December 21, 2005

One of My Favorite Things

When assessing the past year of my life, I like to itemize the good, bad, painful, insignificant, difficult, etc. Those are crass classifications, and over simplified categories, but they make it easy when trying to write about the past.

Today, I'd like to focus on my favorite things. In no particular order, they are: food, especially when shared with friends; music, especially popular music, female vocalists, jazz from the 30's, 40's, ad 50's, blues, blue grass, 60's and 70's rock'n'roll, and the classical music of Phillip Glass; Frankye, with whom I share my life and home; singing; my home and art studio; my dogs; the close network of friends I have developed; my sister, always a favorite; and then there's ART.

I have to capitalize ART because for the past 30+ years art has played a large role in my life. When I first got sober I didn't know what to do with myself. A big chunk of my life had been taken up with partying, going to clubs (7 nights a week), and socializing around booze with other boozers. Sobriety is about changing people, places and things that you did while you were drinking.

I spoke up at an AA meeting about not knowing what to do with myself anymore and being afraid I would relapse out of sheer boredom. I needed something in my life. A friend approached me after the meeting and invited me to attend an art class she was taking at a local art studio. The teacher was artist John Oliver Brown. I knew when she said it that it was what I was looking for. I had always made pictures. When I was a child anything to do with art facinated me and held my attention. I attended the class, met John, liked him, and studied with him for two years. Making and looking at art has been a cornerstone of my life since then.

There are artists that inspire me and have for decades now. Many artists have caught my attention, some for long periods of time, some for moments. The masters of modern art: Picasso, van Gogh, Cezanne, Klee, Gaughin, O'Keeffe have all amazed and inspired me. Then there are the artists who I consider my favorites. These artists continue to be an important influence and inpiration on me: Robert Motherwell, Susan Rothenberg, Francesco Clemente, Julian Schnabel, Elizabeth Murray, Arthur Dove, Richard Diebenkorn, and (in my opinion) America's greatest living artist, Brice Marden. Newly discovered artist, Nathan Oliveira's work resonates within me as well.

How have these artists been able to captivate me for so long? That's a hard question to answer. All I know is that when I stand before a work of one of these artists I have a physical, emotional and intellectual reaction.

Two times in my life I have wept when viewing a painting. The first time was when I saw van Gogh's "Starry Night" at the Museum of Modern Art in New York. The painting is not large. It's framed behind glass, something that surprised me. Looking at each brushstroke sent shivers down my spine and I found myself weeping quietly. The other time I wept was at an exhibit of Elizabeth Murray's work. There is something about her shapes and paintings that just move me.

My reaction to Schnabel's work is different. I am amazed by his energy, his chutzpah, and the vast expanse of his work. My reaction is as wide as his range. He's not an artist you can pigeonhole. He doesn't recycle one idea over and over. He can also piss me off more than any other artist I've seen. I always have a strong reaction to his work, excitement, anger, revulsion, awe.

Two artists, in particular, stir me deep, deep inside. They are Robert Motherwell and Brice Marden. Both of these artists have an intellectual as well as spiritual foundation to their work. They have honed self-expression to it's barest and most poignant point. It is not the substancelessness of minimalism (except Marden's early work), but it is expressive and deep, in the way a pebble dropped in a pond lives in the ripples it creates. Their paintings are like that for me. I keep going back to them, standing before them, watching the ripples; they never fail to resonate.

I could write something of each of the artists I've mentioned but then this blog would be too long. Dove, Rothenberg, Diebenkorn, Clemente and Oliveira are wonderful painters. I enjoy their paintings, am impressed by their painterliness and stirred by their work as well.

I've linked a website to each of their names. If you google their names and then click on images a horde of pictures from each artist will come up. Check out some of the pictures. I think you, too, will be impressed.

----------
Brice Marden, Attendant 5, 1996-99, oil on linen, 82"x57"

Robert Motherwell, Elegy to the Spanish Republic 34, 1953-54, oil on canvas, 6'8"x8'4"

December 19, 2005

Monasticism

I received my quarterly copy of "Contemplation and Action," published by the Merton Foundation. In it was a fund-raising letter by Abbot, Fr. Damien Thompson. In the letter Fr. Damien explains that the Thomas Merton Foundation has..."a grand vision that is rooted in a monastic tradition that helped transform a troubled and failing European civilization 1500 years ago and that has the power to do the same in our time."

This is an interesting assertion and one that rings true to me. In the past thirty to forty years there has been an increase of interest in religions with a monastic tradition. Eastern religions, Hinduism and Buddhism in particular, have seen increases in the number of temples and churches in America and many different eastern faith denominations have established monasteries for training and housing monks and nuns. Roman Catholic monasteries are still scattered throughout the United States, though their resident numbers have dwindled.

The tradition of monasticism is ancient, having begun in Hinduism thousands of years ago (Hinduism is said to be at least 5000 years old), in Buddhism at least 2500 years ago (Gautama Buddha established a monastic order), and in Christianity at least 1700 years ago (Pachomius established a Christian monastic community ca. 270 A.D). Silent retreats, week-end long, week-long, month-long, and longer, are fairly popular today and are offered in both Christian, Hindu and Buddhist traditions.

Fr. Damien's letter explains that Merton understood the deep and sometimes prophetic understanding of life was a gift of his contemplative life. In Entering the Silence: Becoming a Monk and Writer, Merton writes:

When your tongue is silent, you can rest in the silence of the forest. When your imagination is silent, the forest speaks to you, tells you of its unreality and of the Reality of God. But when your mind is silent, then the forest suddenly becomes magnificently real and blazes transparently with the Reality of God. For now I know that the creation, which first seems to reveal Him in concepts, then seems to hide Him by the same concepts, finally is realed in Him, in the Holy Spirit. And we who are in God find ourselves united in Him with all that springs from Him. This is prayer and this is glory!
There is a part of me that yearns for a quiet, alone, comtemplative life. I know I romaticize it and my fantasy of what it's like is probably unreal. But still, the desire is there, even if it is just a fantasy. Could I walk away from the world? Yes, I think I can at this point in my life. Could I do a three year Tibetan Buddhist retreat? NO WAY! I have no desire to actually be a religious monk. I only want to live quietly and peacefully in a world that doesn't demand so much of me.

Some Merton websites:
Thomas Merton Center of Pittsburg
The Abbey of Gethsemani
Thomas Merton Books
The Thomas Merton Center
Thomas Merton, Monk and Poet

The President's Address

Last night our President went on television from the oval office and gave an address that was less than informative and even less inspiring. He is a man with a firm grasp of the obvious as he finally verbalizes what most Americans have been thinking and televised pundits have been extolling for months. Some quotes from President Bush's speech (in red) and my comments (in black):

September the 11th, 2001 required us to take every emerging threat to our country seriously, and it shattered the illusion that terrorists attack us only after we provoke them. On that day, we were not in Iraq, we were not in Afghanistan but the terrorists attacked us anyway - and killed nearly 3,000 men, women and children in our own country.

He is correct when he says we were not in Iraq or Afghanistan on 9/11/01, but we were in Islam's holiest country, Saudi Arabia. It is no mistake that 17 of the 19 terrorists were Saudis. Osama Bin Laden repeatedly said that his war against America would cease when American bases in Saudi Arabia were closed and all U.S. military left.

Some look at the challenges in Iraq and conclude that the war is lost and not worth another dime or another day. I don't believe that.
The thing that strikes me about this comment is that he does not say that the war in Iraq is worth another American, Allied, or Iraqi life. That is the true cost of this war, and his omission of acknowledging that is evidence that his speech is a political maneouver to regain his poll numbers, and not a sincere desire to be honest and open with the American people.

We are approaching a New Year, and there are certain things all Americans can expect to see. We will see more sacrifice - from our military, their families and the Iraqi people.
Again, it is what he didn't say that speaks the loudest. Where is the sacrifice the government will make? Where is the sacrifice the politicians will make? They do not give over their sons to this endeavor. They are rich men getting richer, so they give up none of their fortunes. Where is their sacrifice?

I don't expect you to support everything I do, but tonight I have a request: Do not give in to despair and do not give up on this fight for freedom.
The origins of our national despair is the realization that our country is led by a fool, a very dangerous fool. Our despair is rooted in the awareness that the fool and his "advisors" will continue on their course no matter what reality, world leaders, or American citizens tell them.

My most solemn responsibility is to protect our nation, and that requires me to make some tough decisions. I see the consequences of those decisions when I meet wounded servicemen and women who cannot leave their hospital beds, but summon the strength to look me in the eye and say they would do it all over again. I see the consequences when I talk to parents who miss a child so much but tell me he loved being a soldier, he believed in his mission and, Mr. President, finish the job.
It has been reported over and over again that this President is never allowed to randomly meet and talk to people. Only people who are carefully screened on their pro-Bush, pro-adminstration positions are allowed to talk to him or attend his rallies and speeches. A case in point: his refusal to meet with Cindy Sheehan, anti-war activist and mother of killed soldier.

If those who are like wanton children
Are by nature prone to injure others,
What point is there in being angry--
Like resenting fire for its heat?
-Bodhicaryavatara

It is helpful, at times like these, to know that the President's voice is not the only voice out there. Here are some helpful websites that express another view:

United For Peace
Peaceful Tomorrow - Families of 9/11 Victims
Not In Our Name Project
Veteran's Aginst the Iraq War

There are many, many more groups. Just GOOGLE anti-war groups, and pages upon pages of American and International groups will appear.

December 17, 2005

A Christmas Message

Hostilities aren't stilled
through hostility,
regardless.
Hostilities are stilled
through non-hostility:
this, an unending truth.

-Dhammapada, 1,
translated by Thanissaro Bhikkhu.

December 16, 2005

Sometimes Crashing, Sometimes Floating


Sometimes people crash into each other. The movie "CRASH" was about exactly that. But it happens in everyday life to everyday people, everyday.

We humans are imperfect, defective, our full potentials unrealized. We're all in the water, swept along by the movement of the river. Because of our very human malady we sometimes crash into other people who happen to cross our path and who's vulnerability is momentarily compatible with our agression or ignorance. It's cruel and harsh and painful to watch, even when unknowingly commiting the act simultaneously. So easy to look outside me to others. So easy to scream, "hey you, what are you doing? Stop it! Stop it!" as I trample others in my righteous indignation. So easy to anger than feel compassion or ask why the perpetrator is himself in so much pain.

Then we have moments when we are floating along, all in the same water, floating along on the river of life. Not aggressive, not trying to get ahead, not trying to destroy others to save ourselves. Just staying afloat together, all understanding we are as vulnerable as one another. Sometimes it takes a glimpse of someone else's pain, or a word whispered from a friend, or a mirror image of ourself seen crashing, to relax and just float, float along with all the othes.

December 14, 2005

low

The American Heritage Dictionary’s 5th definition of low is: "Emotionally or mentally depressed; sad."

That about describes it. That’s me right now. It doesn’t help that I don’t feel well. Hard to know which came first. But I do know that I am low today. Way down there. Again from the dictionary: "Having little height;" "Below average or standard in degree, intensity or amount;" "A low level position or degree;" and the one that is the truest description of my mood: "The gear configuration that produces the lowest range of output speeds, as in an automotive transmission."

What I really feel like doing is going home, having a nap, and then going into my studio and painting for a bit. I’d listen to music. Music that I love and can sing to. I’d let the music lift my spirit and the creative process would energize my mind and body. The smell of the oil paint and turpentine would tickle the follicles in my nose and reinforce the well-being creativity nurtures in me. The brush in my hand, my preferred tool of meditation, would rest my mind and spirit in a way no other thing can. At the end of it I’d have a picture, good or bad, it doesn’t matter. It would be a document of the experience I had one afternoon when I was feeling low and spent some time alone with my soul.

But today is Wednesday and my time and energy is accounted for. I’m at work, where I should be. With my headache. I will do chores at lunchtime and then return to work until my day there is over, my energy with it. I will return home and do a few more chores. I will listen to people talking. I will hear what they say as if I were in a well and they were speaking to me from above ground. A friend will come over. She will bring dinner. It will be delicious and comforting, as well as a relief not to have to cook. I will think about the day I had today and review the things on the agenda for tomorrow. I will understand that tomorrow will be a longer day and I will need to sleep longer and better tonight. I will wonder when I will have time for me to take care of recharging this low battery I am living on. I will realize it may be quite a while before that can happen. It will make me want to sleep deeper. I will hope that happens.

December 8, 2005

Questions Without Answers

I often, and have since I can remember, question what life is all about. Why am I here? Where is here? Who are you? Why everything? What are thoughts? Where do they live? Why doesn’t my mind get old like my body gets old? Or does it?

What is natural and what is fake? If everything on earth was created from something on earth then why isn’t everything natural? Everything that is made can be made. Everything that is learned can be learned. Human beings have not yet created something from nothing. Everything, including plastics, chemicals, splitting atoms, gene splicing, was here all along. It’s just a question of putting the right elements together, elements that already exist. No one has created a damn thing.

I didn’t invent metaphysical thinking and I started thinking these thoughts long before I had ever heard the words philosophy or metaphysics or heard anyone else verbalize these questions. So where does it come from?

I remember when I was about five years old I was playing alone on a tire swing. Just swinging softly back and forth lost in my own thoughts. I started to sing a song to God. It started out as a little song but I kept thinking of things I wanted to add to the song, so with each thought I had to start the song over to include my new concern. The song went on forever as every question and thought I had was added to this litany to God. Finally, my mother saved me from my first recollected existential dilemma and called me in for dinner. My litany hasn’t gotten any shorter and I fear it hasn’t gotten anymore sophisticated than it was forty-nine years ago.

Through the years, I’ve sought answers to my questions in philosophy and religion. No group has any answers. Each time I explored a new path I found the same questions answered with that leap-of-faith response, "it’s a mystery!" It’s either God’s mystery, or Jesus’ mystery, or the mysterious ways of the creator, or Krsna knows and if we achieve Krsna Consciousness the blinders on our eyes will be lifted and we, too, will know. If, when, then. No one knows the answer no matter how hard they try to believe they do. Jane Wagner said it best when she said that "reality is a collective hunch." That I can agree with.

Why is any of this relevant? I mean, what’s wrong with just not knowing? Nothing is wrong with not knowing. But how do you measure the success or failure of your life if you have no vision of what the purpose of it is? Is getting up every day and going to work of any consequence to anyone but my own comfort? Does it need to be?

Questions, questions, questions without answers, and yet, everyday I get up and go to work. Everyday I do what I believe is right regardless of the scores of thoughts to do the contrary pass through my mind. Everyday I do what I know how to do and try to be satisfied with it. Everyday I wake up not knowing why I’m doing it but do it anyway. Everyday I ask the same questions and know I don’t have the answers and never will. But I'll get up again tomorrow and ask them again anyway.

December 8th - A John Lennon Remembrance

Here come old flattop, he come grooving up slowly
He got joo-joo eyeball, he one holy roller
He got hair down to his knee
Got to be a joker he just do what he please


Sounds like nonsense. Many of his lyrics sounded like nonsense.

Semolina pilchard climbing up the Eiffel Tower
Elementary penguin singing Hare Krishna
Man you should have seen them kicking Edgar Alan Poe
I am the eggman, they are the eggmen
I am the walrus, goo goo goo joob goo goo goo joob


What does it mean? It means nothing. It's poetry combined with music and sound to create a vibration that resonates within. What's wrong with that?

When these songs came out the world was a different place than it is today. America was less capitalist and less commercial. It was much more idealistic and yet heartbreaking. Assassination of heroes was the terrorism of the day. In a five year period from Novemeber 1963 to June 1968, John F. Kennedy, Malcolm X, Medgar Evers, Martin Luther King, Jr. and Robert Kennedy were all murdered. The Viet Nam war was in full bloom with no end in sight. Nonsense songs were a reflection of not being able to make sense of a senseless world.

I loved the music. It is not an over statement or cliche to say that the Beatles were the sound track of my adolescence. I listened to other music as well, but it was the Beatles that soothed, amused, amazed and opened my mind. Every LP that came out was a leap forward that brought me along with them. There was hardly anything more exciting in my youth than the prospect of a new Beatles LP coming out. They were the only albums I listened to every track on. At that point in the music industry, albums were showcases for one or two single records that sold well, the rest of the album were cover songs and mostly dreck. The Beatles changed that. Every song was a gem. Every song was original. They never put their hit singles on their albums. The albums were all new material that had a feeling and mood that was distinct to that album. Beatles For Sale (known as Beatles ‘65 in the US), Rubber Soul, Revolver, all great LPs that paved the way for Sgt Pepper.

John Lennon was a spiritual, thoughtful, artistic man who could also be cruel, emotionally abusive to women and narcissistic. He was anti-Semitic, insecure, and brilliant. I loved his Beatle music and his solo music too. I'm glad I did not live in his shadow - it is so much more pleasant to have an idealized remembrance of him. But, having said that, it is my own life I remember when I think of Lennon or the Beatles. It is my own idealism and excitement of creativity that brings warmth to my thoughts and memories. And he can still do that with his music.

There are places I remember
All my life though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone and some remain


Songs sited are © Lennon/McCartney and published by Northern Songs Ltd.:
Come Together
I am the Walrus
In My Life

December 7, 2005

The Middle-Way

To balance my annual rant on the world and my place in it, I am trying to seek the wisdom of others so I may assess my life within a middle-way perspective. Here are some quotes from Ani Pema Chodron, western Buddhist nun in the Tibetan tradition:


"The truth you believe and cling to makes you unavailable to hear anything new."

"If we learn to open our hearts, anyone, including the people who drive us crazy, can be our teacher. "

"We habitually erect a barrier called blame that keeps us from communicating genuinely with others, and we fortify it with our concepts of who's right and who's wrong. We do that with the people who are closest to us and we do it with political systems, with all kinds of things that we don't like about our associates or our society. It is a very common, ancient, well-perfected device for trying to feel better. Blame others. Blaming is a way to protect your heart, trying to protect what is soft and open and tender in yourself. Rather than own that pain, we scramble to find some comfortable ground."

"People get into a heavy-duty sin and guilt trip, feeling that if things are going wrong, that means that they did something bad and they are being punished. That's not the idea at all. The idea of karma is that you continually get the teachings that you need to open your heart. To the degree that you didn't understand in the past how to stop protecting your soft spot, how to stop armoring your heart, you're given this gift of teachings in the form of your life, to give you everything you need to open further. "

"Gloriousness and wretchedness need each other. One inspires us, the other softens us."

December 6, 2005

Now It Begins

December. It is a time of anniversaries and birthdays. The 5th is my father's birthday. The 6th and 9th are my favorite uncle's and brother-in-law's birthdays. The 8th is the anniversary of the murder of John Lennon. The 10th is the wedding anniversary of my parents. The 24th is my cousin Maryann's birthday and the date of our annual Christmas eve dinner for family. The 25th is a day off work.

In the background of all this is my annual ritual of evaluating the year globally, nationally, locally and personally as well as evaluating my life up to date. I think about it, dream about it, meditate about it, write about it, read about it, make myself sick to death of it, wrap it up well, put it away and then begin the new year with fresh thoughts and enthusiasm.

This is my ritual each and every year. It works for me. I enjoy it in a sort of morose way. I get into the thick of it, roll around in the mud of it, snort, puff, blow, wallow in it. All the failures, the delays, and now that I'm older, the loss of all those missed opportunities are raked over, grieved, and put to bed for another year. I usually conclude that I did the best I could with what I had, that I overcame much, to accomplish what little I have, and that if I've offered only good intentions and a sincere heart to the world, then that is better than to have offered greed and a malicious mind.

The painting I've posted is called "Directions," and that sums up my annual ritual. The end result of the ritual is to put it all in its' place and so I post also "Directions" hanging in its' place in the home of friends Christi and Sue, a/k/a jtl and Q.


December 4, 2005

Absence

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. But that's not true of writing. When I haven't written in a while it just leaves my life. I don't think of it. I don't remember it. It's kind of like talking about how I feel, or discussing my thoughts. It can easily drift out of my life without a thought, or missing it at all.

Habits. Habits are facinating things. I've had habits that have been agonizing to break. Drugs, drink, cigarettes. Agonizing to give up and long term missing and grieving their absence. But talking about what I think? Writing my thoughts, feelings, musings, making art? They can fly out a crack in the window quicker than I can notice.

Developing a habit is also hard. The bad ones, of course, become habits before I really notice that I'm doing something. But the good stuff, the productive stuff, each step of the way is a chore. When I was trying to incorporate Buddhist practice into my life it was something I had to force myself to remember to do every day and then I missed it a day and the next day it was as if I had never done it at all. One of the hardest habits its taken me to develop is brushing my teeth before I go to bed. Stupid, right?

So, the jist of it is that I got out of the habit of blogging for several weeks. Now I want to incorporate it back into my life and so I have to force myself to write, and write about what is going on right now. Breaking and developing habits. My goal is still the same: to be more open about my life, even when it's trivial.

November 24, 2005

Thanksgiving

"Let us rise up and be thankful,
for if we didn’’t learn a lot today,
at least we learned a little,
and if we didn’’t learn a little,
at least we didn’’t get sick,
and if we got sick,
at least we didn’’t die;
so, let us be thankful."
~The Buddha


Yes, I’m thankful to be alive, and certainly, as in Buddhist tradition, I am thankful to have been born human. (I might want to come back next time as Christie’s little son teckel, who lives an adored and envious life.)

  • I’m thankful for many things.
  • I’m thankful for my partner, Frankye, and our home
  • I’m thankful for my extended family, Christie, Sue, Lori, Lin and Clio
  • I’m thankful to still have my parents and siblings, and their families
  • I’m thankful for the animals that live with me and live around our home
  • I’m thankful for the job I have, the people we serve, the integrity of my co-workers
  • I’m thankful for having been born and live as a free American
  • I’m thankful that all my physical needs are met and my desires as well
  • I'm thankful to have found the Buddhist path and have a Sangha with whcih to practice
  • I’m thankful that I have the capacity to learn and live a better life because of it
  • I’m thankful for the art that stimulates my mind
  • I’m thankful for the music of the Beatles, which delights my ears and warms my heart

So, it’s Thanksgiving and I’m thankful, dammit! Now leave me alone.

November 21, 2005

Holiday

This week begins the 6 week long holiday season. I say six weeks because it begins now with Thanksgiving and ends the second week in January. In between is Thanksgiving, my father's birthday, Taylor's birthday, Christmas eve, New Year's Eve, Buddhist First Light, Frankye's birthday and finally, Lori's Birthday on January 9th. Whew! But no need to get frazzled about it. I love the holidays and I'm sure Frankye and I will enjoy these holidays very much.

This week we will travel to Delray Beach to spend Thanksgiving with my family. My sister, her husband, my niece and her son, my nephew and his girlfriend, my brother and his family, a whole bunch of people I love and don't get to see enough will be there. Friday we will see Lin and Clio and have plans to spend a good deal of time at the casino in Hollywood. Saturday has not yet been firmed up but Brenda leaves that day so I'm sure I'll be with her til then, and then Franlye and I will leave early Sunday morning. We are staying at a motel so there will be refuge from the masses of people, mostly for Frankye. The best part for me? Spending time with Brenda. She's just about the best medicine around for me and I miss her. I haven't seen her since April of 2004 and I will just soak her up.

This Christmas, Frankye and I will host our 4th annual Christmas eve dinner. I haven't decided on the menu yet but I'm leaning toward southern rather than Italian. I may poll some of the ten guests and see what their preference is before settling on it. I enjoy the preparation for this evening as much as I enjoy the event. It's made the holiday much more enjoyable since we began celebrating in this way. It gives us a chance to do something else on Christmas day and that usually means going to a movie or just staying in and relaxing.

I like the holiday season and it is upon us. The only thing that throws me about it is that it came around so fast. Another year gone by -- and so quickly!

November 15, 2005

Thomas Merton Still Vital After All These Years

“We have to recognize that a spirit of individualism and confusion has reduced us to an ethic of ‘every man for himself and the devil take the hindmost.’ This ethic, unfortunately sometimes consecrated by Christian formulas, is nothing but the secular ethic of the affluent society, based on the false assumption that if everyone is bent on making money for himself the common good will automatically follow, due to the operation of economic laws.

An ethic of barely disguised selfishness is no longer a Christian ethic. Nor can we afford to raise this to the national level and assume that the world will adjust itself if every nation seeks its own advantage before everything else. On the contrary, we are obliged to widen our horizons and to recognize our responsibility to build an international community in which the right of all nations and other groups will be respected and guaranteed. We cannot expect a peaceful world society to emerge all by itself from the turmoil of a ruthless power struggle – we have to work, sacrifice and cooperate to lay the foundations on which future generations may build a stable and peaceful international community. Every Christian is involved in this task, and consequently every Christian is obliged to seek information and form his conscience so that he may be able to contribute his own share of intelligent political action toward this end.” - From Peace in the Post-Christian Era, by Thomas Merton. Orbis Books; Maryknoll, New York. 2004. p.92-93.

Thomas Merton died in 1968 and yet his words were never truer than they are today. In the 37 years since his death this ethic of selfishness in an affluent society has been raised to the national level and with the birth of the European Union and capitalist China has spread to other continents, as well.

  • How did we, America, get where we are today?
  • How do we have a President, as well as a climate, that espouses conservative Christianity yet is so far removed from what Jesus taught as to be unrecognizable as Christ-like?
  • How do we have a President who mistakes political debt as political capital that he has earned?
  • How do we have a President and a majority ruled Senate and Congress that would rather offer American and Iraqi lives to slaughter than to admit that this war was a mistake?
  • How do we have an American citizenry that is so wrapped up in consumption that it can't do anything but work and compete against it's neighbors and fellow citizens, the great antidote to political awareness and activity?

I have no answers. I only have questions, and bewilderment, and confusion. I seek out understanding and I have a desire for a life with more meaning and less possessions, but I rarely succeed. My only recourse is my brain, my voice and my vote. They, too, are over taxed in an effort to keep-up and earn future security. Seeing and being the rat on the treadmill is one thing. Getting off the treadmill is another.

November 13, 2005

Leaving NC

Second to the last day of vacation. It went so fast and seemed so long at the same time. I'm always surprised at how long I feel the anticipation of a future vacation, and how quickly I get over being on vacation. I'm usually ready to get back to work after a week. I miss the dogs, my house, my routine, my job.

This has been a good vacation for me. Not always comfortable or comforting. The quiet and serenity of the mountains gave me an opportunity to stop and do a self-assessment. Very timely, as I also had my 54th birthday while we were away. I have to say I didn't always like what I found and saw about myself. One day in my journal my only comment was...everywhere I look I see only my own self-loathing. Kind of a play on the Hindu saying, "Everywhere I look I see only my own desires." I'll be writing more about this in future posts. It's been good for me to do this and go through this and to make some decisions about the course of my life.

Today we are in Atlanta. We are going to the High Museum to see the Andrew Wyeth restrospective. I'm not a big fan of respresentative art but I was touched and impressed by his Helga paintings that I viewed some 10 years ago with friend Lee at the Norton Gallery of Art. I think I'm more open to figurative art right now. Maybe it's the influence of learning Thangka painting. Not sure. I'm looking forward to seeing the exhibit, and looking forward to getting back home tomorrow.

- photos of NC and Kess and Frankye © 2005 by C.Cripps
- "Braids", 1979 Artist: Andrew Wyeth Medium: Tempera on Masonite © AM Art, Inc Image Courtesy: The Mint Museums

November 7, 2005

Vacation

Sapphire, NC

Vacation is a wonderful thing. So good to get away from the drudge of everyday life.

I am a creature of habit, and I get more so as I get older. I’m not comfortable with change. It’s difficult for me. It makes me pay attention. I’d rather not pay attention. I’d rather be on auto pilot and just space out most of the time. That is not the Buddhist way. Maybe that’s why I’m attracted to Buddhism. It challenges me.

Going on vacation forces me to pay attention. The environment is different, sounds, smells, colors, air quality, light, foods, everything is different than what I am accustomed to. It breaks through my glazed over awareness and demands my attention. It screams at me to notice, notice or fall off the mountain.

The house we are staying in is quite beautiful and comfortable. It’s spacious, bright, deep set into the mountains of western NC, and engulfed with Autumn foliage colors. The weather is mid 60's by day and mid 40's by night. Last night we had a fire in the fireplace. It was lovely.

I celebrated my 54th birthday here on Saturday. It was very pleasant. Good friends, pizza, birthday cake with crayon candles, a beautiful environment, and quiet. Also got some great gifts.
Today is Monday and the four of us are going to venture out into the mountains of NC. I’m a little nervous about it because in order to get to the house you have to drive down this incredibly steep driveway. The area to park the car is small. If the car didn’t stop and continued to move as you reached the flat part then you would go off a 15-20 foot drop, hopefully to be stopped from barreling down the mountain by trees. Looking around yesterday I noticed no cars that had done that, nor any scars on the environment indicating that someone had succumbed to such a scary occurrence. So, while it looks frightening, traveling up and down this driveway safely in an automobile is quite doable. I’m posting some pictures that I took from the deck yesterday. It’s really a lovely house. More photos are available at: House in Sapphire Valley.

November 2, 2005

Enough is Enough

I sent the following email message to Senators Bill Nelson and Mel Martinez of Florida, Senators Clinton and Schumer of NY, Senator Kerry of MA and Senator Reid of Nevada and urged them to seek the truth and restore integrity to the American political process.


Dear Senator Nelson,

Halleluah!!!

I am so pleased that Democratic leader, Senator Harry Reid, invoked Senate Rule 21 and dragged the majority party, huffing and puffing, into closed session.

It is about time the democratic minority in the senate took the offense instead of the defense. I agree with Sen. Reid, that Republican stalling and obstructionist behavior to hide the truth behind the fallacy of the Iraq war is a slap in the face to the American people.

Senator John Kerry, during his campaign, said that these people, the current administration, were some of the most corrupt, lying people around. His comments have never been more true than what we have witnessed since 9/11, the lies about WMD and the refusal of Republicans to investigate anyone in the administration for the lies told to the American people.

In my opinion, this is Cheney's war and he and Karl Rove are the guilty designers of the war and the whole Valerie Plame debacle.

Enough is enough with these guys. It is time that INTEGRITY be restored to the American democatic process and it's clear that Republicans do not have that as their goal. It is up to the Democrats in power to restore democracy.

I urge you to urge other members of the Senate to stay on the case of these scoundrels that have abducted our Republic and bring to the light of day the whole truth about why Americans are dying on Iraqi soil.

Sincerely,

My Belief System

My own faith system is a constantly evolving, major part of my life formulated by a life long search for answers to questions about origin and meaning. I learned in grammar school that people believed the earth was flat, that scientists based theories on that belief and then speculated truths based on that assumption. Like a house of cards, what was taught as truth fell when the first assumption was incorrect. I realized that everything taught was suspect and needed to be examined carefully. Growing up as a cradle Catholic I was given answers that made no sense and weren’t logical in the most simple ways. I was never satisfied with those answers. Church law is not a good enough reason for me to believe something that does not make sense to me.

I know that I do not believe in the God of my upbringing. I believe that I am not the greatest power alive. I believe there is a greater power than myself though it takes no shape or form that I can comprehend at this time. Having said that, I think anything is possible, including the existence of the God of my upbringing. I believe there was an historical Jesus, although I do not believe he was divine. He may well have been a completely enlightened being. I believe that Jesus was a teacher, a radical and enlightened thinker, and a seeker of truth. I revere him for those reasons. I believe there have been other highly realized, enlightened beings including the Buddha and Ramakrishna as well as many, many others unknown to me.

I respect the spiritual in others, regardless of how that manifests itself. It is not for me to judge whether or not a belief system, a ritual, or a spiritual tradition is valid for others. I am only concerned with being able to live peacefully with my own beliefs.

My beliefs include love and compassion in action. The teacher is not more important than the truth taught. I believe that life is the most valuable resource humanity has and how we treat the less fortunate and least known to us as well as the most affluent and known is love and compassion in action.

My beliefs are based on an inner resolve to contribute to humanity at large and not be part of the burden of humanity. I believe that I alone can change and control me, and I'm barely able to do that at times. I do not believe that outside laws, whether religious or secular, can control me. My belief system is internally based and driven, with external manifestations of those beliefs in how I am in the world with others.

I have an attraction for ritual and demonstrative expressions of my beliefs. It is important to me to fully participate in a faith system in order to learn and absorb the beliefs of that system. I think rituals are an important way to reinforce and remind ourselves of our primary concerns in this life. It is so easy, too easy, to get lost in the details of living and culture. I need reminders on a daily basis that I have a more meaningful purpose than running the race everyday. It is also important to me that my faith be a part of my life every single day, not just on the Sabbath. One of the things I like about Buddhism is that you are encouraged by the teachings of the Buddha to not take his word for it, but to instead, examine your own experience and draw your own conclusions.

The more I learn and process what I learn, the more my beliefs are honed to a clear, simple vision of what I believe. I was always somewhat frightened of "cleaning house." I think I feared there would be nothing there if I cleaned out the clutter of my beliefs. I am very pleased at not only what is there, but at how clear and strong it is.

October 31, 2005

Plan B

The new nominee for the Supreme Court is Judge Samuel Alito. He is a conservative Federal judge from the third Curcuit U. S. Court of Appeals. He is on record as being anti-privacy rights in relation to abortion, via a vote of dissent in PA on allowing women to chose abortion without husband consent.

I am not a conservative, and as soon as the word is mentioned, my back goes up. Conservative politics means to me: big business, no social services or very limited social services, limited individual rights for women, prisoners, and minorities, and liberal individual rights regarding guns and entrepreneurs.

Conservative politics to me means low taxes and high defense costs. It means bail-outs of big business, but no welfare for individuals. It means limited rights for the worker and bilking the American public any way business can - capitalism, after all, is the real government of America.

Where I get hung up is on trying to live within the confines of the clearly defined liberal/conservative stances. I am anti-abortion. I am anti-death penalty. I am anti-war as anything more than the last resort. I believe America should ban all assault weapons for public consumption and that obtaining and keeping a gun should be as difficult and as long a process as applying for and being granted Social Security Disability (approx. 2 years). I believe American business is nothing without its workers and consumers. Therefore, big business has a responsibility to its workers, to treat them with respect and to honor commitments for health care and pensions. It has an obligation to its consumers to be diligent in product quality, fair pricing, and safety for individuals and the environment. Actually, I’m liberal on everything except abortion, and yet I don’t find my stance on abortion to be a contradiction to my other views.

TV’s talking heads are speculating that nominee Alito is going to provoke a vigorous debate between democrats and republicans. I don’t think it’s going to be a debate, I think it’s going to be a brawl. A real debate, with informed, civil discussion would be empowering and refreshing. Instead I think it’s going to be a show of posturing, huffing and puffing of threats of filibuster, maneuvering, manipulation, whining and exhortations of righteousness and Godliness.

Whether Alito is confirmed or not, changes nothing. It will not make right the inadequacies and limitations of the person and president W, nor will it make his administration an honest one with the best interest of all Americans as its motivation. It will not make W a thoughtful, caring man who has made America and the world a better place. It won’t change anything for the better. Nor will a non-confirmation vote.

October 28, 2005

What Is My Ultimate Concern?


My immediate response to the question used to be, "survival." That response was a knee jerk reaction to a harrowing childhood in which my survival was threatened. That feeling, or conscious concern, had been with me through most of my adult life. The response was a habit. Along with having lived in fear as a child, I lived in fear for most of my adult life, as well. Prior to 10 years ago, my attempts at living alone were painful and exhausting. Fear was the only feeling I felt from sundown to sunrise. My daily life was shaped around what I perceived as safety. If I were out in public places, a restaurant, a movie, with friends, or even walking on the street, I felt much safer than I did alone in my home.

About twenty-five years ago I began to really examine what I believed about life. Not just religious issues, or God, but what I believed about violence, murder, war, cruelty, etc. I grew up in such violence that it colored my feelings about everything. My repulsion of violence and child abuse was so packed with aggression that I believed I could kill if provoked. I woke up daily to a rage that felt like it could bubble over into violence at any time. The hatred of violence, my parents, and anyone else who had ever slighted me, filled me up to the point that I was just internalized hatred and violence. And yet, somewhere in that churning inferno I knew that was not all I was.

Through much therapy, self- reflection, lots of very healing friends, art work, and a willingness to continue on, I was able to let go of my anger for my parents. I remember talking about them to a friend one day. I was explaining the situation I was born into, the circumstances of my parents life during my childhood. I was struck by the fact that had they not been my parents I was talking about, I would have been loving and sympathetic and compassionate toward those people. They were adolescents struggling against convention and their own survival. They were uneducated, unsupported, and ill prepared for parenthood and hadn’t had an opportunity for other options or to grow up yet themselves. My anger for them did not disappear at that moment. It took many years. But it was the first time I could recall ever in my life that I had a warm feeling toward them. That was a turning point in my life.

One of the many realizations I have come to in my life is that I don’t fear death as I once did; and I don’t fear life as much either. What I appreciate more and more is the vulnerability and fragility of life, and yet so many of us can be so resilient as to make it to adulthood. When I think now of the most horrifying thing I could imagine, it would be to be responsible for having ended another’s life. My primary concern today is not what harm will come to me, but what harm will come from me.

When I was 44 years old a long term relationship I had been in ended. I chose at that time to live alone. It was a very different experience for me. I felt safe in my home. I was comfortable regardless of the time of day, I enjoyed having a colorful shower curtain (previous ones had always been clear) and I enjoyed the peace and serenity of my own company. I looked forward to being alone and in my own home. It was a great source of joy to me to realize that I had changed; really changed some very core feelings and fears. My focus had finally changed from what others might do to me to consciousness of the potential harm I may do to others. Yet, I still do hurt others. Not intentionally, but I still can be insensitive, arrogant, clueless, and not realize it until the hurt is done.

October 24, 2005

To Those Who Have Been Given Much, Much Is Expected

It struck me that what most people want is to live their lives and love their families. That’s what we want to do. We don’t want power, we don’t want to conquer, we don’t want to annihilate. We want to earn enough money to live clean and satisfying lives with our spouses, our children, our extended families and friends. We want heat when it’s cold, food when we’re hungry, quiet when we’re sleepy, a cool swim when it’s hot, a hug when we’re lonely, work that contributes to society and doesn’t demoralize us or anyone else.

Most of us agree that we should pay our taxes so we have good schools for our children, roads and public services, and help for the sick, elderly and less fortunate. We want to pay our fair share, not Ross Perot’s or Leona Helmsley's share too. We know we all have to contribute to make the world work.

I once heard a Buddhist monk say that with all the horror in the world he’s still so hopeful because so few of the six billion people on the planet are responsible for the horrors of war, large scale famine and mass genocide. He said that most of the horror is generated by a few despots. In that he’s right.

Here’s where it gets sticky. Am I responsible too because I have electronics that absorb lots of energy? Because I have a two-car, two-person family? Am I responsible because I willingly pay my fair share of taxes so we Americans (me and mine) can have a good quality of life and yet a good portion of those taxes are used to support armaments and military? Am I responsible because I vote for the candidate of my choice but do nothing else to get candidates who are ecologists and doves on the ballot to begin with? Am I responsible because, though I preach peace and non-war, I am quietly and secretly relieved at night that we are the big guys on the planet and I am not living in a Palestinian ghetto subject to the pogrom of the Israelis?

It’s a dilemma having so much. "To those who have been given much, much is expected." I have always applied that to the wealthy, the royalty of the world, the power-brokers and born-rich. But it applies to us non-wealthy Americans too. We have been given so much. Even the poor in America, their pain and suffering not-withstanding, are wealthy in comparison to the poor of the Sudan or Calcutta. We have so much, and we work hard for it, and we feel entitled to it. We are generous in sharing our "extra" with those in need or crisis. But we are not willing to give-up anything that really effects the quality of our lives or what we feel we are entitled to. As long as the poor of Sudan are not on our doorstep when we leave for work in the morning, we can believe that the quality of our lives cost others nothing.

October 20, 2005

Yesterday's Mail

I received an envelope in the mail yesterday from my mother. I am accustomed to sending mail to my mother as she requests that I print out recipes from the foodtv website several times a week. I don't usually get mail from her unless it's a birthday or xmas card. It was a small envelope and seemed to have a small piece of paper in it. I slowly opened the envelope not knowing what I would find inside.

The enveloped contained a photograph of a young woman leaning against a wall. Attached to the photo was a post-it note with the following message:


"Cyn, Do you know who this girl is? Doesn't she look familiar? I seem to remember this face and figure, back about 30 - 32 years ago. Love You, Mom"
I looked at the picture and agreed that there was something familiar about this woman. She looked like a younger me. I kept looking at her thinking that perhaps it was a picture of me when I was younger. But it wasn't. I knew it wasn't me.

I could find no other identifying info about the clipping so I called my mother and asked her why she had sent it to me. She told me that she had seen this woman's photo in the newspaper and then she met her in the local mall. She said the woman was named Lena. Apparently they had talked a while, my mother pumping her for historical info. What she found out was that the woman was born in the north, adopted, and raised in Virginia. She went to college in Virginia and was an abstract artist with an exhibit in the mall in Boca Raton. My mother kept mentioning how much this woman looked like me and that she thought the woman was in her early thirties.

Then my mother said, "she could be your daughter." I said nothing, waiting for her to continue. Then she said that if I had deprived her of a grandchild that she's not sure if she could ever forgive me. I was shocked. I asked her if she were asking if I had given birth to a child? She avoided the question and said that she had never thought that I was a mother. Not until she met this young woman. I told her that I would never have aborted, nor given up, a child. I told her that I never had a child and had never been pregnant. She sighed a great relief and said, "thank God."

This conversation has stayed with me since last night. Not so much that my mother would think that I would withhold information like that from her and everyone else in my family, but because, to her, there are long periods of my life when she didn't know where I was or what I was up to. There were years when I didn't see her, and she had no idea if I could have been pregnant and given the baby up. Periods of my life are part of her imagination, because she doesn't know. I can't imagine what it would be like to have a child and have years of their life unknown to me. I know there are families for whom that is par for the course, but not for my family. Not for my mother. And not for me.

In the past, my mother has asked about periods of my life, trying to prompt me to tell her what went on at certain times when we were not in touch. I've joked with her that she was too young to hear my war stories. She's never happy with that answer, but I can't imagine that I would ever tell her about those "missing" years. I never want her to have those images in her mind when she thinks of her eldest daughter. For now, she's content to know that I have not deprived her of a grandchild.

October 19, 2005

Lonely

According to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, lonely means:

being without company; cut off from others; SOLITARY; not frequented by human beings; DESOLATE; sad from being alone; LONESOME; producing a feeling of bleakness or desolation

I'm not without company. I'm not cut off from others. I'm rarely alone. I am not sad to be alone, when I am alone. I'm not desolate, nor do I feel bleakness or desolation. Yet loneliness is the word that comes to mind when I try to express the feeling that has permeated my life, throughout the span of my life.

Most times it is a hum like the sound of tires moving at 75 mph on the interstate. Ever present, but in the background, allowing sounds of music, conversation and life to stand in the foreground. At other times it is a deafening cacophony that makes me feel like I am in a deep well aware of my own breathing and heart beat, my own thoughts. The sound of it echoes so loudly that I feel the vibration of it in my bones. Each cell of my body vibrates to the wail of this deep ache.

When I was younger I acted upon this feeling without understanding that it was even there. I ran. I was always going, going, going. Doing something, talking, listening, working, engaging people in any way I could. I was driven to keep on the move. I thought I didn't feel much of anything. If it wasn't trauma, I didn't feel it. I felt, or thought, that I was numb.

As I've aged I've slowed down and have stopped running and pushing. And as I slowed down I began to identify that I was feeling something. Sometimes powerful, sometimes subtle and whiny, but always there. Just there. It's just there all the time.

Is this a feeling common to all humans? Is it the sound of living in a body that separates my mind from other minds? Is this part of the human condition that philosophers have mused about for millennia?

It doesn't matter what the answer is. It doesn't matter because regardless of what the answer is, it will still be there. Sometimes whispering, sometimes screaming -- it will be there. It always has been.

Addendum: My friend, Christi, sent me this url after reading this blog: An Existential View Of Loneliness.

October 17, 2005

Post Weekend

I had a wonderful weekend in St. Augustine at the Thangka Painting Workshop led by Wendy Harding. There were 5 participants, each of us having participated in the workshop last October as well.

The workshop was very rewarding on many levels. The first was the experience of sharing the time and space with fellow artists. We are all 40+ women (except Wendy, who may be a bit younger than that), involved in the dharma, and part of the Sangha of northeast Florida. We all share an awe of, love of, respect of, and reverence for Tibetan Thangka painting.

We began the weekend by working on a new tigsa (the traditional grid used to proportionately draw the image of Buddha or deities) of a 3/4 face of Chenrezig (Tibetan Buddha of Compassion). I've included a scan of the one I started. The original is 14" x 17".

Wendy also prepared a painting exercise of lotus blossoms amid a tray of offerings. She taught us how to transfer our drawings on to a painting surface and how to prepare the fabric and allowed us tostitch it to the stretcher frame. She reviewed and demo'd the traditional Thangka palette and worked with us as we learned how how to mix the colors (gouache). She also demonstrated the stipling process for coloring lotus blossoms.

The weekend went by so fast -- too fast. I enjoyed two lovely lunches, one on the outdoor deck of the Conch House Restaurant with my friend, Laura, and the other with the whole group on the outdoor, second-story terrace of AIA Restaurant in Old Town St. Augustine. I would love the opportunity to spend a week with these women working on our Thangkas, enjoying meals together, meditating and practicing together. I feel so alive when I am doing this work. It is a process that is meditative and self nourishing.

Our closing activity was a pizza party hosted by the very hospitable Tom and Nancy, in their St. Augustine home. Wendy brought with her a video called Lost Treasures of Tibet. The film chronicles the efforts of a restoration team working on 15th century murals damaged and deteriorating in a dilapidated monastery in the kingdom of Mustang. It's a wonderful film and shows some of the most beautiful 15th century Buddhist murals in existence. The restorers are European and have a very western, archeological view of how the murals should be restored. The locals do not see the murals as art, but rather as living deities, if they can be restored to their original wholeness. It was interesting viewing the murals from both points of view.

I look forward to opportunities in the future to meet with these women and work on our Thangka art together.

One of the largest collections of Tibetan Thangka paintings, as well as other Buddhist art, on the web can be found at Himalaya Art Resources .

October 16, 2005

Miscellany

Yesterday I spent the day in St. Augustine at a Thangka Painting Workshop led by Wendy Harding. It's really good. Wendy's a good teacher, patient, faithful to the tradition, supportive. It's very detailed work and requires intense focus, but I love doing it. It's a very meditative process. The time went so fast that it was surprising. I'm attending the workshop with a friend. I know everyone in the workshop on an acquaintance basis, they are all part of the sangha here in northeast Florida. I'm looking forward to day two of the workshop.

There's an essay posted on CNN.com today, written by Anderson Cooper about the suicide of his brother Carter in 1988. It's worth reading.

October 14, 2005

A Reflection

My friend Christi wrote a good blog this morning about tolerance on her blogsite, Piece of Mind. It's a thoughtful essay that encompasses her politics, her ethics, her sense of justice, and her way of dealing with the world and the differences she finds in it. I share many of her views in all the areas she mentioned.

One thing that came to mind after thinking about her post was how hard it is for me to learn tolerance of myself for my failures, weaknesses, foibles, and warts.

I was at a teaching a couple of years ago given by my Tibetan Buddhist Teacher, Bardor Tulku Rinpoche. He mentioned that in Tibetan there is no word for self-loathing. He said that self-hatred is a western concept and something that is learned. He also said, that of all the negative emotions, shame was the most debilitating emotion.

I have spent a good deal of my life being intolerant of myself. Most of my psychic pain has been caused by the belief that I was not good enough or was somehow too damaged. I always measure myself against an ideal. The ideal being the smartest, most enlightened, purest, honest, and loving individual. I've never known anyone like that in my everyday life. Bardor Tulku Rinpoche may well be that person, and I certainly experience him, as his student, as if he were. But aside from him residing in my mind and heart on a daily basis he is not part of my daily life in person.

There's a cliche that says you can't love others until you love yourself. You can change the word love to respect, forgiveness, or tolerance. That has not been my experience. I have learned more love, tolerance, and respect for myself by being able to see others with all their warts, and still find in them the lovable, the noble, the admirable, the respectful. When I can feel such feelings for others even though they are not perfect, even though they have weaknesses and failings, I can then look at myself and give myself a break.

I'm grateful to have a teacher like Bardor Tulku Rinpoche, who, in a few sentences within an hour long talk, gave me something to reflect on for a couple of years. I'm also grateful to have friends who engage in self reflection and share their reflections with myself and others.

October 12, 2005

To Go Before

This past Sunday I started a new practice. It's a Tibetan Buddhist practice called ngondro. The Tibetan word ngondro means to go before. I took Refuge vows (the act of actual conversion to Buddhism) five years ago, and last year I took Bodhisattva vows. Now it is time to do ngondro, which is a cleansing practice that requires repetition of 4 different practices 111,111 times each. You start ngondro with the first practice and complete it before you go on to the next practice. I do not expect to complete all four practices in this lifetime. I hope to be able to complete at least the first one and maybe the 2nd one. But it's hard for this undisciplined, wild-minded person to make any headway on a daily basis. Before I can move further along the path, I must complete these 4 practices. My only hope is to have a good birth next time, maybe into a Buddhist family, where I will have an opportunity to begin practice earlier than 49 years of age.

Buddhism is a path for me. I have been on a path for a long time. I first began to explore eastern religions and philosophy in 1979-80. While I did practice some of the rituals of Hinduism, I was never able to fully commit myself to it. I had too many doubts, too many questions, too many issues that required me to not consider my experience or perceptions. While I thought long and hard about taking initiation (the ritual of converting to Hinduism) I was never able to do so in an honest way and so I refrained.

I was raised Roman Catholic and, like Hinduism, that religion required me to suspend reason. The more I explored Catholicism, the more I saw it as a pagan practice and a system of rules and proclamations designed to maintain order and obedience in the masses.

Today's Catholicism and most Christian denominations bare little resemblance to the teachings of Christ. Christ was, by Buddhist standards, a bodhisattva. A bodhisattva is a being who postpones his/her own entry into Buddhahood (Nirvana) to help all other sentient beings attain it first. If Jesus did live, and if he was crucified, and if he used his crucifixion to teach about forgiveness and compassion, then he was a bodhisattva. The rest of it was all developed after him, and for reasons of keeping like minded people together.

This coming weekend I will be attending a weekend workshop on Tibetan thangka painting. It's the second thangka workshop I will be attending. The teacher is Wendy Harding. She is an exquisite thangka painter and a patient teacher. You can view a few of her works by clicking on her name. The small Buddha head on the sidebar I did in her class last year. Thangka painting is another endeavor that requires years of training to master. Again, I will not achieve that in this lifetime. Nonetheless, I'm looking forward to the class.

Addendum

"The word imbecile comes from the latin imbecillus, which means "not having a stick." An imbecile is someone with no leaning post. Caught in the web of thought’s changing fashions and habits, he has been lost in obscurity. This is just what Buddhism means by samsara, an endless circle spun by our beliefs and opinions, without the slightest attention to what really is.

The basis of Buddhism, like all authentic practices, is the affirmation that it is possible to find a genuine stick to lean on, that a real world does exist beyond the one we build for ourselves and try to adhere to, come what may. "~excerpt from Chogyam Trungpa: His Life and Vision by Fabrice Midal

"I don’t think Buddhism should be regarded as a religion, but as a social realization." ~Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche


The above photo is of a small painting of the seated Buddha figure with a photo of the living Buddha, H.H. the XVII Gyalwa Karmapa, Orgyen Trinley Dorje © C.C. Kessler 2005

October 11, 2005

October 10, 2005

A Dialogue

A friend sent me an email today about an article in the NY Times called, In Trafalgar Square, Much Ado About Statuary.

I went to the web page and read the article, saw the photo of the statue, and a photo of the model for the statute. The sculpture is of a naked pregnant woman. But she’s not just any naked pregnant woman. She is a naked, pregnant woman who has no arms and short legs. She herself is an artist and a mother.

I read the article and was impressed by her, Alison Lapper. And then I began what I have spent a lot of time doing lately, I measured me against her.

I wrote a comment back to my friend. Our email dialog went this way:


SHE: Thought this sculpture was grand.

ME: wow, yeah it's a great sculpture. Good for her, that she was there, and commented on not having slain anyone to get there. I'm always amazed by people like her. Her obstacles seem unsurmountable and yet she manages to have a full life. I, on the other hand....

SHE: You, on the other hand, what? I find your life admirable, you seem pretty fulfilled, surrounded by friends, in a good place...from the outside. Am I mistaken?

ME: Well, there's always room for improvement. I would like to have been, and still be, more courageous in my choices. I'd like to travel, to India, and other places. I'd like to not own a house, or things, or animals, or have any of the ties that bind me to one place. I'd like to be a free spirit. I think. Then there's the loneliness that's such a part of my life, and always has been. And I know that there is no way to eliminate it. It is the loneliness of being one. Relationships don't eliminate that. I don't think it's eliminatable. Aside from that, my life is a wonder!

SHE: Travel is always possible............the yen to not own or be responsible is not. And I think it is good to own, to be responsible, to relate to animals, to be tied down in some ways. It teaches us patience, allows us to reduce self-centeredness, gives us lessons that are invaluable on the dreary road to emotional maturation. LOL Furthermore, I think choosing to not be attached in any way is not a courageous choice, just a fantasy that would likely end in disaster.

Do we suffer from terminal "glass is half empty"-tude? One wonders.....

It was at that point that I stopped flipping back emails. Ahhh, touched a sore spot. I fancy myself an optimist. I’m the positive one! But, I think more often than not, I do look at the glass as half empty.

I want to be free of stuff and yet once upon a time I was free of stuff. Everything I owned I could carry in a backpack. I don’t remember feeling free. I remember feeling afraid and alone (which is different than lonely). Over the years I’ve worked hard to become a responsible person and to fill my life with people and things I love and give me comfort and companionship. It should be enough. It is enough. Why am I so dissatisfied? Something to ponder. (Thanks, Lin!)


Photo © Stephen Hird/Reuters
"Alison Lapper Pregnant," Marc Quinn's sculpture of his friend who was born with shortened legs and without arms, is to remain in Trafalgar Square until 2007.

October 9, 2005

Remembering J.O.L.

John Lennon was born 65 years ago today! Where is the time going?
To honor him, some of my favorite lyrics of his:

I Don't Want To Face It
Say you're looking for some peace and love
Leader of a big old band
You wanna save humanity
But it's people that you just can't stand

Well now you're lookin' for a world of truth
Trying to find a better way
The time has come to see yourself
You always look the other way

Nobody Told Me
Everybody's runnin' and no one makes a move
Everyone's a winner and nothing left to lose
There's a little yellow idol to the north of Katmandu
Everybody's flying and no one leaves the ground
Everybody's crying and no one makes a sound
There's a place for us in the movies you just gotta lay around

God
God is a Concept
by which
we measure our pain

I Found Out
Now that I showed you just what I've been through
Don't take nobody's word what you can do
There ain't no Jesus don't come from the sky
now that I found out I know I can cry

Crippled Inside
you can go to church
and sing a hymn
judge me by the color
of my skinyou can
live a lie until you die
one thing you can't hide
is when you're crippled inside

Nowhere Man
Doesn't have a point of view
Knows not where he's going to
Isn't he a bit like you and me?


I Don't Want To Face It & Nobody Told Me © John Lennon, Lenono Music
God, I Found Out & Crippled Inside © John Lennon
Nowhere Man © Lennon/McCartney, Northern Songs, LTD

October 7, 2005

Reflections

"An idea that is developed and put into action is more important than an idea that exists only as an idea. " ~Buddha

"Your work is to discover your work--and then with all your heart to give yourself to it." ~Buddha

It is hypocrisy to say that all religions are the same. Different religions have different views and fundamental differences. But it does not matter, as all religions are meant to help in bringing about a better world with better and happier human beings. On this level, I think that through different philosophical explanations and approaches, all religions have the same goal and the same potential. Take the concept[s] of the creator and self-creation for instance. There are big differences between the two, but I feel they have the same purpose. To some people, the concept of the creator is very powerful in inspiring the development of self-discipline, becoming a good person with a sense of love, forgiveness and devotion to the ultimate truth - the Creator or God.

The other concept is self-creation: if one wants to be good, then it is one's own responsibility to be so. Without one's own efforts one cannot expect something good to come about. One's future is entirely dependent on oneself: it is self-created. This concept is very powerful in encouraging an individual to be a good and honest person. So you see, the two are different approaches but have the same goal. ~by H.H. the XIV Dalai Lama

"All that we are is the result of what we have thought. If a man speaks or acts with an evil thought, pain follows him. If a man speaks or acts with a pure thought, happiness follows him, like a shadow that never leaves him. " ~Buddha

"Believe nothing, no matter where you read it, or who said it, no matter if I have said it, unless it agrees with your own reason and your own common sense. " ~Buddha

"Happiness is not something ready made. It comes from your own actions. " ~XIV Dalai Lama

"In the practice of tolerance, one's enemy is the best teacher. " ~XIV Dalai Lama

"A religion that takes no account of practical affairs and does not help to solve them is no religion. " ~Mohandas K. Gandhi

"Action expresses priorities. " ~Mohandas K. Gandhi

"All the religions of the world, while they may differ in other respects, unitedly proclaim that nothing lives in this world but Truth. " ~Mohandas K. Gandhi

October 6, 2005

Looking Forward

Last night Christi came over and we shared dinner, tv watching and making plans for our joint vacation. The four of us will be traveling to Cashiers, NC the first weekend in November. We'll be staying for a week at a big, wonderful house Christi and Sue have rented. I'll be spending my 54th birthday there.

I love North Carolina and have vacationed there at least 2 times a year for the past 5 years. There's something about the mountains, the air, and the casual pace that I love. The landscape is so different from Florida. Jacksonville's landscape is more varied than that of south and west Florida, but it is still Florida. I miss mountains and vast varieties of trees and plants. I miss dirt that looks like dirt and not blonde sand.

The first week in November the weather should be cool, with brisk evenings. We may see some fall foliage, although it'll be a little early in the year for NC. The house has an out door hot tub and a fireplace. A little chill will be great motivation to enjoy both.

For the past several years Frankye and I have taken art classes in North Carolina. We are scheduled for another week of classes in March 2006. The trip next month will be the first time in a long while that we haven't taken some kind of classes while in NC. We'll have an open schedule and can just enjoy and roam as we desire.

Some of the art classes we've taken have been in Boone, NC, called high country. Elevation 5000 ft. The two watercolors I've posted were painted during a plein aire class we took in Boone with Don Getz in Sept. 2003. I really enjoyed the class, demos, and painting outdoors. We had wonderful weather on that trip and everywhere we looked there were paintable scenes. There are farms, falling down barns, streams, picturesque valleys, lush woods, cabins and lots of art galleries and antique shops. It's a pretty place.

I'm really looking forward to this coming vacation and will probably write more about my anticipation as the time to leave nears.

October 5, 2005

Rambling Thoughts

I had an unpleasant experience yesterday. Not really unpleasant, just sort of, well, unpleasant. I was talking with a co-worker, a woman in her early 30's, someone I like very much. We were talking about exciting performers and I mentioned Janis Joplin. She said, "who's that?" I told her to shut up and go away.

My day often finds me surrounded by 3 and 4 year olds. Another generation. But there's another one ahead of them, the one in between me and the 3 and 4 year olds. There are 5 generations alive. I'm already in the 3rd tier.

My thoughts and writings lately have focused on aging and passing time. I am surrounded by images and sounds that fill me with nostalgia and memories of the "old days." When I was a child, and my parents and grandparents talked about the old days, I would see images in my mind and they were all in sepia. When I think of my old days they are in bright vivid day-glo colors.

In " The Sixties: The years that shaped a generation," a PBS documentary, Charlie Kaiser, historian/writer (and aquaintance from NY) says, "It was absolutely exhilerating, it was the greatest time to be alive, ever, for sure." I feel that way too, as do many of my generation, but with it comes the sadness that the reality of today is the proof of my generations failure to change the world for the better.

Capitalism and all its evils is stronger than it was in the sixties. Nixon, a republican, was more of a liberal in his domestic policies than Clinton was. Government is bigger because defense and national security looms larger than social services. We still have too many children growing up poor and poorly educated. Institutionalized racism has made a snail's progress. America still engages in war in foreign lands with no visible "national threat" as the cause. America still sends poor and uneducated minorities in disproportionate-to-the-population amounts to fight these wars. Big, and bigger than ever, business still rules.

So while it may have been the most exhilerating and idealistic time to be alive, never has a generation aspired to so much and accomplished so little. Maybe that's why the memories of the culture are so important. We had the Beatles, and they changed everything, musically, at least.

October 3, 2005

Contributions

I've often thought about what my life contributes to the world. I know it is a grandeose thought, egocentric, but still, what contribution could an ordinary person, with ordinary talents, bring to this world.

Is it simply enough to be, as Gandhi said, "the change you want to see?" Is it enough to be part of the solution and not part of the problem by working in social services a good part of my work life? Is it enough to donate money to helping causes? Is it enough to have loved some people? Is it enough to have loved some deeply and specially?

I don't have an answer. Which is the answer, I guess. If I can't answer those questions with a yes, then I am saying no, it's not enough. I've asked my self this question throughtout my life, beginning as a teenager. It was a different question then, more like, "what will I contribute to this world," or "what do I have to contribute to this world." Now, its, what HAVE I contributed to the world?

I'm also not sure what "enough" is? Did Gandhi do enough by being the change he wanted to see? Did Martin Luther King, Jr. do enough by sacrificing his life for equality of black people? Did Konas Salk do enough by finding a vaccine against polio and saving many lives? What is enough? Did Paul McCartney do enough by having at least half the people on this planet knowing at least one of his songs?

I guess all this was provoked by the viewing of the documentary "Born into Brothels." My friend Christi brought it over this weekend and we watched it. It's a very moving film about a group of children, all of whom are the children of sex workers, living in the red light district of Calcutta, India. Zana Briskie, founder of Kids With Cameras, brought cameras to this small group of children, taught them how to take photographs, gave them opportunities to explore photography as art, learn about it, do it, and market it. The money raised has been spent on their education. She made a profound difference in the life of a group of children that had very limited options for their future.

Zana Briskie is not Gandhi, King, Salk or McCartney. Her contribution is far more intimate in scope than theirs. Yet, her contribution is undeniable and "enough." And that is the yardstick by which I am measuring my life today.

October 2, 2005

Flashback

I miss the 60's. Or, maybe it's who I was in the 60's that I miss. While there was much wrong with my life, decisions I made, and feelings I carried about myself, I also had an energy and idealism that made each day an exciting adventure. I loved the "summer of love" 1967, the music, the clothes, the passion for politics. I was 16 and felt in the middle of it culturally and on the fringes intellectually and politically.

My home, at the time, was a war-zone. It was the last 2 years of my father's drinking and life in the house was far more chaotic and violent than life outside the house. When I walked out the door each day I walked into freedom. Freedom to think, freedom to listen to the music I loved, freedom to go where I wanted to go, freedom to be who I was. I was more afraid for my life at home than I was in the streets. The sense of safety I felt outside my home gave me the confidence to wander and roam and put myself in positions that were not the smartest or safest places to be, but were exciting and stimulating and creative. Yet, as I look back, I was never beaten out in the world, I was never manipulated as much out on the streets as I was at home. I wasn't lied to as much on the streets as I was at home. Outside was a safer place to be even in this unsafe world.

There was a soundtrack to this period of my life. It was alive, vibrant music that had a driving energy and a salve for the pain and rage that plagued me. Sgt. Pepper was released in 1967 and was the first music I heard that had a spiritual element to it that wasn't Judeo-Christian in nature and message. There were snippets of philosophy in Within you, Without you and A Day in the Life, hope in With a Little Help From My Friends, Fixing a Hole and Getting Better, empathy in She's Leaving Home. It was rich in sound and instruments I had never heard in rock and roll and it all just expanded my mind. There was more than just the Beatles that powered me on. I loved the anti-war music of Country Joe and the Fish, the flower power music coming out of San Franciso, Flowers in Your Hair, Grace Slick and the Jefferson Airplane, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, Bob Dylan, Phil Ochs. I could go on and on. Music was all I had at that time. Music and books. Without them I think I would have died of loneliness.

The 60's were the most painful and most joyous time of my life. It was the last time in my life I felt free from the need for "security," that illusory dream we Americans engage in. Buying into that dream is enslaving. It has enslaved me. But that's another essay on another day. For now, I will always feel warmth and comfort when I listen to the music of the 60's or have memories of the 60's.