. I just opened the book tonight.

Mind you, I don't generally read books about Zen Buddhism any more, but this ... well, on a quick skim, "Dialogues in a Dream: Muchu Mondo"  is like entering a warm room on a cold night and finding a dear friend there to greet you. The heart fills up with ... with what? Well perhaps a whispered but heart-felt, "Thank God!"

The book is not for everyone, I imagine. But for Zen students, perhaps it is a must ... or anyway a must for me.

Muso Soseki (1275-1351) was, to quote the introduction (which is written in clear English), "one of the most influential Japanese Zen masters of his time." Since I only skimmed the introduction and skimmed the text, I hesitate to add more. But within the text, I found several straight-forward, serious-without-being-solemn observations, as for example:

In any event, it is not necessary to eliminate worldly feelings before beginning practice toward the realization of Original Nature. Those who have realized the fruit of arhatship do not have thoughts of aversion or attachment regardless of circumstances they find themselves in, but such people cannot be said to have truly realized the Dharma. Ordinary people pressed by the passions who enter enlightenment even though their feelings of joy and anger are not yet extinguished -- such people have truly realized the Dharma. Thus it cannot be said that one must first eliminate worldly feelings and only then attain enlightenment. Even as one remembers to lessen deluded feelings when they arise, one must not neglect practice toward the realization of Original Nature.

Talk about a mother's kiss!
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good-better-best

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I suppose anyone concerned with spiritual adventures would like to be good ... or perhaps better ... or perhaps best. Not so angry, more loving, less confused -- stuff like that.

And there's nothing wrong with that.

But there is a fly in the ointment. Good-better-best, however smooth or whispered or even unspoken, relies on the world around us. Others who are good-better-best, perhaps. And that relying is bound to run us all into brick walls, trip us up, entangle us in barbed wire. Why? Because the benevolence of life does not adhere to good-better-best. It does not rely on anything whatsoever.

In this way -- with countless brick walls -- we can learn that trying to convince others or trying to convince ourselves of good-better-best is a fool's errand when it comes to honest peace. There is no way to arm-twist or cajole or flatter life as a way to be in control. It simply doesn't work.

But there is practice. There is this breath.

No virtuous mirrors required.
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hang drum

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Incredible Hang Drum Duo @ Yahoo! Video

And:

Manu Delago Hang Drum Solo @ Yahoo! Video

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Rumi

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It has been a while since I saw this one:

Out beyond all concepts of right and wrong

There is a field of luminous consciousness--

I will meet you there.

~Rumi

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competence?

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Maybe it's true, I'm not sure:

The honestly competent scientist is the one who does not rule out what cannot be adequately assessed by science and yet is undeniable..

The honestly competent dreamer is the one who does not rule out the empiricisms of this life.

The only competent religious person  ....

Oh hell, I guess the thought is basically that any sort of real competence rests on an appreciation and understanding and perhaps delight in incompetence.

Or maybe not.
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no case is typical

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When the ads arrived, I muted the television and then watched idly, waiting for the movie to continue. On the screen, a woman who seemed to be in her 50's spoke without sound. Her head and shoulders were framed by white space above and below. In the white space above, the words appeared: "No case is typical. You should not expect to experience these results." In the white space below was a logo and the name, if I remember correctly, Cancer Centers of America.

So someone thought enough to advertise this institution, but was forced to add a disclaimer saying that what was being advertised might not be true for you or me even though you or I were being invited to absorb the good news the advertising laid out ... and have faith and spend money on what we might reasonably hope would be a similar, smiling outcome.

No case is typical.

Perhaps religious persuasions should put a similar disclaimer on their temple doors and over their various altars. No case is typical: We have good news, but it may not be good news for you. A reasonable inference might be drawn that in fact it might be very bad news indeed. We, the institution, spend money on advertising and trying to convince others of ... what may be bad news. No case is typical, after all.

If this snake oil doesn't work for you, at least we have given you something to smile about and warned you -- no case (meaning your case) is typical: That's why we get to keep the money.

What a bizarre damned world we live in.
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finish the job!

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I cleaned out the dishwasher (man's greatest invention since the wheel) this morning. Plates, glasses, flatwear and kitchen utensils were returned, clean as a whistle, to their respective homes.

And when the dishwasher was empty and new, I placed the various dirty glasses and bowls that sat idly on the kitchen counter inside. It was their turn.

And somehow in the middle of this small chore, it occurred to me what seems to be true: Nothing is ever finished. Nothing. Ever. In the present circumstances, clean dishes came out and dirty dishes went in -- pretty straightforward, pretty simple, pretty d'oh. But the idea that I had somehow finished something was more myth and hot air than it was reality. It wasn't that the notion of finishing something was naughty or stupid or unclear, but rather that it was just a figure of speech ... something convenient in language if untrue in fact.

And if things -- all things, not just the dishwasher and its demands -- never really ended, then it was likewise a myth that anything somehow began. It simply didn't compute.

Well, perhaps it was one of those moments where "you had to be there." But even as a purely intellectual bauble, think how much weight gets lifted off your shoulders if things neither begin nor end. Really, wouldn't it be a lot lighter? Easier? Less thorny?

Success-failure, me-you, love-anger, tall-short, smart-dumb ... just lighter, more in tune, and easier. I'm not talking about some oozy-goozy, one-great-flow, everything-is-one, spiritual-popcorn-book drivel. I'm talking about literally lightening the load, making your own life easier ... not to mention more in synch with the facts.

OK ... I'll finish here. :)
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as you were?

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One-time sex symbol and social show-off Zsa Zsa Gabor (nee Gábor Sári), 93, was scheduled to have about 12 inches of her leg cut off due to fears of gangrene, the Associated Press reported today. Pieces of the article that grabbed my eye included these: She did not like being photographed in later life:

"She wants people to remember her as she was years ago," (her husband) said.

 And 

 A Hungarian-born sex symbol of the 1950s and 1960s, Gabor had a brief and unremarkable film career.... Her primary role was herself - appearing on TV specials and game shows, as a guest on several television series, and in real-life dramas like her slapping of a Beverly Hills policeman in 1989 that led to a brief jail term.

Strangely human, I think ... having a primary role as your self and yet wanting, as time passes, to be remembered as you were ... which is no longer who you are.  Human and somehow sad -- to have lived so long and failed to learn how to live peacefully in the present. 

You are taught how to think, what to believe, how to walk and run, how to climb mountains and hunt deer, how to write a novel or set a concrete foundation, how to get married or hold a job, how to build a bank account or drive a car, how to make friends or defeat enemies, how to spell or disentangle a mathematical equation, how to say "thank you" and "please" ... wouldn't you think there would be some training in what is most obvious, what is most inescapable, and what is sometimes most confounding?

Instead, of course, everyone is left on their own hook. Sexy and slim, old and wrinkled, tall and short, well-off or impoverished, smart as an alley cat or dumb as a lamp post ... it's up to you and what is up to you is right-now.

When I was a kid, I used to think adults possessed magical secrets that some day -- soon, I hoped -- I would also know. Magical stuff like flying or disappearing or not having to eating Brussels sprouts. Adults were powerful and assured -- how else could they order me around with such effectiveness? They accomplished things I could not and, man, I wanted to be king of the castle too!

And sure enough, like everyone else, I made of my life whatever I made of it, whether as slinky celebrity or ordinary schlub. But now -- the same now that has never been missing -- I look back and wish, like a child, I could recapture an imagined magic. And a small voice whines, "How come no one TOLD me?!" Gangrene is no joke. Somehow there should have been some training. And of course there was training, but the adults, the ones who stabilized and reinforced my view of myself, were not the ones capable of offering it. 

I don't mean this to segue into some maudlin recollection of an ill- or well-spent past, some religion-based velvet threat that promises heaven or hell.

Everyone deserves to be comforted. But the composition of that comfort deserves reflection. That comfort deserves to be fact-based. And what are the facts?

Well, I could use some breakfast.
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bright lights and mediocrity

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François de La Rochefoucauld was a 17th century aristocrat and wit who wrote, among other things, a series of "Maxims." His observations always struck me as being tinged with an arrogance I didn't much care for. But that distaste didn't stop me from recognizing what I considered to be true within his down-the-snoot offerings.

And the maxim that sticks in my mind like an barbed koan was this: "The intelligence of the mass is inversely proportionate to its number." Put a lot of people together and the tendency to produce a mediocre compromise rises. Something inside me hates to think this is true, but the evidence is pretty compelling. The flip side of the coin, of course, is that a clear and uncompromising vision can easily -- very easily -- evolve into an arrogance that leaves corpses in its wake.

It is so easy to address this issue with a dulcet intellectual tones. "Yes," some voice says as if it knew its ass from its elbow, "we are all human." But it is quite another thing to address the issue within the heart, the place where uncompromising visions of all sorts are born.Who has not been purely 'convinced' in one way or another -- in seeking one goal or another, one love or another, one happiness or another? And how easy it is to seek out like-minded people to bolster the conviction. But in seeking out and relying on those others, what happens to the conviction? Does it remain strong and clear or does it tend to blur along the edges ... nibbled bit by bit until what was once a bright blaze becomes a dim candle, casting a comfortable but mediocre light?

I have no answer for this koan, but I think it is worth stating, worth investigating. Everyone has uncompromising dreams ... and everyone makes compromises. But finding a peace between these two pillars of fire ... well, perhaps it is worth the price of admission. Do you forgive the compromises and rest easy and comforted in a like-minded support system? Do you damn-the-torpedoes-and-full-speed ahead? Both positions are strong and contradictory and ....

Well, without resorting to bullshit, where is the peace?
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the selfishness of selflessness

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I was just sitting here marveling at the number of aspects of spiritual life are really razor's-edge in substance and implication.

What caught my eye was the between-the-lines topic of a post I read elsewhere -- the topic being the selfishness of selflessness. Since selfishness is often acknowledged as an unattractive trait, there is sometimes a tendency to praise and embrace its alternative, selflessness.

But selfless actions are sometimes just an excuse to elevate and define what has not been investigated thoroughly in the first place -- namely, the self. Is doing good for others really doing good for others or is it a matter of wanting to think well of your self ... a way of escaping inspection of what may feel like an under-valued and undeserving home?

It's a sticky wicket ... one worth looking into, I think.
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winter thaw

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This small house seems to be littered with people who were the victims of last night's downtown New Year's celebrations. They appear, one by one, from places where they bedded down and I wonder, given how small the house is, where they found room to crash. Oh well, they're all safe and sound ... daughter, sons, daughter's friend, daughter's boyfriend ... and who knows, maybe some more...I slept through it all. Last night's outdoor celebrations were blessed with relatively warm temperatures ... a big change from the New Year's festivities of recent years.

The weather is warm-ish for this time of year and I won't have to put on quite so many layers when I go downtown for the peace picket today. Unfortunately, the latest wars did not change their minds overnight and, as a result, neither did the peace pickets.

Yesterday was a day when various Zen teachers broke their 'judicious' silence and spoke up in the matter of Eido Tai Shimano and a decades-long series of manipulation and lies he inflicted on the very people who made his position and posturing possible. The letters were good to see. It remains to be seen if those who wrote those will press the point, which, in brief, amounted to "throw the bum out!" Their action inspired me to write a letter reiterating what by now have become threadbare arguments. I don't want to start a whole new cascade of comments here since there already is a thread for commentary (on which I posted my letter) ... I'm just reporting what yesterday seemed to be full of.

Oh well, when I said to my older son yesterday that he might finish up the job he started -- and clear the remaining snow out of the gutter outside our house -- he said reasonably, "It's supposed to get up to 55 tomorrow. Might as well attack it then." And I agreed: It's easier to clean things up when a thaw comes to visit.

I guess yesterday and today were a time of thaw ... something gratefully received in winter, but not something to rely on. There's a lot of winter left.
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hallelujah!

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Out of the mouths of babes....


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happy new year

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New, newer, newest -- it's New Year's Eve and I would like to wish everyone a happy and peaceful new year, starting with enough aspirin to relieve any residual hangovers tomorrow.

At a Zen center I once attended, New Year's Eve was celebrated by chanting the Kanzeon Ten Clause Sutra right through the midnight hour. At the beginning of each chant (it's a pretty short one), one by one, participants got to hit the big-bowl gong. We chanted the sutra 108 times ... 108 having a number of applications/associations in Buddhism, not the least of which is the 108 delusions (only 108???) anyone might be subject to. We chanted from before midnight to after midnight, from one year to the next, and by the time we got done we were still sitting in the same meditation hall ... which had changed but it was hard to say how. It was all a bit like driving across the state line from Massachusetts to Connecticut -- everything (speed limit, scenery, etc.) pretty much the same except for some random sign (and your willingness to credit it) saying you had crossed the border. Chanting was a nice way to usher in the New Year... but then there was the question as to what, precisely, was new about it.

In order for anything to be "new," there is the imperative to look at the "old." This morning, for example, I woke up with the old nudge to Christians, "Imagining you are a Christian because you go to church on Sunday is like standing in the garage and imagining you are a car." It's an old chestnut, one that can be applied to pretty much any faith or belief or intellectual construct. Talking the talk and walking the walk are not the same thing: Sure, it's true, but who is willing to take it seriously?

Anyway, there is the new that relies on the old and then there is the new, the right-now that never was and never will be again and is gone before you can say "right now." Associatively, another old chestnut comes to mind: "Your life is so difficult that it has never been tried before."

What could possibly be difficult about right-now? Or easy either? What could possibly be different about this meditation hall? Or the same either? What could possibly be new ... or old either? Imagining I am a car or a Buddhist is just imagining ... the new year doesn't mind. But it doesn't concede the point either. As a small ego trip, I have always enjoyed my line, "Just because you are indispensable to the universe does not mean the universe needs your help."

So I hope everyone will have a happy and peaceful and safe new year, whether as a Buddhist or Christian, a car or a garage. Take the time to smile just one smile. It's worth the price of admission.
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victory

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All of my kids have played sports of one kind or another as they went or continue to go to school. Sports, like wars, generally have winners and losers ... that's the way they are configured.

And one of the hardest things to do is to convince a kid to be gracious in victory. Even though they too have been on the losing end of the battle and know what that feels like, still they can't help gloating and strutting...sometimes in public and less often in private.

As I understand it, Alexander the Great may not have been entirely benevolent when he conquered vast lands and made them part of his empire, but one thing he did do was to make sure that natives of the land were a large part of the new administration... loyal to Alexander's vision and desires, perhaps, but still, speaking the native tongue and aware of native needs. He may not have been gracious, but he certainly was savvy.

A victory is one thing, but a victory full of gloating becomes no one, least of all the victor.

Not to mention the fact that gloating is bound to come around and bite you on the ass in a future tainted by chest-pounding.
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modesty

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An internet dictionary defines the adjective "modest" as:

1. Having or showing a moderate estimation of one's own talents, abilities, and value.
2. Having or proceeding from a disinclination to call attention to oneself; retiring or diffident.
3. Observing conventional proprieties in speech, behavior, or dress.
4. Free from showiness or ostentation; unpretentious. See Synonyms at plain.
5. Moderate or limited in size, quantity, or range; not extreme: a modest price; a newspaper with a modest circulation.

I like modest people. Not the Stepin Fetchit types whose pretense is hardly better than the blowhard show-offs they pretend they are not, but the ones who let their actions do the talking and their talking take a hike. Modesty is pretty attractive in my mind's eye.

But I wondered this morning what useful role modesty might play. Two fortune cookie nostrums came to mind: 1. The old observation that "comparisons are odious" and 2. the suggestion, "You already know what you think and it is therefore wiser to find out what the other guy thinks." And perhaps one more: Put up or shut up.

But is any of that really useful? I don't know. It does seem to me that the only way to learn modesty is by recognizing the brick walls that the experience of immodesty imposes. Modesty sees a wider tapestry, when it is not being faked. There is less "me" because there is some recognition that life is not about to sit still for the unexamined limitations of "me." Immodesty wins the battle, but modesty wins the war. But how could anyone find that out without hitting a few brick walls -- without experiencing the slings and arrows of war?

Trying to quantify or define or create a legal precedent out of modesty is, by definition, immodest. How's that for a koan?

Oh well, I like modesty and dislike anchovies ... that's about as far as I can go.
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